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Gorst City, Clovis
Draconis March, Federated Suns
13 November 2775

“How has the new organisation worked out in terms of logistics?” Thomas Halder-Davion had recently been appointed as Thomas Green-Davion’s aide, much to the confusion of many within the AFFs high command. “Can a regimental staff handle the demands of five battalions with three different troop types?”

“The short answer is yes, Major Halder-Davion.” Colonel Susan Sandoval seemed amused by the question. “To be more detailed: there’s a broad overlap of what’s needed in some areas so only a little adjustment is needed. And the load isn’t entirely carried by my demi-brigade’s staff. In fact, the main adjustment was working out the interactions with brigade staff so that we weren’t duplicating effort. Once it became clear what each side of that could delegate to each other – we were able to focus time and effort much more effectively.”

Halder-Davion nodded. “And the dropships worked out for you?”

“Mostly, yes. The Tower-class transports don’t really give a lot of space for spare munitions and the sort. It’s not too much of an issue with a Storm or Grove-class ship along. In this case we had six collars to work with so we could take a freighter along and the Buccaneer more or less doubled our supplies. I can’t really recommend the Tower for independent battalions though.”

Hanse rubbed his chin. “That’s something the designers missed out on. It shouldn’t be too bad as long as we still have some Dictators and Overlords available but that might not be guaranteed.”

“Hopefully battalions carrying out independent operations would be operating in multiple smaller dropships,” John observed quietly. “It’s still worth considering though. Field operations require a lot of supplies and if the Tower-class ships can’t carry their weight then it’s going to be a problem.”

Sandoval shrugged. “I gather it was tight fitting that many ‘Mech bays into the hull and as long as parts are available they’re excellent field repair stations for ‘Mechs. Also, at the demi-brigade level, as long as we’re all using the newer dropships their capacity can be shared.”

“How do the infantry and artillery feel about that?” the First Prince enquired.

“I think they’re too happy with the new ships to have noticed – particularly the infantry. The quarters on the Storm-class are a big step up from those on a Fury.”

“The naval side of operations seems to have gone fairly smoothly,” Thomas Green-Davion noted. “What did you think of the opposition?”

Operation PERCIVAL had been a relatively small trial of the AFFS’ new divisional model, with a division operating on the new table of organisation staging out of the Capellan March and rushed across to the Draconis March to launch a simulated invasion. Mostly intended to test the transport and administration, the action at the end had been almost an afterthought except to the troops involved.

The 27th Avalon Hussars BattleMech Division – including the eponymous Avalon Hussars, the Eleventh Tancredi Loyalists and Colonel Sandoval’s Fifth Crucis Dragoons – had secured a comfortable victory over the combined forces of the Clovis and Robinson Draconis March Militias. Possibly a little too comfortable – the March Militia’s morale had taken a nasty knock since they’d had the numerical advantage in every area except BattleMechs.

Sandoval leant back in her chair. “I’d say they were too aggressive, sir. There wasn’t really anything wrong with their coordination – I’d be happy to work alongside them any day.”

“Interesting. That doesn’t tally with the outcome of the match.”

“And without aggression, you wind up with some of the Lyran’s worse regiments,” Hanse added to Halder-Davion’s comment.

“Their attack on our landing zones was by the books, sir. And the new books at that. But we wrote a lot of that book and they were on the wrong chapter. As soon as they knew they were facing a heavy invasion force, the Militia should have looked at how to pin us into place and commit against them.”

Green-Davion leant one elbow on the table. “You don’t think the March Militias are enough to handle an invasion force?”

“Respectfully sir, no. They’re able to handle raids and light invasions but even if they succeeded in taking us out they’d have taken very heavy losses. They came at us looking for a fair fight and only suckers do that. If they’d contained the situation then there were at least two divisions worth of reinforcements they could have called in from neighbouring worlds and then we’d have been decisively outnumbered.”

“Unfortunately, Colonel, off world reinforcements aren’t always available.”

Sandoval shook her head at the Marshal. “In that case, sir, then they ought to have either played for time until they were – or withdrawn. Throwing their best troops right into the meat grinder would only have been justified if they were defending a major objective they couldn’t allow us near at any cost and that simply wasn’t the case.”

“I see. Interesting view. Other than that?”

“Their artillery coordination was good – if they’d had self-propelled guns rather than towed then our artillery couldn’t have taken them out so quickly with counter-battery fire. They’d been positioned out of range of Arrow IV missiles in fact, so if we’d been using SLDF Valis or Chaparrals, we couldn’t have done that. It was their bad luck we had Thumpers than could reach out and take them out. The Loyalists could have been badly hurt otherwise.”

John nodded. “It’ll be years before we have enough self-propelled guns for everyone but you’re right. How would you suggest they dealt with that?”

“Repositioning after every shot, although that then costs them rate of fire. Again, it would have meant playing the longer game.” Sandoval shrugged. “But they were told to give an intense bombardment as cover for the attack and they delivered. To be fair, by knocking them out our own artillery wasn’t able to give us covering fire in the initial stages so it’s not as if they were expended to no effect – they just shouldn’t have been expended at all in my view.”

“And the BattleMech forces?”

The colonel nodded. “I can’t fault their cohesion with their armoured elements. Individually they might not have been the sharpest pilots but they knew where they needed to be tactically. If we’d had a smaller force or a lighter one, they could possibly have won.”

“If and possibly are excuses, and when the winner talks up the loser it usually means they’re trying to talk up their accomplishments,” warned Hanse. He looked Sandoval over and then grunted. “Or maybe it’s family loyalty. Excusing a DMM’s soldiers even if she can’t do the same for their leaders.”

“How would you rate the March Militias against the Kathil CMM? I understand you’ve trained against them once or twice.”

“It’s a bit of a contrast. The staff for Kathil’s CMM are very tight,” she said. “There’s a lot of drilling and they have General Motors right there so they can afford to risk damage to their equipment. On the other hand, a lot of their Mechwarriors and sergeants are right out of the academy on Goshen, so they have to work within that limitation. I think these two regiments might have more retirees so there’s a better base of experience at the bottom.”

“I see.” John ran one hand back through his hair, conscious of the grey that had crept into it over the last few years. “And both the DMMs you faced have been poached for staff to handle the administrative work in this part of the Suns over the last few years. It seems we’ve done your father a disservice.”

Colonel Sandoval stiffened. “I can’t speak for the duke, sir.”

“That was a rhetorical comment, colonel. I trust you won’t object if I pass your compliments to your opponents though.”

“Not at all, sir.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 December 2775

The two Davion couples had opened the dancing – John and Edwina joined by Joshua and Mary upon the floor – and closed it out as well. John’s feet were definitely petitioning for removal of shoes and perhaps for the opportunity to soak in hot water. Edwina was happy though and that was certainly worth the ache.

Owen was waiting deferentially at the doors to the royal apartment and John groaned.

Edwina laughed and kissed her husband on the cheek. “At least it didn’t interrupt the ball, whatever the news is. Nothing too terrible, Owen?”

“Please tell me it’s not admirals offering to resign. I just announced they could have three battlecruisers, what more do they want?”

The long-cherished dream of the Federated Suns Navy would be laid down in the new year in place of the three carriers originally scheduled. The new Defender II-class ships would be largely based on the hull of a New Syrtis-class carrier – a cost-saving idea from the resourceful Admiral Moore – but replacing the flight decks with a respectable array of naval autocannon that should give it firepower somewhere between the SLDF’s Cameron and Black Lion-class battlecruisers.

“I don’t believe the navy is in revolt, sir,” Owen said with a smile. “There is some news from Terra, which can wait until tomorrow, but also a message from the spaceport which probably cannot.”

John closed his eyes for a moment and then he reached up and loosened his collar. “No one I have to meet, I assume?”

“No sir. Or at least, not without warning.”

“I’ll have someone bring your slippers, dear,” Edwina murmured resignedly.

“You’re a jewel among women, my love.” John returned her kiss before following Owen to his office. The wing wasn’t silent even at this hour but it was far quieter – even the cleaning crew had passed by so only a handful of the night staff were at their desks.

In his office he only lit the lamp above his desk, leaving it a pool of light within the chamber. He heard a soft snore from the attached bedroom and smiled slightly at the private jest of the attentive Owen missing the sound of Hanse asleep. “Alright, Owen. What’s the problem?”

“We have a discreet visitor to New Avalon, although not to the Royal Court.” The secretary opened up the desk’s inbuilt display and called up a visual image. “We only spotted her by chance.”

John studied the woman in the centre of the image. “So who is she?”

“If you mean the redhead in the centre, that would be Captain Elizabeth Hazen of the SLDF. Aide de camp to the Director-General and late of the Royal Black Watch she’s informally high in Lady Cameron’s circle of advisors.”

“She’s certainly let her hair down.” The SLDF officer was dressed to impress and not with her military accomplishments. “Why is this of immediate concern?”

Owen moved a cursor and circled the face of a brunette half-hidden behind Hazen. “Jessica Croft, according to her papers.”

It took a moment for the face to register. “My god.”

“It seems that the Provisional Director-General’s spiritual retreat over the Christmas season hasn’t taken her to Scotland as she suggested.”

“Her mother’s name,” John murmured. “What is she doing here?”

“At the moment, checked into a middling room in a good hotel outside town. Captain Hazen is registered as a Hegemony citizen – perfectly true since she was born on Terra - and has visas for a small party – her assistant the so-called Ms Croft and two security men. Their luggage was larger than average but not unreasonable by the standards of nobility.”

The First Prince rubbed his face. “That retreat might play nicely on Terra, the media are staking out her late great-aunt’s abbey in hope of catching her there, but coming here means at least a month of Keith Cameron campaigning effectively unopposed, her proxies can’t compete with a candidate who actually visits the populace.”

The door opened and Edwina entered, holding a pair of slippers by the heels. “I didn’t see the need to bother a maid,” she explained, having changed out of her own heels into a pair of slippers and let down her hair. John’s wife gave the image of Hazen an amused look. “This was the emergency?”

Owen repeated his earlier movement of the cursor and Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. And she’s at that age too – I wonder who it is.”

“Who who is?” John asked, Owen looking just as bemused as he felt.

“Her young man.” Edwina looked at them both and then shook her head. “You’re such men.”

“Well I should hope so,” John said mildly. He accepted the slippers and sat down to remove his shoes. “You think this is some sort of romantic assignation?”

“Did she tell you she was coming? Because if it’s not a matter of state then it must be personal, and to be incognito something she’d prefer wasn’t advertised.”

Owen nodded grudgingly. “That would be consistent. But she wasn’t noted as establishing such ties and we had people much closer than the media were.”

“Who else does she know? Vincent’s family, but they’d be too closely related and she isn’t that foolish…” mused Edwina.

John closed his eyes. “Cardonnes,” he concluded.

“Who?”

He sighed. “When she was on Terra, one of our Stealthy Foxes was keeping her safe.”

“Handsome man, a few years older than her?” Edwina speculated. “I don’t recall a Cardonnes family.”

Owen had taken over the controls and pulled up a file. “Leftenant Cardonnes is from Flensburg, here on New Avalon,” he reported. “There’s no previous family history of military service, his father is listed as working at a butcher’s. Current posting is on loan to the Ministry of Information in a training post.”

The royal couple exchanged looks. “Where?”

“On Hecheng, but he’s taken a lengthy leave to visit his family for Christmas. Arrived last week, the dropship back to Hecheng leaves on the twenty-ninth.”

John scowled. “Awfully convenient.”

Owen shrugged. “Given Ministry scheduling he must have booked it in at least six months ago – before Lady Cameron returned to Terra. At the time it would have been reasonable to assume she’d have been confirmed as First Lord and under a microscope twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“It would be politically difficult for her be found here right now,” he grumbled.

“And for her to marry her young leftenant?” asked Edwina, a slight edge to her voice.

“That would just be awkward for me,” he explained defensively. “The rest of the Council blaming me for marrying a deserving AFFS officer is one thing, but leaving the Hegemony right now could cost her the election as Director-General.”

His wife nodded. “And she’s only twenty-six.”

“We’d been married for seven years when you were twenty-six.”

“It’s different when you’re married. There’s a very applicable saying to the season: no one wants Christmas cake after the twenty-sixth.”

John groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Owen, send instructions that I want a discreet outer perimeter around Ms Hazen and her household at all times. With a little luck the media won’t catch her.”

“And what about Mr Cardonnes?”

“You have his name, address and contact information there,” he told Edwina. “If you want to send her a note playing matchmaker, that’s between the two of you. At least I can honestly claim I’m not encouraging this. Besides which, if I give him instructions it would come as an order from the First Prince however it was meant.”

Edwina considered and then borrowed a pen from his desk. “Owen, find me something to write on.”


Brussels, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
25 January 2776

Geneva was still unfit to resume its role as the seat of the Terran Hegemony’s government and Unity City was the centre of the Star League, not of the Hegemony. As a result, the same facilities that had provided a temporary SLDF headquarters were now providing a similar function for the Hegemony Congress.

“There will probably be challenges to the validity,” Jens Pinera noted. The aged statesman had declined to serve again, as he had during Richard’s minority but he had agreed to at least oversee the election of his successor’s successor – by unspoken agreement, Stefan Amaris’ election would be discounted. “Not all worlds are able to organise votes yet. And the SLDF is encouraging Hegemony natives to register to vote – they’ve always been free to do so but the SLDF’s historically encouraged a neutral position.”

“It might give the Star League Council second thoughts about challenging the election, to know that the SLDF has come down off their fence.”

“It could be.” The old man didn’t seem convinced by Keith Cameron’s point. “Excuse me, it seems that I’m being called on.”

The two Camerons watched the old man walk away and then looked at each other. “We’ll know soon,” Keith told Helena.

She looked back at the noteputer before her, still scrolling through the possible speeches she’d prepared. “Obviously.”

“You’re not concerned? I mean, you’ve got incumbent advantage but…”

Helena shook her head. “I have speeches written for either outcome. I’m ready.”

“Just like that.”

She gave him a blank look. “Yes…?”

“Well, should you win I will of course give you my full support,” he promised.

“That’s very good of you. If that doesn’t happen… honestly I think in that case I’d be a rallying point for opposition so it would be best for me to keep a low profile after I endorse you.”

Keith rubbed his chin. Chins, she noted uncharitably. Although he had lost a bit of weight since they met on the dropship leaving Terra. “You don’t have to do that.”

Any further discussion of the possible outcomes was cut off as Pinera returned. “Sorry to abandon you,” he explained. “The first returns are in and there were some questions from my staff on how to handle the write-in votes.”

Helena frowned, brow wrinkling. “What’s a write-in vote?”

Keith held up one finger then frowned. “Actually I don’t know either.”

Pinera raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you haven’t had cause to come across elections before. It’s where the voter replaces the name on the ballot slip with a candidate of their choice instead of one of the presented options.”

“They can do that?” exclaimed Keith.

“It’s not exactly binding and generally only a tiny number of voters do so. I think something like fifty thousand voters submitted write-in votes when Richard was being affirmed. Brave Little Yoli was the leading write-in candidate if I recall correctly.”

“Who is Brave Little Yoli?” she asked, trying to think back to when she was twelve and Richard came of age.

“A children’s holovid character,” the old man explained. “A little before your time – no one said that write-ins have to be real people. Generally we take that as a sign of who voters want the winning candidate to be like. Brave Little Yoli was apparently known for standing up to older characters that were set in their way and showing them better ways through his noble example.” He sighed. “Probably not the best guidance to have given Richard, really.”

“Perhaps not,” Keith conceded. “So who’s getting write in votes now?”

“The question was how to reconcile the votes that have been cast for ‘A Kerensky’, ‘General Kerensky’, ‘Aleksandr Kerensky’, etc.”

Helena sighed. “I suppose that’s not too surprising. Did he get many votes?”

Pinera pursed his lips. “Yes. Of course, Chara saw some considerable fighting and he made his headquarters there briefly. Normally, as I said, write ins are a fraction of a percent among the voting. You could lose them as a rounding error.”

Keith gave the vote counters a thoughtful look and then turned back to Pinera. “I hear a but.”

“I didn’t check the aggregate, but at least from Chara we could be looking at a double-digit result for him.”

The two Camerons exchanged looks. “As someone to emulate, you said?” Keith asked warily.

“Well, fictional write-ins yes. Once real people’s names come into it… complications.”


The displays set up for the results had been expected to track only two candidates and an optional ‘other’ category. By the time the tenth world’s results came in, it had been hastily reconfigured to add Kerensky’s name alongside Helena’s and Keith’s.

The fourth bar, for other, was added for reference but it had barely moved at all as reports trickled in from other worlds. Terra was likely to be among the last worlds to report its vote totals. Despite the casualties of the invasion and the tens of thousands who were leaving the mother world as refugees every day, it remained the most populous of worlds, with almost twelve billion people. Collating the votes would simply take longer.

“Do you think Kerensky would take the job?” asked Keith. The former Commanding General’s column on the display was catching up with those of the two Camerons. More than twleve billion votes had been counted so far with turnouts of between 20% and 30% on most worlds, which was another delaying factor. While in theory the capacity was there for every registered voter to participate, in practise it wasn’t unusual for only one in nine to actually do so. The turnout Amaris had claimed of 85% would have been unprecedented at any time. Some of the worlds so far reporting had double the usual number of votes being cast and reserves of electoral staff were being mobilised to get the count in.

Helena poured some milk into her coffee and stirred. “I sent a message but he’s on Summer so it might take a while for him to respond.”

“What’s he doing on Summer?” That was right on the Lyran border – in fact, the Archon’s late mother had been duchess there.

She sighed. “It was a mustering point for some of the troops being repatriated and there was an incident between some of the Rim Worlds troops and the SLDF volunteers from the Rim Worlds. Throw in Steiner peacekeepers and the local population and there was a four-sided stand-off after the initial brawl.”

“God. I hope things settle down when he’s got his people out of the Hegemony.”

She shrugged. “One problem solved, two more will come along. He’s asked for warships, you know. There were half a dozen ships that had been assigned to Amaris’ divisions that stood down and he claims that they’re covered by agreement to let him have the weapons and other equipment of the units.”

“Do you really want a new Rim Worlds fleet?” asked Keith.

“It might be your issue to deal with,” Helena warned. She lifted her coffee and sipped. “Two are just corvettes and the other four are reconditioned frigates from the reserve fleet. I’m inclined to let him have them.”

Keith made a face. “The Archon will object.”

“And we both know why that is – oh, more votes in.”

Sure enough, the voting columns adjusted again. “We’re starting to get votes in from more populous worlds,” reported Pinera. “This is Ozawa and… hmm. Not so much of a Kerensky vote there.”

“And there goes my lead,” Keith said tightly. Previously he’d had a razor-thin margin over Helena but now that had reversed itself. He laughed sharply. “I’m getting invested in this.”

“You weren’t before?” asked Pinera. “You’ve been campaigning across the Hegemony for months.”

“I was campaigning for policies,” the man said distractedly. “I’ll serve as Director-General if called on but I didn’t think it was very likely.”

“And now it could happen. Do you want the office or not?”

Keith hesitated and looked at Helena. “I… yes. No offense meant, I don’t think Helena’s doing a bad job.”

She smiled a little enigmatically and gestured for him to continue.

“Richard was too young, too inexperienced. I can’t say the same of either of us and I think we could both do a better job.”

“Unfortunately that’s setting the bar quite low,” Pinera reminded him.

“Yes, well if I win then I’d take that as support for what I’ve been advocating. And why shouldn’t I be the one to put them into effect?”

“Rebuilding the Hegemony Armed Forces?” asked Helena. “Protectionist tariffs?”

“Well it’s hard to say that the Hegemony doesn’t need better protection, militarily and economically!”


Over the next few hours the columns continued to rise. Helena and Keith traded off the lead repeatedly but as worlds from Tyrfing and Lone Star provinces began to come in, Kerensky’s votes were closing the gap.

Both of the Camerons stepped outside and addressed the crowds that were beginning to form outside the building. A cordon of SLDF military police was waiting in case anticipation of the results turned into fighting but the atmosphere was sufficiently positive that the worst they’d had to do so far was encourage a few inebriated celebrants to go and get some coffee and sit down for a while.

Keith Cameron’s “Have you all voted? If not go and cast them now,” speech got laughs while Helena simply thanked the crowd for coming.

Inside again, the Terran returns were coming in. Mars, Venus and the belter communities had cast their votes long ago but now the great and ancient cities of the mother world had their say.

“I told the assessors to add each district’s votes as they come in rather than wait for the planetary total,” Jens advised them. “It’s so close that we won’t know the final results until every district is in – if one has a high or low turnout then it could all turn on that.”

“Have you ever seen a vote like it?” Helena asked.

“Not in my life,” the old man told her plainly. “I should warn you that whichever of you is elected, the Congress is filling up with hardliners. It’s a good thing Kerensky’s moving the Rim Worlders out because we could see some ugly reprisals.”

“Oh of course, now that Amaris isn’t a threat it’s safe to speak ill of him,” Keith muttered. “I doubt one in ten of them did anything to bring him down.”

Helena made a face. “How much did we contribute to that, really?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll hold the displays once we have the last vote,” Pinera told them, hoping not to have the pair start arguing. “That way we have a moment to absorb the results before they’re announced.”

Helena opened her noteputer. “Kerensky’s getting close,” she murmured. “I may need a different concession speech.”

“Three candidates, each with over thirty percent of the vote, no one’s going to have a clear majority,” her portly cousin rubbed his eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

“At least the loser gets to go to bed,” she murmured. “Whoever wins has to stay for the victory celebrations.”

The noteputer announced new mail for Helena right as the last few districts sent in their votes. North America’s East Coast districts that hadn’t taken the damage other parts of Terra had. The turnout there seemed to have been unusually high.

“I have the results,” Pinera informed them quietly. Up above them the screen had replaced all the data with a spinning Hegemony banner and the message: ‘results pending’. Outside the crowd roared with excitement.

Helena nodded. “And Lord Kerensky’s HPG reply just arrived. Shall we exchange?”

The old man made a face. “He’s got thirty-four percent of the vote. The American metropolises love him. Only Moskva went harder for the man.”

“Well he is a Muscovite,” Helena pointed out, opening the message. “He declines the nomination – can’t be Director-General while he’s off in the periphery and it would be faithless to abandon the duties he’s already accepted there.”

Keith shook his head. “Did either of us manage thirty-five?”

“You came in just over thirty-three parent,” Pinera reported and then looked to Helena. “And you came in, I’m sorry my dear, but just under thirty-three. Less than half a million votes in it.”

The former naval officer licked his lips nervously. “Then… I suppose…”

“Third place doesn’t win, Keith. My congratulations,” Helena offered, along with her hand. “Or perhaps commiserations would be more appropriate.”

“So how do we announce this?” he asked Pinera.

“It might be best if we didn’t make an issue of Kerensky’s getting more votes than either of you,” he said quietly. “If we simply announce he declined nomination and that Lord Cameron’s votes exceeded your own.”

”The truth but not the whole truth.” Helena’s lips curved into a smile and both men were struck by the thought that it was the happiest she’d looked since the votes started coming in. “I can work that into my concession speech, give you time to get your acceptance one in order.”

Keith nodded. “Indeed. No hard feelings?”

“Of course not,” Helena told him. “Of course not.”

She stepped out onto the balcony and the crowd fell, if not silent then at least to a clamour that the speakers could penetrate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Hegemony,” she began. “The votes have all been counted and Lord Kerensky has managed to send a message back to express how honoured he is at the many people who’ve chosen to place his name on the ballots, even though he will not be able to serve as Director-General. I’m sure we are all grateful to him for his tireless efforts over more than twenty years.”

She paused for effect as Keith and Pinera joined her on the balcony. “And now, as my last act as your Director-General, may I present your new leader and the twenty-first Director-General…”


Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 February 2776

“With all due respect, Lord Cameron, I should prosecute those soldiers for desertion.” Aaron DeChevilier was glad in retrospect that he’d been let in to see the new Director-General without delay. If he’d been kept in an antechamber then he thought he might have built up a regrettable head of steam and said something unfortunate. “Or possibly mutiny.”

Keith Cameron leant back in his chair. The desk in front of him was more functional than decorative – this was a working office, not a formal one for receptions. Whatever else might be said of him, at least he hadn’t taken his election as endorsement to wallow in the privileges of his new status.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” he said briskly. “I suspect you’d have a strong case, although I’m not a lawyer, but I don’t think it would end well for anyone – the two of us included.”

“Yes, I’d almost have to single you out as inciting them too,” the general added. “May I ask what you were thinking?”

“I’m thinking that my distinguished ancestor made a mistake in folding the HAF into the SLDF entirely when it was formed,” Cameron told him. “And it’s not as if we can hide behind SDS drones any more. If the Star League Council votes that the entire SLDF should leave the Hegemony, what defences am I left with?”

“That logic I can see, but you publically invited Royal Command to defect.”

“I admit that my words may have been… ill-chosen.” The younger man toyed with a stylus on his desk. “I thought I might get a cadre – older soldiers wanting to stand down from SLDF service but that I could form new regiments around.”

“Instead you’ve gutted fourteen divisions – which is making an unholy mess of my deployments. Over a hundred regiments have pledged themselves to HAF and half of them were supposed to be embarking for posts outside the Hegemony. And that’s not counting individual soldiers and spacers – it’s fortunate there are no warships under Royal Command or we could have crews turning on each other.”

Cameron squared his shoulders. “I can hardly turn them away, general.”

“And I can’t sit back and watch the SLDF torn apart. There are already reports of recruiters from the House militaries offering incentives to officers and men from their realms and I find it had to see this as anything but more of the same.”

“I understand, general.” Cameron’s voice had an edge of frustration. “Obviously we need to work something out to close this off and to save face.”

“If you think this is about face, Director-General…”

“It’s political, everything involves face somehow.” The man behind the desk took a deep breath. “The SLDF’s rather than yours, if that helps.”

“You can have the men but I want the equipment back,” DeChevilier offered.

“Can I have the women too?” Cameron asked sarcastically. “I’m going to need equipment for them as well. And personnel mustering out can pay for their equipment.”

“Which they haven’t done – and I doubt you have the budget.”

“And I’ll need bases and a small number of ships.”

“If I give you an entrenching tool, Lord Cameron, will you stop digging?”

“Well I was rather hoping you’d suggest what you want in exchange. You know, the start of sensible negotiations.”

“I’m beginning to wish your cousin was still in that chair.”

“There are times when I want that too, but I don’t even know where she went after the election.” He huffed. “If Amaris couldn’t find her I suppose I won’t.”

DeChevilier laughed despite himself. “If it’s any consolation she sent my family a letter, so I expect she’s alright. She assured us you weren’t having her disappeared.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not that sort of person!”

The general grudgingly conceded the point. The incipient First Lord hadn’t reached that stage… yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t. “Let’s get back to the point. Can you fund buying the equipment of the regiments that have… elected to rejoin the HAF?”

“Not at list price – which also means I can’t afford to replace it from the factories. But let’s point out that I realistically have the equipment now. The question isn’t whether or not I get it, it’s what you get out of that.”

“The Star League Council may not see it that way.”

“Given the recruiters you’ve mentioned, I don’t think they’d support a principle that stops them recruiting out of the SLDF,” Cameron pointed out in what could charitably be called a reasonable tone. “Look, one of the things I was arguing for in my manifesto was to bring the territorial states back into the Star League. My understanding is that you don’t support that.”

“It would be a fine way to destroy what’s left of the SLDF.”

“Okay. Then perhaps we can compromise. If you sign off on the transfer of the regiments that have volunteered back into the HAF, along with any personnel shuffling to accommodate the stray volunteers, and including all of their equipment, along with… one military base per world of the Hegemony? Most worlds have more than that. Anyway, if you’ll agree to that then I’ll commit to oppose any military action against the Alliance, Concordat and Magistracy for the next ten years. Maybe the next fifteen to twenty. We have a ceasefire, I can justify holding that in place and trying diplomacy.” He laughed cynically. “Diplomacy is a lot cheaper, end of the day.”

“Are you offering to sell your vote?”

“Not to the highest bidder!” protested Cameron. “Look, even if I pushed for it now it would take years to lay the groundwork for such operations. And with a hundred odd regiments joining the HAF, you’re even less able to carry out another invasion than you were last month.”

“The thought had occurred.” He folded his arms in thought. “No warships.”

“I want some, but I’m just trying to offer you something reasonable for what’s already happened. We can talk warships another time.”

“But you’ll want their assigned dropships.”

Cameron nodded. “Where they have them, yes. Part of the equipment.”

“Hmm.” DeChevilier considered. “Fifteen years. Public statement that you won’t even consider launching another military effort against the Periphery before 2791.”

“Unless they attack us,” the Director-General qualified. “Not just raids though. Actual invasion. I figure the other Lords can defend themselves against raids.”

“That fair. But I do have one other condition. Royal Command’s been a toxic factor in the SLDF for too long. I want it disbanded. If you have your own armed forces you don’t need it.”

Cameron rubbed his chin. “Given most of their divisions are disbanded… just do it in a face-saving way. Let them keep the name and so forth.”

“That I can do. But they’ll be broken up. No more Royal Divisions, just regiments inside the line divisions. No separate but parallel chains of command. And no more Hegemony exclusivity – they’ll get the best regardless of their origins.”

“Elite but egalitarian?” A pause for thought. “Very well, general. Let’s put this in writing.”

The Director-General’s staff went efficiently into action, a secretary taking notes on each point and then stepping outside to draw up a formal document for the two of them to review.

“While they’re working on that, can we talk warships?”

“My god, you are shameless!”

“I know you need all your active ships,” Cameron protested. “Your logistics hang on them. But there are scores of ships too badly damaged to be useful at the moment and some that just aren’t suited to that role. I can probably scrape together enough cash to buy some of those at scrap value and eventually repair them for service.”

“And yet you can’t afford the much smaller cost of divisional equipment?” asked DeChevilier. “Warships cost billions of dollars you know.”

“And I’m talking about scrap-rates. And not a huge fleet. I’m not trying to match the Lyran fleet or something like that.”

The general pushed his chair back and crossed his legs. “I have nothing to do but listen.”

“There are more than a dozen Carson-class destroyers waiting for repairs. They’re almost a hundred and fifty years old, they already needed major restoration for use against Amaris and the drives aren’t reliable enough for long-range operations. But for a defensive role around the Hegemony they’d be fine – they’ll never be out of reach of a shipyard in the core worlds of the Inner Sphere.”

“You might be optimistic about the state of the yards, a lot of them were damaged. And they’ve got good cargo bays for their size. Corvettes would be in less demand.”

“Older corvettes took heavy losses in the fighting. Vincents are still useful – but I can’t see you giving them up given that they do have decent cargo capacity. Ships like the Mako and Bonaventure are just targets now – something Robert Steiner doesn’t seem to have realised.” Cameron spoke with some confidence. “I’m thinking a few cruisers and the destroyers – call it eighteen ships. The equivalent of an SLDF squadron.”

“I heard you say cruisers but I’m not sure what cruisers you think we can do without.”

“Actually I meant the Kimagure-class pursuit cruisers. They’re even faster than a Caspar drone but their cargo bays are tiny compared to a heavy cruiser.”

“They can still carry dropships, can’t they?”

“All of two each. And the three waiting for repair are low on priority for dock-space because of that.” Cameron rose to his feet and turned to look out the window. “Just see what your people think their value would be. Eighteen – or even twelve – ships would give me a seed to work from.”

“And what do I say,” DeChevilier asked, “If the other House Lords offer to buy warships on the same terms?”

“As long as you’re abiding by the technology transfer laws – not giving them the most advanced ships – that’s your discretion, as I understand it. Given how little revenue we’re apparently getting out of the League and Combine, it might even be a worthwhile incentive to let the more co-operative of them buy up older vessels for restoration – within reason.”

“I’ll see what my staff have to say. Now what are your staff – ?”

The question cut off as a knock on the door heralded the return of the secretary with flimsies drafting what DeChevilier had started to think of as ‘the face saving exercise’.

San Francisco, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
26 May 2776

The ancient bridge that crossed the mouth of the bay had been one more victim of Amaris’ soldiers as they fought a long retreat up the Pacific coast. Now, with thousands watching from boats and tens of thousands more on the shores a combined team of SLDF engineers and specialists from all around Terra worked together to lay the last section of the span.

John Davion was standing a reasonably safe distance back from the southern team as they worked to link their section up with that extending from the northern half of the bridge. The winds were a little higher than predicted and it was making it hard to ensure the two sections aligned correctly. Only after several long minutes and some quiet cursing from an engineer were the pins in the correct position and tension was very slowly let out of the great cables linking the sections back to the bridge towers.

As the cables were extended, the roadway sank into place and cheers went up. John shared a dry smile with the man waiting across the way from him. They had to wait a few more minutes for the engineers to check their sensors and ensure that the bridge wouldn’t suddenly give way with the addition of a couple of hundred more kilograms but then they were finally allowed to walk forward and greet each other.

And they think we’re in charge of anything? John thought wryly as he exchanged a shallow bow with Minoru Kurita and then clasped hands with the Coordinator. We’re not even allowed to walk over a bridge until it’s been checked for safety.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kurita said in a clear, carrying voice. “It’s my great pleasure to join the First Prince in announcing the Golden Gate Bridge has been restored. In only a few more days it will be available to traffic once more.”

John began his own short speech, only to pause as he saw a small number of workers hanging something off the side of the bridge. He didn’t recall that as part of the ceremony. Were those… rolls of paper?

“Is something wrong?” the Coordinator asked.

John glanced at the cameras. “Well, I had more of a speech,” he said with a smile, “But it seems the bridge is already opened for… oh yes, a great tradition for this part of North America – students making a political statement.”

Security staff and engineers rushed to intercept the intruders but not before the rolls were pushed off the edge. One, insufficiently secured, tumbled into the waters below but the rest simply unrolled into long banners that he couldn’t read from here but presumably contained a political protest visible from below.

“My Lords, if you would please…” A security team closer around John and Minoru. “The area is no longer secure.”

“I think we’re relatively safe,” John noted as the six young men and women were dragged back from the edge. Two engineers vastly too senior for the job began examining how the posters were secured, presumably with the intention of removing them as quickly as possible.

Kurita nodded. “A good phrase. Relatively safe. I would rate this as comparable to my younger son waving his fork over the injustice of being expected to eat his vegetables.”

“Zabu would be… nineteen now?”

“Well this was twelve years ago.”

John smiled slightly. “From all accounts, he’s a young man of substance. I would say that we might be in slightly less peril on this occasion.”

The security team’s leader looked pained. “My lords, please. This could be a diversion.”

“It hardly seems necessary when we’re out here in the open already.” But John allowed the guards to usher the pair of them to a waiting ground car that quickly whisked them both away to the north, an escort falling in around them.

“A little excitement to round out the day,” Minoru observed, looking out of the window. “I find this a pleasant part of Terra. A shame that the occidentals colonised it before my own ancestors.”

“Well, they did have several thousand years to get around to crossing the Pacific,” John replied. “And while it’s not a time I’ve studied in great depth, weren’t there quite a lot of settlers from the Japanese islands during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in these parts?”

“Men and women after my own heart.” The Coordinator turned his gaze sharply towards John. “Lord Davion, I believe we have matters to discuss.”

“We’ve been discussing matters for a week in Council without any noticeable progress.”

“Then we should discuss it out of council, as you have already with Marik and with Liao’s son. Nothing seems to have come of those conversations.”

John leant one elbow against the lower edge of the window. “Nothing of substance, perhaps. What do you have in mind?”

“As you have been attentive during the Council, you know my qualifications to lead the Star League and of my intention to do so.”

“I’ve been paying attention, yes.”

“My understanding is that you have no specific objection to any one of us, including myself.”

“It would be politically difficult for me to support you. On a personal level, I don’t find you objectionable so long as the succession isn’t then guaranteed to your elder son.”

Minoru frowned. “You object to Jinjiro?”

“My understanding is that he’s a very able military officer. Without an actual war it’s hard to say, but some reports suggest he could be brilliant. I’m not convinced his temperament is so suited to the debates inside the Star League Council. The First Lord is merely first among equals, after all. And a First Lord from outside the Hegemony wouldn’t have their wealth and technological prowess to back him.”

“They would have the might of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery.”

“That would make for a very different Star League. I don’t doubt that you, or for that matter your younger son, recall well that there is both a time to draw one’s sword and a time to sheath it. Jinjiro strikes me as a man not entirely convinced of the latter,” John warned. “He may grow out of it, of course. And your family tend to be long-lived. If you live as long as your father then the point would be moot for forty or fifty years.”

“Many things can change in such a time.”

“That’s true.”

“What would you say,” the Coordinator asked, “if I were to offer the reversal of the Border War. Richard forced you to give up your conquests. Another First Lord might overturn the decision and…”

“I would be very offended, Lord Kurita. If you were to make such an offer then I’d consider it a slight to my intelligence and to my honour.” John let a slight smile cross his face. “But of course, you would not make so foolish a mistake. Were one such decision overturned then it would set a precedent that other are open to challenge – the settlement that Lady Jocasta imposed to end our war forty years ago, for example.”

Kurita nodded. “You are indeed no fool, Lord John. I ask your forbearance at my little test. So many of our peers have begun acting the fool, offering transparent bribes of this nature.”

“The leadership of the Star League is not something that should be bought and sold.”

“I agree. But it should be settled. And I believe the conditions that you require are two further votes in my favour for your absentation – or a vote and a promise of absentation?”

“That’s one qualification no one has met so far,” John agreed.

“My father once told me that Aleksandr Kerensky’s lack of ambition beyond his current place made him an incalculable threat but an invaluable ally. Amaris lacked the wisdom to recognise that. And I see in you a similar capacity. I believe the chances of securing the throne for one of us are far greater if he is granted a vote in the Council.”

“Meaning two votes would be available for someone other than those casting it. But you voted against granting full membership to the Rim Worlds Protectorate.”

Kurita held up his hand. “I opposed – and still oppose – making such an offer to the rebels. But Kerensky… a man deserving all the accolades of a samurai, to him I would have no objection. Indeed, I might well propose that the Rim Worlds Protectorate alone be extended the offer of membership.”

“Might you?”

“Let us suppose that I were to persuade one further lord to support me. If that were the case, would you and Lord Kerensky be inclined to offer me your votes and end this deadlock?”

John frowned. “I cannot speak for him.”

“It would be for the good of the Star League, would it not?”


Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
27 May 2776

“John.” Hanse gave him a serious look. “I’m not kidding around here. Entrusting the Star League to Minoru Kurita is a terrible idea.”

“We have to go with someone.”

“Someone, yes. But not just anyone. We’re talking about a House who’ve turned back the clock on centuries of social development and model themselves on samurai from the Japanese Warring States.”

“As opposed to the Arthurian myths our Mechwarriors are so fond of?” John asked. They were alone in the back of his car. “They’re a modern state, Hanse, admittedly with a different culture than ours. Maybe in your time the technological regression had them lording over rice-growing peasantry, but they have a pretty big industrial sector and very active commerce. A jumpship can’t be knocked together in a primitive workshop.”

“They also have a police force whose idea of riot control is to fire shotguns into the crowd and think firing squads are a legitimate way of dealing with political disagreements.”

“Being fair, that’s not unique to the Kuritas.”

“In other states that’s an aberration, not business as usual.”

John shook his head. “Hanse, we’re not talking about making him Coordinator of the Inner Sphere. The First Lordship is more constrained and Minoru knows it. He’s agreed already that before voting on his nomination we’ll relieve the position of its associated titles and positions. We’re not making Jinjiro the Duke of New Avalon.”

“Blake’s beard,” Hanse groaned. “Don’t blame me if his first decision is that his cousin Vincent should be First Prince in your place.”

“I don’t believe he’d make that mistake but if he does then I gather ‘I told you so’ will be a very satisfying phrase to throw in my face.”

The car pulled up and Hanse fell silent, jumping out of the ground car ahead of John. The SLDF building was lit up despite the hour. Even with most of the administration taking place on New Earth, managing the Terran presence of the force was a twenty-four hour activity.

“General Davion.” The guards snapped to attention as John approached the door. “Please go right in. General Kerensky is expecting you.”

“Do you think they’ll ever stop calling you and Kerensky Generals?” asked Hanse as they entered the elevator.

John shook his head slightly and hit the button for the senior officer’s residential level. Kerensky hadn’t moved out of the small suite he’d occupied when he first returned to Unity City. It probably hadn’t occurred to anyone here that he should. Or no one dared be first to voice the thought.

On the other hand, the Protector spent about half his nights away from the city under the guise of various duties. Some of those were likely visits to his family – still a secret. John hoped he was in a position to see his fellow Council Lords’ faces when they realised they hadn’t elected a childless old man to a life position, they’d appointed the beginnings of a dynasty. Kerensky had even confided that he’d marked his eldest’s birthday – the day before the Council had reconvened – by taking Nicholas out in his ‘Mech and giving the boy his first piloting lesson. If he kept that up then the secret wouldn’t last long.

It was a short walk and two more checkpoints to the door to Kerensky’s suite. A bell chimed when John pressed the panel beside the door.

A moment later Kerensky opened his door. “Come in,” he invited. “You were very mysterious on the phone.”

“If the other Council Lords haven’t tapped the Court’s communications by now then I assume they’re not even trying.”

“I find them very trying,” Kerensky observed wryly.

Aaron DeChevilier was slumped in an armchair, a glass holding only melting ice in one hand. “Lord Davion,” he said without rising. “Please tell me you’ve decided to launch a coup. I can have regiments around the court before dawn.”

“How much have you drunk tonight?”

“Either too much or not enough.” He shook the glass, ice cubes sliding around the bottom. “You have to save us from those fools. It’s your duty, yours and Kerensky’s, as the only adults.”

“Minoru Kurita is fourteen years older than me.”

“That doesn’t make him an adult,” the general said sadly. “My wife would make a better First Lord.”

“Now there’s an idea I could get behind!” Hanse said enthusiastically. “Ian Cameron made his wife Commanding General, why not have the Commanding General make his wife First Star Lord?”

Kerensky shook his head. “We’re not having another coup, Aaron. Go to your own rooms and sleep this off.” The two of them levered DeChevilier up out of the chair and helped him to the door. From there one of the guards volunteered to make sure the Commanding General reached his suite, only a few doors away.

“So?” Kerensky emptied DeChevilier’s glass down the sink of the small kitchen unit and produced a fresh one. “What brings you here? Vodka?”

“Thanks, but put some ice in it.” John took the same seat DeChevilier had occupied. It was still warm beneath him. “Minoru Kurita, as it happens.”

“Out of all of you, I think he’s the last I’d want in the First Lord’s seat.”

“But better him than no one.”

“Perhaps.” Kerensky handed over a glass and topped up his own. “Do you think he has the votes?”

“I think he has a reasonable plan for how to obtain them. And given he figured out how to appeal to me, I’d say… fifty-fifty.”

“As good as that? He stood aside during the Coup, John. Can we trust a man who did this?”

“With his family as hostages, can we blame him?” John met the gaze unflinchingly. “And he did nothing to stop others from the Combine who joined us.”

Kerensky’s eyes were far away for a moment. “Maybe. What did he offer you/”

“An end to the wrangling, the removal of some of the secondary titles and so forth that might let the First Lord wield undue influence within the other states… I think that might be what he hopes to sway Keith Cameron with, actually…”

“Ah, that one has been at DeChevilier again. Wanted SLDF ‘support’ in handling riots. More likely he wants them to carry the blame of doing so, it would mean his Hegemony Armed Forces have clean hands.”

“I hadn’t heard that,” John admitted. “More riots?”

“Pro-Amaris, of all things. Or of his supporters. Protesting that there has been a clean sweep of his adherents from office.”

John winced. “That might have gone a bit far. Some of the lower ranking officials were just keeping their heads down.”

Kerensky shrugged. “Which does not mean they should keep their jobs. But yes. I am aware that I am keeping on Rim Worlds soldiers in service which is much as you are saying.”

“Right now they’re sweeping out everyone down to a dog-catcher who held any office under Amaris. All well and good but between that and his purges, there aren’t many people left who know how the government worked.”

Kerensky shrugged. “So, Kurita.”

“Oh, and he wants you on the council.”

“Change of view there?”

John made a face. “Setting aside his justifications, it’s a trade-off. He’d vote for you, though not the other three states, but he wants your vote in return.”

“Hmm. I would vote for the Periphery to have votes too. And that could give us four votes on that. It’s the only solution in the end.”

“We’d have to convince them to accept it, but that’s a problem for another time. Obviously I can’t speak for you.”

“You would vote for him?” Kerensky asked seriously.

“If he can show me he has another lord’s vote then probably, yes. Frankly, even if he’s not elected, getting you on the Council would break up some of the deadlocks. The First Lord’s ability to break ties only matters if there are tied votes – a bit less likely with seven than six on the Council.”

Kerensky sipped. “I would prefer another. But our choices are limited. You may advise him that if he can secure full membership for the Rim Worlds Protectorate then I will vote for him, at least when he is next nominated. If that fails then I will consider myself relieved of obligation and will vote my conscience.”


Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 May 2776

As John and Aleksandr Kerensky entered the long arched corridor that led to the Star League Council’s meeting chamber they found Minoru Kurita was talking to Keith Cameron there.

“Gentlemen,” the Coordinator said, bowing slightly to each in turn. “A pleasure to see you both on what may be a historic date.”

“One can never tell how a battle will go,” Kerensky gave Cameron a curious look. “I trust you are well, Director-General?”

“Half the Congress want me strung up as an Amaris sympathiser, but otherwise I’m fine,” the man grumbled. “The fools have no idea how to run a state.”

“I had heard that there was some civil unrest.”

Coordinator Kurita nodded. “It is unfortunately to be expected that after such a conflict there will those who have yet to find their places in the new order. Alas, it will take time for the Terran Hegemony to re-establish the institutions to redirect wasted energies.”

John was familiar with the institutions that the Combine favoured in that case – the Civilian Guidance Corps sounded innocuous and their candy-striped uniforms were almost comical but they represented a large and well-equipped paramilitary force. “I understand that you approached the SLDF?”

Cameron nodded. “I realise DeChevilier has other demands on his resources but the Hegemony Armed Forces are too thinly spread to support law enforcement everywhere they need it.”

“I’d heard you had a hundred regiments.”

“A hundred regiments across more than a hundred and forty worlds. And there’s a limit to what ‘Mechs and tanks can do about civilians on the streets unless I start acting the way Amaris did.”

John nodded. “I begin to see the problem.”

“I have offered equipment and training for the Director-General’s police departments,” Kurita explained. “It would be troublesome if our personnel assisted except where Draconian relief workers are involved. Perhaps we can later prevail upon the Commanding General together.”

Such as when you’re First Lord and can call on the SLDF for defensive actions, John noted. With seven votes on the Council and hopefully fewer tied votes the First Lord’s office would be weaker in real terms than it had been before... perhaps that would be for the best.

Seeing Hanse leant against the wall, he gestured towards the washroom. “I’ll join you in the council room once I’ve used the facilities.”

Hanse politely waited while John used a toilet stall – after all, it could be a long session. “I hope you’re right about Kurita.”

“So do I. But as elected his main influence would be through the SLDF. As long as DeChevilier’s in charge that’s a fairly constrained avenue.”

“I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to stay in. Kerensky assured his appointment but not how long he’d hold on. He’s been pretty confrontational with the Council so far.”

“If he’s removed there are only two officers in the SLDF with experience of command above the Army level and I’m unlikely to be offered the job, which would leave Tatjana Baptiste.”

“They don’t have to pick by seniority. Kerensky was head of Royal Command, for example.”

John ran the tap and soaped up his hands. “I don’t think there’s a single army or corps commander they could choose that won’t look to Kerensky or DeChevilier as examples.”

“I hope you’re right. Good luck in there.”

If it was possible – and if he wasn’t currently washing – John would have shaken hands with the redhead. “I didn’t think you approved.”

Hanse rubbed the small scar above his right eye. “I don’t. But whether I like it or not I’m only an advisor. You’ve made your decision and now it’s my duty to support you, and that decision, as much as I can.”

“It’s appreciated.”

On reaching the Council chamber, John found them all in their seats. Robert Steiner was talking quietly to Barbara Liao, possibly offering some sort of deal, but he left off as John arrived. “What kept you?”

“Call of nature. Perhaps I had too much coffee for breakfast.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed you almost nodding off in meetings lately.”

“They’ve been a little repetitive. So what do we have on today’s agenda. Taxes being withheld? Minister Blake’s progress with the HPGs?”

Kenyon Marik snorted. “You know perfectly well we were discussing – and dismissing – the Chancellor’s position with regard to the office of First Lord.”

“You know if someone doesn’t give way on this, nothing’s going to be done. That could have unfortunate consequences.”

“We aren’t all as retiring as you, Lord Davion,” Liao said bitingly.

Kurita cleared his throat. “Since the Chancellor’s nomination was voted down yesterday, I would like to bring up a new proposal.”

“What makes you think we’ve changed our minds since you last put your name forwards?” she asked.

“Oh no,” he told her. “A new proposal, or at least a modification of one of Lord Davion’s earlier motions. I’ve been considering the idea of extending membership to the territorial states and while I still believe a general offer is inappropriate, Lord Kerensky does deserve better of us. And the number of Rim Worlds volunteers within the SLDF is larger than I had considered. I’m therefore of the opinion that we should extend full membership of the Star League to the Rim Worlds Protectorate.”

Marik narrowed his eyes. “They were also behind the Coup.”

“Not all of them. Indeed, Lord Amaris was so unpopular that there was an assassination plot that came close to killing him as he departed on his final trip to Terra. Matters would surely have gone very differently if it had succeeded.”

“One would hope,” said John a little wistfully.

“Besides, we’re just setting ourselves up for further instability there – Kerensky has no heirs so once he dies the Protectorate will fall apart. Do we want a Council seat in disarray?”

“Actually, Captain-General, I have two sons.”

Marik paused at that revelation. “You do? Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

“You never asked,” Kerensky replied politely. “I prefer to keep my family out of the public eye, although that will no longer be possible I suppose. Ah well.”

“I think we all made our positions clear when this was last debated,” Steiner suggested. “Let’s simply vote on the issue.”

“Do I hear objection?” asked John, looking particularly at the Captain-General. When he heard nothing, he rested his hands on the desk. “Very well. A vote of aye admits the Rim Worlds Protectorate to sign the accords as a full member state with all rights and responsibilities. A vote of nay denies this. I vote aye.”

“Nay,” Liao said immediately.

John blinked at the reversal of her previous position and looked past Steiner at the Chancellor who didn’t meet his eyes.

“Also nay,” said the Archon.

“Nay,” Marik added triumphantly. “And with three nays, no need for further votes. Too bad, Protector Kerensky, too bad.”

“It may very well be.”

Barbara Liao leant forwards and looked down the table. “Lord Kerensky, you are free to continue to attend these meetings but we have all heard your advice. I recommend that you consider returning to Apollo and beginning your, perhaps overdue, efforts to replace the provisional government with a more permanent solution.”

“I am beginning,” he said slowly, “To think that I might be able to do more good there.”

She nodded. “I would not, of course, wish to make you feel unwelcome on the world of your birth but there seems so much for you to do in the Rim Worlds…”

“I will consider your advice carefully, Chancellor.”

“Thank you, Protector. That’s all I’d ever ask of you.”

Kurita shook his head. “I am saddened to see that we are unable to reach a consensus on this matter.”

“You mean you’re sorry you haven’t managed to get some bought and paid for votes,” the Chancellor said sharply. “Next time offer your own worlds. Do you think I’d support someone so shameless as to offer brigandry at the expense of the Capellan Confederation?”

“I confess you have me at something of a loss,” Kurita said with only the slightest of pauses. Enough though to catch the eye of others.

“Oh so that’s what was going on. Why Coordinator, you should have told me,” Marik said smugly. “You know how fond I am of Andurien.”

Liao rose to her feet. “Crawl back between your mother’s legs, Marik.” She pushed her chair away. “I actually extended you a little trust, Davion. Fortunately I learned better in time,” she added as she walked past him to the door.

John stared after her. She had to be referring to the tentative offer of Valexa and Angelsey that Kurita had raised, but he’d never entertained that.

“She’s in a poor temper today,” Kurita said after a moment. “Perhaps we should not continue without her.”

“Unless she at least attends to abstain, we can’t cast a vote so I’m inclined to agree,” Steiner agreed. “A very short meeting, but I feel it settled a couple of issues so it’s not all bad.”

Kerensky rose to his feet. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He left the room and Kurita followed.

A moment later, Keith Cameron closed his attaché case. “It’s not as if I have nothing else to do,” he said. “Good day.”

It took John a moment to realise that Robert Steiner was making no move to follow. “No one needs to offer me worlds, Robert,” he said quietly. “All I want…”

“All you want is everything back in its box neatly.” The Archon seemed amused. “The universe isn’t so neat and tidy, whatever eastern mystics claim. You should have known that I’d never let you appoint Kurita of all people. What were you thinking?”

John looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I have my sources. You, Kurita, Cameron and Kerensky. A nice little voting block. Two naïve idealists and one opportunist dancing on the Dragon’s strings.” Steiner leant forwards. “I informed Barbara of Kurita’s idea of offering you the worlds you took back in ’62. Her own suspicions did the rest.”

“You really oppose him that much?”

“Of course I do. If you were as smart as you think, you’d know that we can never allow a Kurita to rule the League. Think, man! How long have the Suns and Combine been butting heads? Almost as long as the Commonwealth has been beating off their attacks.”

“And I suppose you have an alternative candidate?”

“Kurita is a tyrant. Marik is a bag of daddy issues. You’ve taken yourself out of the running – probably your only wise decision, if you’re this gullible. And we both know the Capellans and Terrans are too weak. Who does that leave, John?”

“Given most of them likely find you unacceptable for some similarly self-justifying reason, no one.” John frowned. Something about that… eh… “If this goes on it could tear down the Star League.”

“Without a First Lord, John, there’s no one to send in the Star League Defense Force. They’re politically impotent so if it comes to a war…” He shrugged. “I have the largest navy in the Inner Sphere outside of the SLDF, and my army’s almost as large as Kurita’s – not to mention better equipped.”

“To what end? You aren’t going to conquer one of the other Member-States, we’re too well balanced. The fighting will just drag on and on.”

“I’m not so convinced of that. In fact, I think the Hegemony would fall quickly, and that’ll leave the Commonwealth as the strongest industrial power even with other realms taking their slices of the pie. After that, the Capellans – which leaves you and Marik fighting for their scraps… and neither Liao nor Cameron can risk that so they’ll compromise before it comes to such a war.” Steiner smiled thinly. “When I have their votes, I’ll come to you, John. You don’t have to vote for me if it chokes you so much. Just abstain.”

“If it comes to that.”

The Archon shrugged. “If you were willing to bend for Kurita, I’ve no doubt you’ll accept me. Everyone has a price – yours is just a little different.”


Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
6 June 2776

“Just for the sake of completion,” John said wearily. “I nominate myself for the position of the First Lord. Do I have a second?”

The rest of the Council looked at him but no one said anything immediately. Keith Cameron frowned in thought but the others seemed only passingly curious. A week had passed since the attempt to seat Kerensky as a member and nothing had changed for the better.

“You’re not going to list your qualifications?” asked Kenyon Marik.

“If you don’t know who I am by now,” John replied, “Then I can only assume you haven’t been paying attention. Never mind. Absent a second I withdraw the motion.”

“How very gentlemanly,” Barbara said, with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“I don’t see the point in wasting more time that necessary on something so unlikely to win support.”

“Now if only the rest of the Council were so minded.”

John stared at her. “Yes. If only.”

He sat and tuned out her pitch to become First Lord. She’d hit most of the salient points already – being one of the first three Houses to join the Star League, the Capellans as smallest of the members after the Camerons being least destabilising, being second most senior member, having supported the SLDF against Amaris…

“John, I understand the sentiment, but if you fall asleep you’ll look like you’re in your dotage,” Hanse warned. He’d moved into Kerensky’s vacant seat now that the Protector of the Rim Worlds had left Terra.

It wasn’t exactly an idea that warmed his heart. “At the risk of startling everyone, perhaps we could discuss something new?”

“I wasn’t finished speaking, Lord Davion,” the Chancellor said frostily. “Just because you don’t wish to be First Lord doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t take it seriously.”

“I’m fairly sure that I’m the only one who taking this seriously. You’re all after the throne but has it occurred to anyone that there’s a very weighty desk attached? If you just want to feel good about yourselves I can buy you tiaras, it’ll be petty cash compared to the costs of rebuilding the Star League. Or you can keep arguing until there isn’t a Star League to be First Lord of.”

Minoru Kurita shook his head. “That’s a little alarmist, Lord Davion. Virtually all of the Star League, when you come down to it, was unscathed by Amaris. Only the Periphery and the Terran Hegemony were fought over.”

“How much is your tax revenue down these days? Someone out of work because their employers go bust is as likely to go refugee as someone who lost their job due to the factory sprouting a mushroom cloud.” John shook his head. “Do we even need a First Lord? Why not just appoint a moderator, someone to break ties and move on.”

“And who would you suggest? Your good friend Helena Cameron?” asked Marik.

“I don't think she'd return here willingly, but we’re entrusting Blake with our communications, why not him?”

“Nope!” Hanse said firmly, shaking his head. “Nope!”

“Or DeChevilier, or whoever heads the BSLA should we ever get around to choosing someone. Hell, add all three posts to the Council as non-voting members and let them collectively break ties if that’s what it takes.”

Liao shook her head. “You’re out of order.”

And you’re out of your minds, he thought but didn’t say. “Lady Liao, are you familiar with the game ‘Chicken’?”

“I don’t believe so?”

“It’s an incredibly stupid game adolescent drivers or Mechwarriors play,” Steiner explained. “They point their vehicles at each other, open the throttle and the first one to turn away loses.”

“And if neither does?”

“That’s when it gets expensive,” the Archon noted. “I don’t see the relevance, Lord Davion.”

“That surprises me, Lord Steiner. After all, that’s your entire game plan – watch the League die by inches as you squabble and the last one to give up wins… which by default means the next First Lord will be the one who cares least about the Star League’s wellbeing. Doesn’t that seem a little backwards to you?”

Kurita leant forwards. “My lord Davion, please calm yourself. Your deep concern does you credit but I believe you’re taking this all out of proportion.”

“Just like Jonathan Cameron,” Robert Steiner murmured.

John stiffened. Jonathon Cameron’s paranoid dreams of threats to Terra had led to his constructing the Space Defense System networks at unprecedented expense in hopes of barring the ‘strange coarse men’ that stalked Terra in his nightmares. And then the wealth poured into them had reaped thousands of ships and over a hundred of thousand lives from those seeking to liberate the mad First Lord’s home world.

Maybe he’d been more right than he knew. Had he had his own version of Hanse perhaps? One that spoke less clearly?

“That is not a comparison, I’m comfortable with,” he told them firmly.

“That was out of order,” agreed Kenyon Marik. “You should apologise, Lord Steiner.”

“Of course. Please accept my sincerest apologies, John.” The Archon even sounded genuine. “But you do seem… would you be offended if I said tired?”

“No Robert. That the truth. I am tired.” He folded his hands. “Perhaps I should return to New Avalon. My presence here is hardly necessary.”

Keith Cameron and Kenyon Marik mouthed soft words that denied either his words or his relevance. At that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care what they were saying no to.

“On the matter of who should be First Lord, I pre-emptively abstain. With that, any three of you that come to agreement will have a majority in nominating your candidate.” He pushed himself to his feet, feeling very old. “I will be on New Avalon. If you wish to debate anything else -” Anything productive. “- then the HPG links have long-since been restored.”

No one prevented him from walking out the door, returning the salute of the guards. The debate, the never-ending debate, resumed before he left the room.

“Do you need help, General Davion?” asked a familiar voice.

Turning, he saw Elizabeth Hazen standing there. She wore a major’s rank tabs. “Probably,” John admitted. “But I’m damned if I know whose. Could you have someone call my aircar?”

“You’re leaving?”

He paused as the words struck a chord. Leaving. Oh.

“John?” asked Hanse. “Is something wrong?”

The First Prince sighed. “You’re from Terra, aren’t you, Major Hazen?”

“Yes sir, born and raised in Virginia.”

“I’m very sorry I couldn’t do more for you. Very sorry indeed.” Then he squared his shoulders. “Best of luck, Major. We may all need it.”


Kitimat, Keid
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
9 July 2776

Since Titan, Janos Grec had fallen into a pattern.

In the mornings he searched Keid for his wife and daughters. Queried refugee centres for both their names, those of relatives, those of neighbours. When he found a link he’d travel to enquire of them and then follow whatever leads they could provide. Thus far he had found neither his family nor – more positively – any evidence of their deaths or of capture by Amaris’ security services. Which would have been the same thing save perhaps more torturous; but for some reason he drew a line between the two.

In the afternoons, Janos found a bar. SLDF uniform was generally good for a free drink, his rank tabs for a second and after that his diminishing savings – Aleksandr and then Aaron had made sure to see to it that he received monthly pension deposits into what was left of Keid’s banking system, which was keeping him almost afloat financially.

The evenings he generally could not remember and he pretended when he woke, shaved and otherwise made himself presentable that he could not remember the nights either.

The morning’s routine was getting harder and harder to sustain. The afternoon’s wasn’t any easier though.

He was on his third drink, the first he’d paid for himself, when the holovid display above the bar switched to a news station.

“What the hell?” the man on the next bar-stool along protested. “Put the cricket back on.”

“Shut up,” the bartender said in a flat voice that sparked attention in Grec. Thumbing a second control on the handset, the volume rose.

“- announcement from New Avalon,” the newscaster reported and then disappeared, her face and the studio around her replaced by the great hall of Castle Davion.

The display zoomed in slowly, cutting away the men and women on the main floor and the great brass-framed glass window outlining the sword and sunburst of the Federated Suns. The sunlight outside streamed down onto the dais, painting the emblem upon the dais beneath, the hilt of the sword a shadow before the red-upholstered and gold limned throne of the First Prince.

Twin spotlights illuminated John Davion. There was a touch of grey in his dark hair that Grec didn't remember. And more lines on his face. But his eyes were steady and determined.

“Two hundred and five years ago this day, the six leaders of the Inner Sphere assembled and signed their names to a document they named – with foresight – the Star League Accords,” the distant First Prince reminded his audience. “This document established laid the foundation for the Star League and the organisations - the court, the SLDF, the BSLA and so forth - that depend upon it. Fundamentally, that document established was an agreement - an accord - by six of the most powerful men and women alive, that they and those who followed them should work together.”

Grec gripped the edge of the bar with one hand and swallowed the vodka in two swift gulps. The fire as it went down his throat burned away the fuzziness of his thinking. It was a brief respite, a false promise of focus that he’d pay for later, but something about John’s eyes told him he’d need that momentary clarity.

“Six leaders, from whom all of the Star League’s current leaders trace their succession, chose to place the benefit of the whole above their individual goals. The rising tide, they believed, would raise all boats and by setting aside short term benefits for themselves, they instead sought long term benefits for us all. The price of those ideals was high. It’s said that Ian Cameron shed a tear and that it still marks the Accords beneath his signature. How many more tears have been shed is beyond counting, but there is no doubt that for more than a hundred years the Star League benefitted every realm and by overwhelming majority the people of those realms. Not evenly, not always fairly, but by and large the Accords, the agreement, served us all well.”

There was a ripple of puzzled agreement from the patrons. The bartender simply looked grim. This was just a recording, of course, something of what was said must have been reported and prompted the decision to turn on the news. “Wait for it,” Grec whispered.

“I am here today, not to announce but to recognise that today and for many years – perhaps for my entire lifetime – that the Accords no longer stand. The heirs of the Star League’s founding fathers have not followed those ideals and as a result there has been considerable suffering that should not have been. As tempting as it is to condemn men like Stefan Amaris, the simple fact is that there is more responsibility that can be accounted for by any one man or any hundred men and women.”

He’d said it was the anniversary of the Accords, which was today. This message must be only a few hours old, delivered to Terra as a priority signal. Grec wondered how many others were watching it now. Billions probably. Maybe trillions, by the end of the day.

“I do not speak to condemn the uprising in the Periphery, nor the Usurpation by Amaris. These are symptoms that have arisen upon the edges of the Star League. For all the bitter harvest they have reaped, these events do not endanger the Star League. So long as the Accords stand, so long as the members of the Star League Council can work together, the heart of the Star League remains strong. It is with grave regret I must accept that this is no longer the case. The Star League has suffered what amounts to a mortal wound, for – as many of you must be aware – we are leaderless and the Star League Council has failed thus far to co-operate in solving this matter.”

“Should have made Kerensky First Lord then,” the other patron snorted. “Fucking feddies.”

“Alex wouldn’t take it,” Grec told him bitterly. “He told me Davion and Liao mentioned the idea to him.”

“I have never sought the office First Lord myself but I don’t condemn the ambition of those who have sought the office over the last two months. Nor do I condemn the bartering over votes simply because no one managed to meet my price, which was sufficient support of other lords to yield a majority.”

“What I do condemn is the pride and the arrogance that has led some members of the Council to the position where they have declared that they will accept no outcome save their own elevation and they are willing to hold the League’s wellbeing hostage to have their way. As if the post of First Lord was privilege and not responsibility. I will name no names for it is not my place to shame them. They know who they are.”

“What do you mean he told you?” The man looked at Grec, who gestured for silence. The ice cubes in the glass tinkled.

“What is my place and is my responsibility, is to recognise the facts as they stand and to act upon them. If the Star League Accords do not stand, if there is no common cause between the members of the Star League, then there is no longer a Star League. And without the Star League, war between the realms of the Inner Sphere seems all but inevitable. The result of ambitions, of hatreds, of prides… the causes do not matter. I have seen war before. I would prefer not to see it again but if it must come then I will face it squarely.”

John paused for breath and then continued inexorably. “There is one path to avoid this. One last chance of peace. That hope is called the Star League.”

“If the trust between the leaders of the Star League is rebuilt, then the Star League can endure. If it does not then the League is dead… and there is nothing more I can do to save it. I have abstained from any further vote upon the position of First Lord, which conveniently reduces the votes needed from four to three. The Council is therefore fully able to choose a leader without me.”

John rose from the throne and stood before the people of the Federated Suns, backlit by the star that warmed his distant homeworld. “I address now my fellow lords of the Star League. I will give you until the end of the year. Almost six months counting from today. But if there is no First Lord or – to be fair, no alternative leadership arrangements – by the start of next year, then the Federated Suns will, with sorrow but resolution, secede from the Star League. I devoutly hope that you will find the humility to prove such action unnecessary.”

The glass slipped from Grec’s hand. Synthetic, it didn’t break, bouncing off his lap and spilling ice and ice water on his pants. “Oh John,” he said in a small voice. “Oh no. No, no, no.” For the first time since Titan the admiral felt tears upon his face, crying not for himself but for what those words must have cost his friend.

And for they would cost everyone else.

Nice TRO.

Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 July 2776

“He can’t be serious about seceding from the Star League!” Keith Cameron exclaimed. “Why isn’t someone on New Avalon restraining him?”

It was a day since John Davion’s transmission. In that time every member of the Star League Council had viewed the holovid repeatedly. Now five of them had gathered in the council chamber to do so again, together. With John’s absence, half the seats at the table were vacant.

Minoru Kurita cleared his throat. “While the First Prince can be quite… shall we say irrational? …on certain subjects, he is no fool. He will have ensured that his ministers and High Council stand behind him before taking such a drastic step.”

“He’s bluffing, of course.” Captain-General Kenyon Marik shook his head in admiration. “But what a bluff, I didn’t think the old man had it in him.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Cameron, hopefully. The Director-General had bags under his eyes.

“Of course. He’s served with the SLDF, as I have. He knows the AFFS would stand no chance against the full force of their armies. The SLDF has an entire army within his borders already. No, this is an attempt to stampede us.”

Barbara Liao nodded. “Davion has always been good at… shifting his goals. He did it on Valexa and then on Al Na’ir. Set out with one goal, preferably with someone else as the frontman, then when they’ve failed step in and claim some far lesser goal was the objective all the time, claiming victory once he has secured that.”

“It could be unfortunate if you are mistaken,” the Coordinator said quietly.

“I believe the Chancellor is correct,” Robert Steiner said at last. “No First Lord or alternative leadership arrangements. He’s leaving a loophole for negotiations.”

Cameron shook his head in relief. “And it would all be moot if we agree on a First Lord.”

“We shouldn’t be stampeded by this ultimatum,” Marik murmured. “That’s doubtless his goal.”

“There are really three outcomes,” Steiner pointed out. “As the Director-General said, we could come to a consensus by Davion’s deadline, at which point we lose nothing. Secondly, we come to some form of face-saving agreement – appointing a head of the BSLA or one of the other measures he’s been chasing as vital – so he can back down without seeming to.”

“Or we are faced with a hostile state upon our borders,” Kurita noted. “Should we consult with the Commanding General against that circumstance?”

“As a precaution,” agreed Liao. “It doesn’t hurt to have the eventualities explored.”

“I thought you said he was bluffing?”

“Lord Marik said that,” she corrected Cameron. “And while I agree, I prefer also to be sure that calling that bluff is an option.”

The summons was issued and the five lords looked at each other as they waited. “Do you suppose,” Kurita asked mildly, “That Davion hopes to be nominated himself?”

Cameron shook his head. “It seems unlikely. When did he put himself forward for the position?”

“He said he would serve if elected,” Marik said slowly. “And he did nominate himself once. I don’t see how he’d reconcile claiming he would leave the Star League with taking leadership of it.”

“Ah, but we are the proud arrogant lords who he castigates. Surely he, as the worthy lord to point out our failings is the right and just choice?” Kurita pointed out wryly.

“Hah!” Steiner shook his head. “That would be just like the self-righteous fool. But he’ll get no vote from me.”

“Nor I,” agreed Liao. “Nor any concession more than the minimum needed to let him back down gracefully.”

“You think that we should offer such a concession?”

“Something judicious,” she agreed. “The Federated Suns remains a powerful state and we should of course appear willing to make a reasonable agreement rather than go to war.”

Cameron nodded quickly. “Some temporary arrangement, perhaps. Appointing the Commanding General as a moderator to break ties, perhaps?”

“Not that,” Marik said firmly. “Not DeChevilier. He’s a Feddie himself, remember.”

“Oh yes.” Liao touched one fingertip to her lips. “From… where was it, Kestrel?”

“A farming world near New Avalon,” agreed Kurita.

“How positively bucolic.” The captain-general sneered at the concept. “We can discount that idea, Director-General.”

Cameron made a conciliatory gesture but before conversation could proceed further, the guards at the door came to full attention. “My lords, Commanding General Aaron DeChevilier.”

The doors opened to admit the man himself, in full uniform. “My lords,” he said drily and stepped forward to stand within the arc of the tables. “How may I serve you?”

Marik leant forwards. “I’m sure you’ve heard Lord Davion’s… threat by now.”

“Threat?” DeChevilier hmmed. “Interesting term for it. I’ve seen yesterday’s holovid, yes.”

“We are…” Kurita moved his hand slightly as if looking for a word. “We are considering the various circumstances that may result from this.”

“Very wise you, my lords. And of course, the Star League Defense Forces stand ready to serve whoever you elect as the new First Star Lord.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Liao assured him. “However, just in case of… difficulties, it seemed sensible to determine the SLDF’s readiness should Davion act rashly and your services should be required.”

“I’m afraid you’re not being entirely clear, Lord Liao. Required in what context?”

Steiner coughed sharply and fumbled for a handkerchief. “Don’t be obtuse,” he snapped after a moment. “If the Federated Suns rebels, can the SLDF put down the rebellion?”

DeChevilier eyed the Archon thoughtfully. “I take it that this is the official position of the Star League Council?”

“We really can’t allow the Suns to secede,” Kurita observed. “Obviously we would prefer to avoid the matter arising.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Lord Kurita.”

“But should diplomacy for some reason fail, I think we would resort to military action rather than see the Star League fall apart.”

The Commanding General looked around the room. He didn’t have the terrible fierceness of the Kerensky but all the same he stared at each of the Council until they nodded their heads in agreement. “I’m not convinced that the Federated Suns leaving the Star League would make them hostile towards the League’s members,” he said solemnly. “And you have it within your power to avoid the circumstances by electing -”

Marik brought his fist down on the table. “General DeChevilier, can the SLDF bring the Federated Suns to heel or not?”

“As matters stand, no.”

“No?”

DeChevilier sighed deeply. “I appreciate that your military career was rather short, Captain-General, but -”

“I will not be spoken to like that.”

Liao smiled sardonically. “Let the man speak, Kenyon.”

“My own career was also quite short,” Cameron offered in a pacifying tone. “The SLDF seems to be both larger and better equipped than the AFFS, General DeChevilier. Please explain the issues you see in terms you feel I'd understand with my limited experience.”

“In simple terms, Lord Cameron, we can’t afford to go to war with the Federated Suns.”

“I’m not sure we can afford not to.”

“What the Council can afford, Lord Steiner, and what the SLDF can afford are unfortunately two very different things. The Federated Suns currently provides more than a third of our funding. Just keeping the SLDF’s forces intact on their bases costs billions of dollars every month. We have to feed the soldiers and pay them. We must cover pensions – our medical pensions are a debt of honour to our wounded comrades that we cannot default upon, but they’ve unavoidably grown with hundreds of thousands of severely wounded soldiers. And then there are the thousands of other costs for fuel, maintenance, training…”

“I see.” Kurita looked grave. “Naturally I understood there to be these costs but do you mean that losing the Federated Suns would make it impossible to meet those costs.”

“Not necessarily. It could be difficult, and those costs are relatively fixed so we can’t readily reduce them, but we could cut expenditure in some areas. Unfortunately, those areas are the ones that would factor into any military action. Fuel costs would raise, munitions would need to be purchased… we’ve fought not one but two wars on unprecedented scale in the last twelve years and the logistical stockpiles we could once rely on have been largely exhausted. And since SLDF warehousing and bases in the Federated Suns are unscathed, such stockpiles as we’ve begin to rebuild are to some degree located inside their borders… well, a war would mean they’d be seized immediately.”

“You have an entire army based in the Federated Suns,” Marik protested. “Couldn’t they guard the stores until relieved?”

DeChevilier shook his head. “Sixth Army is the smallest of our armies, they’re stationed in the Federated Suns because that’s where there’s been the least likelihood of problems historically. General Chudzik only has eight divisions - call it thirty ‘Mech regiments and fifty infantry regiments – available. If they spread out to secure the stockpiles they’d be wiped out in detail. If it came to war he’d have to consolidate into defensible castles or even withdraw from the Federated Suns.”

“That’s an alarming picture,” Barbara Liao mused. “I hadn’t realised you were so dependent upon the Federated Suns.”

“It isn’t something that we widely advertise,” DeChevilier admitted. “However, the financial information is available to all of you through the BSLA. The damage to the Hegemony and the Rim Worlds means that we’re only receiving a trickle of funding from them compared to the pre-war situation – more than from the Free Worlds and the Combine,” he added with a dry look at the Coordinator. “So the Lyran Commonwealth, Capellan Confederation and Federated Suns have been providing the bulk of our revenue.”

“How very interesting,” Kurita said blandly. “I appreciate your forthrightness, General. Hopefully this will all prove to have been unnecessary speculation, but I’d hope that by the end of the year you’re able to give us a more positive answer to the question if we have to ask it again.”

“That will very much depend on you, Lord Kurita.”

“We’ll make the financing of the SLDF our very next point of discussion,” Robert Steiner agreed with a sly look across the table at the two lords whose realms had withheld their taxes for a decade. “Perhaps that will convince Lord Davion that whatever he may think, we are truly committed to the future of the Star League.”

“That would be very good news,” Aaron DeChevilier agreed with no more than a trace of sarcasm.


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 August 2776

Privy Council meetings had been tense for the last month, which didn’t surprise John. The High Council wouldn’t assemble until next month and that would be the crunch time but there was still uncertainty.

The double doors of the meeting room were still open and Joshua Davion entered with Bennett Green alongside him. The state administrator of the BSLA within the Federated Suns had been on Terra when John announced his decision to leave the Star League should no First Lord be elected by the end of the year. The First Prince rose to welcome him. “Bennett, it’s good to see you. How was the voyage?”

“It was a commercial jumpship route,” the bureaucrat said ruefully. “And the ship was crammed with refugees. I gather the other lords haven’t come to their senses since I left Terra?”

“If you mean elected someone, no.”

“That’s a shame. Not a surprise, but a shame.” Green opened his attaché case and laid a data chip on the table. “I’ve been asked to convey this to you by the Director-General.”

John looked at the chip and then around the room. “We have a few minutes, I think. Francesca has been delayed slightly.”

“I thought it might be appropriate for Bennett to sit in on the meeting of the Privy Council.” Joshua was less tentative about the suggestion than he would have been when he first sat in. John’s son and heir had grown into the ministerial role. Somewhere along the way he’d crossed the line that John hadn’t even recognised until it was reached: the point where the Prince Imperial was ready to wield the authority of the First Prince.

He simply nodded. “Of course. Please take a seat, Bennett.”

Inserting the chip into the panel built into the table, John brought up a menu of the contents. There wasn’t much, just a single encoded document. The palace computers checked for viruses and concluded it was safe -  too short to contain any deceptive software. Already loaded with John’s security codes, they deciphered the contents and brought up the document on the holo-display.

Lord John,

I understand your frustration with the Council. I won’t insult you by promising we’ll have a First Lord elected by your deadline, although I’ll certainly try.

You suggested alternative leadership arrangements and I recall some solutions you presented during the meetings such as appointing a moderator to break ties or granting Lord Kerensky a vote. I assume these would be acceptable if they can be instated?


“It’s to the point,” Michael Stopec said bluntly. “He doesn’t mention what he’ll do if we do secede.”

“He’d play those cards close to his chest,” Joel Parks told him. The Minister of Ways and Means was his colourless self and hadn’t given an opinion one way or another on his feelings about secession from the Star League.

Bennett leant forwards. “I know that the Council called DeChevilier in the day after the news reached Terra of your ultimatum, sire.”

“He must be disappointed in me,” noted John ruefully. “I haven’t heard from him.”

“I couldn’t say, but the last I heard before it seemed best to leave Terra was that the Free Worlds League and Draconis Combine would be advancing tax money into the Star League treasury next month.”

Joshua snorted. “It took them long enough. Almost ten years of their worlds withholding taxes. Amaris would have been defeated years ago if they’d contributed.”

“Perhaps. It’s hard to say what might have happened,” John told him. “You were pressured to leave, Bennett?”

“I get the impression that my loyalties are doubted by the Council. One way or another it seems unlikely that I’ll be representing the Bureau for very much longer.” Green smiled ruefully. “I’ve held the post for a while anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best.”

Stopec’s golden cybernetic eyes turned to the bureaucrat. “And should your loyalties be in doubt?”

“I believe in the ideals of the Star League,” the man said quietly. “I… no longer believe that I can serve those ideals on Terra.”

“You and your family have served the Star League very well. If that’s no longer possible then the fault doesn’t lie with the Greens, or with the families that have lead the other state administrations. In many ways you’ve done your jobs better than the Council Lords.”

“As you said, sire, there’s plenty of blame to spread around.” Green gave him a sad look. “I’ll stay on to hand over my replacement, whether they’re appointed from Terra or by you. I assume you’d not be simply dissolving the Bureau’s apparatus if the worst comes to the worst.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll be looking at gradually transferring the BSLA’s departments into the applicable Ministries of the government,” John advised him. “I doubt the High Council would accept my maintaining a separate but parallel government outside of their control. I’ve assured them and will continue to assure them that I won’t be using this to remove their traditional rights and authorities.”

“I suppose that you’re right. May I ask, since Minister Reznick hasn’t arrived yet, what timeframe you’re looking at?”

“If the Star League is willing to co-exist peacefully with us then three to five years seems reasonable.” Before John could comment on how likely or unlikely it was that they would have those years of peace, Francesca Reznick entered the room abruptly.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” the Minister of Intelligence declared. “Fresh news just arrived.”

“From Terra?” asked Joshua hopefully.

She shook her head, taking her seat. “No, from Remagen and Victoria.”

Most of the looks directed at her were puzzled. What was the significance of those worlds? Both were in the Crucis March, part of New Avalon’s own administrative district.

“The SLDF garrisons?” asked Stopec grimly. “What have they done?”

“General Murphy has reported to General Chudzik that he doesn’t believe that the divisions there can be withdrawn before the end of the year,” Reznick reported with relish.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Parks admitted coolly. “Surely they’ve only been in place for months.”

“That’s right. The 262nd BattleMech Division on Victoria and the Forty-Ninth Mechanized Infantry Division on Remagen both saw heavy service in the Periphery and the Hegemony, they were replenished repeatedly with fresh recruits from the Federated Suns and they served under Prince Davion in the latter case.”

“Do you mean what I think you’re implying, Francesca?”

“They didn’t use the word mutiny, but the reason isn’t logistics. The majority of the personnel in those divisions have indicated that if it comes to a break with the Star League they’ll stand by us, not the League!”

“My god.” John wasn’t sure who said that.

“Is that likely to affect other elements of the SLDF?” asked Joshua.

“I think the response he got is indicative,” the Minister of Intelligence replied. “General Chudzik ordered General Murphy to transfer personnel between the divisions of his Corps so that members of the two divisions… he doesn’t say rebels, but that’s the implications, those who don’t stand by that can be withdrawn with the other two divisions while anyone in those divisions who wants to stay can shift to the Forty-Ninth and 262nd.”

“He’s handing them to you on a platter,” Green exclaimed. “That’s eighteen regiments of experienced soldiers.”

“Probably less than that overall, unit cohesion is a powerful force so there won’t be as many going into those divisions as will leave.” John rubbed his chin. “The other corps in Sixth Army is LII Corps, they used to be in Second Army, stationed here in the Suns before the Coup.”

“You don’t think the entire Sixth Army could turn their coats?” asked Joshua in surprise.

The First Prince shook his head. “Most likely not, but it’s a sign that we still have friends within the SLDF and that’s a good sign.”

“I don’t know that the Star League Council will see it that way,” Reznick told him with a smirk.


Terra Prime, Apollo
Apollo Province, Rim Worlds Republic
2 September 2776

The 18th Royals had chosen to join Kerensky in the Rim Worlds and they once again provided security around the Presidential Palace. There had been changes since the first time Phillip Drummond had come here though – most of the elaborate furniture had been removed and replaced with more functional chairs and tables.

“Eventually, I think, this might serve as a museum,” Kerensky informed them. “There are too many associations with Amaris here.”

”I’m not sure we have the budget for a new government complex,” warned Lucien Dormax. “We were hoping for some slack once the SLDF secured Terra but almost every penny of tax collected above the planetary level is still going to the Star League.”

“And they’re going to be sensitive about us reducing the taxes they get from the Rim Worlds now that the Federated Suns is on the brink of secession,” Drummond pointed out.

Kerensky nodded but said nothing. An uneasy silence filled the room – the Protector had said nothing on the topic of John Davion’s announcement, refused to discuss it in fact. After almost two months the elephant in the room had grown to mammoth proportions.

“Everything depends on the foundations.” Cyrus Elam said at last. The engineering officer had retired to take up a nebulously defined post in the new government, primarily focusing on the Rim Worlds’ infrastructure. “If they’re sound then we can proceed without them.”

“Yes. And we cannot wait indefinitely,” Kerensky admitted. “Minister Dormax, please make preparations to move our payments to the Star League back to the more regular levels from before the Coup starting from the beginning of 2777 and provide an estimation of what budget we can expect to be working on at that point.”

“Is that to include the amended taxes from ’52 and ’63?” the politician asked reservedly.

“Of course.”

Drummond held up one finger. “It would be interesting to know how much a difference it would make if those taxes were to be revoked. Merely as data for comparison of course.”

“I can provide an estimation alongside the main one,” agreed Dormax. As a fellow Rim Worlder, he had been quite cordial towards Drummond once Kerensky’s party reached Apollo.

“Moving on to the military front, the Lyrans still have a large number of troops along our border and there have been some raids. Eleventh Army simply can’t be everywhere and we don’t have more than a Corps of our own in practical terms.”

Jerome Winson nodded seriously. The young officer was officially Kerensky’s aide but in practical terms he was emerging as something of a military alter ego for the Protector, representing him at military discussions that government demands prevented the old man from attending. “The troops are still coalescing into their new formations as well. We’ve sixty regiments on paper and the soldiers are veterans but it’ll take time before they’re really ready for action. In the meanwhile, the Lyrans have almost fifty of their regiments along the border, each of them more than twice the size of ours.”

“That may not be entirely correct,” Drummond advised. “That’s their paper strength but a lot of bases that they supposedly have a regiment or battalion in are actually held by smaller forces. Either there’s a shell game going on to hide troop movements or Steiner’s claiming to have more troops than he actually does.”

“Could he be mustering soldiers for an invasion?” asked Dormax.

Kerensky drummed his fingers on the table. “I would like to say that the SLDF would have to react if he tried, but with the Council paralyzed and no First Lord…”

“At this stage I cannot rule it out,” Drummond admitted. “And we’d be hard pressed to focus on an invasion when a lot of the outlying worlds are still shaky. Some of the raiders around the edge of the periphery are pro-Amaris.”

“We need victories,” the Protector said. “Victories will bind those worlds to us and they will dismay our enemies.”

“The best I can offer right now is a lead on Von Strang. Courtesy of John Davion, in fact.”

“That damn Ministry of Intelligence of his,” Dormax exclaimed. “How do they know more of events here than we do?”

“Let’s just be glad he’s still sharing. I suspect we won’t be hearing much from the Federated Suns next year.”

“The lead?” Kerensky enquired firmly.

“Apparently their analysis suggests that the Baron’s base of operations is on Erin, one of the colonies coreward of us. We don’t have confirmation yet, but the numbers he has to support it are reasonably plausible when it comes to travel times.”

“Good.” The old man ran one hand back over his scalp. “I… hmm.  Jerome, handle this personally. Pick the three regiments you consider most fit for action and one of the frigates. Officially I’ll name one of the colonels as the commander but I want you to represent me.”

“Understood, sir.”

Drummond raised an eyebrow. Winson was very young and very junior for such a role. Barely in his twenties.

“On the Lyran front.” Kerensky leant forwards. “Where are we seeing most raids? I believe that we shall lay a trap for the Lyrans. Robert Steiner was most unhappy that I received warships from the former Rim Worlds fleet. We will send a corvette upon a patrol in the…?” He arched an eyebrow towards Drummond.

“I’d suggest the Kowloon system, sir. They only have a planetary militia on the surface but the orbital stations would make a logical starting point for a naval base should one be needed in the area. I assume that you’d like the patrol route to be leaked?”

“Indeed so. And I will speak to General Helmick to locate some of his own warships in position to respond. The SLDF will receive the credit for catching the ‘pirates’, the Lyrans will find their forces weakened and the Kowloonese will have a reminder that independence from the Republic will only mean they are open to outside attack.”

“Assuming that it works out. We could lose the corvette.”

“That is unfortunately a risk that must be taken. If we can’t place our ships in harm’s way then there is little point in having them to begin with.”

“Are there any other military matters to discuss?” asked Dormax, glancing up at the clock.

“Those are the concerns at the moment. More discussion can take place with the Protectorate Armed Forces command. I suppose you wish to discuss elections?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kerensky nodded. “What has been agreed then?”

“At the moment we have most of the major worlds in agreement over the basic structure,” the Rim Republican advised. “Their disagreements are mostly in the order of loyal opposition, things that can be worked with. Worlds with populations of more than a million will elect a planetary senate of 99 seats and a governor to head their own internal affairs. The senate will then appoint a representative to the Rim Worlds Congress.”

“And worlds with populations below a million souls?” asked Elam. “Do they get votes?”

“They will be grouped into districts of between four and nine worlds, with a district senate whose membership is divided based on relative population. Each planet will still elect its own governor.”

“That sounds like it could lead to squabbling between the worlds.”

“It already has,” Dormax assured the engineer. “District boundaries are still being fought over. But it’s an acceptable compromise between giving every world a representative or appointing the representatives solely on population – which would give many worlds no voice at all in the Congress.”

“So, when may we expect a Rim Worlds Congress to convene?” Kerensky sounded more resigned than hopeful.

“Less than a year as things stand. April or May of 2777 would be my estimation.”

“A lot of things can change by then,” Drummond observed. “Let us hope they’re for the better.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
24 September 2776

John slumped in his chair, ignoring the Italian opera with long practise. “Well it was always a slim chance.”

Hanse nodded. “It was absolutely worth the try, but the Star League’s fundamental premise makes leaving outside states alone very unlikely. If the Council doesn’t send the SLDF to force you back into the League they’d be tacitly accepting that their own realms will be doing the same.”

“Aaron said that the Captain-General and Coordinator have even sent payments towards the upkeep of the SLDF. Apparently, the threat of the throne they’re after not meaning anything anymore motivates them more than it being occupied by a usurper.” John shrugged wearily. “But they’re not willing to take the one step more to avert this.”

“Quite honestly, if I was looking at the lords of my own time… I wouldn’t want Maximilian Liao or his younger daughter on the throne. Or Takashi Kurita although I might bend as far as one of the Mariks.” Hanse shrugged. “Things are swinging pretty heavily towards the SLDF crossing the border next year to take us back by force.”

“I knew it could happen. I planned for it. I just never wanted it.”

The redhead nodded. “Well, we’ll be looking at another fourteen regiments and their supporting elements if the Forty-Ninth and the 262nd defect – half ‘Mechs, half infantry for the line units. Call it seven brigades by our standards.”

“It would be chancy to have them fight the SLDF though,” John noted. “That could be asking too much. There are garrisons further from the Hegemony where they can free up soldiers.”

“That makes sense. Give them longer to build up roots and reorganise.” Hanse hummed along with the opera for a while.

“Everyone seems to agree that if the SLDF comes in that I can expect house troops, at least from the Combine and Confederation,” John said at last. “It’s not clear where they’ll strike though.”

“Historically, the Capellans went for the worlds around Chesterton and Jinjiro cut through Clovis and then broke open the border as far as Sakhara V.”

Clovis was near the Terran Hegemony while Sakhara V was about halfway to the Outworlds Alliance. “And as deep as Odell and Delavan, we’ll have to do better this time.” Those worlds were only a single jump away from New Avalon.

Hanse leant forwards. “The SLDF will be pushing out from the Hegemony most probably – their bases in the Combine are a mess and the Confederation’s really aren’t any better. I’d expect their goal will be to push as far as New Avalon and hope that taking the capital forces you to capitulate.”

“If Barbara and Minoru are trying to support that strategy then the most direct routes would be past Robinson in the Draconis March and Kathil in the Capellan March.” John considered. “I suspect they’d be thinking back to the worlds annexed during the Reunification War and keeping an eye out for what they might be able to take and keep.”

“More than likely. If that’s the case then the chances are that they won’t want to bypass the Chesterton region or Marduk. The political and industrial gains would look too promising.”

“I think we can stop them. I’m not so sure that we can stop the SLDF though,” John admitted. “Just the idea of going up against men and women we’ve been working with for so long is going to be very hard on morale in the AFFS. And then there’s the numbers.”

“Then probably the best idea is not to fight them. Have troops withdraw ahead of them or go to ground, while hammering the Combine and the Confederation.” Hanse rubbed his chin. “The impression I get is that the funding isn’t there to throw the SLDF at us full scale. If we can inflict severe reverses on the flanking thrusts, perhaps even counter-attack, then they’ll be screaming for the SLDF to support them, which they won’t be able to do without either abandoning their offensive or getting more funding and supplies.”

John nodded. “Which they won’t be getting from Kenyon Marik or Robert Steiner. Possibly not even from Kerensky. Putting the Rim Worlds taxes back on a regular basis means less money for the Star League treasury from that direction. Would the Council dare send the SLDF to demand that he keep paying basically his entire federal tax revenue into their coffers?”

“Maybe if they weren’t also having to look at us,” said Hanse. “As it is, if the Star League does come apart, I’d expect Eleventh Army to defect to him immediately. He’s got that much prestige, unlike the other Council Lords.”

Picking up his noteputer, John scrolled through the data there. “Of course, if the SLDF throws a fleet directly at New Avalon we have big problems. They could blockade us, pick off the HPG stations in range of New Avalon and then the army can sweep up rest of Suns while they’re not getting any directions from us.”

“It wouldn’t be in line with SLDF doctrine,” Hanse noted. “As long as DeChevilier kept the DCMS and CCAF out of the fighting that could work, but it won’t succeed if they cross the border. There’s no chance that Vasily or Rita would back down with Capellans or Draconians in their Marchs. You should set up a fall-back capital for Joshua, just in case though.”

“If it comes to a major naval campaign against the Star League, we’re going to have to throw nuclear weapons at them like fire crackers. I’m not sure we have enough in stock,” the First Prince noted dourly. “Even with the production we’ve been building up over the last ten years we’ll badly need the SLDF stockpiles.”

“If that succeeds then we’ll be fine but I agree it’s not something to count on. Perhaps the Tortuga factories can be expanded. One thing we can rely upon is that this won’t be a quick war.”

“Not unless I surrender.” He looked up and saw Hanse giving him a questioning look. “I don’t think I can do that though. If they can’t govern the Star League, how could I justify putting the Federated Suns into their hands?”

“Given the back-channel diplomacy we’ve had, there’s a narrow majority who’re trying to find some sort of compromise,” his descendant said. “Unfortunately, they can’t agree on what to do as a compromise.”

“And we haven’t had any feelers from Sian or from Luthien, which I suppose shows where the war faction is centred.”

“That really shouldn’t surprise you, John.” Hanse slumped into his chair. “You’d better start looking at directing your diplomacy towards the SLDF rather than the lords. Maybe you can peel a few more divisions away from the SLDF. Nineteenth Army was disbanded into Third and Fourth Armies – that might provide a pool of favourably inclined troops.”

“I think Jack Lucas would order firing squads for anyone trying to convince his troops to defect,” John pointed out. “Fourth Army though… that’s McGuinness still, and Baptiste before her. They know the Federated Suns.”

“There’s a better than average chance they’ll be called on as the core of the Star League’s task force. They’re stationed in Lockdale province, which leaves them the closest to the Suns now that Sixth Army is withdrawing.”

The two Davions exchanged looks and the corner of John’s lips quirked upwards. “That could work,” he said quietly.

“It wouldn’t win the war but it would rock them back on their heels,” Hanse agreed. “Assuming that we’re on the same page and you’re not just thinking about painting all their ‘Mechs with a sunburst and claiming ownership.”

“Something a little more subtle. We can’t win this war by force of arms. It has to be in their hearts and minds.”

John would only realise much later that at some point in the conversation he’d let go of the idea that he could avoid a war with the Star League. For better or for worse, the dice had been cast and all he could do now was see how they came down.

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
15 March 2777

The holo-display lit up on time. Whatever Hanse might have to say about Jerome Blake, the man was undeniably punctual. The dark hair and beard were much the same, the face a little more lined and he’d changed his glasses since John had last seen him. “Minister Blake. I must say, I’m surprised to hear from you. I imagine the Council would consider contacting me to be a questionable action on your part.”

Blake shrugged. “They’ve given me no orders to sever communications with the Federated Suns, Lord Davion. That might be an oversight on their part, but it happens to be true.”

“Technically it’s no longer proper to call me Lord Davion, Minister. I’m no longer one of the Council Lords.”

“Are you really discussing etiquette with him?” Hanse asked in amusement.

“Very well, Prince Davion. I suppose I can promote you to being a royal pain in the neck, rather than just a pain in the neck then.”

“You know, we probably saved him from a very nasty accident on Dieron, by changing events. I gather that’s how he came to Kerensky’s attention in my timeline, rather than setting up those HPG relay stations.”

John ignored Hanse’s speculation. “That’s a rather informal way of addressing me. A little refreshing though. So how am I paining your neck?”

“You know perfectly well; by usurping control of a quarter of my network.”

John felt his lips curl. “Well I can hardly expect the Star League to handle my internal communications once I’ve withdrawn.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the stations belong to the Star League’s Ministry of Communications,” Blake insisted. “The facilities and also the staff.”

“The stations belonged to the Star League, as did many other facilities that have nothing to do with you,” John pointed out wryly. “Why would I treat the HPGs any differently? And the personnel are more than welcome to leave the Suns if they want. I’ll even pay for their passage; the offer’s been made to them.”

The Terran hunched his shoulders. “Your highness, I’m charged with keeping the network of communications going across the Inner Sphere. I can’t do that if it’s being carved into national fiefs.”

“Well that’s a problem for the Star League.”

“I don’t deny that, but it’s also a problem for you.” Blake met John’s eyes. “I can’t believe I’m having to tell you of all people to look beyond your borders. I don’t want to sound as if I’m threatening you, but if I am ordered to black you out it would be very damaging to your trade and to… other matters that involve receiving information from outside the Suns.”

“It would be a problem, yes.”

“I’d rather remain neutral in this. Frankly, I’m not unsympathetic to your position. But you’ve set a precedent that could set all my work to nothing if other the other Lords follow your suite.”

“He’s trying to set up ComStar!” Hanse exclaimed. “A ‘neutral’ communications body!” the ghost used his fingers to make quote signs as he said neutral.

“I don’t want you to think I’m unsympathetic to you, Minister Blake. I’d point out that thus far the Federal Broadcasting Agency has been relaying signals you send us to the destination systems without any fee to your ministry, just as you’ve been relaying our messages onwards. That seems to be working so far.”

The younger man pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. “Prince Davion, how long do you think you can keep your HPGs running without parts from the Hegemony?”

“I’m afraid that that’s information I’m not prepared to divulge,” John said. “But probably longer than they’d keep sending messages for me if I handed over my internal communications to the Star League. Let’s be honest – to all practical purposes they’re at war with me. The only reason the SLDF hasn’t crossed the border is that they’re getting their forces in place.”

“That’s -”

“Let me finish.” John lowered the hand he’d raised. “If you’re in charge of my HPG communications and the SLDF order you to cut off my contact, you’d have very little way to deny them. You’re on Terra, surrounded by them. And that would make it very difficult for me to coordinate the defence of my realm. I’d prefer to work with you, rather than against you, but I can’t trust the security of my communications to someone who could be coerced by the Star League. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Blake said heavily. “I’m going to have to embargo any purchases of HPG parts by your Federated Broadcasting Agency – or by any intermediaries. I don’t know if you’re relying on such purchases, on a professional level it would be better if you don’t, but I can’t extend that sort of support to a… a rival network.”

John nodded. “It’s a difficult line to tread and I understand your position. I’d prefer to maintain the current level of… co-operation in place. And if matters should settle down and you want to establish new HPGs within our borders then I might be able to work something out, but I can’t leave MiniCom as the sole provider.”

“I’m not sure I could support the expense of a network over part of the commercial market – since I assume that government traffic would be exclusively be by your new agency,” Blake answered. “I have the disturbing notion that the point is moot though and that the current situation will deteriorate rather than stabilise.”

“You might be right. HPGs are strategic targets, after all. I’m afraid your mission may be doomed to failure.”

“If I need to start putting guards around the HPGs on every world, I’d need an army larger than the SLDF! Could we not seek some kind of neutral arrangement? I could appeal to the Council in those terms, maybe relocate my headquarters to Luna. It serves no one to cut us off from each other.”

“My faith in their better nature is a little limited, Minister. If you want to establish your ministry as some kind of non-governmental organisation, I think you’ll find some substantial barriers at the current time. Of course, we may have no choice in the end but to work out some international protocols for this, but right at the moment…”

Blake ran his fingers back through his hair. “I suppose it was a slim chance,” he admitted. “Will your agency be offering HPG services to the periphery states as well? Now that you’ve joined them in rebellion?”

Hanse laughed and it took some effort for John to refrain. “That would require more trust than they’re willing to extend. We might extend some technical advice but I can’t see them letting me run their communications any more than I’d be willing to place my own at the Star League’s mercy.”

David Avellar was at least relatively cordial but he’d heard almost nothing from Centrella and Nicoletta Calderon’s messages all had a strong note of ‘how do you feel now the shoe’s on the other foot?’ to them. They could still do business, but it seemed that the Taurians were - unsurprisingly - still holding a grudge for the AFFS participation in both the recent fighting and in the Reunification War.


Army Group Fourteen Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
23 April 2777

The former headquarters building hadn’t been available so Tatjana Baptiste had arranged an alternative command centre, digging out a subterranean facility beneath one of the many military bases that the SLDF had used during the last ten years. It wasn’t quite a Castle Brian and Jack Lucas had asked her why she wasn’t using one of the restored facilities on New Florence.

The general had calmly reminded him that the AFFS no doubt had full schematics of the Castle Brians they’d helped to reduce a decade before. The continued vulnerability still gave Lucas qualms – they could change codes and other procedures but there was still so much that the Feddies knew about the SLDF that couldn’t be changed.

Could they even attack into the Hegemony? It seemed unthinkable… but no war could be won on the defensive.

Looking around the briefing room, Lucas thought it could almost be ten years ago. Once again, SLDF armies were preparing to launch from this end of the Hegemony into a long struggle. But now there were no green and gold AFFS dress uniforms among the officers… and they had less certainty of purpose.

Rosaleen McGuinness and Gerik Chudzik were sitting beside Lucas and Baptiste at the head of the briefing room. He’d scraped together twelve divisions to reinforce them – three understrength corps taken from General Huong’s Seventh Army and his own Third… although there wasn’t really a Third Army any more. Their divisions were patching holes in the rosters of the Seventh, Eighth and Twelfth Armies, the three commands spreading out to try to in turn cover the Hegemony in sufficient depth.

As much as it galled him, they were having to coordinate those efforts with the Hegemony Armed Forces. Even with the money and supplies that the House Lords were finally handing over, it was a struggle to replace the equipment and bases in the Federated Suns.

“At least John Davion’s allowed our wounded to leave,” McGuinness noted under her breath. “A man doesn’t need two good legs to sit behind a desk.”

“Something like thirty percent of them decided to stay in the Suns,” Baptiste murmured. “We can’t try to fight this like the last war.”

“But we still have to fight it,” he told them firmly and checked the clock. “Close the doors,” he ordered and waited as guards sealed the chamber and anti-surveillance systems were brought up. “General Baptiste, begin the briefing please.”

Baptiste rose to her feet and the holo-display sprang to life. “Operation REDEMPTION is the mission to force the Federated Suns back into the Star League,” she began. “The overall goal is a direct thrust towards New Avalon through the Kentares Defense Zone and the Marlette region of the Crucis March. This plan leaves open the possibility of flank attacks on our operations as we’ll be making a relatively narrow advance. In order to reduce the forces available for such counter-attacks, the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery and Capellan Confederation Armed Forces will be launching more limited invasions of the Draconis March and Capellan March respectively.”

The map zoomed in to show roughly a quarter of the Federated Suns with New Avalon near the bottom right corner of the display and New Rhodes III near the top right.

“Lord Kurita has committed twenty-one DCMS divisions, roughly equivalent to ten SLDF divisions, and the entire Pesht and Benjamin fleets – as a reminder, the Combine deploys its ships in five ship ‘fleets’. There are six such fleets participating, for a total of thirty warships. Each fleet is built around a Samarkand-class carrier – these are much smaller than the fleet carriers used by the Federated Suns – quite a number of the class were in limited service with the SLDF during our operations in the Periphery.”

Red lines moved out of the Combine’s worlds at the top of the display. “General Jinjiro Kurita intends to launch a three-pronged attack on the Galtor and Royal Defense Zones, converging towards the Draconis March capital on Robinson. His claim is that it should take three or four months to reach Robinson but the general at least has the restraint to admit that how well or poorly this will go depends heavily upon what reinforcements are sent into the region.”

“Moving to the Confederation, Chancellor Liao has appointed Marshal Derek Quinn to the command of one hundred and three regiments - including twenty-one BattleMech regiments - and twenty-four warships.” Green lines moved out of the Capellan worlds along the left of the display and penetrated the Federated Suns. “Given the relatively limited defensive depth of the Capellan March at this point, the Marshal has advised he intends to secure Kathil and Smolensk as staging areas for advancing into the Crucis March.”

Baptiste paused for a moment. “Given that this would place the Capellan offensive closest to New Avalon, Marshal Quinn has advised he expects to be facing considerable opposition and stresses that entering the Crucis March represents a best-case scenario. Given the importance of the General Motors factories on Kathil and the McKenna shipyards above the world I’m inclined to agree with this analysis.”

“Our own advance will be in four separate corps-strength spearheads, two from each Army. A squadron of warships is attached to each army to back up these advances and three additional squadrons are available, along with the other three Corps of the army group to provide support, secure worlds and to deal with flanking worlds if we designate them as necessary for reduction. This brings our commitment to three hundred and thirty line regiments and ninety-two warships. General McGuinness, if you would take over for the intelligence briefing?”

McGuinness rose and nodded to her superior. “We have fairly current information on the AFFS since they were sharing data until ten months ago. Given the differences in organisation, I’ll simply give you a comparison by overall strength first. As of last year, the AFFS could field one hundred and twenty-four regiments of BattleMechs and their fleet came to sixty-five warships, roughly one third of them capital ships. We believe they’re due to add two additional destroyers and between three and five ‘Mech regiments this year, although it’s not clear how far advanced those plans are.”

“For comparison, the combined forces committed to Operation Retaliation include one hundred and sixty-two BattleMech regiments and one hundred and forty-six warships. In addition, those forces are concentrated upon the offensives while the Federated Suns is the largest of all the Star League’s member-states and their armed forces are therefore the most dispersed. On this basis, it might be tempting to consider that we have an overwhelming advantage.”

The commander of Fourth Army paused. “Anyone thinking that is making a very serious error of judgement.” She looked around. “You’ve probably heard the stories about the fumbling their MechWarriors displayed in the Periphery. Many of those stories are true, but that was ten years ago and even then Feddie MechWarriors weren’t representative of the rest of the AFFS. The fact is, their infantry and artillery are just about as good as ours. Their armour is not far behind and they have a superb intelligence service. Given that they’re fighting for their homes, we can expect them to pull out all the stops.”

“If I may add?” Admiral Belleau stood up. “I’d also remind you that the Federated Suns Navy has shown an unflinching readiness to take losses if their mission demands it, both their warship crews and their pilots. They’re smaller and perhaps not quite so well equipped, but crew for crew I cannot say that they’re in any way inferior to the Star League Navy. Anyone who takes them lightly is very probably going takes some very heavy losses.”

“Thank you, admiral.” McGuinness nodded to the man. “So far as we’re aware there are four or five divisions of the AFFS in our immediate path through Kentares defence zone. Typically, their divisions are a little smaller than ours, with a single ‘Mech regiment, three infantry and three armoured regiments, plus artillery, aviation and so forth.”

“Given they know we’re coming, we have to assume that they’ll have been dug in and reinforced. Many of the bases in that region were fortified in anticipation that Amaris might launch a counterattack to punish the Suns for the support they gave us. In some cases we have the details of those defence, but not all of them. In addition, the Federated Suns Navy has kept most of its strength in that region for the last ten years, defending our supply lines.”

One of the divisional commanders raised a hand. “General, has this appreciation of the AFFS capabilities been passed on the DCMS and the CCAF?”

“We’ve shared the summaries,” Lucas advised. “Just as they’ve shared the summaries of their own information about AFFS movements.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In summary,” McGuiness concluded: “The AFFS are badly outnumbered but they know our doctrine, our equipment and in many case they know our personnel. The last point may be as much of an advantage as it is a disadvantage for us.”

“Thank you, Rosaleen.” Baptiste turned to General Chudzik. “General, the rules of engagement?”

Lucas gave the commander of Sixth Army a searching look. The man had lost a quarter of his command to defections, which was alarming, but he’d also extricated the rest of his forces and it wasn’t as if anyone had seen John Davion’s defection coming.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure there are many of you that have doubts about firing on the soldiers who until recently were our most reliable allies. That’s understandable, and we have every reason to believe that there’s just as much uncertainty on the other side of this conflict. After years of working with us, many of the AFFS must have questions about John Davion’s decision to secede.”

“For that reason, we’ve decided that where possible we want to avoid putting the AFFS in the position that they have no alternative but to fire on us. This isn’t to say that you’re to operate on a basis of only firing if fired upon – that would be taking them entirely too lightly – but I must emphasise that we’re not fighting Amaris’ fanatics. The AFFS won’t be committing atrocities left and right, they’re honourable soldiers so surrenders are to be accepted and we’ve decided that if a unit retreats, either to some stronghold or out of system then they should be allowed to do so. We have more than sufficient forces to pin down garrisons that remain inside their defences and we want to maintain a focus on pushing for New Avalon, not chasing stray regiments all the way across the Federated Suns.”

“Let’s all remember that the Marlette region of the Crucis March alone covers as much space as half of the Terran Hegemony. Davion can afford to trade space for time. He cannot afford to trade public support though. Most of the populace are at best neutral to his defection, in our estimation. The involvement of the Capellans and Draconians is largely unavoidable and will tend to produce support for secession, so we must avoid adding to this. Most of the worlds we land on will have experience of the SLDF as allies and we have to tap into that sentiment as much as possible.”

“By showing restraint, we hope to persuade the people of the Federated Suns, and the High Council, that Lord Davion has made a mistake and deprive him of their support. Incidents that cause harm to civilians will ruin that impression and must be avoided. If we need to break off forces to pin down guerrilla resistance then we’ll be slowed to a crawl and the longer it takes us to reach New Avalon, the longer it will take for this to be over.”

Lucas nodded agreement. He wanted this over and that meant pushing aggressively. That didn’t mean slaughtering everyone – they’d have enough to deal with when the AFFS chose to fight back.

We’ve given John Davion too much warning, but there’s no way around that. Should we bypass everything and go for New Avalon? No, that would leave a single SLDF garrison surrounded on all sides by angry Feddie regiments and fleets. They needed to separate the sheep from the goats, persuade as many of the AFFS as possible to stand aside.

But as he looked at the officers listening to the next stage of the briefing, the breakdown of the exact worlds to be attacked in the first wave, he couldn’t help but feel apart from them. Alone.

Is this what it means to be Commanding General?


Bueno Tierra, Almach
Chesterton Commonality, Capellan Confederation
24 May 2777

Perhaps the Capellans had expected that the AFFS would simply stand still and let them fight the war on their terms. That was the only explanation Mark Rand-Davion could come up with for the shock and disarray that the First Avalon Hussars had found when their dropships came down upon the agricultural world.

It had been a risk striking without escorting warships but almost a third of the Capellan Navy was committed to fighting around Kathil, and they dared not weaken their defences facing the Free Worlds League. The risk had paid off and only a pair of armed dropships had tried to prevent the Hussars from reaching the surface. Since there were no less than three assault ships and the combined fighters of the Hussar’s divisional aerospace wings and the escorting Song-class dropship, that resistance hadn’t amounted to very much.

A lance of Clint BattleMechs opened fire on Mark’s lance as they pushed into the streets of the planetary capital. They were painted in the colours of Ariana Grenadiers, although that wasn’t necessarily confirmation of their identity. One of the few measures that the defenders had managed before the Hussars reached the city was to call up their militia and hastily repaint their ‘Mechs in Grenadier colours.

The real Grenadiers were only one step up from militia anyway – a mix of what the Capellans called Home Guard and various ‘free companies’ maintained by noble families of the Chesterton Commonality. Said companies were employed less for defence than they were to harass Chesterton and other Federated Suns worlds that the Capellans laid claim to.

Twisting his ‘Mech around, Mark managed to avoid the lines of tracer coming from the autocannon of the first Clint and only one of the lasers bit into the right shoulder of the Wolverine. Two more lasers carved into his chest though as a pair of the Grenadiers concentrated fire on him.

Turning had brought his own autocannon to bear though and Mark triggered it, following up with the medium lasers in the Wolverine’s left arm and the ball-turret in front of his cockpit. Only one of the lasers hit, blowing a chunk of armour away from the leg of the Clint that had fired first at him, but the autocannon bit deeply into the right chest, savaging the armour and severing structural members around the arm.

Aware that he’d been lucky to avoid a detonation in the ammunition stored in that side of his ‘Mech, the Clint pilot backed away, trying to screen the damaged side armour. In doing so he kept the autocannon built into his right arm out of play and could only fight back with the lasers in the left.

Ignoring it for the moment, Mark turned his attention to the second Clint to have fired on him. Two of his lance mates had singled it out and the lighter ‘Mech’s armour had been torn to shreds. Loose myomer cables flailed from one leg where they’d been severed, reducing the normally agile ‘Mech to a limb.

Cycling the autocannon, Mark fired a salvo of cluster rounds into the damaged Clint and triggered his short-range missiles for good measure. The explosions ripped through the chest as some of the shells and missiles found the ammunition bins and the head burst open as the Capellan MechWarrior ejected.

Ordinarily the Capellans might have had a chance – the standard Wolverine was larger and better armoured than a Clint, but slower and scarcely any better armed. The newer 6D models issued to the First Avalon Hussars had been substantially up gunned though and the remaining Clints, now cognizant of that fact, fired their jump jets, trying to retreat into the city.

“No pursuit,” Mark ordered. He fired with both lasers, scoring armour on his initial target but not bringing it down. His lance mates were more successful and took the leg off a laggard. “They might be trying to lure us into a trap.”

If those Clints were really part of the Ariana Grenadiers, then they should have a battalion of heavy ‘Mechs somewhere in the area – Thunderbolts and Warhammers. The Hussars had their own heavy ‘Mechs but Mark’s battalion didn’t include any – they were uncompromisingly mediums: Twenty-eight Wolverines, four Phoenix Hawks and eight Dervishes to provide fire support – although three Wolverines and a Dervish were currently out of action and being repaired.

“Colonel, we’ve encountered more ‘Mechs in Grenadier colours. Two Clints down, one might be salvageable.” Mark checked his display and confirmed the armour damage to his 'Mech wasn’t anything too serious.

“Roger that,” Colonel Stross confirmed. “My tanks are almost across the bridge now and then we can resume the advance. No one’s reported seeing Grenadier heavies yet.”

“Confirmed, sir. We’ll await your command.”

The First Avalon Hussars Division might be named for the ‘Mech regiment but in practise each battalion was seconded to one of the three brigades and then in turn to one of their demi-brigades. Gamma Brigade’s first demi-brigade, was commanded by Colonel Stross of the 29th Kestrel Heavy Tanks and took their name from the armoured regiment Stross commanded, which made up sixty percent of their fighting power.

“Move on,” ordered Stross after two more minutes.

“Confirmed.” Mark had been checking his map. “Echo One, there’s a shopping centre west of the junction. Anchor our flank from there. Watch out for tanks in the parking, it’s a good rally point. Foxtrot One, there’s a large office complex on the hill to your left, secure the east flank there and extend to the theatre. Delta company will take up the centre, more or less on the bus station.”

The company commanders confirmed the orders and Mark moved his lance up along with Delta. Two buses were still parked in the bus station, although there were no drivers or passengers.

“Heat signatures from the… what do you call it, the terminal?” reported Leftenant Douglas of the battalion’s recon lance. “Spread out in squad strength groups. Could be civilians, but it looks more like an infantry company.”

Mark looked along the open space facing the terminal. It could be a shooting gallery if the infantry had heavy weapons. “You’d better find out,” he warned.

“Hetzer ambush,” reported Foxtrot One tersely. “Platoon strength. No ‘Mechs lost, we got three of them.”

“What’s your damage?” asked Mark. Hetzers had heavy autocannon that could be dangerous at close quarters.

“Couple of my ‘Mechs will be covering the rear until we can get their armour patched up.”

He exhaled. That could have been much worse. “Okay, which -”

A spate of machinegun fire drew his attention back to the terminal where tracer fire was tracking after Leftenant Douglas’ Phoenix Hawk. The agile ‘Mech jumped up and over the arc of fire. “Definitely infantry, sir.”

An SRM corkscrewed after her ‘Mech and scored a hit. Two more missed. “You don’t say,” Mark observed drily. “Clear the building with your lance’s machineguns.”

It was a weakness of his battalion that they didn’t have a lot of anti-infantry weapons. It might be worth looking at seeing if a field refit would be possible for some of the Wolverines. “Sorry, Foxtrot One. Do you have a direction for the Hetzer that got away?”

“Due south,” the MechWarrior reported as the glass fronted terminal disintegrated. Eight heavy machine guns swept across it, shattering glass and punching holes in the metal and plastic seating. More machinegun fire and SRMs replied, Douglas’ lance smashing up cover with their medium lasers and then raking the infantry revealed with the machine guns.

The first of Stross’ Manticore tanks were entering the bus station as the firing died down. “What the hell, Rand-Davion?” asked the colonel. “Did the building look at you the wrong way?”

“Infantry company lying in ambush, sir. Still no sign of the heavies.”

“We’ve unconfirmed reports they may have moved south.” Stross stuck his head out of the turret of his tank, one hand pressed against the side of his helmet. “Okay, good news. The mayor’s just contacted my staff. He wants to surrender the city.”

“I’ll try not to break any more of it, then.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Mark checked his map of the region. “Could be the Grenadiers are going to try to fort up at Footfall,” he theorised. “It’s where the original colonists landed and it still has fortified walls going back to the twenty-third century.”

“Was that in the briefing?”

“No sir, but the map marks them out for tourists.”

Stross laughed and Mark joined him. If Bueno Tierra had ever had walls they’d long since been cleared away. The older, smaller city, might be better prepared for the war that had come to Almach.


FSS Tancredi, Royal
Draconis March, Federated Suns
4 June 2777

Royal was a world of special significance to the AFFS, although not in a good way. It was where Joseph Davion had died in 2729. Now the DCMS had returned to the pkanet and intelligence reports indicated that no less than three of House Kurita's divisions were engaged in hunting down the Seventh Robinson Chevaliers or whatever was left of the command.

Kenneth Jones had hoped for some familiarity with returning to his former command but the flag deck wasn’t what he remembered the ship for. Still, Mary Kaga was in command of the ship now which counted for something and the destroyers supporting the carrier were still FSS Arthur Davion and FSS Katherine Davion.

“Convoy in sight,” Major Mason reported from the sensor deck. “Electronic signatures confirm five of the new Fang-class transports, ten Vultures and an escort of two corvettes of the Vigilant-class.”

“That’s almost suspiciously in line with our intelligence,” Jones noted as he watched the display update to mark the location of the Draconian ships. There were six dropships behind his own line. “I’d have expected more of an escort – a dropship with additional fighters, perhaps.”

Mason nodded but his face expressed disagreement. “The only reason we’re at a comparable velocity is that we’re on a similar transit profile, admiral. They might have left a carrier dropship with their jumpships and expect to have support from squadrons on Royal as they come in.” At the high speeds that ships reached after days of acceleration between jump points and planets, interceptions mid-voyage were relatively rare. The DCA convoy had just turned over to begin decelerating while Jones’ ships would need to do so in the next few hours.

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Jones drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. As far as it was known, the Draconis Combine Admiralty only had two Vigilants, former Hegemony ships purchased by the Combine long before the time of the Star League. If this was indeed the Iwate and the Wakayama then this might be the elite First Proserpina Hussars, one of the DCMS’ oldest and most storied units. Operating as a reaction force, the Hussars had been assigned the two corvettes as a permanent escort years ago and there was no report of that changing. “If this is a trap then the bait’s still too good to ignore.”

His division’s orders were only to get the six Gazelle dropships to Royal and cover them while they contacted the Chevaliers to land supplies and extract wounded soldiers. The last-minute warning that the Combine was moving in reinforcements had raised this possibility though.

“Captain Kaga.”

“Sir.” The brunette on the screen turned to directly face the camera pointed at her position in the combat information centre.

“If the Combine ships haven’t seen us now, they will soon. Launch your fighters to take out the corvettes. It doesn’t look as if they have a large fighter force, but they could be hiding something.”

“Understood sir. Are we authorised to engage transports?”

“Assume we’ll need a second strike for that,” Jones instructed her. “We’ll play this cautiously.”

“Sir,” Kaga said again and turned away to instruct her airboss.

Mason cleared his throat. “Either of our destroyers could take out the corvettes, sir.”

“Yes, but they’d take some damage and the corvettes could get lucky. It’s almost certain we’ll lose some fighters to this, but the harsh truth is, we can afford that more than we can afford putting a destroyer in dock for months of repairs.” The numbers facing the Federated Suns right now were daunting and while this encounter offered the chance to thin that edge a little, trading one ship for one ship would be a victory of attrition for the Combine.

The eight catapults in the Tancredi’s nose slammed fighters out into space in rapid succession, deck crews locking fresh fighters into the launch cradle each time until two full wings were in space. Red wing and green wing formed up and began to accelerate towards the enemy convoy, leaving the division under the protection of copper wing’s Tomahawk II fighters.

In a pinch, the larger Tomahawks could certainly carry out an anti-shipping strike. But the Centurion II fighters of the other two wings had a better power to weight ratio and despite the additional mass of a missile, they could still out-manoeuvre most other aerospace fighters.

The forty fighters seemed to creep across the battle space. Although the display seemed to indicate that very little motion was taking place, all the vessels were hurtling through space at a pace of thousands of kilometres every second. The Kurita dropships turned and fired their drives frantically as they tried to widen the gap between them and Jones force.

For a moment the squat, cylindrical Vultures reminded Jones of the M-3 drones he’d encountered in Al Na’ir. He shook the impression off. These were smaller, slower ships and lacked the armament of the drones. And even with their drives flat out, they were accelerating at only 30 mps-squared, a pace that his ships could easily maintain. The newer but larger Fang-class transports couldn’t even manage that and the two corvettes of the escort turned desperately to try to keep the incoming fighters away from their charges.

Massive autocannon clawed at the formations of Centurions as the fighters broke into an elaborate weaving pattern intended to confuse the gunners. For all their age, the relatively small naval guns would obliterate a fighter as small as a Centurion if they scored a hit. Their mounts weren’t intended to engage such mobile targets though and the anti-fighter turrets of the corvettes wouldn’t be able to engage the fighters until they were already in launch range for their missiles.

The real threats were blasting out of the sides of the two corvettes. White Shark missiles were actually larger than the Centurions and intended for anti-shipping strikes but before their drives burned out they were agile enough to catch a fighter and their payload could be deadly. And besides them, Combine fighters scrambled out of their motherships to engage.

One of red wing aerospace fighters flared orange with damage indicators from a missile. Blue wing’s commander was suddenly alone as his wingman’s fighter was torn apart by a pair of strikes. Combine fighters darted to engage – not a design that the warbooks recognised – first they claimed Vulcans only to strike that identification down a moment later – a similar delta-wing configuration and size but something else.

“Sir, these must be the new SL-15s,” Mason reported.

“They’re too little and too late,” Jones replied. Fighters had been damaged in a brief pass but there were no more than twelve of the enemy fighters and before the heavy aerospace fighters could reacquire and engage again, each of the two wings had reached their target.

The identifications firmed up a second before missiles from red wing struck their target, and thus Jones knew that it was DCS Wakayama that disintegrated. It would be a later debriefing that uncovered that the hanger bays of the corvette had still been open to space, a superbly aimed missile detonating inside the flight deck, blasting the Wakayama into two halves that the later missiles had smashed apart.

Only a few seconds later blue wing had their chance and DCS Iwate tumbled out of the flare of multiple detonations. It was technically still an intact hull but the entire left side was twisted wreckage and all three engines had been torn apart. Trailing fragments of armour and systems, along with a halo of escaping atmosphere and probably the remains of its engine room crew, the Vigilant-class had seen its last battle. Jones judged that it would most likely streak past Royal and out of the system unless managed to get a tug to reclaim the wreck.

The Centurions, no longer hampered by their pay loads or mission, spun away from the convoy, pilots enduring a brutal nine gravities of acceleration that left the Combine fighters struggling behind them.

“Admiral Jones, it seems there are only the twelve fighters remaining as escorts,” concluded Kaga. “I request permission to despatch gold wing to eliminate them while we re-arm for a fighter strike on the dropships.”

“Surely we should offer them a surrender?” asked Mason.

“We have no capacity to take prisoners, Major,” Jones reminded him. “And if they take to lifeboats they’ll just die slowly out here. Do you want us to escort them to Royal – their intended destination?”

“The equipment would be a boon for the Seventh Chevaliers.”

The admiral shrugged slightly. “Yes, but what could they do with over two thousand prisoners – all of them trained soldiers? Besides, their Dictum Honorium states that soldiers who surrender either lack honour or have a code unsuited to warfare. While it’s not officially acknowledged, intelligence reports that versions of the book shared with outsiders omit sections saying that the only justifiable way for Kurita’s soldiers to surrender is if they do so as a deception to cause additional damage to the enemy.”

“You can’t be serious! Prisoner of war conventions…”

“No formal conventions exist, Major. The last were abolished two hundred years ago in the Reunification War, because we were fighting states that weren’t signatory to them. Everything since then has been at the discretion of the states involved.” He glanced at the CIC relay. “Captain, if they turn to ram I assume that we’re ready to break off.”

The brunette nodded. “Aye sir. They can no more close in on us than we can on them.”

“Very good. I authorise unleashing gold wing’s Tomahawks to get rid of those fighters – make sure they gather as much intel as they can so MilInt’s technical team can work up an assessment. You may prepare for nuclear strikes on the Vultures but we’ll let our PPC turrets engage the Fang-class ships at long range. There’s no point wasting expensive munitions.”

Mason looked appalled. “Sir, how can you be so coldblooded? This is shooting people who can’t harm us.”

“War is murder, Major. A situation like this where we can cause great injury to our enemies at little cost to ourselves – one pilot so far – is the ideal we should aim for. Only a fool seeks out to be injured when they need not be. If I spared these people then every one of our soldiers they killed in the future would be on my conscience.”

He reached down to his controls. “Flag comms, prepare to transmit to the enemy on standard hailing frequencies.”

“Yes sir, what do you wish to transmit?”

“I’m recording now.” Jones looked into the pick-up and activated it. “I am Vice Admiral Kenneth Jones of the Federated Suns. My forces have attained advantage over yours. I am aware your code disdains surrender and I shall not insult you by offering the opportunity. You have, by my estimation, something over five minutes to prepare yourselves as you see fit for death. I am told that poetry is your custom. My salutations to a valiant foe.”

DCS Atago, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
11 August 2777

Two hours later and Jinjiro felt as if he’d barely closed his hours to nap on the bunk in Kunieda’s day-cabin. “Say that again.”

“Four carriers and their escorts were lurking behind Robinson,” the admiral said bitterly. “Maybe they knew we were coming or maybe they jumped in through a safe channel in the minefields. The cowards didn’t dare face us in open battle so they hid and sent out their fighters as well as the replenishment fighters and pilots from Robinson.”

“It doesn’t explain how rested their crews are.”

Kunieda shook his head. “The New Syrtis-class carry double flight crews,” he explained. “When one sortie came back, the pilots disembarked to rest and recover while fresh pilots took over.”

“Decadent,” Jinjiro observed. “But effective. Our ships?”

He got a helpless shrug. “A Narukami can overhaul them, it’s one of the few advantages they have, but it takes time and there are six destroyers and two corvettes to screen the carriers. And now the fighters are recovered it might only be minutes before…”

Before hundreds of fresh crews in hastily re-armed fighters launch and obliterate our destroyers and dropships. And I can’t even have them run for the jump point due to the minefields. “Tell them… tell them that every carrier they can take out will mean many more of our comrades surviving,” Jinjiro instructed. “We will have to withdraw.”

“Sir, the shame…”

Jinjiro’s hand flashed out and he barely restrained himself from slapping the admiral. “The decision is mine, Tai-sho. The shame is also mine. The Coordinator will not blame you for following the orders of your appointed commander.” He patted Kunieda on the shoulder, more firmly than he probably should have given the way the man flinched. “Our duty now is to the transports.”

The admiral nodded. “I recommend we order a fifteen mps-squared acceleration – it will be hard on the soldiers but…”

“Better that than being blasted apart. Yes. How many ships could make more than that?”

Kunieda lowered his head. “All but the Atago, sir. To sustain such accelerations would be ill-advised though.”

The Heir-Designate shrugged. “Then the Atago will take the rear-guard position. Inform all commanders that I will not leave the system until every other jumpship has left the system.” The sooner you get the men out, the sooner they don’t have to worry about being the senior survivor and taking on the duty of responsibility for this trap I’ve walked into.


It took four days to circle Robinson and reach the jump point again. The carriers gave chase. More than half the Federated Suns fighters were gone but that meant that now they could all be fielded from the four New Syrtis-class ships, who clung with their escorts to the very fringes of the fleet’s ability to detect them.

For some reason the jumpships were unmolested, but every few hours another attack came in. For the first day, the fighter strikes were a rough parity with the Combine’s remaining strength – six hundred, five hundred, four hundred…

Jinjiro dared to hope for attrition sparing them. He visited the carriers and greeted the pilots, many of them hollow eyed and sleeping in their cockpits as they waited for the next attack, flight decks bustling around them. The entire fleet was polled and anyone with flight experience was pulled across to the carriers to provide a tiny pool of replacements – a mix of amateurs and veterans who’d flown only desks for the last decade or more.

Then seven hundred fighters boiled in on them and Jinjiro realised that the Federated Suns had pulled damaged craft from operations in order to repair them.

Most of the scratch crews died that day and squadrons of Centurions dared the anti-fighter fire of the fleet to punch through to the heart. More than twenty of them were destroyed just to get there, but seven Centurions reached the carriers and DCS Radstadt blew apart with more than four hundred crew dying in an instant. Her sister ship, the Togura, lost three engines and her ability to keep pace. Jinjiro was forced to order the carrier scuttled – he no longer needed the flight deck but the crew unloaded every munition they could drag aboard the surviving Leopards before they had to give up.

And then the grind. No more dramatic thrusts – the second day simply gutted his fighters and the dropships. The fleet shrank into a tight shell of mutually supporting fire and simply prayed.

Their prayer was not answered.

First the destroyers died in ones and twos. The Atago could guard the rear but it could not also be on the flanks and the Federated Suns fighter wings simply went around the ancient battleship.

Dropships began to die as they slowly shed speed, preparing to dock with the jumpships ahead. Jinjiro forced all expression from his face as the Proserpina Hussars dropships made a mad attempt to close with and ram the carriers. The regiments and their ships had served together for decades, they were one unit and determined that if they must die together they would die fighting.

But die they did, never even getting into weapons range of the carriers.

“Why won’t they fight us? Why won’t they just kill us!” Kunieda screamed upon the bridge, tears running down his face. Dignity broken, the man shot himself in the cabin he was confined in that night. Jinjiro didn’t asked who’d supplied the weapon, Kunieda’s own sidearm having been confiscated.

The Sun Zhang cadre died.

The Second Sword of Light, the Steel Dragon, died.

Half of the Fourteenth Galedon Regulars died.

The Third Dieron Regulars lost their entire infantry strength in an hour.

The Gold Dragon, the Fifth Sword of Light, clustered their dropships around the two surviving carriers like an honour guard after Jinjiro refused them the right to do the same with the Atago. Six hours from the jump point and a strike of two hundred Federated Suns screamed down and eradicated the Prosperina and the Irece, along with every one of their escorts.

And then, and then…

Jump flares ahead of them. A pair of corvettes had jumped in and jumpships began to burn.

In his heart of hearts, Jinjiro admired the catlike cruel efficiency of the strategy. Escape had been dangled before them, drawing them away from Robinson and the chance of some suicidal attack that might have at least netted them some advantage.

Some of the DCA jumpships were escaping – jumping away rather than be butchered. Jinjiro sent hasty orders authorising it and ordering the others to do the same. No use having good men pay the penalty for cowardice when they were faced with opponents they could not conceivably defeat.

And then he sat in Admiral Kunieda’s chair. “My claws,” he addressed the crew, addressed the entire fleet. “We cannot escape our fate. We can only seek to die like men. We have but one jumpship left to us and the Atago can carry no dropships.”

So much for my promise to be on the last jumpship, he thought. “But the two corvettes ahead of us have only just jumped in. Even hotloading from their reactors, they cannot recharge their drives in time to escape. They we can slay, though it cost us everything that remains to us bar our honour.”

Atago turned upon her axis, the stately old battleship bringing her bow towards the corvettes, and the dozens of remaining transports did the same, eager to pit their puny armament against the warships.

“Tai-sho,” requested Tai-sa Dazai Sorai of the Third Dieron Regulars. “We ask only that Atago jump as soon as it may.”

Jinjiro looked around the bridge and no one would meet his eyes. “Tai-sa, I will not slow the ship, nor cease to fire it weapons, but I swear that our K-F drive is charged and we shall jump immediately we enter the jump point.”

With their bloody work done, the corvettes turned away and fired up their drives. Powerful for the size of the corvettes, the engines could build up speed quickly  but the Combine’s ships still had all the speed that they’d built up and they too were accelerating now, reckless that they were burning fuel at combat levels to the point that they might not slow down.

If they did not, then what of it? The star ahead would swallow their remains, denying the salvage to the Suns. And these corvettes would bear the wrath that had built up over the past days.

There were two lines upon the display. The first marked the range for the Atago’s forward armament and as it swept forwards across the nearest Vincent the battleship opened fire.

Two triple turrets hurled high explosive shells and the naval particle projection cannon behind them – for Tenno Kurita had insisted on those, at the time, new and experimental weapons for his father’s battleships – blazed.

Jinjiro saw the rear of the Vincent tear apart, drives exploding…

And then the Atago crossed the second line and centuries old (and truthfully rather anaemic) power systems that were already struggling to handle the combined obligations of the in-system drives and the weapons were suddenly exposed to the jump drive activating.

DCS Atago screamed, the hull from her prow to her stem and the crew from her most junior spacer to Jinjiro Kurita himself, as the ancient battleship leapt into hyperspace.


SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
25 August 2777

Jack Lucas waited until he was sure the holo-vid cameras were off before he slumped back into his chair. He’d spent – he checked the clock – more than an hour talking to Christopher Kurita. The Coordinator’s uncle and chief financial advisor was more than twice his age and he made Lucas feel every year of that added experience as they bargained over funding.

Steiner’s arrangement to directly fund the SLDF forces in the Lyran Commonwealth had leaked out and both Kurita and Marik had jumped at the chance to ‘simplify the financial support’ they were giving to the SLDF. For now, the change was holding just short of giving the House Lords access to the chain of command but Lucas could feel that line blurring.

The general was honest enough to admit that if the Coordinator had been part of the negotiations then he might not have held off on that point. The man was devilishly clever and diabolically ambitious – serpentine in his wiles. It was almost fortunate – although Lucas wouldn’t say so much – that the man was distracted by concern for his son.

Robinson had been a debacle, but he thought that the Coordinator could have coped if it was just that. Sometimes battles were lost, it was part of war. Losing effectively half of the Draconis Combine’s expeditionary force was a terrible reverse but not without precedent.

What had Minoru Kurita distracted was uncertainty. Had Jinjiro escaped or not? If so, where was he?

Sources within the Federated Suns claimed that DCS Atago had jumped out during the tail end of the battle but the last jumpships to escape had reported seeing the ancient battleship still fighting. Given that the only survivors of the frenzied final clash of arms at the jump point were a handful of escape pods that had managed to stabilise their positions long enough for rescue to arrive, it was possible that no one really knew what had happened… or it was possible that House Davion had captured the Atago and the heir of the Combine.

The military value of the hulk was nothing compared to the potential disaster if Jinjiro was alive and in their hands. The young general had had access to virtually all of the Combine’s military secrets and besides that, he might pose leverage against his father. One secret that General Apfelbucher had ferreted out at last was why the Combine had stayed out of the Amaris Coup: their ambassador Drago Kurita had been a hostage, along with his four children.

Kurita had been side-lined by a threat to his nephew, what could a threat to his son accomplish? Amaris had killed his hostages in a final show of spite during the Terran landings, but John Davion was unlikely to do that, which would just make a captive more useful as leverage.

“Sir?”

He looked up and saw Colonel Hazen at the door. “A priority message from the Chancellor.”

Lucas rested his face on one hand and took a breath. “Put her through,” he ordered, straightening his uniform.

A moment later and Barbara Liao’s head and shoulders appeared above the desk. She wore a military-styled tunic, cut to resemble body-armour, and her hair was down. “General Lucas.”

“Chancellor Liao.”

They stared at each other for a testing moment before she seemed to shrug. “General, I must request the mobilisation of Eighteenth Army to support my forces. Tikonov is holding out and Kathil is within our grasp but the Confederation cannot do this alone.”

“You are not fighting alone,” he replied quietly.

Liao made a face. “The Combine’s offensive has been broken,” she pointed out. “And Davion seems happy to lead your own troops dancing around the Crucis March without ever engaging them directly, so he will take the months of respite to throw fresh troops at the Chesterton and Kathil fronts. I need your soldiers.”

Lucas grunted unhappily. The Eighteenth Army was a shell. There were fifteen divisions – no, fourteen now that the 184th had withdrawn from New Hessen and dropped out of contact – but the three Corps that made up the Confederation garrisons had all been reserve units at one time or another, assigned to the Eighteenth during the various reorganisations that had taken place since 2766. Offhand, he wasn’t sure a single intact division remained from those that had once garrisoned the Outworlds Alliance under the banner of the Eighteenth Army. The three corps it currently constituted, pulled in from three different armies, had never actually fought together – they’d sat out the Terran campaign as part of Baptiste’s forces holding the liberated Hegemony worlds together.

“They’d need supplies,” he said reluctantly, aware already where this conversation would lead. “Our reserves are already being depleted.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Steiner made you an offer under similar circumstances. I don’t think it was an unfair one. But since General Baptiste has met little resistance, surely her supplies must be mostly intact.”

“Men still eat, ships still demand fuel…” Lucas grimaced. “And she’s been leaving stocks of munitions and other consumables with garrisons on the worlds liberated – in case John Davion strikes at the rear to retake those worlds.”

“I suppose it’s a logical concern,” the Chancellor conceded. “But in the case that he does so, rather than reinforcing the Capellan March, then you can’t afford for me to lose Tikonov. The worlds there are the closest to her line of advance, and they are almost cut off.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Demeter and Chesterton had formed a salient into Capellan space for centuries, creating a small pocket of worlds caught between it and the Hegemony. Tikonov’s industrial strength and population had made it a desirable target during the Age of War and although it’s former empire, the Tikonov Grand Union, had been absorbed into the Capellan Confederation;  the campaigns fought around it were still standard reading in military academies. Now it was the only one of the six worlds in that pocket that hadn’t fallen to the Federated Suns, and without the other five it was two jumps away from other Capellan worlds.

“I don’t suppose the Maskirovka have any fresh insight into what happened to the 184th Mechanized?” he asked, changing the subject.

Liao smiled thinly. “No new data has been received, but I would not be surprised to learn in the near future that someone has placed a bond with Felchow and Sohn in their name.”

“That would be mutiny.” And borderline treason, he thought but didn’t add. Relocating to the Outworlds Alliance had done nothing to the bank’s eye for profit and they were already becoming notorious as an intermediary in the burgeoning mercenary market.

“They’re hardly the only unit to make that choice,” she pointed out. “Marik has the 250th as an example for them.”

He steepled his fingers. “We should be grateful, I suppose, that they’re unlikely to take service with the Federated Suns.”

Liao’s eyes danced. “There is that. I doubt they will have to look far for an employer.”

“Would you hire them?”

“I’m at war with John Davion and Kenyon is eying my border with him avariciously. If the King of Hell offered me a division I’d at least consider it.”

Lucas stiffened. “I suppose you would. I will have my staff establish what would be required to mobilise the Eighteenth, Chancellor, and the information will be sent to Sian.”

“Thank you, general. It’s always a pleasure to do business with you.”

Liao vanished, leaving Lucas wondering how much difference she saw between him and the soldiers of the 184th Mechanized Infantry Division.


Newport, Markesan
Crucis March, Federated Suns
2 September 2777

“What the hell’s a patisserie, anyway?” asked a familiar voice as the door opened.

Aaron DeChevilier looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Fancy name for a baker, sergeant major.”

The man who walked in wasn’t wearing a uniform but no one familiar with the breed would have mistaken Gregor Abbot for anything but what he was: a career soldier. He drew himself up as he saw DeChevilier and almost saluted.

“You don’t have to do that,” his one-time commanding officer reminded him. “I’m not your boss anymore.”

“You’re not the CO, any more.” Abbot stepped into the room to let those behind him in and saluted anyway. “But you’ll always be the boss of me.”

“You dumb ape.” DeChevilier stood and returned the salute. “It’s a hell of a while since we were both with the 149th.”

The two men shook hands and Cynthia DeChevilier shook her head in mock dismay. “Boys will be boys. I trust there won’t be any foolishness with you ladies?”

“I’m not a lady, I’m a MechWarrior,” Rosaleen McGuinness said brightly and looked over at the table. “Oh, scones!”

“Help yourself,” Cynthia said and exchanged a hug with Tatjana Baptiste and then with the man behind her. “Is this everyone?”

“It’s everyone who came with us,” the man told her. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs DeChevilier.”

“Please, if you’re going to be formal it’s Captain, not Mrs. But I’d rather you called me Cynthia.”

“Well in that case it’s Gerik,” he conceded and looked past her to the other man who’d been waiting. “It’s been a while, Nolan.”

Nolan Murphy, late of the SLDF’s LVII Corps and more recently of the Federated Suns Lancers, nodded and offered his hand to his former commanding officer. “It has. Not the best of time, but not the worst either.”

“Sit down, all of you.” DeChevilier waved them to seats around the long table that dominated the room, carved wooden seats around the spotless white tablecloth and several plates of sweet and savoury concoctions.

Abbot hesitated and only sat when he got a nod from Baptiste. “Sirs,” he said somewhat plaintively. “Why are we meeting in a baker’s upstairs function room?”

“Firstly, the place has first rate security system. Secondly, the owner’s a friend of Cynthia’s. Thirdly, the scones are fantastic.” He punctuated that by pulling a platter of cheese scones away from McGuinness and handed them to Gerik Chudzik, who put two on his plate before passing them on. “Finally, if anyone goes looking for a group of SLDF and ex-SLDF officers plotting treason, I’m pretty sure the Come Runnin’ Patisserie is pretty far down the list of places they’d look.”

“So it’s treason then.” The sergeant major shook his head. “Never thought it would come to this.”

“Nor did most of us,” agreed Murphy quietly. “But I couldn’t stand what the Council was playing at any more.”

McGuinness spread butter across some of scones she did have. “Are we talking making Davion First Lord or has that ship jumped?”

“Two years ago we could have done that. He doesn’t think it would have worked, but either way that’s not feasible now. No, something else.” DeChevilier folded his hands on the table. “I’m pretty sure the lot of you stacked your force with officers you knew wouldn’t start a bloodbath, and those officers did the same with their regiments and brigades. How’ve they liked the fighting so far?”

“What fighting?” asked Abbot. “We turn up, the Feds declare they’ll hold their position as long as it’s feasible. We deploy to engage them and they decide ‘oh no, our position isn’t feasible’ and under laws of engagement we have to let them retreat. Rinse and repeat.”

“Better than shooting,” pointed out Cynthia.

The old soldier smiled slightly. “Got a point there, Mrs General DeChevilier. Sorry, Captain DeChevilier.”

“Actually, her nautical master’s license says DeKirk,” her husband added slyly.

“It’s easier than waiting six weeks for some clerk to figure out how to spell DeChevilier,” she told him.

“Do you really want to fight the AFFS?” asked Murphy. “Any of you?”

The three generals shook their heads. Abbot hesitated. “I don’t like it, but what choice do we have?”

“I think that’s what the general is about to tell us,” Baptiste said quietly. “I’ve come this far on trust, sir. Do we have choices?”

DeChevilier nodded. “Several, as it happens. Firstly, you can keep heading for New Avalon. Until now John Davion’s let you come. As I’m sure you can tell, the AFFS has been operating under some pretty tight restrictions of their own. He did that because I asked him for time, and he gave me that. But right now your lead elements are one jump from Markesan and this is where he draws the line. If none of the alternatives appeal to you, please consider that the next AFFS troops you see might not be backing off.”

“And with the Dracs having jumped up and down on their own crankshafts, he can afford to move forces out of the Draconis March,” McGuinness noted. “Yeah, I’d like a bit more naval support if we go with that option, ma’am,” she added to Baptiste.

The Army Group commander nodded. “Taken under advisement.”

“The second option is what I took,” Murphy told them. “Accept the Star League we’re fighting for is gone and fight for the one realm that stood up for its ideals. John Davion would welcome any and all of you into the AFFS. Straight transfer at equivalent rank, we get to form our own units and keep out traditions. It’s not perfect, you’d know I was lying if I said it was, but it’s better than fighting for people who don’t care what happens to the League as long as they’re in charge at the end of the day.”

“So far, you haven’t had to fight against the SLDF, General Murphy.” Chudzik looked the man in the eye. “Could Davion promise us that that would continue?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ in the reply. “We can’t control where General Lucas will send the SLDF and if they come at the Suns again, then the AFFS will fight them. And if that includes ex-SLDF troops then that’s how it is.”

The Sixth Army commander nodded. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“You said several choices,” Baptiste observed, looking at DeChevilier. He, in turn, looked at his wife.

“This one’s coming from me,” Cynthia told them. “There’s a place in the periphery you can go. Somewhere we can sit out the wars that are coming. There are already refugees heading there, and they could do with soldiers to defend them. For those who are sick of soldiering, there’s plenty of room for a civilian career. I‘ve reached out to some people I know and they’re onboard with the idea if you are.”

“You want to build our own state, out in the Periphery?”

“Yes, somewhere the Star League’s ideals can survive even if, perish the thought, the Federated Suns doesn’t.”

Abbot leant forwards and looked at his former division commander. “Would you be in charge, sir?”

“I’d be leading the military side of things,” DeChevilier advised. “But this is my wife’s idea and she’d be heading up the provisional civilian government.”

“You, ma’am?”

Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. “Aaron told me that command was a hard habit to shake. Running a ship challenged me in ways I didn’t expect, but he was right. He’s got an annoying habit of being right, you know…”

Baptiste looked over at Abbot. “You’re the one who’s closest to the troops, sergeant major. Whatever the chiefs say, there are a lot of indians and no one can make them do any of this.”

He rubbed his face. “I…” Breaking off he reached out, filled a cup from a tea-pot and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask that he stiffened the tea with. “Sir, I swore the oath.”

DeChevilier nodded. “So did I. Do you think less of me for doing this?”

“Hell, no sir. You know word got around of what you said to Marik.” He grinned sheepishly. “I figure most of the lords don’t pay much attention to the guards inside the chamber.”

“John Davion tried to remind them.”

“Can lead a horse to water, can’t make it drink.” He gulped down some of the tea. “Is this all or nothing?”

“Everyone gets to choose, Gregor. But everyone has to choose. We’re on the spot.”

Abbot nodded, not commenting on the use of his first name. “They’ll do it,” he told Baptiste. “Not for you, sorry, but they’d have followed Kerensky. They’ll follow Davion or DeChevilier.”

“Some people have it, some people don’t,” she said calmly.

McGuiness nodded. “And Jack Lucas doesn’t, poor bastard.”

“No one forced him to take the job,” DeChevilier replied sadly. “He’s a hell of a combat commander, but he should have known better.”

“They probably called it duty,” Cynthia said. “You have trouble turning that down, and so does he.”

Her husband nodded. “What about the fleet?”

“Most of the transports are with us,” Abbot told him. “The warships though…”

“I’d guess about half will go with you. Crews live and die together, so they’re more cohesive than the troops,” McGuinness observed.

“You’re not coming, Rosaleen?” asked Cynthia.

“Like I said, I’m a MechWarrior. And we’ve got a war here, maybe a lot of wars.”

Murphy nodded. “AFFS then?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing against Davion but he won’t live forever. Who knows what the next First Prince will be. I’ll work for him but only on a… contractual basis.”

“You mean as a mercenary?”

“I’m pretty sure I can put an outfit together,” she said confidently. “Are you telling me he’s not hiring?”

The AFFS officer smiled slightly. “He certainly is. Although, being a merc’ means no safety net if things go wrong.”

“Oh, like being a soldier is a safe profession?”


Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
15 September 2777

Zabu Kurita had only entered the Black Room four times before today.

The first as a small child, by invitation of his grandfather. No business had been scheduled, the Coordinator had merely wished to share the nerve-centre of the Draconis Combine with his grandsons so they could begin to appreciate the trust that would one day be placed in them. Zabu recalled that Jinjiro had been allowed to sit in the Coordinator’s chair while Zabu had perched in the seat to his right, the two boys dwarfed by the large leather chairs.

Three times as an adolescent he had been permitted to enter and stand behind his father as a reward for academic performance. Bound by a vow to silence he had observed as Warlords and Ministers accounted for themselves in the subterranean chamber, surrounded by every security measure known to artificers of the Combine. No signal was permitted to enter or escape the Black Room, all data must be hand-carried and the computers within were isolated from all contact with the outside universe.

Now, for the first time, he was entering of his own volition. The guards tensed as he approached.

“Halt.”

Zabu obeyed. “I require entrance.”

“The prince is not on today’s list.”

He presented the verigraphed envelope. “I carry urgent news from the palace communications centre.”

The guards exchanged looks. “Advance for identification.”

Obediently, Zabu stepped forwards and submitted to quick and efficient checks of his retinas and finger prints. The verigraph upon the envelope was checked and he was required to strip off his outer garments in the antechamber so two technicians could ensure he was smuggling neither a weapon nor a transmission device into the Black Room.

Besides all of this, he knew that one of the handful of cleared servants was descending the stair that lay behind two more doors to query his right of entrance. Even that man would not actually be permitted entrance while the room was in use. Through a carefully screened vision slot he would signal the presence of a new arrival.

Before Zabu was done buckling his belt again the servant had returned and without words gave the signal to signify that permission had been granted for his entrance. The young Kurita shrugged on his uniform jacket and sealed it as he took the stair down.

Rather than the turn to the vision slot, he took the turn towards the entrance and waited compliantly before the door as various secondary hatches sealed the stair off behind him. The vault-like door opened and Zabu entered the holy of holies.

Despite the name there was little darkness within the room. Subdued but efficient lights illuminated a stark room, a long table with many computer terminals built into its surface and the walls covered by paper screens. Behind the screens subdued lights and speakers gave the impression that one could be in one of the traditional rooms of the palace, surrounded by the gardens.

Minoru Kurita sat at the head of the table, a heavy pistol resting on the wood in ready reach of his hands, mute testament to the extraordinary nature of his son’s presence.

“Chu-i Kurita, account for yourself.”

Zabu dropped to his knees. “Your servant carries a message of the highest importance, Coordinator.”

“News of Prince Jinjiro?” asked the warlord of Pesht. Hector Manati was perhaps the closest of the DCMS’ four senior officers to Zabu but even his eyes were cold now.

He proffered the document he held. “No sir. A transmission has been received from New Avalon.”

“Good news could wait.” The Coordinator gestured for him to rise. “Hector.”

Manati took the envelope and carried it to Zabu’s father, who checked the seal himself and then broke it, tipping the datachip within out onto the table. There were no servants within the Black Room to carry out the mundane tasks while it was in use. The Coordinator personally slotted the thumbnail-sized chip into an input slot.

The holographic image of a room appeared above the table. Tiered seating filled a half-circle and before it was a modest podium and a starkly elegant throne. The banner of the Federated Suns hung in crimson, black and gold behind the man on that throne: John Davion.

At the podium, a smaller man stood. A brief caption marked him as the delegate for Delavan. “Your highness, for all the news of victories against the Combine and the Confederation, the fact remains that a much larger army has crossed half of the distance to New Avalon. What certainty can you offer the High Council that the SLDF will not be shortly arriving to remove you from your throne and sovereignty from the Federated Suns?”

The focus of the display shifted to the throne and Zabu saw that Prince Davion’s face was serious but not alarmed. He sat straight and when he rose he showed more energy than he had displayed in video reports from Terra as the Council had met. “Your question is timely, Duke Fulgress.”

The recording paused and Zabu saw his father had paused it. “He is on balance,” the Coordinator mused. “Study the faces, there are hundreds of men and women on the High Council of the Federated Suns and they are all leaders in their own rights. There is alarm, there is anger and those loyal to him act out of faith not knowledge.”

Zabu had viewed it before of course and his father was right. “What he is about to say -”

Minoru Kurita cut him off with a raised finger. “I will watch. You were right to bring this to me immediately. Take your seat.” The finger indicated the seat to his right, that traditionally that of the Heir-Designate. Jinjiro’s place.

Swallowing, Zabu rose from his knees and walked around to the indicated seat. He hesitated before pulling it back.

“We will formalise the matter later,” the Coordinator murmured. “The succession must be clear and uncontested.”

There were nods of understanding around the table and Zabu lowered his head, biting back any protest. His half-brother had just been deprived of his place as Heir-Designate. Whether he was dead or merely disgraced, everything Jinjiro had worked for since his mother’s death was now set to naught.

The display resumed motion. “General Tatjana Baptiste, the commander of the SLDF’s Army Group within the Suns, has contacted me today to commend to me the services of General Gerik Chudzik of Sixth Army and some one hundred twenty-seven regiments, the majority of whose personnel have expressed the wish to join the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns.”

There was outcry within the distant chamber, but also here in the Black Room. “Treason!” Manati exclaimed. “The SLDF has betrayed us all.”

“Certain elements of it.” Zabu’s father had paused the recording.

“How has he done this?” Ayaki Fujiwara’s eyes blazed as the Warlord of Benjamin glared at Maria Tachibana of the Internal Security Force.

The woman, whose greying blonde hair hinted at her origins within the Rasalhague district, steepled her fingers. “Until now we have counted Captain-General Marik’s subversion of the 250th BattleMech division as the high point of efforts to recruit from the SLDF. For the past four months only the Federated Suns has had access to the Fourth and Sixth Armies.”

“Davion just gained more troops than Cameron did when he had the royals defect.”

“That should surprise no one familiar with John Davion and Keith Cameron,” the Coordinator declared flatly. “We have grown accustomed to the notion that the First Prince is a military commander of high calibre. Yet the Ministry of Intelligence is his work as well.”

Manati pressed his hands to the table. “If General Lucas has been compromised as well, then all of the SLDF could be about to change hands. There are a hundred and sixty SLDF regiments inside the Combine.”

“Yes. A rather smaller number than he discusses.” Minoru Kurita steepled his fingers. “Baptiste has – had – almost three hundred and fifty regiments available to her. It is interesting to consider what the other units will be doing.”

“And what of warships?” asked Isoru Khalfani. The head of the Draconis Combine Admiralty cupped his chin. “There are four squadrons with her forces. That would vastly outweigh every ship lost on both sides of our recent battles.”

He did not, Zabu noted, dwell on the point that the trade in warships had been overwhelmingly in the Suns’ favour. Two corvettes, FCS Neptune and FCS Mercury, had been reported as lost by the FSN at Robinson, but in the two battles at Royal and Robinson eleven of the Combine’s fleet had been confirmed destroyed, five more would need extensive repairs and the Atago remained missing.

“Let us find out.”

John Davion began to move yet again. “We are also honoured to accept the services of ten warships, including the battleship Prinz Eugen, whose crews have chosen to place the bounds of honour that tie the Federated Suns to the brave men and women who vanquished Amaris over the venal and ambitious Council Lords.”

Zabu saw his father’s lips tighten. Both of them ignored Khalfani’s muttering at the revelation.

“In addition to this, negotiations are underway to secure us the services of a new mercenary command we have learned of. Rosaleen’s Rhinos have indicated they’re open to a five-year rolling contract, which will place an additional six BattleMech regiments and various supporting elements in our defence.” Davion’s lips curled in satisfaction. “I hope that I have allayed the Council’s concerns.”

“Rhinos?” Manati murmured. “The tanks?”

Tachibana shook her head. “General Rosaleen McGuinness, of the SLDF’s Fourth Army, is nicknamed ‘The Rhino’,” she explained. “It seems that the upper levels of the SLDF invasion force have been totally subverted.”

Fujiwara half-rose. “Lord Kurita, we could strike hard now – assemble a deep strike force and break for New Avalon directly. The units sent would be destroyed but killing John Davion would be worth it.”

“No.”

The warlord sank back into his chair.

“We do not know Baptiste’s own intentions and Davion will assuredly send more regiments to reclaim the worlds we have taken from him. Thinning the border further could allow him to seek to invade us as he has the Confederation.” His father looked at Zabu. “Davion has moved, do you see our counter-move?”

The young man turned the problem over in his head for a moment and then looked up. “As Warlord Manati said, there are one hundred and sixty SLDF regiments within the Combine, the Fifteenth Army. And since we control their supply lines we have open access to them. Let us use the Pillars of Jade and of Teak to win their loyalties from alongside them. General Lucas dare not protest when these events cast his own loyalties in doubt.”

Teak – culture – and Jade – wealth – were two of the five pillars of the Combine. If the Steel of the military was temporarily unable to carry the weight, well that was why there were five pillars and not merely one.

Love the Prince's action.

I have a feeling the pillar of Steel is about to get a much needed shot in the arm as well.