OBT Forum

I had a feeling Katrina would do that with regard to the core. It's a lot of trust to vest in Hanse, but if they weren't on sufficiently good terms for this then the entire FedCom wouldn't have been on the table to begin with.

Comstar is in a tough spot here. Provoking the FC TC is not a good idea.

Taurus Broadcasting Corporation Studio A
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
March 17, 3026

Patrick Ross looked up from his notes as the producer said, “Five seconds.  Three.  Two.  And you are . . . live.”

He smiled at the cameras, “Welcome back to Good Morning, Taurus,” he spoke to the cameras.  “Joining us in the studio today are some special guests:  Marshal of the Armies Brenda Calderon, Exchequer of the Concordat Semyon Cantrell, and Minister-without-a-Profile and Advisor to the Protector, Raoul Calderon.  Gentlemen, my lady, welcome to the program.”

“Thank you for inviting us here today,” said Raoul as his two companions nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for accepting the invitation,” he paused and his smile faded.  “As you no doubt surmised, the subject of this interview is Edward Calderon and his actions on New Vallis.  There is a large portion of our population who view what he did—paying the ransom for Davion soldiers so that they could return home—as a travesty against the Concordat.  Public reaction has taken wild swings over the past weeks as video of his departure from New Vallis was released to the public.”  The anchor paused for a moment.  “Members of the late Grover Shraplen’s Concordat Reunification Party have called for an official investigation into his conduct—and his removal as an officer of the Taurian Defense Force, as well as for the Protector to renounce his actions and disavow him as Heir-Designate.”

Brenda Calderon bristled and then she leaned forward.  “Brigadier Calderon acted with honor and loyalty towards the Concordat and the Protector on New Vallis, Pat,” she sternly told the anchorman—and the millions of viewers watching the live broadcast.  “En route on a diplomatic mission for the Protector, he learned of the upcoming attack on New Vallis, hired mercenary forces out of his own pocket, and returned to New Vallis to aid in the defense.  While there, he was made second in command of the defense by Marshal Corey Calderon, commanding I Corps.  It was his plan—and his actions—that allowed us to defeat the renegade Sixth Syrtis Fusiliers in detail and with lower casualties that any of us could have otherwise predicated.”

“None of that is in question, Marshal Calderon,” the journalist answered.  “It is his actions following the battle which some Taurian citizens are criticizing.”

Raoul Calderon shook his head.  “No.  They are not questioning or criticizing, they are slandering my nephew, Pat.  Think about this . . . as the direct representative of the Protector, he offered terms for the former members of the Sixth Syrtis Fusiliers to lay down their arms and surrender—fair terms:  five years of labor to help build infrastructure on our new colonies, with the provision that they may be ransomed early.  Over six thousand of their personnel accepted those terms and—with the voice of the Protector himself—Edward assured them they would be treated fairly, justly, and humanely.  And what happened?”

The Protector’s younger brother paused.  “Members of the Constabulary decided that Sir Edward’s word—the Protector’s word!—was not good enough for them.  After stopping one group from murdering prisoners,” and Raoul shook his head as Pat inhaled sharply.  “Let’s not mince words, that was exactly what they were going to do.  In defiance of what Sir Edward—in the name and voice of the Protector himself—had promised, they were going to exact bloody vengeance upon prisoners in their custody.  There is a reason that Governor Fredrik Dupont was relieved of his post by the Protector—for cause!—and Edward Calderon not only promoted to Brigadier, but knighted as a Noble of the Taurian Concordat.”

“There are rumors—mostly from hard-line members of the CRP—that Protector Thomas himself was quite displeased with Edward’s actions and only promoted and ennobled him because he is the Protector’s son,” Pat quickly spoke.  “They insist that had Edward Calderon been any other officer, Thomas would have sacked him—not Fredrik Dupont.”

“Those rumors are incorrect,” interjected Semyon Cantrell before either Brenda or Raoul could speak, and those two took a moment to collect themselves.  “Protector Thomas is quite pleased with how Sir Edward acquitted himself on New Vallis.  And extremely displeased with how certain members of the Constabulary and the government of Concordat attempted to circumvent his orders and pervert his given word.”

Pat started to ask another question, but Semyon held up one hand.  “We are talking about the honor of the Taurian Concordat, here, Pat.  When we give our word—we keep it.  Always.  When we make a promise, swear an oath, enter into an agreement, we hold true to what we have said.  That is what makes us different from the people of the Inner Sphere, that is what makes us Taurians.  And when some of our own people decided that the word of the designated representative of the Protector was not what they would have done and took action to break faith with the Concordat . . . well, Sir Edward made sure that the honor of the Concordat remained intact.”

“Fearing that because of a handful of men and women who were willing to just dismiss the promises of the Protector, he spent his entire fortune—after paying for those two mercenary units that came to the aid of New Vallis!—to pay the ransom and send those former soldiers home to where they could be safe and treated in a humane fashion.  The Concordat did not pay that ransom—Edward did.  He paid the ransom out of his own pocket to prevent a handful of oath breakers from shaming the whole of the Concordat.”

For a moment there was silence and then Brenda spoke before Pat could ask another question.  “Your colleagues have interviewed Raphael Montoya and Erwin Tyrell and Fiona Jameson and Tanis Verbret and Corey Calderon—you have interviewed men and women who served alongside Liam Zahra.  And every last one of those people have endorsed the actions of Sir Edward.  Which is why my office has been flooded with donations from serving members of the Taurian Defense Force, Taurian Concordat Navy, and Taurian Aerospace Command.  Donations of twenty, fifty, one hundred Bulls—all with the note that they are paying their share for the honor of the Concordat, all made to repay Sir Edward for what he spent when he saw the need to do so.  When Sir Edward returns, he will find that he was not alone in standing to protect us all from the shame that Dupont and those who followed his orders would have stained us with.”

“Our own people---the vast majority of our own people,” added Raoul, “stand behind Sir Edward and Protector Thomas.  What the Concordat Reunification Party needs to understand is that they will not dictate policy to this government.  Not today, not tomorrow, and never will the Protector or his Ministers change what is best for the Concordat as a whole to make the hard-liners who live on hate feel better.”

“Speaking of Sir Edward’s return,” Pat smoothly changed the topic as the timer above the camera began blinking, indicating a commercial break was coming up.  “Is there any truth to the rumor that he is in the Federated Suns conducting high-level negotiations with First Prince Hanse Davion?  Negotiations that may well see one or more of our lost worlds returned to the Concordat?”

Raoul laughed.  “More rumors from the CRP, Pat?  You know that neither I, nor my colleagues, can comment on ongoing diplomatic negotiations before they are concluded.  I can tell you this, however, Protector Thomas himself will be travelling to New Vallis to meet with Sir Edward on his return—and that the Comstar Interdiction may be lifted soon after that.”

Pat raised one eyebrow.  “Are you saying that Sir Edward is meeting with Comstar to end the Interdiction?”

“I did not say that, and I cannot comment on . . .,” Raoul began, but Pat nodded.

“Ongoing diplomatic negotiations.  Thank you all for joining us today.  Coming up after the following commercial break, we will have the local weather forecast for Samantha City and Cynthia Devries will be reporting on continuing efforts to repair Samantha City infrastructure damaged during the terrorist attack on the University of Taurus last month.”

He smiled and then heard the producer announce, “And . . . we are out.”

Pat took off his microphone and he stood, holding out his hand to shake those of Semyon, Raoul, and Brenda.  “Thank you again—tell Thomas I hope that helps,” he said warmly.  “And give Edward—Sir Edward!—my best.”  Pat paused for a moment, and then he took out his wallet and extracted two bank notes, each valued at one hundred Bulls.  “And add this to funds being given to repay that young man for keeping our honor intact, Marshal.”

Brenda smiled and then she laughed.  “I certainly will do so—Brigadier Ross.  You still hold that reserve commission, yes?”

“I do, Marshal.”

“Well, if you ever want to come back on active duty, I can plug you right into our public relations department.”

“God forbid!” Pat exclaimed.  “If I ever come back, I expect nothing less than a battalion of my own!”

Then he smiled and both he and Brenda began to laugh, because both knew Pat Ross had spent his entire career in the TDF doing PR on behalf of the Defense Force and Protector.  A career which had then opened the door to this particular job offer once he left the uniform behind.

And then the smile faded.  “You—all of you—know that this won’t change the minds of the hardcore CRP members.  Shraplen—his father before—did too good a job driving these people’s emotions to a fever-pitch; people who don’t understand what a war—a real war—would cost all of us.”

“Yes,” Raoul sighed.  “The hardliners of the CRP are going to be a long-term problem.  Especially since Thomas pretty much gave Shraplen carte blanche to say whatever he wanted to—and those people assumed that since Thomas never contradicted him in public that the Protector agreed with Shraplen . . . and them.  Finding out that is not true is wreaking havoc on the fragile illusion of reality that what they believe in is right and good and just.”

“We will deal with it,” added Semyon.  “And if the CRP—which has never gotten more than fifteen percent of the popular vote outside of a few isolated strongholds—believes that they can dictate policy to Thomas Calderon . . . HAH!  They will learn the hard way how it feels to get gored and trampled by an angry bull!”

Raoul chuckled at that and even Brenda cracked a smile.  But Pat just shook his head.  “They don’t see reality the way we do—they still believe that even after five hundred years of Davion occupation our “Lost Worlds” have hidden cells of citizens plotting for some way to return to the Concordat.  And that Hanse Davion will back down if we just show we are strong enough to be willing to take back those worlds.  I see all kinds here in these studios, and you need to understand—the fanatics at the core of the Concordat Reunification Party?  If Edward is doing what I hear he is doing—hammering out a deal and a peace treaty with Hanse Davion, and no, Brenda, I’m not giving up my source on that or reporting it on the news for that matter!—they are going to go ape.  They may well decide that both Thomas and Edward and everyone in the government is a traitor and try to do something about it.  And you need to be ready for that.”

Raoul started to speak, but Pat held up one hand.  “They don’t have the numbers to make a coup stick—they don’t have the leader,” and Pat smiled slightly, “at least not anymore, who is charismatic enough to bring the moderates onboard.  But that doesn’t mean they can’t cause a lot of damage before they get put down.  I’ve interviewed three people this week who—given a chance—would string up Edward Calderon from the nearest light-post, consequences be damned.  Although right now, they are more focused on seeking revenge,” and Pat paused.  “Their hard-liners believe that Grover Shraplen was murdered and the government is covering it up to avoid starting a war.”

“And just who do they think murdered Grover Shraplen?” asked Brenda in an icy voice.

“They think Hanse Davion smuggled in an MIIO kill-team to assassinate Shraplen.  That he gave the order to kill him in order to silence him from speaking the TRUTH, as they see it, about the nefarious Davion plans to conquer the Concordat.  And they are trying to find a way to strike back, even if that embroils the entire Concordat in a war.  A war that they see as inevitable.”

And then sighed.  “And yes.  I’m sat down and spoken about all of this with Henri earlier this week—and he is worried.  And that alone makes me very worried.”

“Special Intelligence and Operations are not the only people keeping their eye on the CRP fanatics,” Raoul said quietly.  “We are aware of the potential . . . problems down the road.”

“Good,” answered Pat.  “They don’t understand much about reality, but they do read their history—don’t learn from it, but they read it just the same.  Especially the parts about how many Protectors throughout our history have been assassinated—and life just goes on.”

Semyon frowned and he looked at Raoul, then Brenda, and he saw the same somber vestiges on their faces, and he winced.  “That’s why you put all those extra precautions in place,” he whispered and they nodded. 

“Like I said,” Raoul spoke just as quietly.  “SIO aren’t the only ones who keep an eye on those who mean the Protector—or his family or his government—harm.  Messer Ross is just confirming information we already had.”

A production assistant cleared her throat from several feet away and Pat Ross looked up at the clock.  “Time for me to get back to work—my next segment is in two minutes.  Good to see you again, Raoul.  Brenda.  Minister Cantrell, it was a pleasure, Sir.”

“Godspeed, Pat,” Raoul answered as the news anchor walked away looking over briefing notes on his next segment on the most popular morning information show on Taurus.

Second-to-last paragraph is repeated. Here and on CBT, suggesting it's likely in all copies.

The Obsidian Fortress
Saso, New Syrtis
Federated Suns
March 20, 3026

Getting the agreement written—in a form acceptable to both sides—had not taken until the end of the week; it had taken almost two full weeks.  But, it was finally done, and Edward waited until the applause from the assembled nobles had died down and then he turned to Hanse Davion and the two men exchanged the final pens they had used to sign the accords—all six copies of the accords!—and they shook hands.

And once again, the applause—and flashes of lights from the scores of cameras—erupted around them.

Still, the two men stood there, smiling at the cameras and the gathered high-ranking officials and military officers and nobility of New Syrtis and Edward forced the smile to remain on his face.

Finally, it was done and the noise slowly abated, even though the flashes of light from the cameras continued to pop around them.  Hanse made a small motion with one hand, and Edward nodded; he raised one hand towards the crowd and then he exited the stage, the First Prince following him.  And then the doors behind the two closed and there was only blessed silence . . . and constant, non-blinding lighting.

Edward could hear Hanse chuckle behind him.  “You don’t like the public appearance anymore than I do, I believe, Sir Edward,” the First Prince said with a wry grin as he unbuttoned the collar of his uniform jacket and sat down in a plush armchair, before he raised a glass—that a thoughtful servant had already prepared, full of ice and whiskey on the wooden table set between the pair the of chairs.

“No, Sir, I do not care for the pomp and circumstance one bit,” Edward answered as he sat and lifted his own glass.  “But for what we getting in exchange, I think that I can live with it.”

Hanse laughed.  “I understand.  There are days when I want to ship the entire Protocol Department off to Zanzibar and tell them don’t come back—ever.”  He paused and took a sip, and then he sat down his glass and his face turned serious.  “Will Thomas ratify this?”

“Yes,” Edward said simply.  “Everything we agreed to was within the limits that he set—although he held out hopes that he could have gotten more.  Especially since you and Archon Steiner will be sharing your copy of the Core,” Edward suddenly smiled.  “The JumpShip that arrived yesterday with dispatches told me of the Archon’s reply to his offer to sell it to the Lyran Commonwealth.  Well played, Lord Davion,” and he raised his glass in salute.

Hanse smiled and he raised his own glass again and clinked it against the one that Edward held and both men took another sip.

“Katrina isn’t happy, but she is going to send you three of the Behemoths assigned to the LCAF and the AFFS is providing you with another two.”  Hanse paused.  “While I must admit that supplying you with five DropShips—and the plans to build more—is well worth the discount of a billion C-Bills on the first installment, why does the TDF need five Behemoths?”

“We don’t need five Behemoths, Lord Davion,” Edward answered.  “We are going to cut them up and convert them into five Goliath class Assault DropShips, to not just replace Titan that we lost at New Vallis,” and Edward paused, taking another sip as he remembered the final moments in the life of Liam Zahra, “but to give us a total of six.  And with those plans—that you got Katrina Steiner to give us—we should be able to make more starting in just five or six years down the road.”

“I thought as much, but Quintus did ask me to confirm it,” Hanse replied.  “I take it the plans for those are not in the Core, are they?”

Edward shook his head.  “No, we invented those ourselves, Lord Davion, rather more recently.  Still, I would imagine that once the treaty is ratified and in place, we might—Father might—consider selling you—and Archon Steiner—the design plans.”

“A twenty-five thousand ton Assault DropShip—that thing is basically a vest-pocket WarShip!”

Edward snorted, as he had just taken another sip, and then he nodded as he sat down the glass.  “Pocket WarShip?  You know, that is a good name to designate their type and role.”  And the young man paused.  “They aren’t designed for assault after all, but for system defense, although I’m sure that we will keep two assigned to the Samantha Calderon to provide protection against hostile aerospace fighters.”

Hanse snorted.  “They are more than likely to massacre incoming hostile aerospace fighters if the briefing I read on them is at all accurate.”  And then the First Prince paused again.

“What is your father planning to do to the Capellans?” he asked.

Edward’s lips twitched and then he nodded.  “For starters, we are going to take back Rollis—once the Wolf’s Dragoons get here, that is.”

Hanse nodded after a moment and then he smiled.  “Just Rollis?  No offense, but your father is not one to take an invasion of two of his worlds lightly—nor the attempt to use a WMD on the soil of Taurus itself.”

Now Edward paused and then he pursed his lips and he nodded again.  “We have other plans as well for Max Liao—rest assured, he will full well know just how angry the Concordat is with him right now.  Or have you forgotten Ariana’s War?”

For a second Hanse could not recall such a conflict, then his brain made the connection.  “Well.  Going to visit Sian, are we?”

“Not the entire TDF, Lord Davion.  Just one very pissed off WarShip and her very capable commander.”

Hanse leaned back in his chair as he considered and then they nodded decisively.  “I would—request—that you hold off on such an action, Lord Calderon,” he said quietly.  “Not indefinitely,” he continued, holding up one hand to forestall Edward’s protest that had not even reached his lips yet.  “But, perhaps, two years?”

“Two years?  And what will be happening in two years?”

“In two years, I mean to put an end to the Capellan Confederation—and Maximillian Liao—once and for all.  And that would give you—and the Concordat—your best possible shot at revenge.  If you are willing to coordinate with us, that is.”

Edward sat back for a moment and he just stared at Hanse Davion, who sat opposite him, grinning like, and Edward chuckled.  Grinning like a Fox who had just emerged from the chicken coop with bloody feathers on his fur. 

“Tell me more, Lord Davion.  I do believe that I—and my father—would be more than willing to at least listen and do our part in this endeavor.”

The Obsidian Fortress
Saso, New Syrtis
Federated Suns
March 21, 3026

For a moment, there was just silence in the executive office that Hanse had commandeered as he watched the image of a DropShip—Edward’s DropShip—thrusting towards orbit.  Towards home.  And then he heard Quintus Allard sputter.

“You told him?  You told him everything?”

Hanse looked away from the monitor and into the eyes of his head of intelligence and he smiled.  “Not everything—just enough to get him and his father on board with Rat.”

Quintus just sat there, his jaw opening and then closing, even as Ardan chuckled and the head of MIIO turned to glare at the best friend of the First Prince.

“Enough, Quintus.  I know what I am doing,” Hanse ordered softly.  “We had thought that Wolf and his regiments would still be in service with the Takashi Kurita when Rat kicked off—we made our initial plans based on that.  Now?  They are going to be in the Taurian Concordat.  Which means there will be less pressure on our Lyran allies as they keep the Dragon occupied while the AFFS carves up the Capellans.”  Hanse paused.  “And since the Taurians have their own reasons to really hate House Liao right now, why not tell him and get Thomas to commit Wolf’s Dragoons when we kick off?”

“Sir, if it leaks, we aren’t just risking the success of Rat, we are risking the lives of our agents who are trying to get close to the leadership on Sian.”

Your son, thought Hanse, and he nodded.  “Which is why I did not make any mention of those agents to Edward.  Not even a hint of their existence.  And as for leaks?  Edward knows just how sensitive this information is . . . he gave me his word that it would be discussed only at the highest levels of the Taurian government . . . under the most secure conditions.”

Hanse paused and he turned to Ardan.  “You said I can trust him, Ardan.  Can I?”

“You can, my Prince,” answered Ardan, who sighed as he noticed Quintus still frowning.  “Look at it like this, Minister Allard,” the MechWarrior and advisor spoke quietly.  “When we invade the Confederation, what will the CCAF do to reinforce all of those worlds we will be hitting around Tikonov?”

“They will redeploy forces from the interior and . . .,” his voice trailed off.  And he nodded, though he still did not look happy.

Hanse smiled.  “And if as they are redeploying, five Regiments of Wolf’s Dragoons, augmented with a dozen or so battalions of the Taurian Defense Force stage their own invasion at the opposite end of the Confederation?”

“Caught between two fires,” Ardan answered for Quintus.  “Splitting Maximillian’s attention; which means that our troops will suffer less attrition.  With McCarron’s regiments torn up, all Mad Max has left for offensive operations are the Northwind Highlanders . . ,”

“. . ., and I have plans for getting them out of the way,” finished Hanse Davion as he sat there and grinned.

“He won’t have enough troops to respond to all of the threats,” Ardan continued. 

“But what if Thomas doesn’t agree to invade?” asked Quintus and then he answered his own question.  “Of course he will.  He is still angry about McCarron’s abortive invasion and the fallout from that attempted WMD attack on Taurus . . . and,” he shook his head, “my people inform me that Thomas and his government have made the connection between Michael and Max and are almost convinced—because of what you did to shut Michael down in no small part—that it was part of some grand scheme by Max Liao to tear away a large chuck of the Concordat.”

“Precisely, Quintus,” Hanse answered.  “I knew Michael and he wasn’t acting on the orders of Sian—he was being the jack-ass he has always been.  But Taurus doesn’t know that and with the facts that they have, it appears as if Max was simply pulling Michael’s strings and he was acting on behalf of the Capellan Confederation.”  The First Prince paused.  “And now I’ve offered Thomas a chance to get revenge—and reducing his own casualties in the process.  How do you think he will respond?”

“Like a bloody bull seeing a red cape waved in front of his face,” muttered Quintus, who finally sighed.  “I hate it.  I really hate letting any of this information out—but you are right, my Prince.  If we can trust Edward to keep Thomas’ mouth shut.”

Hanse smiled broadly.  “No, Quintus, the question is can Edward convince Thomas to wait until we ready to launch Rat.”

Quintus paused for a moment.  “It might be better if Thomas invades before us . . . Max will have no choice but to redeploy the CCAF to meet and repel that invasion—especially with Wolf’s Dragoons spearheading the attack.”

“Which would also deprive us of the opportunity to defeat—in detail—the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces, Quintus,” Ardan added.  “Our goal here is not just to take some Capellan worlds, but to eliminate the Capellans as a threat now and forever. We want to put an end to Maximillian Liao’s ambitions once and for all.  We have to strike at the Terran side of the Confederation to secure a corridor to connect the Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth—but taking those worlds will mean little if the CCAF can simply withdraw and consolidate in the Liao, Sian, and St. Ives Commonalities and preserve their fighting power for future operations.”

“Right now, and for the foreseeable future, Romano Liao is out of favor—Max is very upset with his daughter for her role in McCarron’s invasion, correct?” Hanse asked, and Quintus sighed as he nodded his head in agreement.  “And Tormano is in internal exile, shut out from all decision making.  Candace is the only one left who could take over—and we are working on neutralizing her to further isolate the Chancellor, yes?”

“We are,” growled Quintus.  And then he nodded again.  “I still don’t care for sharing the details—or even the preliminary outlines!—with the Taurians, but it does make some sense, Sire.”

“Thank you,” Hanse answered with a chuckle.  “And now we wait—and continue to prepare for Galahad ’26 and Galahad ’27.”

“And in 3028?” asked Ardan.

Hanse grinned.  “We kick their ass and don’t pause to take names in the process.  And we make sure that Thomas, the TDF, and Wolf’s Dragoons do their part.”

Fortress-class DropShip Black Bull
Outbound for Zenith Jump Point, New Syrtis
Federated Suns
March 21, 3026

Edward looked up from his console as Jon Kincaid entered his cabin and closed the hatch behind him.  The Subaltern just stood there and he was shaking his head.

“You told him everything?” he asked, and the expression on his face was one of shock.

“Not quite everything, Jon,” Edward responded as he closed the document he had been reading.  “Take a seat.”

Jon sat and he shook his head, “You father is going to lose his mind, Edward.”

“No, Jon, he is not.  We have to do something to respond to what Max Liao tried—but even with the Dragoons out here, do you think Sian will just let us seize Rollis—and perhaps Corodiz—without responding?  Is the Defense Force ready for such an operation?  I don’t believe that we are—we are structured for defense, not offense.  We need the time, at least a year, two would be better, to have Wolf work with our units and get them to where they need to be in order to carry out this attack my father wants to do.”

Edward stood and he stretched, rubbing the taut muscles of his neck that stress had tensed and then he sat back down.  “And this second part—sending the Samantha Calderon to Sian?  We are rolling the dice and the odds are not in our favor.”

He paused.  “What happens if something goes wrong?  And you well know—as I know—something will always go wrong.  We could lose that ship, lose the people onboard her whose knowledge is absolutely priceless.  But,” he continued with a smile, “if we wait and Hanse Davion is true to his word and sends the majority of the AFFS into Confederation space . . . we have a lot more options.  And a far, far better chance at getting retribution for what Max Liao tried to pull on us.”

“I know that, Sir,” Jon said.  “But your father is still going to be mad as hell that you told Hanse Davion of our plans.”

“Let me deal with father, Jon.  We’ve both taken risks in the past—and the time has come to step up our game.  We have a chance here—our best chance—to put an end to the ceaseless hostility and hatred that our people have for the Davions.  Not completely, of course, but the best chance since before the Star League to put an end to this cold war between us.  In six months—a year at the outside—our people are going to be seeing an explosion of our industry.  Funding will be pouring into the Concordat, we are going to have new markets, there will be economic prosperity and peace.  And then?  When we are ready?  When Wolf and his Regiments have honed the Defense Force battalions to a razor’s edge, then we go in and teach the Capellans a lesson that they—and their children—will never, ever forget.  I can convince Father I was right.”

“If he doesn’t disown you first,” Jon muttered.

“He might.  He might not.  My father is a cunning man in many ways,” Edward answered with a sad smile.  “He’s not perfect, but who among us is?  I can convince him that this was the right thing—I know I can.”

“I pray to God that you are right, Edward.”

“So do I, Jon.  So do I.”

Government House
Port Sheridan, New Vallis
Taurian Concordat
April 14, 3026

Thomas Calderon looked up from behind the borrowed desk as the door opened and Edward entered the room, the guard posted outside closing the door behind him.

He stood and walked around the desk and then he hugged the young man tight.

“Hi, Pop,” Edward said as he clapped his father on the back.

Thomas swallowed as he stepped back and looked his son in the face, still holding his upper arms with both hands.  “You certainly took liberty with my instructions, Edward,” he said finally, and then he smiled.  “But you did good, son.  You did good.”

“I know it isn’t as much as you wanted, Pop,” Edward began, but Thomas interrupted him.

“As you—and others!—have repeatedly told me, I wasn’t going to get everything I wanted,” he barked.  And then he chuckled.  “And I’m not even that mad that you told the Fox about our plans for Rollis and Corodiz.  We,” and the older man paused as he finally released Edward and sat down again.  “We managed to find a way to confirm everything you’ve been telling us.  When we get back to Taurus, there is going to be a briefing for you on some, ah, developments in our intelligence gathering.  Everything you suspected has been confirmed—at least we think it has been.”  Thomas sighed.  “It is a new world, son,” he waved one hand at the chair in front of the desk and Edward sat.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here, Pop,” Edward finally said.  “When Corey told me to come planetside instead of heading back to Taurus, I was a bit concerned.”

Thomas snorted.  “What?  You thought I might have you disavowed and sent into exile?”

Edward shook his head.  “That was a possibility, Pop.  I went and stretched your orders to the limit—and I know that the fast one that Katrina Steiner and Hanse Davion pulled on you has to sting.”

Thomas waved that aside with one hand.  “I was expecting that, young man.  We’ve got responses—coded responses via HPG and then courier JumpShip—from both Janos Marik and Takashi Kurita.  They are willing to pay even more than Hanse Davion did for the data from the Core.  Kyalla Centrella as well.  And I have already released news of the upcoming plebiscites on the border worlds—right now, young man, you are being hailed as a conquering hero by most of our population!”

Edward blushed and he shook his head.  “I didn’t conquer anything, Pop.  Everything I did was done in your name—for the good of the Concordat.”

Thomas snorted.  “I know that. You know that.  The citizens that are capable of thinking know that!  They are still celebrating what you managed to achieve, son.”

“It might not come to anything,” Edward insisted.  “Those worlds have been in Davion hands for longer than they were part of the Concordat, Pop.  They might very well vote to stay in the Federated Suns.”

Thomas waved one hand.  “And if they do, it will silence most of those who insist that there are resistance movements on each of those worlds just waiting for Taurian soldiers to return them to the fold, welcoming us with open arms and cheers of long-awaited victory!”  He snorted again.  “If they vote to return to the Concordat or vote to remain under the Federated Suns banner, we will have taken the teeth out of most of the supporters of the CRP, and at least make them start to think.”  Then he paused and sighed.  “Except for the fanatics, who will look at you and me and every Taurian willing to accept the results of these plebiscites that aren’t in our favor as traitors to the Concordat.”

Now Edward frowned.  “I would have thought that they would have lost some momentum when Grover died.”

“No, boy.  Many of their hard-liners are convinced that Grover was killed by agents of Hanse Davion to silence him from warning the Concordat about Davion intentions.  They have gotten even more radicalized since his death . . . and they are not at all pleased with you—or me!—right now.”

Thomas sighed and shook his head.  “Damn fools.  I don’t trust House Davion myself, but they are convinced that you and I are going to sell the Concordat and our people out to the Fox and become an appendage of the Federated Suns.”

Edward sat back in his seat and he nodded in understanding.  “And they are using my ransoming of the former members of the Sixth Fusiliers as proof of our traitorous leanings, right, Pop?”

“That they are, my boy.  On the other hand, the majority—the vast majority—of the Concordat are standing behind you.  In fact,” and Thomas smiled, “the TDF started a campaign to solicit funds to assist you in the payment of that ransom.  And it was picked up by civilians on Taurus and then throughout the Concordat.  As of this morning, nearly two-thirds of your fortune has been returned to you by men and women of the Concordat who insist on paying their share to keep the Concordat’s honor intact, Eddie.”

“I didn’t do it to be repaid, Pop!” Edward sputtered.  “I did it because . . .,”

“. . . it was the right thing to do.  Edward,” Thomas said sternly, “do you think you are the only man in the Concordat willing to do what is right and proper when the cards are laid down?”

“No, sir.”

“No.  Those men and women want you—and all of Taurus—to know they stand with you.  So take the damn money with grace and show some appreciation for their sacrifice.”

Edward chuckled.  “I think I can do that, Pop.”

“Good,” Thomas said as he leaned back in his chair and put his hands together.  “Corey and I have been talking this past week—so when am I going to meet this young lady of yours?”

Edward blushed.  “She’s not my young lady, Pop,” he whispered.  “I haven’t even had the chance to speak with her since I landed here on New Vallis.”

Thomas just sat there and he looked his son squarely in the eyes, until Edward began to squirm.  “Alright, I would like her to be my lady, Pop,” he finally admitted, but he shook his head.  “I don’t know if she wants to be that, however.”

“Moira Tyrell—good blood there.  Erwin has always been loyal and you—my son that is most unlike me—has managed to get him on your side.  No small feat—he’s almost as conservative as I am, as Grover was.  But unlike the CRP fanatics, he actually uses his head for more things than holding up his hat!”

Thomas snorted again and he shook his head.  “I’ve never tried to arrange your marriage, Eddie, and I never will.  Don’t like that custom—I met and fell in love with your mother all on my own and I couldn’t imagine what life would have been if I hadn’t.  And when she died, it was Katherine—once again someone that I never would have met if it hadn’t been for your mother—who helped me pick up the pieces and I ever so slowly fell in love again.  Take your time—make up your own mind.  And if Moira Tyrell is good enough for you, well,” Thomas smiled, “then she’s good enough for me.”

The Protector paused for a moment.  “Of course, there is the question, are you good enough for Moira Tyrell?”  And he chuckled as Edward blushed again.

“Gee, thank you, Pop.”

“I don’t think you have to worry on that score—according to Erwin, she’s bouncing on her tip-toes to see you again,” and once again, the blush returned and Thomas laughed.

“But that is for later.  I’m out here on New Vallis to meet you because you and I and my government are going to be holding negotiations out here with ComStar to end the Interdiction.”

Edward sat up and his face grew serious as he considered what Thomas had just told him.  “When?” he asked.

“Three days,” answered Thomas.  “Via real-time HPG; ComStar has already sent out an advance team to ensure that the New Vallis station is ready and able to handle such.”

Thomas waited for a moment and then he nodded.  “So, if your lady love can wait for a few days, Eddie, you and I have work to do.”

“Understood, Pop.”

“Good.  Now let’s get started,” and Thomas unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves.  “First . .  ,” and the Protector and his son began to make their plans.

Taurian Concordat Class B HPG Station
Port Sheridan, New Vallis
Taurian Concordat
April 17, 3026

The communications hub of the HPG was filled to capacity, Edward noted as he was escorted to his seat at one of the four tables moved into the chamber for the Taurian delegation to sit at.  He did not sit, however, but he waited, standing, just as the rest of the government and military officials did.  In the center of the room, the holo-projector whined slightly as ComStar technicians made some last minutes adjustments, and then one looked up and he nodded.

One of the Protector’s personal security quietly spoke into his comm unit and then Thomas Calderon, followed by Henri Jouett and Marshal of the Armies Brenda Calderon entered the chamber, standing behind the final three empty seats.

On the other side of the chamber, a dozen ComStar officials also stood—including one wearing the robes of a full Precentor and Edward watched as each bowed their heads and the lights slowly dimmed.

The holo-projector snapped on, and the image of the Primus of ComStar appeared, standing as well.

“I am Primus Vesar Kristofur,” the image said, “and I greet you in the name of the Blessed Blake.  May his Peace and his Wisdom guide us here today.”

“I am Thomas Calderon, Protector of the Taurian Concordat,” said Thomas in turn.  “We welcome the opening of these negotiations and greet you in the name of the Taurian people.”

At that, both the Primus and Thomas sat, followed by everyone else in the room.

And then Vesar smiled.  “I am pleased that you have reached out to us, Protector Calderon,” he said.  “It is with great regret that our meeting has to be under these circumstances.  Before we begin, however, I have a few things to say—a few items that must be clarified,” and he paused until Thomas nodded in assent.

“First, ComStar offers its most sincere apologies to you and the people of the Taurian Concordat—what Primus Tiepolo attempted to do was not condoned by the First Circuit, nor was it in accordance with the Will of Blake.  There was a—schism—on Terra between factions within ComStar, one of which was led by Tiepolo and Precentor Waterly.  These two, for reasons we cannot begin to fathom, tried to manipulate and deceive you and your people, and for that we are most truly apologetic and remorseful.  The attack on our HPG station on Jansen’s Hold was their concept after it became known that you had salvaged that WarShip you now possess.”

Vesar paused and he sighed.  “They were concerned that with such a powerful weapon at your disposal that war—ruinous and terrible war such as those waged in the First and Second Succession Wars—would once again erupt throughout the Inner Sphere.  So rather than trust you to do the right thing, Protector Calderon, they attempted to deceive you and manipulate you and implicate you in this attack.  They were wrong to do so, and they have both—and their followers—paid for their actions with their lives.”

Thomas nodded as the Primus paused. 

“That being said, Protector Calderon, I realize that you are not going to start such a wide-spread war.  Your ship—and it is your ship—will not be what destabilizes what little peace we have among us.  Although, I certainly could not blame you for your anger at the Capellan Confederation for their attacks upon you.  As well as those of Michael Hasek,” and the Primus deliberately left off the ‘-Davion’ so favored by that once great March Lord of the Federated Suns.  “The two of them, in combination, attempted to take advantage of the Interdiction which my predecessor put in place against your Concordat; for that I am truly sorry.”

“Therefore, I have given the order that the Interdiction is to be lifted immediately—regardless of the outcome of these proceedings.  I only ask, Protector Calderon, that you give those of us within ComStar who opposed Tiepolo and Waterly a second chance to prove ourselves.  We serve all of Humanity—something Julian Tiepolo and Myndo Waterly forgot in their quest for power.”

Thomas sat there for a moment and then he nodded.  “I accept your apology, Primus Kristofur,” he finally said.  “And I welcome the lifting of the Interdiction, but as you are aware, the Concordat has certain conditions which it—which I—insist on being met before we hand you control of the HPG stations within the Concordat.”

Vesar nodded.  “Yes.  I have been briefed on those conditions and we shall agree in full.  The Concordat may post an observer in every HPG Station in the Taurian Concordat to ensure that your government communications are not tampered with.  Furthermore, any member of our Order who chooses to leave us for service in the Taurian Concordat—as is the case with a number of Acolytes captured when you seized the HPGs will be allowed to do so.  Or, if they wish, they may return to the arms of ComStar.  We will not arm our personnel within the Taurian Concordat and rely on our neutrality and the strength of the Taurian Defense Force to protect our Stations and our people.”

“But ComStar as well has a condition, Protector Calderon,” Vesar added.

“And that condition is, Primus?”

“Our ability to handle the communications of all people—all governments—within the Inner Sphere and Periphery depends on us being seen as neutral actors in the great drama of our lives.  We would ask, therefore, that you and your government announce that the . . . conflict . . . between ComStar and the Concordat was the result of a misunderstanding and the actions of a few corrupt individuals that did not—and do not—represent either ComStar or the Concordat as a whole.”

“We ask that you help us to preserve face, Protector Calderon.  And if this one condition is met, then we shall stand by you once more.  We shall maintain the HPG Stations and abide by all of the other conditions upon which you have insisted.  If not, then we shall still lift the Interdiction—in a show of goodwill and good faith—and allow you to operate those stations yourself, without interference or assistance.”

For a moment there was silence, but Edward nodded to himself slightly.  It was a bit more than either his father or Henri Jouett had expected—but not by that much.  And if Vesar was lying, well.  What difference did that make when they would lose the HPGs within the next six months to a year anyway?

And from the corner of his eye, Edward could see his father nodding as he came to the same conclusion.

“Your condition is acceptable to the Taurian Concordat, Primus Kristofur,” he said.

“Excellent.  Precentor Philip Dane, please stand,” he said and the highest ranking member of the ComStar delegation stood.  “Protector Calderon, Philip Dane is my personal choice to serve as the new Precentor Taurus—if he is acceptable to you, that is?”

“And the old Precentor Taurus?  You want him back?” Thomas asked harshly.

“He was part of Tiepolo’s cabal, Protector Thomas.  Do with him what you will.  Is Precentor Dane acceptable to you to serve as my voice in the Concordat?”

It took several moments, but Thomas finally nodded.  “He is.”

“Excellent,” replied Vesar with another smile.  “In that case, he is empowered to speak on my behalf.  However, if you ever require to speak with me directly, you will be able to do so within a matter of hours.  That order has already been passed to my people who will be returning with you to Taurus to man our HPG Station there.”

Vesar stood, and so did Thomas and everyone else in the communications hub.  “May the Peace of Blake be with you and your people, Protector Thomas.  The Interdiction is hereby lifted.”

And with that, the hologram flickered and then died as the lights grew in strength once again.