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[Cupid and Psyche _]

GLIESE
OBERON IV
CLAN GHOST BEAR OCCUPATION ZONE
14 FEBRUARY 3075

The two moons of Gliese shone faintly on the waters, disks of luminescence rippling across the crests of each wave, silvering the waters. Star Commander Judith Snuka of Clan Ghost Bear surveyed the landscape from the cockpit of her Timber Wolf. Gliese was a destitute planet with only a scattering of a population. The ground of the planet was the color of tarnished silver; the topography was flat and grey with only slight undulations of hills every so often. Aside from that, Gliese was as barren as a disk of metal and Judith was left staring off into the dark sea of space, where, at the precipice of perceptibility, the horizon dropped off into that black abyss known as the Periphery. Despite having a teammate, Judith couldn’t help but acknowledge the hollowness in her bones.
“I can’t wait to get off of this rock,” Judith said to Marek Lemmons, one of the MechWarrior’s in her Star. Marek was young at 22. A descendant of two Star Captains, he was an ambitious ‘Warrior, which wasn’t exactly a rarity. However, he was a person who knew his place, gladly taking supporting roles on missions.
Marek shifted his Kit Fox toward Judith. “The dropship should come in a matter of hours, quiaff?” Their deployment had proven to be pointless. Star Colonel Ian Rand had been successful in capturing the planet from the Word of Blake only two weeks earlier. Despite this, Ian feared an incursion. Having heard of the possibility of Word of Blake trying to reclaim the planet, Ian sent the unit to Gliese as a preemptive strategy. Though, many questioned why he sent them there, given its population of only 500,000 people and being of no strategic significance for the Ghost Bears.
“Aff,” Judith said, “I understand that they have picked up the other Star on the opposite side of the planet.” While typically composed, there was a note of condescension on the tail end of Judith’s statement. Though dutiful, she had a simmering disdain toward the Star Colonel.
“Ian’s ambitions always get the best of him,” Judith said. “The only reason he would not want the loss of this planet is merely to save face—and to portray power—to the saKhan. This mission is merely a result of anxiety and reckless ambition.”
Marek flipped on the communications inside his Kit Fox. “His desire has no end. I do not mind the deployment, but we need to focus our forces on defending against the enemy—not defending Ian’s ego.” Though both let the communications fall silent as Marek’s words were sucked into the vacuum of space. “Let’s focus on getting to our rendezvous point,” he finished.
Judith began walking her Timber Wolf toward the edge of one of Gliese’s oceans, where the dropship would soon be. Marek’s Kit Fox followed. The blue and white camo of Clan Ghost Bear gleamed under the two moons’ soft lights. The contrast of the colors was only made more discernible amid the glum atmosphere of Gliese. A silence settled in, the only sign of life being the mechanical percussions of their ‘Mechs as they made their way to the edge of the water.
The dropship soared in on jets of flame and hovered to the ground, its jets stirring up the grey sands of Gliese. Judith and Marek entered, powered down their ‘Mechs, and, along with the dropship, disappeared into the void of space.
WORD OF BLAKE SECTION V HEADQUARTERS
WESTWOOD, COLBURN
NINTH DIVISION
15 FEBRUARY 3075
“May the peace of Blake be with you, Precentor Chang,” Eunoia Blane said, her hands clasped in front of her. Though she was 45 years old, her appearance gave a throwback to the times of old. Her hair was bundled on the top of her head in a cylindrical fashion, with braids texturizing the style. Her hair style gave the impression that she was from the 1950s, back when they called Terra the name “Earth.”. By all means, though, she exuded elegance. Svelte in a tight body suit with a white drapery falling from her shoulders, her mannerisms and appearance were graceful; any movement of her hands or arms was light, as if her limbs were gliding on air.
Precentor Chang looked up. An hour after entering his office, his aid briefed him that there was ‘Mech and DropShip activity on his lost planet of Gliese. He was given a holodisk that recorded the communications of Judith and Marek, which included fragments from a Ghost Bear higher-up who talked about the possibility of an invasion. Having listened to the intercepted message from the Ghost Bears—and having poured over the maps of Gliese for the umpteenth time—his face was fixed in a grimace. Though his features softened as he looked up at Eunoia. It wasn’t out of any romantic attraction—though he couldn’t deny Eunoia’s elegance—but out of the fact that he knew Eunoia possessed a holiness that could only be attained by those who had spent years in a monastery, reading scripture and engaging in prayer. Precentor Chang knew that such peace was never attainable for him.
“Peace be with you,” he said in a hurried voice. “The Ghost Bears have left Gliese. We can’t let them ransacking any more of our planets. They may be Wardens, but no one can evade the truth of that old Terran phrase: ‘don’t poke the bear.’ With their newfound alliance with the Draconis Combine, they are in direct conflict with His Word.”
Eunoia sat down in a chair on the opposite side of his long, mahogany desk. “Yes, I know. They are, as you say, a direct threat. They are a threat to both our spiritual and physical survival. We can’t forget what happened only a few months ago, when their Alpha Galaxy wiped out our people on Luthien.” Both Precentor Chang and Eunoia sat in silence for a brief second, letting the recognition of the massacre linger in the room.
Eunoia refocused the conversation with a swift tone. “If we don’t establish ourselves on a planet in their domain, we won’t set up the intelligence systems that are necessary for advancing our cause, which is pertinent considering the sparseness of the zone in which these attacks occur.” Eunoia was only an advisee, but Precentor Chang knew she was the only of his advisors that had really achieved the fruition of which Blake spoke. Though Precentor Chang had doubts about the ability to attain peace in this era. With the invasion of the Clans, it was beginning to be commonly accepted that war was an act of peace. Is Eunoia really who she appears to be? That thought, along with others, constantly simmered in the recesses of his psyche. Though only unconsciously, for he had long suppressed his doubts and psychic conflicts.
Precentor Chang pivoted his chair to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that were behind his desk. It was nearing sunset on Colburn. The rust of dusk began to recede in the sky, as a red spread in the sky, deepening the ochre color of evening. Framed by the backdrop of jutting skyscrapers and urban sprawl, the courtyard below his office seemed like an oasis. Lush trees sprouted from the manicured grasses, gifting verdure. There were sidewalks that spread from the edges of the circular yard, meeting in the center where a fountain flowed with streams of azure water spangled by the setting sun. Several people, including families with children, walked about the courtyard, sitting on benches, chatting, or just walking through as they got off work.
With the defeat on Luthien, Colburn was growing in prominence for the World of Blake forces. Colburn was known for its beauty, even in the densely packed capital city. It was also reminiscent of Terra, though being less densely populated. The architecture on the planet was a synthesis of Greek and Japanese ideals of beauty. This allowed for the flourishing of organic gardens amid the perfect symmetry and portico pillars from the ancient Greco-world. Because of aesthetic appeal, several important and wealthy members of the Word of Blake called the planet a home. But Colburn alone was not enough.
“We need more,” Precentor Chang said. “There is no way to spread His Word without an outpost on a Clan world. If we can get only a couple planets in any other the Clan’s areas, then we will be set. It is not only the Star League that we must be attuned to. The Clans are equally deluded, and this shows in their spartan societal structure, living for war.”
The Precentor swung his chair back around. “Gliese is the second planet the Ghost Bears have taken, and we can’t let them to continue to consume our territory. We need to find out where—”
A man rushed into the room. “The Ghost Bears are heading to Flynn.”
“Flynn?” the Precentor said. “We have people on that planet. How do you know that?”
The man stood in a dutiful but stiff manner. “The Precentor Martial just informed me. He’s sending out telephone calls now.”
Precentor Chang smashed his fists on the table. Then the phone rang.
GHOST BEAR BASE CAMP
ALSHAIN V
GHOST BEAR OCCUPATION ZONE
3 FEBRUARY 3075

Having returned from Gliese, the ‘Warriors stood in a perfect line as Star Colonel Ian paced in front of them, head down, hands clasped behind his back. A mix of anxiety and frustration tinged his face. His boots echoed like pistol shots on the cold ferrocrete floor of the hangar. The hangar door was open, allowing the night’s icy winds to fill and swirl inside the building.
“It’s immanent that we succeed, quiaff?” Ian said.
“Aff,” the ‘Warriors responded in unison, the words reverberating off the sheet metal and ferrocrete of the hangar.
Standing at 5 foot 8 inches, Ian was on the smaller side for a man of the military. His uniform was crisp, tailored, and the few medallions on his chest glinted under the sterile fluorescent light of the hangar.
The first thing one would notice about him was the frequent grimace that plastered his face. Beneath his facial expressions, an emotional tumult stormed about. He was always quick to walk down the hallways, giving a swift nod, before striding off into his militaristic endeavors. By nature, all members of the Clan were professional and driven by the codes of a warrior. Though Ian took this to another level: his terseness indicated a conflicted mind, which all acknowledged but none cared to talk about. Emotions and personal satisfaction were secondary to the Clans— emotions were for people who were uncontrolled or weak, and thus must be stifled.
Judith and Marek kept perfectly still, faces fixed neither in a smile or frown. While they listened to Ian, both knew the other was analyzing the Star Colonel, scrutinizing him, remembering the grievances expressed in the previous conversation.
Ian stopped in place: “We are departing for Flynn at 23:00. This will allow us to land on the planet under the cloak of darkness, evading the prying eyes of the World of Blake soldiers. I have heard that they are already scattering of Word of Blake troops on Flynn. Somehow, they figured out about our incursion.”
Ian’s irritation masked his anxiety, and it was clear to Marek and Judith that a sense of unease lurked beneath the frustration on his face. They knew Ian was a person who would call another teammate out merely for the use of contractions. Contractions were considered vulgar and thoughtless in the Clan society, and this policing of speech was only on the most mundane level of etiquette among the Clans. It represented the crisp, militaristic style of living with which all Clan members interacted with the world.
“We cannot risk defeat,” Ian said, winding down his brief speech, “for we cannot allow the delusions of an idiotic religion to taint our way of living. Though Tukkayid ended—and though we are better grounds regarding the Inner Sphere entities—we all recognize that the Word of Blake, through their aggressive means of conversion and their attempt to monopolize the periphery, are a threat to the Clan way of life.”
Ian’s words hung in the air for a moment, lingering like smoke, before they all marched off, readying for what would be the Battle of Flynn.
DROPSHIP THE BEAR’S ROAR
EN ROUTE TO FLYNN
17 FEBRUARY 3075
In the dropship, the BattleMechs loomed over the techs that were scurrying around at the ‘Mechs bases, checking (and rechecking) that all systems of the war machines were nominal, that there was no risk of a simple oversight compromising their machine. Sparks flung from torches scorching metal; the clatter of tools and machinery was syncopated like some disordered symphony; men volleyed commands to each other as their drop point became increasingly closer.
Judith and Marek were in a room on the top deck of the dropship, which rose above the ‘Mechs and overlooked the‘Mech bays. The powered-down ‘Mechs were like skeletons or people whose souls were stolen. The skull face of a Gargoyle looked like a hollowed-out human; a Hell Fire, look gutted, as if it there was no meat beneath its armored shell. But the ‘Mechs would soon be invigorated by electricity, surges of power coursing through their mechanical veins, coming to life, resuscitated, and rid of the scars from their former mars.
Judith turned around from overlooking the ‘Mech bays. “We are incoming on Flynn. It should be only a matter of hours.” As always, she was in a pensiveness before battle. Despite being trained by the best that Clan Ghost Bear offered, she couldn’t shake her proclivity to think. Had she really accepted what all ‘Warriors had to accept: that this battle could be their last?
Marek was in another room. And it had only now struck her as odd how close she grew to Marek. He was like a younger brother and, having lost one of her sibkin who was swas around the same age as Marek, she only now had conscious recognition of how traumatic that loss was. Would Marek feel the same if she died? There was no time to mull over such thoughts any longer: the dropship had landed.
THE OUTSKIRTS
CARNITINE, FLYNN
WORD OF BLAKE OCCUPATION ZONE
4 FEBRUARY 3075
Having had an evacuation notice, the scattered towns of Flynn were ferrocrete skeletons. Word of Blake aerospace fighters noticed the stagnancy of the land was as they surveyed the area. Flynn was not too far from Gliese. Half of Flynn was populated by disperse, but dense, cities. The other half of the planet was much like Gliese, a destitute space desert. It even had the same ashen land as Gliese. This was because the planet was one of the few entities in all of known space that did not rotate. One side was constantly exposed to the sun, burning through the atmosphere, and scalding the planet. The heat from that side of the planet was caught in the thick atmosphere of Flynn, which winds pushed to warm the perpetually dark side on the opposite point on the planet. For MechWarriors, this meant a temperate environment, more akin to Terra. There was not the threat of overheating, and, because the Ghost Bear ‘Mechs were running laser builds, this was to their advantage.
Being preemptive, the Ghost Bears sent three Trinaries to Flynn. Star Colonel Ian was leading one cluster, under which both Judith and Marek served. As the doors to the dropships were opening, Star Colonel Ian came on the comms. “The Word of Blake forces are enroute, if not already. The lack of citizens and the evacuation notice would imply ‘Mech and military presence.”
Judith worked the mechanical legs of her Timber Wolf, stepping onto the planet. Marek was behind her, though now in a Hellbringer instead of a Kit Fox. A Cougar held back and lumbered alongside them while an Ice Ferret darted past, disappearing into the night as its pilot began their scouting mission. As they stepped outside, darkness enveloped the ‘Mechs. The beams from their floodlights seemed to be swallowed by an impenetrable black. There was only a faint aura of amber light haloing the horizon, the residue of light from the sun blazing on the other side of the planet.
From the cockpit of his Kodiak, Star Colonel Ian spoke once again. “The aerofighters say they are in Carnitine, the city just five miles from here. This is open terrain. Watch your terrain, long range ‘Mechs, prepare your LRMs.”

§

Precentor Chang and Eunoia both hovered in separate VTOLs cloaked with stealth armor. The choice of VTOLs was because of the high altitude at which they could fly. They watched the ‘Mechs advancing through screens equipped with night vision. The pilots of each of these crafts had to be careful to stay at a flight height where they were both invisible from ground forces yet not too high to risk damage to the VTOLs. Both aircraft were equipped with an array of lasers if it was necessary to defend.
“Your presence would be worthwhile for the morale of our soldiers,” Eunoia said to Precentor Chang over communications. Eunoia convinced Precentor Chang to hover with her over Flynn. Though, Precentor Chang found this odd, as someone of his stature was usually based on their home planet, overseeing the battle from a safe distance. But Eunoia insisted. Her rationale being that the Word of Blake, a religion who was losing their grip on power, demanded as much support as possible, both in morale and military power. Though risking the loss of a precentor was a reckless move. Eunoia, though, possessed a language that was as tactical as an arrow and as persuasive as a treaty from ComStar. The many hours she spent cultivating her mind in monasteries paid off: she knew the words to say to make people malleable.
“Precentor Chang,” Eunoia said, “the Clan ‘Mechs are advancing. I am going to go to the West-most point of this half of Flynn. Blake once said that the mere knowledge of their Precentor would inspire warriors. I suggest you overlook the forthcoming onslaught. You, as Precentor, must ensure our win so that Blake’s Word will not wane.”

§

On the ground, the blast from a PPC struck Judith’s ‘Mech like a damnation, the lightning-like energy shocked her Timber Wolf with azure energy. “Out there,” she said. “There is a Thunderbolt peeking from the side of that building.” Judith hadn’t even seen the ‘Mech until she spun around. She fired her large lasers back, though at such a far range the damage her lasers could make tapered off. The Cougar in her battalion volleyed off LRMs, which ended up careening into the abandoned buildings. Ian worked his Kodiak, lancing the enemy ‘Mech with his lasers. The long distance dispersed his LBX, though, only nicking the Thunderbolt with a piece of shrapnel.
“The land is too flat for us to take cover,” Ian said. “We need more suppression.”
An aerospace fighter soared through the sky, lobbing a set of missiles before ascending back into the black tapestry of the atmosphere, dissipating into the night. The quick barrage was not in vain: the Ghost Bear ‘Mechs were able to advance by 500 meters, entering the perimeter of the city where freeways wove together to make muscular knots and the concrete buildings jutted into the sky. The black tarmac cracked underneath the 100-ton weight of Ian’s Kodiak.
A Flea ran out from one alley, machine guns blazing, before it was obliterated by a dual strike of LBX, the dead ‘Mech falling flat on its back. But another light ‘Mech sprinted out, catching Ian off-guard. Another light—the enemy Osiris ran behind Ian. His torso couldn’t twist fast enough to rebuke the attack, letting the Osiris strip the flimsy armor coating the Kodiak’s back. Warning lights flashed. By this point, Ian was isolated from his teammates, having entered the city a few hundred meters ahead of the rest of the Cluster.
“I need support,” Ian said. Marek was quick, adding more firepower and tonnage to the fight. He did pinpoint damage to the Osiris’ leg actuators, crippling the ‘Mech. The pilot of the light ‘Mech dragged pitifully on, metal scraping against the tarmac, before another alpha strike took out the ‘Mech’s other leg, ending its existence.
By now, all the Ghost Bear ‘Mechs had entered the city. “They have heavier ‘Mechs reinforcing them, “Judith said. “That seemed to be only a lance of lights.” As if a portent, a King Crab stepped out from the battle-scarred buildings. Its pincers opened and sent dual AC20s to Ian’s ‘Mech, reducing his right arm to a tangle of frayed cables. The King Crab advanced up the main street of Carnitine, but Judith flanked the ‘Mech, moving around the side of an empty office building and releasing all the firepower she had. The King Crab backed away, but not before a Nova from the Trinary hit it with six medium lasers. But it was in vain. The Nova pilot was struck in the back by an aerospace fighter, penetrating the ‘Mech’s back armor and ripping right into the ‘Mech’s engine.
Soon, two more Ghost Bear ‘Mechs met their end, a Crusader and a Warhammer IIC. “We have lost a lot of tonnage,” Ian said. “I still need more support.” Marek advanced straight down the main highway, guns blazing, pushing deeper into the Word of Blake forces. He downed one ‘Mech and then another. A barrage battered him, discombobulating his ‘Mech’s gyros. He fired and fired at the King Crab as a Raven cored his center. By now, the opposing forces converged into each other, metal on metal, armor flying, all ‘Mechs together in the melee.
Then, a subtle whirring sound that turned all the combatants’ veins to ice: the King Crab’s reactor was about to combust. “Pull back,” Ian said. But it was too late. A white fire burst from the core of the King Crab, engulfing the ‘Mechs all around at. As one ‘Mech went off, so did the others until all that was left, a growing orb of fire swallowing the entire city, reaching up even high enough to destroy Precentor Chang in his craft and all the ‘Mechs in the vicinity.
LOCATION UNKNOWN
4 FEBRUARY 3075

By the time the fire went down, Eunoia was far out into the periphery. “This had to be done,” she told her pilot, who sat silent as he piloted the craft through the silken darkness of space. It had been her goal for a while and yet Precentor Chang had not seen it. Eunoia wanted nothing less than to reinvent the Word of Blake; usurping Precentor Chang was only the first step in that process. Eunoia anticipated the outcome of total obliteration. She had a tech plant an explosive device in the reactor of the King Crab. Having knowledge of ‘Mechs as well as strategy, she knew that such a massive explosion would set off a chain reaction, destroying Carnitine, just as she wanted.
She went to her cabin in the back of the spaceship before sitting down at a desk in front of a computer. “May the Peace of Blake be with you, citizens.” Back on Colburn, her face appeared on all the digital billboards. The people walking around the streets stopped and looked up at the digital billboards, which were now streaming her speech. “We have made a great advancement in propagating His word. Sadly, it was at the cost of losing our dear Precentor Chang.” A synchronous moan of bewilderment came out of the collective mass of citizens.
Eunoia felt no sadness. “With loss comes change and the possibilities of new beginnings. I will be your Precentor now.” The crowds stood fixated on the screens spanning the length of buildings. “We are moving into the white light of tomorrow. Though we lost Precentor Chang, we were successful in defeating the Ghost Bears on Flynn.” Claiming a win was not exactly a lie. After all, none of the Ghost Bears came out alive. But she also omitted the fact that neither did the Word of Blake fighters. She didn’t care.
She let the silence settle for a moment, allowing the words to sink into the crowds over which she was now precentor. “This is only the beginning of our Reformation,” Eunoia said, gliding deeper into the Periphery, leaving Flynn only a pinprick of light sinking into the black sea of space.