u/MagicMissile27

Colonel Madeline Rittenhouse hated war, and she hated it even more fiercely because she was good at it.

For the majority of her adult life since the elite boarding scholas of the Praetorian countryside, where she went after her childhood in the upper-class estates of the province of Albion, war had been her livelihood. First, she had gone to the wars out of professional obligation – family tradition – all those things that make someone commit to a career in the first place. She served her time on the frontier, despising the squalor and the dismal state of many of the battles she fought in, and longing to return home. Then she had met her husband in the officer’s clubs and golf courses of mid-grade career staff jobs at South Downs, among many other home front assignments, and to stay in the Guard was clearly the path forward for them both. But then it was back to the field when she took over as XO of the 27^(th), as her record was too good to avoid field assignments. She could only stay home on training duties so long before they sent her back out, and her husband too, in opposite directions. The Imperium had no provision for couples to request contemporaneous tours of duty, so their leave periods almost never lined up. Even while most of the regiment – then-Colonel Braithwaite included – had been reunited with their families just a year or so ago after Gryllus, Madeline was unable to see her husband, Charles, for more than two days.

War, or planning for it, or dreading it, or recovering from it, was all she knew, save the few occasional months snatched away at their quiet home in the country. Having children had never been much of an option for the Rittenhouses – not with their demanding schedules, and the fertility problems they found they struggled with on top of their existing challenges – so all they had was each other. Despite the hard-edged reputation of the brunette senior officer among her troops, her marriage was quite healthy, and in fact rather passionate, though in a deeply private way. Anyone who knew what Madeline and Charles were like when they were alone together, solving crossword puzzles and snuggling under a hand-quilted blanket made by her grandmother, would scarcely recognize the flashing eyes and cold demeanor that she tended to show in the field. The truth was, really, that her anger at the vagaries and frustrations of military life boiled over into every interaction that reminded her of her place out here in the field, fighting aliens, not at home with her husband like she so desperately wanted to be. And so, she had risen to Colonel, with a reputation to be feared and a service record that was unquestioned despite her coldness.

She knew what they said about her in the ranks. They mocked her for her lack of apparent sense of humor and her severity, griped about her mercilessness, and spoke of her with anger or with fear. Some called her “Old Rebar” when they thought she wouldn’t hear of it – but she did. And yet, she didn’t change her ways. For when you had once committed to ruling by fear and by the strength of your will, to back off and let go of control was more frightening than going over the top in the trenches again.

And one final thing rattled Madeline to the core, though she never would speak of it openly. The report from the intelligence officers who had interrogated the prisoner in Communion, Ensign Chapman-Hodges, had named a Colonel Mary Sedgefield as the commanding officer of the enemy traitor Praetorian regiment…and Sedgefield was her own maiden name, before she had married into the equally wealthy Rittenhouses. She had been told once that she had a cousin around her age named Mary, but when she had asked about what happened to her, she was flatly told “she died” and the subject was changed. Was it possible that this could be the same woman, after all these years of wondering? It would be some family reunion indeed to be on opposite ends of a war…

/////

After extensive troubleshooting, the 119^(th)’s long range communications systems were finally back online. “Bloody finally,” muttered the tech as she crawled out from beneath the holotable in the Arsenal of Democracy. “You’re all set, General,” said the tech, saluting and jogging off to apply the encryption update that the tech-priests had created to the rest of the HQ vehicles. The start of a new month’s encryptions and a few transposed digits in a coded transmission were enough to completely scramble the regiment’s ability to keep high command informed about their activities, immediately in the tail end of the battle for Dubhan. Now, what remained of the logs from the battle were being transmitted post-haste, though a large amount of data was missing due to file corruption.

/////

Port Dubhan, Old City/Port Complex. 0600 hours

2^(nd) Battalion’s assaults the previous day had opened a lot of ground for the main regiments to advance. Once the enemy were in retreat, the major armored units of the 119^(th) were surging through the streets of Dubhan in no time, accompanied by half tracks full of Amercadian engineers clearing traps and anti-tank mines while Chimeras roared down main avenues and roads with cluster after cluster of Praetorians. Anything that didn’t look like part of the port infrastructure was broken down and if necessary, razed entirely rather than waste time and energy on clearing every single building.

The final assault push began at dawn after holding the furthest line of advance overnight, with Major Sherman’s main battle tanks parked in street corners and intersections, flanked by the heavy slow infantry tanks of Captains Tennyson and Mattingly. On the far flank of the city, the lightweight units of the division (placed under the control of the unpredictable but skilled Major Rawlings) had cleaned up house without significant issue, securing the sides of the advance against unwanted enemy infiltrators and making the final push a narrow front. Ideally, the initial plan had been to insert the Royal Heavy Grenadiers in force to make an opening in the port’s entrenched defenses, but that plan had to be modified by the sudden extrication of a large chunk of regular and heavy grenadiers for a mission to [ERROR: INFORMATION REDACTED – CLEARANCE REQUIREMENT NOT MET].

Instead, a wedge of up-armored Chimeras were fitted with dozer blades to break through the sandbag walls ahead of the Imperial advance, and the remaining heavy grenadiers were divided into groups to lead each regular grenadier company. Line infantry units, meanwhile, were posted up in the remaining buildings that were high enough to provide line of sight, and had fields of fire for their rifles (and the Amercadian missile launcher teams that joined them) looking down the avenues of advance. When the sun was just about to rise, General Braithwaite gave the order to advance, and – ERROR 559: DATA NOT FOUND // BREAK OPERATION

Resuming…Found log replay file 0808.sdf. File is encrypted. Decoding…done. Transcript follows:

/////

Port Dubhan, Old City/Port Complex. 0800 hours

>(noise of distant explosion)

>UNKNOWN TROOPER: “Shite, someone clipped a promethium tank over by the waterfront!”

>SERGEANT PERKINS: “Boys! TIME TO MOVE!”

>OGRYN BONE’EAD BOBBY: “You got it boss. Y’all go on and git through that alleyway!”

>(heavy Ogryn footsteps going into the distance, shotgun blasts)

>(tires screech, footsteps, sound of vox operator catching their breath)

>CORPORAL PERRY: (undertone) “Whew, glad they’re on our side.”

>PERRY: “You asked for a vox, sir?”

>MAJOR HANCOCK: “I did, thank you, Corporal.” (button clicking noises) “Major Sherman, this is Major Hancock. What is your status?”

>MAJOR SHERMAN (over vox, broken with static): “Good morning, Major. Five enemy tanks have been neutralized. We have two Mars-pattern Russes in need of track repairs and one Matilda crew that bailed out after a fire, but all other assets are operational. Second Engineers Company is on site for assistance in clearing a field of tank traps leading into the container yard. I have Major Wilson-Blakely on the line from the left flank if you’d like to hear her report as well.”

>HANCOCK: “Patch her through.”

>(distant explosion)

>MAJOR WILSON-BLAKELY (over vox): “Wilson-Blakely speaking.”

>HANCOCK: “Major, good to hear from you. This is Major Hancock at the forward HQ. What is the status of the container yard assault from the west?”

>WILSON-BLAKELY: “Good morning, sir. Spot of bother at the gate but after that the assault has been on schedule. Light infantry had to do a bit of wire cutting to create an entrance, then we put five Chimeras through and sent a platoon round each side of the main loading terminal. No issues with offshore fire yet. Holding position for armored support from the East.”

>(tank treads rumbling)

>UNKNOWN TROOPER: “Can’t this fething thing go any faster, eh?”

>UNKNOWN VEHICLE DRIVER: “Missy, would you like to get out and push?”

>(vehicle treads noise dissipates)

>HANCOCK: “Good. Keep me updated. Thank you, Major.”

>SHERMAN: “I currently have my men holding three lines of advance, sir, down Fifth, Gateway, and Second avenues. Requesting permission to push through the east side of the container yard toward the main docks once the tank traps are clear, I estimate – one-zero minutes.”

>HANCOCK: “Good copy, Major. One moment please.”

>(button pushing noises, distant tank main guns firing)

>HANCOCK: “General, Major Hancock reporting. Major Sherman and Major Wilson-Blakely report favorable progress on the west flank down Fifth, Gateway, and Second avenues. Estimated one-zero minutes till the path is clear for primary advance toward objectives Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Request permission to proceed into the harbor complex.”

>GENERAL BRAITHWAITE (over vox): “Proceed, Major. Good copy on all, I see your status on the board. Make it happen.”

>HANCOCK: “Understood, ma’am. Thank you.”

>(button pushing noises, aircraft engines overhead fading into distance)

>HANCOCK: “Sherman, Major Hancock again. You have permission to proceed in one-zero minutes or when the path is clear. Drive the bastards into the sea.”

>SHERMAN: “With pleasure, sir.” (rustling noise on vox) “Get me second platoon lead!” (vox clicks)

>End of file 0808.sdf…proceeding to next file…file not found! Proceeding to next folder in archive…decrypting…

/////

The tanks and infantry had reached the final stretch to the last piers of the harbor now, and the water of the coast was in sight, as were the ships parked in the harbor, sparkles of gunfire glinting in the air from the aftermath of the Riverine’s assault and the infiltration team…

(resolved in comments below once harbor assault is done)

/////

>(NOTE: This part of the bit is separate from the combat, I just wanted to go ahead and resolve it)

Four days later

Fort Davies, Lora MacRae HQ Building, Commissariat Courtroom

“Bailiff, bring in the accused, please,” said the cold Valhallan voice. Commissar Jensen presided over the summary court-martial, looking impassive as usual from behind a podium at which she was seated, blue eyes piercing the crowd with a searching stare and her blonde hair disappearing neatly behind her cap. To her right at a lower seat, her court clerk, the diminutive senior yeoman Claire Fleming, sat with a typewriter before her, and to the Commissar’s left was a small stand for witnesses to speak. No chairs or tables were set out for the accused, nor was there a space for defense lawyers or a jury – this was a summary court martial, subject to Commissariat authority alone.

Two Amercadian MPs marched in, flanking a pair of Praetorian officers in their full red-coated dress uniforms, both women already sweating copiously in the heat despite the air conditioning’s work to keep the room tolerably cool. “Phoebe D’Ysquith and Sibella Hayward,” Jensen’s voice rang out, “I have here a report of Offense and Disposition that charges you with the following violations of the Code of Military Justice: Article 86 – Absence Without Leave. Article 114 – Dueling. Article 128 – Assault and Aggravated Assault. Article 133 – Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and a Lady.” Her eyes swept the blonde and the brunette before her, Phoebe still looking pale and tired from her extensive recovery. “How do you plead?” the Commissar asked coolly. Sibella met the Commissar’s eyes. “Guilty, ma’am,” she said quietly. “Miss D’Ysquith?” “Guilty, ma’am,” echoed the brunette. This was perhaps, those who knew them would be able to tell, one of the only times they had seen the two agree on anything.

Jensen made a note coolly. “Very well. I will now consider matters in extenuation or mitigation,” she continued. In the front row, Colonel Rittenhouse watched attentively beside Lieutenant-Colonel Darnaway and the rest of the senior staff of the base, having flown in for the trial to make it clear just how seriously the 119^(th) was taking this case. It didn’t help these two foolish girls’ chances that four of the division’s most senior officers – Major Ferguson, Lieutenant-Colonel Potts, Colonel Rittenhouse, and General Braithwaite herself – all had fairly recent and extremely negative experiences with dueling. Witnesses were called to discuss the nature of the case as it was investigated. The seconds and two medics all described the fight in broad sweeping terms, delicately trying to avoid taking any further responsibility for being an accessory to the event – an effort for which they were mostly successful because Jensen had already filed letters of reprimand for all four, and so they had little else to hide. If anything, they were being so thorough that it seemed to any observer – and this was an accurate perception – that they wanted to try to save their own necks by hanging the two combatants out to dry.

/////

“Please state your name, rank, and assignment for the record,” said the quiet voice of the clerk. “Róisín Elizabeth Leary, Captain, Medic Company Able.” “Captain, is it correct that these two officers are your subordinates?” said Jensen. “That’s correct, ma’am,” said Leary with a nod. Even knowing she wasn’t the one on trial, Leary was sweating in her slightly more formal version of the desert khaki uniform, comparable to that worn by the senior officers of the regiment. She pitied Phoebe and Sibella, who were likely total puddles of sweat by this point as they stood before the Commissar, never having been given an order to relax or sit. “Captain, how long have you known the accused?” continued Jensen. “About twelve or thirteen months now, Commissar.” “And how would you describe their relationship?” “…Mutual distaste, Commissar. Neither ever seemed to be able to get along with the other.” “What actions did you take?” Leary explained all the times she had advised the two to put their differences aside and work together, and the disciplinary action she had finally threatened them with if they misbehaved while she was at the front.  Finally, after half an hour of detailed questions about Phoebe and Sibella’s work habits, she was released to return to the gallery, to her great relief. Leary hated this whole damned business, and dearly wished things could be different. But here they were, watching her troops reap the rewards of their own stupidity.

/////

“Please state your name, rank, and assignment for the record,” said the quiet voice of the clerk. “Madeline Jessica Rittenhouse, Colonel, Commanding Officer, XXVIIth Praetorian Infantry.” “Colonel, thank you for your time. I’ll get straight to the point,” said Jensen, dropping some of her earlier formalities so as not to waste the commanding officer’s time making her statement. “These two officers are guilty by their own admission of breaking multiple severe regulations, for which the punishment is allowed to be up to death. Do you find these officers valuable?” The coldness of the question caught Leary by surprise in the audience, but Rittenhouse seemed to take it in the spirit of honest inquiry. “Based on their supervisor’s testimony and their own, Commissar, it seems to me that they have important skills. How they go about using their time and their talents is another matter,” she said, her eyes sweeping the accused, “but they are well trained.” “Very well, Colonel. And your recommendation as their commanding officer?”

Rittenhouse looked at the two accused with something between pity and distaste. Fighting over some man, some rumors had said? What did they know of real love, hmm? How many hours had they sacrificed on the altar of devotion amid a life of duty and detachment? “Commissar, per proposal A submitted to the court’s consideration, I have recommended the accused for punitive transfer. Their skills should not be wasted, but their continued service in this regiment would besmirch its proud name.” Jensen nodded along, while they all caught a flinch from both Phoebe and Sibella at the sound of the first part of their punishment. Rittenhouse continued: “I also have recommended the accused be stripped of all rank, privileges, and identifying marks as officers,” she bore down, ignoring the slightly greenish tinge that was coming into both women’s faces. Jensen nodded. “Very well. After a brief recess we will proceed to sentencing.” She rapped a small gavel on the podium, and everyone was allowed to relax and move around – the accuseds were dismissed to get some temporary rest, and Jensen stepped away from the table and stretched.

/////

“Miss D’Ysquith and Miss Hayward,” said Jensen after a lengthy discussion on the necessity of the regulations the two of them had violated, “I will now pronounce sentence. Having found you guilty on all charges by your own admission, I hereby remand you to the 27^(th) Praetorian chain of command for immediate reduction in rank to Specialist, retroactive forfeiture of one-half pay for four months, twenty lashes each, and proceedings for discharge from His Imperial Majesty’s Praetorian Guard for immediate assignment to the 1066^(th) Penal Regiment at the earliest convenience of its commanding officer.” There was a sudden thud as Phoebe fainted and slowly toppled over. No one stirred to catch her under the glare of the commissar till Jensen said: “Get her on her feet.” The MPs had been replaced at Jensen’s instruction by two of Major Ferguson’s 4^(th) Battalion veteran sergeants, who now stepped forward and roughly shook her awake. “Colonel?” said Jensen, looking to Rittenhouse. “Proceed, sergeants,” said Rittenhouse, hardening her sympathies against the young junior officers. “Let there be no delay in carrying out the Commissar’s sentence.” The sergeants wasted no time in confiscating Phoebe and Sibella’s uniform coats, blouses, rank insignia, and uniform caps, then marched the condemned duo out of the room in their sleeveless undershirts and trousers. Sibella stared straight ahead, her expression slack and numb from despair, while Phoebe sobbed the whole way out.

/////

TO: 1066^(th) PENAL REGIMENT HQ

FROM: MAJ. THERESE WILCOX, XO, XXVII^(th) PRAETORIAN HQ, FORT DAVIES

SUBJ: PERSONNEL TRANSFER REQUEST

1.      Due to recent disciplinary proceedings, I recommend the following now-discharged personnel for assignment to your unit:

a.      Phoebe D’Ysquith (former rank: Second Lieutenant)

b.      Sibella Hayward (former rank: Second Lieutenant)

2.      Service records for each member are attached as enclosure (a), and the record of court-martial sentencing is attached as enclosure (b).

3.      Thank you for your time and attention to this matter. Physical transfer of personnel, if accepted, may be arranged via SEPCOR.

4.      Fort Davies HQ sends.

WILCOX.THERESE.JEAN.2750170928//RELEASED AT 1700L____.M42

### Thought for the day: Inaction breeds contempt. ####

/////

(My apologies to everyone I have kept waiting. The combat bit was a rollicking success with an 18/18)

"Praetoria in a nutshell, eh? Well, let's see…Factories, lots of people, acid rain, more factories, football, and tea. Am I missing anything?" "Don't forget the crime. That's the secret ingredient in the Praetoria cocktail. Plus all the posh nobles." "Right, of course. Well, if you don't mind the crime, the acid rain, not seeing the stars but a few times a year, the working conditions, and the bad air, it's a right nice place to live, I dare say." -Corporals Sara Parseval and Dana Webber

/////

Praetoria, located near the Segmentum Tempestus naval base at Bakka, is a heavily populous hive world, a planet with a breathable atmosphere and a humid maritime temperate climate that has been heavily industrialized and developed. Towering cities sprawl together in vast hive-like metropolis structures, with wide bands of countryside in between crisscrossed by rail lines and roadways. The factories of the cities dump out smoke, steam, and chemical exhaust day and night. Nobles live lives of luxury on estates with green lawns and ride horses across clean pastures, while common people labor in factories and scrabble for a living under the ever-cloudy skies and acid rain typical in Praetoria’s sprawling cities.

Compared to ancient Terra [i.e. Earth as we know it], Praetoria’s climate tends on the cooler and rainier side, which is only further influenced by the heavy amounts of sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide emissions from its fossil fuel plants that cause copious acid rain and ever-present smog. Nearly a perpetually cloudy planet and one shrouded by light pollution as well, most Praetorians see the stars very infrequently amid their cold winters, rainy springs, and muggy humid summers.

Water covers ~40% of Praetoria’s surface, present in small oceans, major lakes, and rivers, which serve to divide the five primary land masses and as surface water supplies for the chronically overpopulated cities. Each of the primary land masses is administered as its own “province”, an administrative subdivision of the Praetorian crown which has its own subculture, accents, customs, and stereotypes.

[For those of you who are actually from the UK, Ireland, and Commonwealth countries, this is a loving parody and is not meant to offend, by the way. I am open to any suggestions or easter eggs you want to see included].

The five provinces of Praetoria are Albion, Caledonia, Cymru, Éire, and the United Colonies, each of which is administered in multiple counties.

[for context, in case anyone hasn’t got it, those represent England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and the Commonwealth countries]

/////

Praetoria is a society that prides itself on order and discipline, and that begins from the order of government. A constitutional*[1] monarchy with the Emperor at the top, the head official in charge of the planet is His Excellency the Governor-General, the Emperor’s direct representative on world. There has never been a female Governor-General in Praetoria’s history. The formal order of noble titles is as follows:

1. The Emperor of Mankind, Most Sovereign Lord of Mankind and King of Praetoria
2. His Excellency the Governor-General of Praetoria, Defender of the Faith, Commander-in-Chief of the Praetorian Guard, &c.
3. His Grace/Her Grace the Provincial Governor of _____, or the Duke/Duchess of _____
4. His/her Lordship the Earl/Countess of County ______
5. The Right Honorable/The Honorable Viscounts/Viscountess/Marquess
6. The Honorable Baron/Baroness, and other minor Lords/Ladies.

The provincial governors (who hold the titular rank of Duke or Duchess respectively) are assisted by the holders of the County seats in various sections of their respective provinces (earls/countesses). These senior nobles then have subordinate viscounts/viscountesses/marquesses who hold the titles of City Administrator, Lord Mayor, or other similar positions. Lords and Barons are more minor landholders, who may hold administrative positions but lack the widespread authority of viscounts and higher titles. All titled landowners have a vote in the Chamber of Lords Advisory, a collective parliamentary body that proposes legislation for the Governor-General’s approval.

/////

“On Praetoria, the great cathedrals of the Emperor are built of stone and stained glass, illustrating triumphs of old and the glories of the Imperial Saints. High-born and low-born alike are instructed in the faith in the schools of the great cities - Oxford, Londinium, et cetera.” – Captain Lydia McKinney

The Imperial Cult on Praetoria is rather similar to the practice of certain faith traditions on ancient Terra. [What we might recognize in our day and age as the High Church Anglican and Roman Catholic traditions]. An all-male priesthood – sometimes called ‘vicars’ – preside in stone cathedrals at gilded marble altars topped with candles, wearing seasonally colorful vestments, to the accompaniment of organ music and a rich choral singing tradition. Though he retains the title of “Defender of the Faith”, the Governor-General of Praetoria has no authority over the Ecclesiarchy presence on world. A few centuries ago, a well-documented attempt was made to give the Governor-General more authority and allow him to select bishops of his own liking, which was flatly rejected by the leadership of the Ecclesiarchy.

/////

“Every good Praetorian noble daughter can read, write, sew, embroider, cook, comment on literature, and play a sport. Quite the catch for an eligible man.” – Captain Róisín Leary

The people of Praetoria by and large keep to their own social customs and social circles. They prize the ability to keep one’s emotions under control and “keep on keeping on” in the face of adversity, and their noble class are strong believers in always being seen impeccably dressed. As a rule, most Praetorians you meet are sometimes haughty, usually hardworking, and don’t show off their emotions lightly, but many of them have dry senses of humor hidden behind their “stiff upper lip” façade. Among their sports is a game which in the United Colonies is called “soccer” but most other Praetorians call “football”, which is one of the most popular pastimes on the world and often the cause of violent arguments or pub brawls. Praetoria is also home to a rich tradition of formal theatrical plays, folk ballads, and classic literature. Additionally, since Praetorians are used to a cold, cloudy climate, many (especially in Albion and Caledonia, the northernmost provinces) tend to be pale/fair skinned and sunburn easily as a result.

Praetorian couples are mostly heterosexual. Homosexuality isn’t explicitly banned anywhere in the Praetorian constitution but the Praetorian Ecclesiarchy has been known to look with disfavor on it, as the offspring of heterosexual couples is the source of more loyal servants of the Emperor. Divorce and extramarital intercourse are officially forbidden by the Praetorian Ecclesiarchy – hotly contested topics from the days when the Governor-General sought more influence over the Imperial Creed – and birth control and abortion are discouraged if not outright forbidden. However, in private, the nobles who speak in the Chamber of Lords Advisory at length about the evils of contraception sometimes will be the very first to hide or dispose of embarrassing out-of-wedlock pregnancies among their own family, and the common folk of the hive cities have little regard for these “stuffy rules” of the noble families. Formal courtship is very important among noble families, and a potential suitor’s likelihood to be selected relies heavily on his or her connections, poise, and eloquence as well as their looks and personality.

Praetoria, as an overcrowded hive world, is home to plenty of crime. The street gangs of Praetoria’s industrial cities such as Blacklake and Mirvingham are among the most violent and powerful back-alley organizations in the region, though they still pale in comparison to the legendary gangs of Necromunda. Given the overcrowding of its cities and the criminal habits of some of its inhabitants, it is no surprise that Praetoria has been sending its sons and daughters to the wars of the Imperium for as long as it has existed, as draftees, forced into service in place of prison sentences, or even as volunteers desperate for a change from their dull routine as hive dwellers. The regiments of the Praetorian Guard serve on countless worlds as part of the Astra Militarum, primarily consisting of infantry regiments held together with the threat of the whip and copious spit & polish. Some regiments, like General Braithwaite’s pet project, the XXVIIth Mechanized Infantry, have taken to more unconventional tactics in recent years such as the effective use of combined arms maneuvering, skirmishing lines instead of block infantry formations, and a heavier reliance on vehicles, but these innovations have yet to gain full approval back home from high command.

[1] * The constitution of Praetoria primarily serves to maintain the status quo of nobility and lower classes, and has no universal Bill of Rights.

The Fort Davies Digest had obtained their latest scoop, one that was even now being transmitted back over the airwaves and space lanes to home-front news programs on Amercadia and beyond. Betty Byline’s gamble had been correct – attending the post-operational party had scored significant amounts of information on the progress of the war. The fact that it had also scored her an amorous evening with a Kasrkin was, in Betty’s perspective, an excellent bonus. Headlines of the paper included…

“In Charge of the Whole Operation”: An exclusive inside perspective on the latest Imperial victory

A major feature piece article by Betty herself was the main item of news, with co-authorship from a man named Jim Leonard. This piece spilled the full details of everything Buck had told her about his exploits and those of the other regiments [link: here]. Combined with testimony from other personnel who were part of the recent offensive [link: here], it contained a detailed description of his attack and the enemies his men had faced. It also described the confidence of everyday troopers that despite their inter-regimental tensions flaring up at times, that the war would certainly be won.

Several of these details were almost certainly classified, but Buck had been pretty free with what he reported, so she was as well. Buck was quoted as being “in charge of the whole operation”, and was portrayed as a roguish, charming figure who cultivated a myth of his own invincibility. Betty’s article wasn’t blindly singing his praises – she did note that every soldier, no matter how elite, was just a piece of the Emperor’s grand war machine – but it was highly detailed and overall fairly complimentary. “If we get the job done, we know the chances of us making it go way up,” Buck was quoted as saying, among other such things.

/////

Will the war really be over by Sanguinalia? A Munitorum expert says it’s not so simple.

A heavily redacted and anonymized version of Claire Michaels’s interview with Arenis [link: here] followed in a subsequent issue, not giving the name of who Michaels had spoken to but referring to her as “a senior Munitorum expert whose discretion precludes being referred to by name”. Most of Arenis’s more…pungent…statements were left out of the article, but a few highlights remained, mainly cautionary statements about the pace of the war:

“Operational tempo has been hard to maintain, especially considering the infrequent resupplies and reinforcement windows. We're 'behind schedule' ... as if the enemy is going to cooperate with our timetable….But while we need to be faster, pushing forward recklessly is only going to endanger what gains we've made…our enemies in this theater fight dirty. Vigilance, diligence, and cooperation are what's going to determine how things go.”

The anonymous official was quoted as being generally positive that the campaign would end in Imperial victory, but essentially warning against complacency. A few cryptic hints were dropped about how regiments were spending their money, but all hidden behind phrases like “most secret sources suggest” and “an anonymous tipoff”.

/////

Swords at dawn: Praetorian medical officers arrested in scandalous dueling plot.

This one was a pretty cut and dry description of Sibella and Phoebe’s duel, noting that both officers were facing serious charges, that Phoebe was still hospitalized, and concluding with a reminder that the base’s standing orders prohibited any such conduct. It was widely read by the base's Praetorian population, who had a field day with the scandalous rumors.

/////

Captain Róisín Leary’s normally soft eyes were alight with fury as she read the report in front of her. Those foolish, ignorant girls…what the hell were they thinking? The next days were filled with mishap reports, questions from the chain of command, and the beginning of what would be a long, arduous, and frustrating administrative investigation, which – if the equally-furious General Braithwaite had anything to say about it, and she did – would end in a court-martial.

/////

Officio Prefectus Form OP-4910

Report of Offense and Disposition

Name of Accused(s): Sibella Hayward, Phoebe D’Ysquith

Rank/Grade: Lieutenant

Department: Medic Company Able

Place of Offense(s): Fort Davies, Trackold Minoris

Date of Offense(s): _______.M42

Details of Offense(s):

§914. Art. 114. Endangerment offenses – subsection (b), Dueling.

DUELING: Any person subject to this chapter— (1) who fights or promotes, or is concerned in or connives at fighting a duel; or (2) who, having knowledge of a challenge sent or about to be sent, fails to report the facts promptly to the proper authority; shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

§928. Art. 128. Assault – subsections (a) and (b), aggravated assault.

(a) ASSAULT: Any person subject to this chapter who, unlawfully and with force or violence— (1) attempts to do bodily harm to another person; (2) offers to do bodily harm to another person; or (3) does bodily harm to another person; is guilty of assault and shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

(b) AGGRAVATED ASSAULT: Any person subject to this chapter— (1) who, with the intent to do bodily harm, offers to do bodily harm with a dangerous weapon; (2) who, in committing an assault, inflicts substantial bodily harm or grievous bodily harm on another person; or (3) who commits an assault by strangulation or suffocation; is guilty of aggravated assault and shall be punished as a court martial may direct.

§933. Art. 133. Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman/lady.

CONDUCT UNBECOMING: Any commissioned officer, cadet, or midshipman who is convicted of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman/lady shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

PART II: INITIAL DISPOSITION

Upon Notification of Commanding Officer:

☒Command Investigation Directed – signed, DARNAWAY, REBECCA L. LCOL at JUL02/1621L/___.M42

Preliminary Inquiry Officer Assigned:

Taraling, Isabel G. COMMCDT

 

[OOC: No, I didn’t make all that up. That’s copy and pasted from the real US Uniform Code of Military Justice and an investigative report form.]