Stonehearth Hostage Crisis

The British oppression of the exiled Irish was an open secret in the empire. The public was aware of what their new world was like, but had no idea how little assistance they received from their overseers, nor how antagonistic the relationship could be. Viceroy Mosley’s men were always watching over the communities on Eire Nua, but never a part of them really. Any infraction was met with severe retribution, and if said infraction was against the Protectorate, that retribution was often death or worse. This fact did not go unnoticed, as beneath the surface of society, the Irish Republican Army and its allies prepared for their next battle for liberation.

Life in ‘New Hibernia’ had grown to be most uncomfortable under the watchful eye of Viceroy Oswald Mosley, who had a particularly hands-on approach to statecraft. While charismatic in view of the British public, his messaging to the Irish populace was overbearing and hostile. Taxes on local harvests were fine-tuned by G.R.A.I.L. based on the demands of the homeland post-famine, ignoring the unique hurdles of the alien landscape, as well as human error. If a farm underperformed, the locals simply would go without sufficient food, try their hand foraging, or attempt bartering with neighbors (assuming they too weren't also short). Some towns tried to mitigate starvation with communal pantries, but those isolated deeper in the countryside typically starved.

Due to threats from the Irish Republican Army, Mosley kept large garrisons of Protectorate troops outside the colony's biggest cities, with the ‘capital’ city of Kiltur hosting a massive command center. After the many attacks in recent years, the garrison forces have reduced patrols, leaving the countryside lawless when harvest time passes. This relationship with the locals provides the worst of both worlds; too overbearing in the city, yet negligent in the countryside, where starvation pushes many to crime. The public has on many occasions made their distaste for Mosley clear, with protesters making up the vast majority of all arrests by the military constabulary. Under a constant state of siege, the Irish have never before been so unified in their support of the IRA.

The central apparatus of the IRA operates with the utmost secrecy, with the location of any form of headquarters a complete secret, both to British and Irish alike. The Cairo Gang has uncovered that the “Republic” is broken down into smaller cells organized by singular leaders, who meet regularly with the other groups as part of the Revolutionary Dáil. This informal assembly, frequented by either spokesmen or the leaders themselves, casts votes for the Irish Government in exile, and coordinates rebel activity. The different cells often have distinct political leanings and modus operandi, and thus the advocates' meetings often result in shouting matches over ideology.

However one of the only ideas that passed through the Dáil without argument was the formation of a unified militia; not trained for subterfuge and political hits, but for theoretical open encounters. During the Brotherhood days, Irish revolutionaries often clashed with Protectorate forces in smaller units, lighting several small fires under the empire’s foot. This method only worked until the British responded with crushing force, and smoked out the enemy before they could retreat underground. For the inevitable day that the revolution boiled over, the IRA needed a unified and trained standing army, one that could fight the enemy under the light of day. The result of this 1916 initiative was the Fenian Guard, the strong arm of the united IRA. The first Fenian officers were handpicked for marksmanship and trustworthiness under pressure, resulting in a shorthand list of 200 candidates. After training, these men were dispersed across Eire Nua, with the simple command of forming their own combat sections. After the first five years of operation the Fenian Guard had recruited and trained 4000 men for their first flying column. By the outbreak of the Great War, this number had more than tripled, as resistance was increasingly seen by the public as not only possible, but necessary. Nonetheless, the advocates in the Dáil all dreaded the day they would need to call on their new forces…

Decades passed before the day the Fenians were needed. In 1939, the struggle between the Irish and their ever-present overlords boiled over, with a tragic incident in one of Eire Nua’s outer cities. IRA agents had for some time been terrorizing an imperialist outpost in the city of Limway, a regional center of some 27,000 denizens. It started with simple logistical sabotage; disabling vehicles, a few thefts of military supplies, and the odd “disappearance” of certain officers during their shore leave. For a time, these incidents were buried to keep Mosley from bearing down on all parties, but after the events of September 8th, the situation degraded beyond recourse. An English patrol, which had been resting at a local pub by the name of Paradise Found, began harassing the local populace after a few too many pints. The men reportedly abused the pub’s owner after she cut off new rounds to them, after which they stormed off. While the drunken men stumbled back to their barracks, four men assaulted the soldiers, leaving all but one dead. While he had no definitive proof, the surviving private insisted the men were IRA, especially as one of them resembled a local wanted poster. While the assailants meant well in defending the pub’s owner, their intervention caused a massive crackdown in Limway.

After the British soldier regained consciousness, the local Garrison Sergeant Major, one Anthony Alfred, ordered the town fully searched, instituting a curfew as well as a stop and search edict. The owner of Paradise Found was also collected for rigorous questioning, a move that further enraged the populace. The protests broke out into violent confrontations, as local men hurling ashen rocks at the military patrols were met with gunfire. Rather than allow the imperialists to murder their comrades in the street, protesters swarmed the shooters, capturing them and taking up their arms. The point of no return had been crossed.

Word of the confrontation reached both the local garrison, and two platoons of local Fenians. GSM Alfred wasted no time cordoning off the neighborhood where the protesters were gathering, unaware that fifty of the IRA’s gunmen were already shadowing their movements. As the military made their incursion with small arms and riot gear, the second cell organized the protesters, drawing Alfred into town square. Twenty IRA riflemen opened fire as the British closed in, taking care to shoot at the more open targets in the rear. As they were not expecting the protesters to have many firearms, the reaction to an unexpected volley caused panic in the British encirclement. At the moment of the greatest chaos, the outer platoon descended on Alfred and his men. By the end of the encounter, seventy of the local garrison were either dead, or captured. The local IRA cell wasted no time in capitalizing on the momentum and public support, simultaneously rallying the protesters to arms, and warning informants up the chain of command. Even if they won their fight there, Mosley would soon descend onto Limway.

On September 12th, the garrison at Limway went dark. Viceroy Mosley was immediately alerted to the situation, deploying two companies of Tommybots to the surface. The response team reported something very strange; the town was acting as if nothing had changed. Little-to-no evidence of a struggle could be found, yet the entire complement of the garrison had disappeared. The only signs of foul play was a destroyed segment of their fortifications, a concrete wall detonated by a small explosive device. The locals were cold in demeanor, and uncooperative in the investigation. All Mosley could do was resume occupation, with the automatons remaining in the damaged military base. Any brash moves would cause too many ripples in the Victorian press, and he wanted to keep the situation quiet. The best course of action was to quarantine the region, and call in some favors from Earth.

Mosley contacted an old friend, the acclaimed Major-General Boney Fuller. The Major-General was a staunch political ally, and thought of by the Viceroy as a bit of a military savant. Fuller readily accepted the invitation, scheduling to depart only a week after receiving the message. The week would allow him to gather a few capable staff, as well as gain permission from the Lord-Protector. Baldwin was uneasy about this personal favor, but he also found Fuller’s suggestions for the Great War to be grating and brash, so an excuse to be rid of him was a suitable outcome. If only he had realized that Mosley’s communique had been intercepted.

The IRA had already been on alert about the developing situation since the initial clash, and were already moving agents in position to gather information flowing between the Viceroy, Eire Nua, and the jump gate. After the “creative coercion” of some communications officers, the Dáil was able to pass their own message to the homeworld, contacting some long forgotten allies back in Ireland. The British could not simply remove the entire population of the island, lest there be no one left to work the land. The only remnants of the Irish public on Earth after the 1890s were either exiles in America, or Protestants from families which either distinguished themselves with service or simply kept their head bowed low enough. These latter ‘lucky’ ones were ultimately ripped from family members who were sent off along with the Catholics; the remnant only equating to 3% of all Irish. 

Of course, being spared expulsion did not make the locals any more a fan of their new neighbors than those who were removed, and they found they had more in common with Catholics fleeing to the U.S. than they did with any settlers. Many of them flocked to join up with the Saor Éire Movement, a leftist organization with powerful contacts both in France, and the United States. This paramilitary group had used their network to support the IRA for almost a decade, smuggling weapons to Eire Nua in secret while operating as an independent mercenary company (Mic Saora) in the public eye. The organization’s founder, Irish-born American Peadar O'Donnell received word of Mosley’s plot a full day ahead of the official transmission, and quickly arranged for a team to ensure the situation couldn’t be swept under the rug. As the bulk of his above board forces were aiding the Catalans in repelling the Spanish, he passed his resources to Protestant agents in the homeland; the brothers Harry, Charlie, and George Gilmore. The Gilmores had contacts within the Royal Navy, which gave their operatives a direct path to their target.

On October 3rd, the HMS Stonehearth departed Balfourville Scotland, carrying a small contingent of marines, some heavy military equipment, and the general staff of Major-General Fuller. The first two days of transit were without incident, with the crew growing comfortable and rather bored. As much of the ship slept mid-shift, twenty Saor Eire agents that were snuck aboard among both crew and cargo systematically eliminated the marines on board. By the time alarms were raised, only a dozen or so military personnel were still able to respond with force, the vast majority of which were killed in limited firefights in the corridors of the vessel. In thirty-three minutes, the entire vessel was under Irish control, and Fuller was bound up in the brig.

The Saor Eire agents managed to keep conditions onboard their seized craft under control for the remainder of their transit through the jump lane. The 150 or so remaining prisoners were hostile, but could be easily persuaded to calm down after being reminded of the existence of an airlock. Fuller was kept in a separate space; taken better care of than other prisoners, if only to make him a more appealing hostage. The Gilmores kept their men tight-lipped, only making clear to the Major-General who they were, and what their immediate intentions with him were.

When they entered orbit around Avalon, it was George Gilmore who established contact with Royal Navy’s traffic controllers, demanding to be put in contact with Oswald Mosley. The Viceroy was already expecting the arrival of the Stonehearth, but certainly was shocked to hear the frigate had been hijacked. He immediately ordered a strike force of seven vessels to surround the Irish terrorists, who remained in the upper atmosphere, practically taunting the British below. The demands of the Saor Eire agents were simple; the immediate withdrawal of the Viceroy’s troops from the surface of Eire Nua, the release of all Irish political prisoners, and the recognition of an autonomous Irish Republic. The latter point was left ambiguous in their communique, not specifying in what form or what planet, with the hopes of opening longer negotiations. Gilmore was perfectly aware that the ideal demands of the Saor Eire and the Revolutionary Dáil were too much for Mosley to authorize, but the situation had to be taken seriously.

The gall of the situation deeply offended the Viceroy, who was still processing how this scenario could have been pulled off with all of his enemies safely contained in his system. These “ungrateful protestants” were not a consideration, especially considering that they still had their homeland. Regardless of his personal disgust with the matter, Boney Fuller was a friend, and he was not about to let him die in such an undignified way. He agreed to listen to the Gilmores' demands and get back to them in twenty four hours once he had consulted with both the military and his counterparts on Avalon. What Mosley didn’t tell them was that he was also making an emergency call on a narrowband signal back to Britain. He unfortunately had to let his superiors know what had happened, a decision that led to an outcome even he would regret in some capacity.

The next few days, the negotiations between Mosley and George Gilmore crawled. The siblings could tell something was up, especially given his and Fuller’s closeness. The hijackers had also been in contact with IRA agents piggy-backing military signals on Eire Nua. The Dáil’s contacts were not responding with any intel on the British either. The most they were able to get out of the deal was a partial release of Irish prisoners, a few dozen of the lightest offenders. Their return was cause for celebration, even as authorities within the IRA grew worried about the tense standoff. 

Mosley had been stalling the terrorists, waiting to hear a reply from the office of the Lord-Protector on how to proceed. In any other scenario he would have been more resolute in the face of adversity, but the best he could muster was thinly veiled rage. On day 5 of negotiations, the Viceroy had received his answer, a simple repeating-burst signal with Baldwin’s code transmitted as quickly as their communications could process:

Mosley understood what this missive asked of him, and he gave orders to his subordinates, “Inform Ground HQ to cease the prisoner transfer. Open fire on the Stonehearth.

On the 28th of October, Mosley issued the Hibernian Law and Prosperity Edict to the exiled Irish public. While the entire planet had been officially under martial law on and off for over a decade, the Viceroy’s new policy removed any and all rights of the local populace as protected in British Law. Homes were raided, soldiers were boarded in the cities in increased numbers, and all inter-community communication was restricted or outright banned in areas of high IRA activity. Raids by “Mosley’s Murderers” have seen minor success in uncovering actual in-the-know dissidents, but have certainly instilled much fear, and spilled plenty of blood. His policies have been echoes back on the homeworld as well, as the involvement of Protestant agitators and the Saor Eire saw a further crackdown on the remaining Irish population on the isle.

Between the tragedy of the Stonehearth and the deterioration of society as they knew it, the IRA and its collaborators back on Earth have quickly ramped up militant action against the imperialists in the past few months, including the mobilization of the Fenian Guard. The conflict also did much to draw the disparate voices of Ireland together, uniting the many factions with a heightened vigor unseen since the collapse of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. Mosley’s suppression of the public would only serve to draw them further into the arms of the cause, and an open war would soon be upon them all.