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The planet Timkovichi seemed deceptively peaceful this far up, but the scanners of the Aegis-class cruiser under Star Commodore Phillip von Jankmon were telling the real story. Advanced optical sensors and electronic detectors allowed those systems to display on the command center's main holotank the ongoing fight below. The Falcons' allies in the Hell's Horses Clan were fully engaged with local Lyran troops, including the hated Kell Hounds. Khan Hazen's personal troops were nearby, ready to deal with them.

Or rather, their survivors.

The ship's communications officer, Point Commander Albert, glanced up from his station. "My Commodore, Khan Hazen has given the order."

A part of von Jankmon's soul burned at it. This was not the Way of the Clans. He wanted his WarShip, a pride of the old Star League, to fight other WarShips, to win glory to match its proud battle history. Firing on enemy ground troops that could not return fire felt wrong.

But the Chinggis Khan decreed otherwise. Her doctrine demanded it. All who fought the Falcons must die, and all planets that resisted must suffer. Von Jankmon shivered reflexively; thankfully hidden by the bridge temperature being lower than was comfortable, for the computers, and the crew’s alertness. No warrior of the Jade Falcons who lived past their Trial of Position - even one who measured battle in hundreds of kilometres and degrees of orbit, rather than the close-quarters clash of BattleMechs - feared death, but to defy Malvina Hazen courted not just death, but Annihilation, for kin and Bloodheritage as well as self.

"Helm, alter heading and orbital position to optimal firing position. Gunnery, prepare weapons to fire on my mark, target… grid square Alpha Beta Kappa 328." He read off the appropriate firing point based on their pre-arranged grid squares.

The look on Star Commander Sergio's face betrayed his displeasure, but he obeyed. In the end, obedience was part of the Clan Way as well.

The Kell Hounds die today, and we draw closer to final victory. A pity we will be little better than dezgra.

"Targeting coordinates set, Star Commodore," Sergio said. "I will fire on your order."

"Helm, position has been reached?"

"Neg. Another minute and thirty seconds."

Alarm lights went off. The tactical holotank swapped from a view of the battle below to that of orbit, and red lights appeared in rapid sequence. "Report!"

"It is not possible…" stammered the operations officer. "Star Commodore, we have emergence signatures!"

"Over orbit? Impossible! Get those stravag Techs up here to check your station and get our firing points back on."

"It's not the station!" the man blurted out, wincing at his own terrible language. "We have emergence signatures in orbit, sir! Multiple ships, one up to two megatons mass! It… it should not be possible! There is no feasible pirate point!"

"Then there cannot be emergence signatures!" the Star Commodore retorted.

"DropShips Emerald Shrike and Blood Falcon confirm, sir," the comm officer said in disbelieving terms. "They have emergence signatures showing too."

"Five seconds to emergence!"

It seemed impossible, but Star Commodore von Jankmon realized he might yet be getting his wish.

And that was when space tore itself apart right in front of his eyes, and from within the tear, ships appeared.

Vice Admiral Lord Paul Marik, Count of Corin on his homeworld of Atreus and Commander of the Arcadian Royal Navy's 1st Battle Fleet, knew something was wrong when the jump didn't have the usual jolt and brief nausea. It felt like his body was being run through a sieve and for the barest of moments he was certain he was about to die.

Then the fifty-two year old man felt reality reassert itself. His eyes received light yet again, giving him a view of the command center built into the armored heart of the AFS Arcadia, the two million ton battleship that served as his flagship. The system timer's light brought his attention at first: "3142-08-15 11:30". A multitude of officers, responsible for both squadron and battle force command, all seemed as stunned as he was. "Just what in God's name was that?" he demanded. At the periphery of his senses he noted the screens showing something that should be impossible; they were in high orbit of a planet, far too close for a proper pirate point to be present.

"I'm not sure, sir," his engineering operations officer reported. Lieutenant Commander Jasminder Patel, a commoner from Bolan, blinked and shook her head while looking over her station. "The K-F drive is reporting several blown seals and registered an overload, but we seem to have made a successful jump despite that. I just don't understand how we can be in orbit."

From communications, Lieutenant Commander Saul Cohen spoke with the Hebrew accent of a Gienah native. "Admiral, every ship in the fleet is reporting drive faults and a few casualties from jump shock. It looks like the phen…"

Paul's attention was drawn to his holotank, which now blinked angry red as icons appeared. Most were those along with the Battle Fleet - the various WarShips, the military JumpShips carrying the army units being employed for the ground portion of the exercises - but amber "unidentified" contacts showed in nearby orbit. "Unknown ships in proximity," called Lieutenant James Paxson, the ship's tactical systems officer up on the command bridge, where Captain Karla Proctor-Steiner governed the colossal battleship. "Vessels are of unknown design, but one seems to match records for Aegis-class SLDF cruisers."

Aegis? Those still exist? "That doesn't make sense. Where is the Imperator Corvus? Or the Emma Centrella?"

"No sign of either the Principate or Canopian squadrons, sir," replied his own staff officer, referring to the other Spinward Pact ships that were due to take part in the exercises at Timkovichi. "Multiple ships in orbit, however, and ongoing comm activity… it looks like an active battle."

An active battle? This far within Lyran Alliance territory? It can't be the Rasalhaguans, they'd never violate our territory so brazenly. Paul darkly wondered if the Liaos were here, but they were too smart to throw a bolt so deep into Lyran territory, and they hadn't challenged the Peace of Dieron in nearly twenty years, not since the Battle of Sirius. "Do we have an ident on that cruiser?"

Cohen spoke up. "IFF squawk identifies her as…" His face twisted into confusion. "'Clan Jade Falcon WarShip Red Talon.'"

A question formed on Paul's lips, but it never left his throat as the tactical systems officer's voice rang over the ship intercom again. "Unknown ship's weapons are hot, I repeat, weapons hot, targeting systems active… she's targeting the planet!"

That was all Lord Paul needed to hear. "All ships, combat alert! I want targeting locks on that cruiser now!"

Star Commodore von Jankmon was trying not to think of the rather larger naval force now hovering well within weapons range of his lone WarShip and its attached DropShip assets. His forced his mind onto his dask: obeying the orders of his Khan and annihilating the Kell Hounds with a salvo from his guns. But he needed more time!

"Enemy weapons are going active, sir, and targeting systems are locking onto us!"

"Keep us on course!" Even as he spoke, he wondered if it would be enough. "Commence firing when ready!" Just a few seconds more...

The sight of the Aegis-class ship continuing its attack run decided matters. Paul's finger stabbed down on the controls. "This is OpForce Command to all ships, engage at will, I repeat, engage at will!"

Cohen spoke up once more. "Sir, signal from Wotan. The Ghastillan squadron is responding to orders, they're engaging as well."

Paul's tactical holotank reflected that. The Ghastillan heavy cruiser and its attached frigates, picket DropShips, and carriers were moving to engage, not surprising since Timkovichi was a Ghastillan world. In his own formation the heavy cruisers Sara Proctor and Mordecai Shaltiel moved forward, with the ship named for the founder of the Proctor dynasty already firing away with her naval batteries of gauss rifles and PPCs. Shaltiel joined with a long range burst from their NAC-35s and NAC-40s, lasers and PPCs were likewise firing. The frigates Emancipator and Liberator joined them with similar armaments, and missiles erupted from the launchers on the missile frigate Diane Carey and her two attached destroyers, Arjuna and Rama.

It was going to be a one-sided affair, but the enemy ship wasn't going down quietly. She fired as well, missiles and autocannon and laser fire. Heavy shells ripped across the bow of the Emancipator, tearing armor away, but the frigate remained on her course while her gauss cannons and naval lasers and PPCs blazed away. Despite the moderate amount of AMS fire the Arcadian fleet could put out, the "Jade Falcon" missiles slammed into every ship, one coming within a meter of damaging the great silver and gold hawk set into the Arcadia's bow, and further naval laser and cannon impacts spoke on his forces. "Shaltiel reports she's down a cannon, sir. Arjuna took three hits and has internal damage."

"Tell Captain Choudhury to make maneuvers as he needs, and keep Arjuna covered."

Their own fire was, as expected, far more effective, and already they were carving out the guts of the enemy cruiser with their onslaught. But time would tell if they could avert the holocaust the Red Talon seemed determined to inflict on Timkovichi.

By this point the carriers in the allied task force were commencing launches from their immediate readiness units. Two wings worth of fighters from each of the Arcadian carriers were in void, as were the interceptors of the Arcadian WarShips. The picket ships, armed with their subcapital batteries, moved forward as well, led by AFS Pinafore, AFS Penzance, and AFS Plucky. The fighters and pickets met the enemy combat droppers and their fighters partway between the two forces. Cannon and laser and missile fire bridged the two forces, joined by the explosions as weapon impacts blew away armor and hull. The Arcadian fighter pilots, among the most extensively trained in the entire Inner Sphere, brought their attacks home on the enemy ships, the Darter and Condor bombers unleashing missile bombardments after their escorts - Sabre III, Zero II, and Lightning II OmniFighters mostly - pinned down enemy interceptors.

Lord Paul felt painful old phantoms from his earlier career. He remembered the Menelaus Louganis in orbit over Sirius, burning, the loss of so many peers and comrades when the heavy cruiser blew apart under Capellan fire...

His officers' reports brought him out of the old memory. "Enemy ship maneuvering, it looks like they're trying to put themselves between the planet and us. They're still targeting surface contacts though."

"Human shields." He glowered. "Have our frigates maneuver to block this effort, all ships check fire, but take them down!"

While this mandated a slight decrease to their output, it didn't change the fact that a single cruiser, heavy as it was, was facing three other heavy cruisers, four frigates, several destroyers, and a battleship, and was already grievously wounded. The Aegis was in a losing fight, and it knew it. So why wasn't it just breaking off? Why were they so determined to attack the planet?

For Star Commodore von Jankmon, all roads led to defeat. If he held to his orders, the newly-arriving squadron would destroy him. If he disobeyed, Khan Malvina would not only kill him, she'd kill his offspring, reave his entire Bloodheritage.

In the end, that prospect was the one he couldn't live with. Not even the possibility that she might not get off the planet alive was something he would risk.

The Red Talon shook like a rattle in the fist of an angry child from the multiple weapon impacts she was taking. Their maneuver might lessen some enemy fire at least, and buy him time to fulfill the Khan's mission…

Then he heard the words no WarShip commander ever wanted to hear, accompanied with being thrown against his combat harness so hard he stopped breathing.

"Partial impact on missile magazines! Secondary explosions are—"

He had enough time to curse the name of his Khan before the explosion that claimed his life.

Far below, in the cockpit of the Black Rose - her own personal Shrike - Khan Malvina Hazen waited impatiently for her orders to be carried out. Everything was set. All that remained was for the Red Talon to wipe them from the face of Timkovichi and her conquests would resume unhindered by the Hounds.

And yet, still no fire from above.

She keyed the long-range commlink to von Jankmon. "Star Commodore, you are prepared to fire, quiaff?" When no answer came she snarled. "Tell me you are prepared to fire or I will…"

The words died in her throat as her eyes drifted above the parting cloud. Far above, the Red Talon was descending, moving to fire, to destroy her enemies.

But something was wrong. The descent was wrong.

She activated her magnification and could only stare in horror at the sight.

The Red Talon was not descending. She was falling. Flames and debris billowed from her broken form, even now still taking fire from an enemy she could not perceive.

"Star Commodore, report!"

Again, no report came, and the reply seemed to come instead when a great thundercrack and a burst of light filled the sky, and when it was gone, the Red Talon continued her fall, now shorn in two by the unseen enemy.

She shrieked in rage. No! There was no force that could intervene such as this! Not that damned Alaric, not those pathetic Bears, or the Lyrans we have broken… I will not let this stand! Over her commlink she declared, "All warriors, strike down all who oppose you, all who come before you. This world will die screaming as a lesson to the others!" If I must die here, I will take them all with me! Every single one!

Continued weapons fire worked to break up the dying enemy cruiser, ensuring that surviving pieces would burn up enough in atmosphere to not cause cataclysmic damage to Timkovichi. Lord Paul felt his adrenaline rush decline, and with it, his focus shifted. "Do we have any idea where the other training groups are? Just what is going on here?"

"Still nothing from Imperator Corvus or Emma Centralla, sir," Commander Cohen said. "I'm also having trouble with our HPG. It's not picking up any transmissions on the network."

"How is that possible? Even if the ships aren't around, Old Connaught should be there."

"It's like nothing is. No stable HPG signals. Nothing's answering us either." Cohen's hands flew over the station. "We're getting a spike in the generators! Feedback is overloading them! Implementing crash shutdown!"

Paul received no time to process that. "Sir." His Chief of Staff, Rear Admiral Abigail Rodgers, looked up from a monitor at her station. "Sir, you should see this."

He didn't have to ask. She relayed the image to the holotank, which presented it as a flat holographic, coming from one of the ship's aft-facing hull cameras. "What in God's name…?" he gasped.

Behind the Arcadia, a solid field of blue light pulsed through space. It looked like the field of a ship in mid-jump, but it remained visible, constant. Even now the transport JumpShips that they'd jumped with, carrying the regiments for the joint training sessions, were at the corona of the field, which illuminated their gray hulls in a gentle azure glow.

Commander Patel undoubtedly knew he was going to call on her. Her voice was hoarse. "I've never seen anything like it. I've never heard of anything like it."

"Could that be how we survived the misjump?"

"I can't say that either, Admiral," she replied. "I can't tell you one thing or another. K-F Drives… they're not supposed to behave that way. Not at all. And the gravities here should be too great for any jump field to form. This… this is something we'd have to go to the Royal University of Roslyn about, or the New Avalon Institute of Science."

"Sir." Cohen checked his station. "We're getting a signal from the surface."

"Really? And not the Ghastillans?" That was peculiar, since he imagined local authorities would go to their own ships first. "Admiral Kruger should be fielding their inquiries before I."

"No sir. They've not hailed the Wotan at all, it seems. Sir…" Now confusion seeped into his voice. "The call claims to be from a Colonel Evan Kell. Of the Kell Hounds."

For once, good Lord, could something here make sense?! "Colonel Kell of the Kell Hounds? But we have…. And the 2nd Hounds are still on Arc-Royal! And there are no Kells at Colonel rank!"

He thought of the family's current numbers. Archduke Ethan Kell ruled Arc-Royal and the entirety of the Arc-Royal March of the Federation (as every Kell since Morgan had after the War of Donegal Succession a century ago), and his eldest daughter Callista Kell was a Captain in the 2nd Kell Hounds Regiment. Sons Phelan and Mark were attending Ayrshire on Arcadia, not active officers. They were the only main line left after Ethan's older brother Martin died childless in the 4th Succession War, killed in the fighting with Galedon's 3rd Sword of Light on Tukkayid in 3114.

He tried to remember if the Kell-Atholl branch had anyone, but even then, he knew the Kell Hound colonels by name. Neither were Kells.

"Put him on," Lord Paul sighed.

“-peat, this is Hound Sunray to unknown Warships. I don’t know who you are, but if that rain of cruiser parts is your handiwork, I owe you, a lot.”

"This is Arcadia Actual. I am Admiral Paul Marik, Lord of Corin, Commanding Officer of the 1st Battle Fleet, Royal Arcadian Navy." Paul drew in a breath. "Your thanks are welcome, but I am having difficulty with your claimed identity. You say you are Colonel Evan Kell, Hound Sunray?"

“Have been since birth, Admiral Marik.”

"Commanding which regiment?"

“”Here, the First Regiment, and the Third of the Second.” The static of PPC backwash fuzzed out the channel for a moment, then, “Hang on a minute, Admiral. I’ve got a prior engagement with the Hell’s Horses to handle. Handing you off to my second.”

Paul stopped himself from the obvious problem with that line, since he'd dined with Colonel Deirdre Ward, CO of the 1st Kell Hounds, just two evenings ago. "What is your status?"

"Lt. Colonel Nadia Allard, Admiral," a woman's voice replied. "Right now we're trying to hold back the Horses, but that psychotic Falcon bitch Hazen's troops just started razing everything and everyone they can get at. The militia can’t stop them, and all Hound elements are fully engaged; if you've got any further help for us, the people of Timkovichi could use it."

"She's right," said Admiral Rogers. "We're picking up transmissions. Establishing visuals."

The advanced video sensors on the Arcadia brought up more images, this time compiling them into three-dimensional images for the holotank. Paul's jaw locked at seeing a strange BattleMech with a green falcon emblazoned on its chest smash open an apartment complex, spite in its motions as it kicked aside the pitiful wreck of a missile carrier. Walking alongside was another 'Mech, one that looked similar to the Thor OmniMech his younger son Jason piloted in the 1st Atrean Dragoons, with a circular missile launcher on one shoulder and arm-mounted weapons and a slightly off-center cockpit as the main difference from Jason's machine. As he watched the pilot commenced their own carnage, discharging a PPC into a crowd of fleeing civilians followed by SRMs that blew apart their victims into ghastly chunks.

"Adonai," Cohen murmured. "Lord preserve, they're… they're just killing them."

The Admiral shook his head. "I've seen enough." He'd not seen such carnage since the frontline reports from the 4th Succession War in his youth, not even Sirius and the other worlds disputed with the Capellans had seen that level of gross slaughter. Having it disappear wouldn't erase the images from his mind.

With quiet fury he keyed the comm line, profoundly wishing he'd gotten the Arcadian Guards or the Proctor Assault Guards as originally proposed. "Colonel Allard, rest assured, help is on the way. Transmitting our IFF code information to you now." He nodded at Cohen. "Alert General Bridger. I want the 8th Strikers and 1st Kell Hounds scrambled and dropping on those sites immediately. Send in everything. And coordinate full deck strikes from the carriers to assist both landing forces and Colonel Ward's troops."

"Aye Admiral," Cohen said. "Orders going out now. Admiral Kruger is likewise ordering in the 4th Grenadiers."

"Good." The 4th Ghastillan Grenadiers were a crack brigade of two veteran 'Mech regiments, in accordance with Ghastilla's particular force doctrine. "Remind them that civilian lives are being lost every second!"