Plans of Resurgence....
A Stirring in the Deep Periphery
Months after the Battle for Terra, 3150....
Precentor Martial Hunter Domiclus was reviewing his usual reports in his office atop the Tower of the Sword. Below him was the tarmac of the largest spaceport in the Word’s space. Dozens of dropships in both directions, left and right, just below a snow capped mountain range. However, the drop ship he was expecting was coming through the atmosphere above. He looked up from his paperwork, through the thick ferroglass ceiling, and watched the massive machine atop pillars of flame slowly lowering out of the red colored sky.
Mid-nightday was always a little funny. Due to the speeds of the two moons and the planet, for about 3 hours each day, there was a “night” with a deep red moon that turned the sky red. Occasionally the standard night had the same hue but that was infrequent. More often than not, the other moon, which was exponentially larger would block the smaller of the two at standard night time.
“Precentor Martial, ROM dropship Tarrus will be arriving momentarily, would you have us send up Precentor ROM Brek once he arrives?” a voice emitted from his desk.
“Yes, Adept Miko, as quickly as able.”
“Blake’s Blessings Precentor Martial.” Her voice cut out.
He took a deep breath with his eyes closed, then began shifting paperwork and other items that were being used on his desk. By the time he was finished organizing it, he could see the dropship landing on the tarmac. He watched with interest far below as a door began opening immediately and a small vehicle tore down the ramp toward the base of the tower.
“Curious”, he thought aloud as he prepared the visitor’s chair.
He looked up a moment later and heard the elevator doors opening, an assistant greeting the visitor and having the doors to Domiclus’ office open. Brek came through the doors quickly and didn’t even acknowledge Domiclus, he went straight to the desk and inserted a data chip.
“Good day Brek…..?” he asked more as a question, curious but, confused about the urgency of the often erratic Precentor ROM. Brek’s face was showing a range of emotions, but mostly shock and anger. Letting the man go about getting the chip active, Domiclus stood quietly, watching. Then, a picture of a person in a chair, clearly being interrogated, appeared.
Audio began from a voice off screen; “We know you are affiliated with the Republic! Tell us why you are outside the Fortress Walls!”
The bloody and barely conscious person didn’t answer immediately. “The Wolves…… after they beat the………….Falcons…..had us leave……”
Brek stopped the recording. “Do you hear that Domiclus??? I have 4 more just like it. We captured a civilian vessel and brought it here, a deep cover agent determined their point of origin was inside the Fortress in May!”
Domiclus took a moment, then began realizing this information and what it meant…. “The Clans! Does that mean……???”
“Yes, Domiclus, the Clans took Terra! Devlin Stone is dead, the Republic is dead, and all that remains is what is left of the shattered Clans! But that’s not the worst of it. Those abominable Clans may be defiling Terra but now the Wolves claim to be ilClan and are reinstating the Star League!” Brek shouted in near hysterics.
“No…..” Domiclus whispered to himself….
“It is time to return before this wretched, broken thing takes hold and creates some grotesque abomination of the Star League!” Brek raged, seething about the audacity of the Clans.
“I have consistently chosen to continue rebuilding and expanding our military might over reinvading so soon after our production peaked but, this….. it changes everything.” Domiclus responded. “We will have a Conclave and decide. Come with me.”
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Starting in the center of the domed room a light came on. Below it was the holy words themselves of Jerome Blake atop a pedestal.
“In the name of Blessed Blake we will spread his light.” Every member of the chamber chanted. Once they finished speaking the light expanded and illuminated the massive room. Behind the book was the high seat of the Precentor Martial that raised above the book. Before him was the Conclave. Counter-Reformists, Toyamas, and True-Believers were all present and accounted for. Toyama faction members sat in the middle before the holy text and the Precentor Martial, who was also a Toyama, although he was more reserved in his aggression to spread Blake’s Light. He often found himself torn between the various factions, something his fellow Toyamas took note of vocally.
To either side of the Toyamas sat the other factions. The combined numbers of these other two factions matched the Toyamas’ numbers. Since they had restored full production of war material less than a decade ago, the Toyamas had been pushing to invade the Inner Sphere, only unlike the Clan’s failure, they would decimate those who stood in the way and push all the way to Terra. But, as the Precentor Martial consistently reminded them, they had to build much more.
Conscripts from outback worlds and even from the occasional Inner Sphere world were brought to the re-education camps for decades. Blake’s Light brought many of these lost souls from their hardship as a poor colonial, a purposeless pirate, or servant of a Great House into a greater purpose. Many found purpose within the Word of Blake militia and some elevated themselves to the Manei Domini. It was a gift to those brought into their order. But for those who defied and fought it? The Word of Blake would cleanse them of their wretchedness. Some conscripts did fight until the bitter end, where they were taken apart to repair injured followers of the Light who would make far better use of limbs and organs, especially survivors of the original Jihad still in cryostasis.
“Precentor ROM, show the holovids of the interrogations.” Commanded the Precentor Martial.
Silent except for the video audio, the room looked on in curiosity. Video after video, they saw the prisoners tell of how the Clans were on holy Terra and blasphemously trying to start a new Star League. By the end, angry conversations could be heard across the Conclave. Not interrupting, the Precentor Martial wanted to listen and looked on. Slowly, then louder and louder, the chant, “Light! Light! Light! Light!” filled the room in an ominous, dark tone.
Precentor Martial Domiclus raised his hands and the chanting died off. “Yes, my fellow followers of the Word, now is the time!” he shouted, echoing around the room. An uproar from the entire Conclave shook the very walls and foundations. Assistants and other workers in the building but outside the Conclave felt it tremble.
Minutes passed by and one by one the followers quieted and returned to their seats. “Brothers and sisters, I have already worked on invasion plans alongside Precentor ROM. Should we need to adjust, we will.” He began swaying back and forth making a blessing upon the device before him and a hologram of the Inner Sphere filled the massive room, the elevated holy text representing where Terra would be.
Based on information from deep cover ROM agents and information gathered from the captured vessel it showed the Inner Sphere in chaos. Lines for the Falcon, Wolf, Hells Horse, Lyran, and Free Worlds nations ran in every direction, seemingly in absolute chaos. Nothing appeared to be happening in the Ghost Bear and Capellan nations. Meanwhile the Draconis Combine was piercing into the Federated Suns.
“Our Invasion will proceed in this order.” Precentor Domiclus began, the hologram updating as he spoke. “We will muster forces for the Spinward corridors first, they will depart in six months and travel outside of the Inner Sphere nations to designated staging areas. One will strike at the Draconis Combine, one into Clan Snow Raven then into the Draconis Combine, one into the Federated Suns, and finally, a resupply and garrison force that will support all three corridors. The exact day will align with the corridors from the Rimward edge of the Inner Sphere. One will hit the Taurian Concordat and move into the Federated Suns, one will hit the Calderon Protectorate, then move to the Federated Suns, and the third will hit the Capellan Confederation, also with a resupply and garrison force to support.”
“Finally, Precentor ROM will move toward the Anti-Spinward portion of the Inner Sphere that looks to be in turmoil between all the warring factions. Strikes will be made on various worlds to make it look like the fighting is becoming more savage and fully embroil those factions in conflict.”
“Depending on how each strike proceeds, some corridors may need to reinforce others. As we have the solution to reactivate the HPGs we will be able to have a level of communication none of this blasphemous scum can muster.” Throughout the chamber members applauded.
“It is time we showed the Inner Sphere Blake’s Light, this time, there will be no Devlin Stone to save them.”
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Looking down from the Tower of the Sword, Precentor Martial Domiclus viewed kilometers of war material. This was only the Spinward Invasion force. Hundreds of dropships waited below with tens of thousands of personnel, battle armor, vehicles, and Battlemechs preparing to embark. Every few clusters of units he could see the matte, pitch black or gleaming white paint of Shadow Division Battlemechs, the Celestials, the pride of the Word of Blake. Demon Battle Armor were smaller dots below the Battlemechs, all standing in formation. Spectral aerospace fighters were lifting off at the various runways around the city to dock outside the atmosphere.
A large number of restored, standard Inner Sphere designs and designs produced by the Word of Blake made up most of the other forces. He grinned as his eyes panned to the rear of the Shadow Divisions to the largest machines. Omegas, dozens of Omegas. It was time to end the maddening foolishness of the Inner Sphere.
For additional context and background for Nomad Republic see: Word of Blake Background