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Guided Halls, Procyon
Sirian Concordance, Free Worlds League
3 January 3023

Three months of fighting had barely touched the planetary capital directly - for the most part Minobu had elected to fight his campaigns outside the urban areas, in order to protect the valuable industries there. It had taken the Fifteenth Legion of Vega a month to sweep across the southern continent of Halbiero for the Sirian Primus, Louis Grise, had held the bulk of his protectors here in the north until reinforcements could arrive and even then the man had insisted they be sent to try to block the advance of the Fifteenth Legion of Vega rather than to liberate Halbiero.

The Second Sirian Lancers had been the most loyal supporters of Louis Grise but it occurred to Minobu to wonder how they felt now, having watched their sister regiments cut apart among the hills of Greene. Either way, they were still grimly holding position around Guided Halls, like samurai intending to die rather than abandon their worthless lord.

Minobu could respect their resolve, but he wasn’t going to spare them the consequences of that decision. “Vega-roku, attack,” he ordered sharply. Within moments he saw elements of the named force move over the ridgeline towards the city walls. All were fast – Jenner and Spider light battlemechs mixed with Saracen and Scimitar hovertanks. A handful of infantry transports were among the group, the Maxims firing missiles to cover the advance and try to disguise their actual role.

The new Legion of Vega had been divided into five groups by Minobu before departure from Vega. As a body they were an unmanageable number: the remnants of over a dozen different regiments and with very little in the way of leadership after Cecilia’s decision to allow the junior officers to expunge their shame in the traditional fashion. Even the mechwarriors of noble blood or who owned their own battlemechs had been dispossessed and reduced in rank to Shujin, permitted to pilot the ‘Mechs assigned to them only at the pleasure of the Coordinator.

The number five was symbolic in the culture of the Combine, thus Minobu’s choice of that many sub-units. In order to avoid offense to the distant Second Legion of Vega, he had designated his own group as Vega-ichi or One and then numbered the other groups Three to Six. While the new groups were a more reasonable size, they had still lacked officers. To Minobu’s disappointment but not surprise, very few officers in other battlemech regiments had wished to transfer to the Legion of Vega even for a promotion and the exceptions were not men he would have chosen.

The solution was what had forced the current combined arms organisation of the Legion upon him, rather than any deep attachment to the concept. While Mechwarriors did not desire the disgrace of being associated with the Legion of Vega, there were many infantrymen and tank crews far more pragmatic in their promotion prospects. As a result, there had been no alternative than to hand command positions even as junior as Chu-i to them and mix the battlemechs into tank lances and infantry platoons.

Less chastened mechwarriors would probably have revolted and Minobu had prudently ensured that the majority of his new Chu-i were tough former non-commissioned officers: Gunsho or higher that were unlikely to be intimidated by mechwarriors’ lofty social status. The Coordinator’s decision that even the junior ranks should be rendered in Japanese had been received gratefully by the enlisted soldiers, who in general felt it granted them a little more respect than that which had previously been granted them by the High Command. As such, Minobu had found it fairly easy to select men and women firmly or even fanatically devoted to Cecilia and not given to sympathy for the ronin.

Like most surviving cities this deep into the Inner Sphere, Guided Halls was surrounded by high walls and those walls were capped by turrets. The latter opened fire on Vega-roku as they approached but it wasn’t until the ranges dropped below four hundred metres that they had any realistic chance of scoring a hit and even then not all that many shots were hitting home.

Of course, the walls were also a hundred metres high – a deliberate decision to prevent jump infantry from scaling them since the best jump pack known couldn’t manage that much vertical distance. That left a considerable dead space at the foot of the wall that had to be covered by enfilading fire from strongpoints – not enough to make them save but enough to make them survivable – at least that was Minobu’s hope.

“Vega-san, Vega-go. Carry out your mission!” Those two forces were not visible, but like the unit under Minobu’s eyes, they mixed thirty battlemechs with approximately twice as many tanks and a substantial complement of infantry. Their mission was to now launch an attack upon the other side of the city, convincing the defenders that Vega-roku was a diversionary attack.

Zooming in with the telescopic function on his sensors, he could see hatches opening on the Maxims. Dozens of infantry, encumbered with heavy jump packs, climbed out onto the hulls, spacing themselves carefully as one after the other the hover transports matched speeds with the battlemechs around them. Fire flared as the jump packs flared, throwing soldiers across the short distances and onto moving Battlemechs. It was dangerous: miss and you might be crushed underfoot or – slower but almost as certainly lethal – left behind on foot and dependent on your jump pack to escape from the gun turrets.

Most of them made it, using magnets intended for swarm attacks to attach themselves to the light ‘Mechs in threes and fours, careful to place themselves upon the upper front portions. The exceptions... Minobu would find out their names later, to advise the Coordinator and their families that the former ronin had redeemed themselves.

However, there was no time. At any moment one of the defenders might notice the infantry and guess what was intended. Each battlemech fired its own jumpjets, propelling them forwards but also upwards, until their heads almost rose above the level of the walls. A Jenner or Spider could easily jump over the wall, but what then? They would be obvious and easy targets for the wall guns and for the forces within. Infantry, however, were like nezumi (the Legion of Vega’s banner showed just such a rat) and could fight in narrow corners and concealment that a battlemech could not exploit.

Almost an entire company of jump infantry leapt from airborne battlemechs, to land on or behind the great city wall. A few missed. Half a squad were wiped out when the Jenner they were board jumped a little too high and a powerful autocannon ripped through the light battlemech's thin armour and converted the reactor to the super-hot core of an expanding globe of plasma. Vega-roku sped onwards, each symbolically firing their weapons into the massive gates.

And then they less than symbolically made the best speed that they could back towards the hills around the city, with every short range missile launcher firing as rapidly as it could. It took something less than a minute for most of them to empty their magazines, something that in a true battle situation would leave them highly vulnerable if the Sirian Lancers ventured out of the defenses to pursue.

They would be fools to do so, because the missiles were smoke warheads and within moments the field was concealed by a haze of manmade fog that blinded everyone and meant that targeting anything would be an exercise in futility.

Unless of course the target wasn’t moving. Like the gates.

Minobu started walking his Cyclops, the former property of the late Tai-Sho Shazli of the Sixth Benjamin Regulars. The Coordinator had done him the honour of signing ownership over to him before his departure, making him the one member of the Fifteenth Legion of Vega who owned his own BattleMech. “Vega-ichi, move out.”

Tanks, ‘Mechs and infantry carriers started moving forwards into view of the city. Most of them, Minobu included, formed columns to either side of the axis of the gates, but twelve tanks did not. They were the only Schrek PPC Carriers that the Fifteenth Legion had and to a considerable degree the entire smokescreen was simply so that they could get to an optimal firing range without taking fire. That was no excuse to delay however and the eighty-five ton armoured vehcles moved flat out at over fifty kilometers an hour, their routes and landmarks spelling out in explicit detail where they were supposed to place themselves.

A little under two hundred metres from the gates, the lead tank slewed sideways and fired all three PPCs as it moved aside. The second tank turned in the other direction but likewise kept its turret pointed at the gates. In turn, tank after tank hammered shots into the gates as the smoke slowly cleared.

Missiles, lasers and cannon fire tore into the tanks, smashing into armour and wrecking tracks. One unlucky Schrek took a freak hit to the reactor and vaporised itself and its crew in an instant. But the gates were down and the streets behind them were contested by scores of DCMS infantry with handheld SRM launchers loaded with inferno warheads.

At the head of twenty-seven heavy and medium battlemechs, Tai-sa Minobu Tetushara stormed into the city, dozens of tanks following them and Vega-roku moving turning back to join in the battle now that an opening had been made for them.



ComStar First Circuit Compound
Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra
19 January 3022

“Procyon has fallen to the Draconis Combine,” Myndo Waterly announced to the rest of the First Circuit. “And by pulling the First Sirian Lancers there to join the defenses, Primus –“ She drew out the title, glancing at Tiepolo and seeing his irritation at the use of the title that ComStar and the Sirian Concordance shared for their chief executive. “Grise has fatally compromised the defenses of Pollux. DCMS units already there are likely to overrun the planet by this time next month. Graham IV may last a little longer, but unless the Captain-General sends more help, it will also fall.”

“And will he?” Tiepolo asked.

Waterly shook her head. “It seems very unlikely. If anything, he seems to be moving supplies towards Zion and Ohrenson Provinces.”

The addition of the Draconis Combine to the heady brawls taking place between the other four Successor States in the area rimwards of Terra had led to some optimistic predictions that the Succession Wars might be heating up again. Waterly thought that those who had uttered those expectations should have the decency to cease their idiocy but no doubt their words would be conveniently forgotten now that Marik and Steiner had patched up a ceasefire after the latter’s withdrawal from Stewart.

“Can he afford to ignore such an invasion?” asked Tejh. Precentor Sian looked worn down – interactions with Chancellor Liao had grown increasingly difficult as the woes of the Confederation multiplied.

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Waterly admitted. “However, it’s possible he will seek an accomodation now and try to salvage his reputation elsewhere. Against a periphery state, or more probably against the Capellans. Raiding out of Oriente and Andurien is certainly on an upswing.”

Tiepolo nodded thoughtfully. “Do you believe that Coordinator Kurita would amenable to such an offer?”

“Surely Precentor Dieron would be better informed as to that?” Waterly asked pointedly. She knew that Precentor Emilio Rachan hadn’t managed to even present his credentials since his appointment, since the Coordinator was apparently busy with an erratic tour of her domain, settling the aftershocks of the Altair business. Rachan being recalled to this meeting hadn't helped either.

It was plain to see that the verbal jab had struck home but the Primus kept his calm. "And I will ask his opinion in a moment, but for now I want yours."

"Cecilia Kurita does not wage war for the sake of fighting. She always does so with a purpose. If she has accomplished her purpose then she will agree to end the conflict."

"But what is her purpose?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Rachan. He pointed at the holographic display floating above them. "She seeks to surround us. And when she has done that..." The man closed his hands in a soft clap. "We will be caught between the Dragon's jaws."

That brought silence to the rest of the First Circuit. It was almost two and a half centuries since Jerome Blake had used mercenaries to secure control of Terra for ComStar and since that day no one had dared threaten military force against the organisation.

"The Coordinator would be insane to try it," Vandel Huthrin protested. "The Combine would be under complete Interdict within twenty-four hours of her jumpships entering the solar system. With Charles Marik as an example..."

Rachan shook his head. "And if she uses pirate jump points, she could have her dropships on the ground within those same twenty-four hours. When you cite Charles Marik, please remember that the Free Worlds League took serious reverses but was fully intact and viable as a state after almost two years of Interdiction. The notion that it would take the DCMS even two months to secure control of Terra is a joke!"

"The Com-Guards..."

"The Com-Guards have no experience and no real numbers," Rachan shot back. "Our only hope, if you can call it that, would be that the other Successor States would launch their own invasions to deny the Combine control of Terra. Does any of you imagine that ComStar could survive all five of them landing regiments here?"

"That is enough." Julian Tiepolo stepped forwards to silence the speculation. "The scenario that you envisage will not be allowed to take place." Despite himself he was impressed: Cecilia Kurita had apparently managed to inflict a signficant degree of paranoia upon Rachan without even meeting the man. Still, paranoia was not an unreasonable trait for a Precentor to have in the Draconis Combine.

He looked around the First Circuit and none seemed ready to speak out. Good. "Precentor ROM's analysts assure me that  the supplies available to the DCMS forces in the Free Worlds League and Capellan Confederation are not significantly greater than those used by the Lyran Commonwealth for their recent invasion of the Free Worlds League. Therefore it seems unlikely that the Kurita advance will be much greater."

"It would be preferable," the Primus added, "If Katrina Steiner and Hanse Davion were made to understand that their nobles would look poorly upon any threat that the Draconis Combine might pose to their worlds near Terra. While Precentors Tharkad and New Avalon take care of that, Precentors Atreus and Dieron would be well advised to encourage factionalism within the Draconis Combine and the Free Worlds League. Rulers beset by internal strife will often seek foreign threats to unify their realms against, something that would reduce the chances of a negotiated peace between the two states."

Tejh shuffled his feet slightly, almost like a child afraid to raise his hand in class.

"Do you have a recommendation, Precentor Sian?"

The man raised one finger in illustration that he spoke in query. "It seems likely that should the Capellan Confederation come under attack from not only House Davion and House Kurita but also House Marik then Chancellor Liao may take... extreme measures. Should I attempt to deter him from this?"

Tiepolo shook his head. "No Precentor. If Maxmilian Liao wishes to escalate the conflict then by all means, encourage him."




St Marinus House, Zaniah III
Isle of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
13 February 3023

While the Draconis Combine was officially at peace with the Lyrans, for the first time since 2865, that did not make samurai particularly welcome across the border. Akira's family name didn't help very much in that respect: the customs official who checked his papers when he arrived across the border had stared wide-eyed at him as if an entire Sword of Light regiment were about to march through the spaceport arrivals lounge behind him.

Realising that his uniform would draw attention, Akira had elected to follow the advice of Uncle Chandrasekhar and obtain local clothes. To his embarassment he had been denied service at the first two shops he had visited although at least he could blame Lyran bigotry rather than any gaffe on his part for the events. Leaving his uniform jacket in his hotel room and replacing his boots with sandals made him less identifiable as a foreign military officer and allowed him to shop in peace however.

The baking red-yellow deserts of Zaniah were another experience from the thriving commercial districts he'd encountered around spaceports on his slow progress across the Isle of Skye. The heat inside the aircar that he'd hired was brutal - it made the cockpit of his Dragon feel like a mild spring day, almost the way he'd felt the day years before when his father had allowed him to pilot the family Warhammer and he'd made the mistake of alpha-striking. Fortunately the training rounds in the magazines hadn't cooked off but he'd felt an utter fool when the reactor shutdown on him.

The monastery he sought was on the maps, dug into a towering mesa hundreds of miles from Zaniah's populated regions to the north and south of the desert belts that dominated the dry planet. What wasn't on the map was anything about the internal layout or even where the entrance was. Akira had envisaged arriving with sufficent reserve of fuel for the aircar to search out a landing site from the air but he hadn't anticipated the difficulties imposed by the desert winds and by a detour caused by mistaking a landmark. His best guess was that he had enough of a reserve, including the jerrycan in the vehicle's small storage space, for a single flyby before he had to land.

However, he was still a kilometer away from it when his radio started to chirp. Leaving one on the controls, Akira flipped on the loudspeaker.

"-ntified aircar, you are entering private airspace," a calm voice warned. "I repeat, this is private airspace. Please bear off."

"St Marinus House, this is the approaching aircar," Akira replied on the same frequency. "I request permission to land."

There was a short pause and then: "Approaching aircar, are you declaring an emergency?"

"Negative, St Marinus House, you are my destination."

Another voice took over the conversation. "This is Brother Giles, I am the Abbot of St Marinus House. We aren't expecting any deliveries, may I ask your business?"

Akira had considered several different approaches, but the most direct one seemed best here. "I'm here to speak with Morgan Kell."

"Whoever you are," and the Abbot's voice took a harsher note, "St Marinus House exists to give Mechwarriors who desire it seclusion from the outside universe. Visitors, much less the media, are not part of that."

"With respect, Abbot Giles, I am not from the media. May I at least land and explain myself?"

The pause now was longer and then the first voice took over. "Aircar, if you proceed to your left around the monastery you'll see our entrance hall. Brother Giles will meet you there."

Obediently Akira amended his direction of travel and sure enough he soon spotted an arched opening in the blood red stone of the mesa, easily large enough that a battlemech could have marched inside. Under minimal thrust the aircar easily slipped through and Akira set it down at the foot of stairs that led deeper into the monastery, although he could see that there was space beyond it that he could continue through, probably to whatever hanger or garage served to house the vehicles belonging to St Marinus House.

Akira had barely set foot outside of the aircar, enjoying the much cooler air in the shade, when a balding middle-aged monk started to descend the stairs towards him. Although he was carrying more weight than would be customary in a serving soldier, Akira could see the telltale set of shoulders that had once been accustomed to the weight of a neurohelmet. Then again, given the stated purpose of the order, it would not be strange to find many former mechwarriors here.

The abbot's eyes narrowed as he saw Akira's daisho and then relaxed as the young mechwarrior pointedly left them across the seat of the aircar rather than carrying them with him. "Somehow I doubt that you are here to enter our community."

"Respectfully, Abbot Giles, there are monasteries in my home nation that I would look to first if I sought spiritual guidance." He shook his head. "I am here for exactly the reason I stated earlier: to speak to Colonel Morgan Kell."

The abbot crossed his arms firmly. "And why should I allow this? As Abbot here I am responsible for Morgan's wellbeing and there is only one likely topic of conversation that would bring you here."

Akira nodded in affirmation. "Tamar."

"It was after his duel there, that Morgan chose to retreat here." Giles shook his head. "That's not..."

"Sir." Akira looked the man in the eye, recognising some of the features as those common to House Steiner. "I am the son of Yorinaga Kurita. And I have come here in peace."

"...I'll tell Morgan you are here," the older man agreed after a long moment of thought. "What happens then is up to him. If you need food, water or fuel for your return journey we will provide for you."




McAllister Aerospace Academy, Rasalhague
Rasalhague Autonomous Prefecture, Draconis Combine
14 February 3023

The anonymous black limousine might have looked out of place among the construction vehicles working on the campus, but most of the workers were used to occasional visits by officials and nobles waking a firsthand look at progress - or at least a photo-opportunity. As the Academy was an important project said to have patrons high in the DCMS, there was no shortage of people wanting to be associated with it.

Under this cover nobody noticed the limousine exit the site from one of the side entrances without pausing for anyone to take photographs. Hastening down a back road, the car turned off into a private driveway that led into a valley invisible from the campus. Hidden away here was a well maintained cabin that had been owned by House Kurita for centuries.

Stepping out of the car, Cecilia didn't look very much like her public image. Usually she wore military uniforms or elaborate kimonos befitting her stature. Between wearing a casual outfit and a change of her hairstyle, she thought she could probably fool at least a casual observer which was all that she was really concerned about for now.

She crossed the distance from the limousine to the front door, aware that she was probably being targeted by at least one weapon. Looking at the door, she refrained from knocking. "You know who I am and you know why I'm here. Are you going to make this difficult?"

After a moment the door swung open, although with the lights off and the bright sun outside, Cecilia couldn't see the interior well. She stepped in cautiously and was ambushed immediately as someone ploughed into her just below the ribs, knocking her to the floor.

"Kaasan!"

"Wow, you've gone and grown again," Cecilia observed, trying not vent over the fact she really didn't to get hit below the ribs right now. She wrapped her arms around Siriwan's shoulder and looked up at Tomoe, who was looking fairly intimidating with a ballistic vest strapped on over an apron and a pump-action shotgun aimed safely away from anyone. "You look taller too."

"That's because you're on the floor," the Pillarine mechwarrior observed. "I thought you'd be here sooner. It's been months."

"I know, I'm so-"

Siriwan squeezed her belly in surprise. "Kaasan you're fat! You need to exercise!"

"Ah... Siri'... Has Tomoe told you about where babies come from?"

"Oh no." Tomoe smiled sweetly, which was rather inconsistent with her appearance. "I wouldn't presume to take that joy away from you, Cecilia-chan."

The Coordinator gave the other woman a pained look and then sat up, pulling Siriwan into her lap. "Siriwan, the reason that I'm a little... larger... than I used to be is that you're going to have a little sister... or maybe a brother... in a few months and they're inside me right now."

Siriwan considered this and then asked what seemed like the logical question: "Did you eat them?"

Several possible answers crossed Cecilia's mind, some of them definitely not ones that she wanted to share with her eight year old daugther. "No dear. Babies grow inside their mother. When your brother or sister is ready to be born they'll come out just like you did."

"Ooh! When will that happen? Can I watch?"

"Hmm..." Cecilia gave Tomoe a look. She wasn't sure eight was old enough for that and from the way that Tomoe shook her head slightly, Siriwan's nanny didn't think so either. "Well perhaps. We shall have to see if we're all on the same planet when the time comes. I don't know exactly when the little one will come out, after all."

"Aww!" Siriwan pouted.

"In any event, I expect I'll be staying on Luthien for a while now. Have you enjoyed your time here on Rasalhague?"

"Un!" the little girl said, holding onto her. "It's the best place ever. Did you know they're going to teach people to fly at the big school down over the hills? Tomoe-neechan said I could go there when I was older."

"If you still want to," the woman said in clarification. "They haven't even finished building it yet, after all." She offered a hand to Cecilia, to help her up. Although Cecilia didn't feel that she'd become awkward, she wasn't so proud as to refuse the assistance, lifting Siriwan up so that the three of them ended up shoulder to shoulder with Siriwan's feet dangling, supported by her mother's and then Tomoe's arms.

"Can't we all stay here?" the girl asked. "It's nice. I've been learning more Swedenese so I can talk to the other children."

"Not now, no." Cecilia said, looking at the house. It looked nice and she could feel the temptation to stay. But she could also imagine how swiftly they would fall into the power of the Warlord of Rasalhague if they remained here. It would not be long, days at most, before Grieg Samsonov learned that Siriwan had been hidden here now that Cecilia had come her to collect her. She'd just had a reminder, if one was needed, of how dangerous the Warlords could be towards her. "But as Tomoe says, you can come back here in a few years if you'd like."

"Aw..."

Cecilia kissed Siriwan's forehead. "I'm glad you've had a good holiday here, but we do need to go back to Luthien, so you can see Constance and Jasmine again."

"Couldn't they come here?"

"Maybe next time." Cecilia put her daughter down. "Why don't you go pack. The dropship leaves tonight."

The girl pouted a little more and then ran off to comply, although no doubt she would forget to pack about half her things.

Once she was out of sight, Cecilia leant over and kissed Tomoe on the lips. "Thank you."

"For keeping her alive?"

"And for keeping yourself alive."

They kissed again and then reluctantly released each other from the embrace. "Well I only did it for you," Tomoe told her. "And for payment in the coin of the realm, of course."

"Given the date? I have a huge box of chocolates in the car."

"That'll do as a down payment."

"Down payment?" Cecilia raised her eyebrows. "What exactly are you trying to extort out of me?"

Glancing at the stairs to ensure that Siriwan wasn't in proximity, Tomoe leant down to whisper into the ear of her mistress. Cecilia's cheeks pinked slightly as she listened to the proposition and her own eyes also flickered in the direction that had departed in.

"What an interesting suggestion," she managed to admit after a moment. "We might have to wait a couple of months though. I'm not feeling to flexible right now."

There was the sound of feet at the head of the stairs and Siriwan poked her head around the bannister. "Kaasan, has the baby come out yet?"

"Not yet, no."

Cecilia gave Tomoe an artfully needful look and the other woman smirked. "She'll be asking you that for weeks," she predicted cheerfully.

"Is Tomoe-neechan going to have a baby as well? That way I could have a brother and a sister?"

Tomoe cleared her throat. "Are you packed already?"

The feet scampered away again, leaving the two women to rest their foreheads against each other and giggle like schoolgirls.




St Marinus House, Zaniah III
Isle of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
14 February 3023

The Morgan Kell that Akira had seen on holodisks and intelligence reports was not quite the same man that walked down into the cave the next morning. Akira had dozed in the driver's seat but he woke at the first sound of feet on the stairs.

In the recordings, Kell had been a handsome, mustachioed officer with a wary look of cunning that had spelled trouble for the Arm of the Dragon many times during the battles around and on Tamar. Although it had been little more than two years ago, in that time grey hairs had appeared in his long hair and his beard was similarly marked. Still muscular, he was leaner than Akira had expected, his sun burned darkly by Zaniah's brutal sun.

"Why have you come here?" Kell asked in a rasping voice.

Akira stood and bowed. The words he'd rehearsed for this moment escaped him and rather than grope for them he resorted to simplicity. "Colonel Kell, I have come to request the return of my father's swords."

"His swords?" For a brief moment Akira was afraid that despite all expectations Kell might not have the swords, having discarded or destroyed them for some reason, but then the mercenary's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want them?"

"The Coordinator has decreed that he may not greet the ancestors without them."

Kell gave Akira a confused look that shifted to disgust. "You want the swords so that your father can use them to kill himself. What sort of son are you?"

"The sort who wants his father to have peace. Isn't that what you came here for?"

"That's different. What happened on Tamar... you wouldn't understand."

"Well maybe you don't understand my father!" Akira felt his temper getting away from him. Rather than fighting it, he tried to channel it, the way his teachers had taught him. "For him, being a mechwarrior was everything. Facing the enemies of the Dragon in battle was what he lived for. Whatever happened on Tamar - whatever you did - tore the heart out of him, Tai-sa Kell."

Kell shook his head. "That's no reason for him to die."

"Right now he isn't alive either! I don't want my father to die - nor does the Coordinator - but he isn't living now. He's holed up somewhere not so very different from here gnawing over what happened. If he has his swords back then yes, maybe he will commit seppuku. And if he does at least he'll have that part of his life back: dying as a samurai. And if he doesn't..."

"Given that last time I met your father he was trying to kill my brother and destroy my regiment, has it occurred to you that I might not want him returned to his former self."

Akira laughed bitterly. "It seems, Colonel Kell, that you don't know what you want: first you criticise me for giving him the opportunity to end his life if he chooses to. And then you state that you'd rather he never recovered. It sounds almost as if you want him to remain on Echo, trapped between his honour and his fears."

"Kurita-san, the only demons that one finds in a place like this, or your father's refuge, are those that you carry with you." Morgan gestured for silence when Akira would have protested. "You are correct that I am conflicted as to your father... If he returns to the battlefield then I will have to as well and I don't want to kill your father or to die myself." He stared at Akira. "I will not give you the swords. What will you do now? Try to take them?"

The young samurai shook his head. "No, Colonel Kell. While you remain here and in retirement then you are safe from me. I will return to the Combine. There I will become everything that you fear in my father, until you are drawn out of this place to meet me rather see me face the Kell Hounds and your brother."

For an instant Kell's eyes blazed with the fire that Akira had expected to see in such a mechwarrior. "You'll leave my people alone!"

"Or what? You'll destroy me yourself?" Akira shook his head. "You know that when that happens, my father will no longer petition Lord Kurita for permission to end himself but to pursue vendetta against you. This permission would be granted and thus..."

"You don't need to do this. It doesn't have to be this way."

"It already is that way. You're right, I don't understand what happened on Tamar. But I do know it affects people other than the two of you. It's destroyed your Kell Hounds and it's destroyed my family. If you give me the swords then one of two things happens: either my father kills himself or one of you kills the other one. They might not be the best of options but they're the ones you've left us with and at least either way my father will have closure."

"Stop," Kell told him firmly. He smiled, apparently despite himself, and it was a surprisingly charming smile, Akira had to admit. "You're trying to snowball me. It's a nice try, but it won't work."

"Colonel, I..."

"No. You are not the sort of person that would prey upon my people, Kurita-san... Excuse me, what rank do you hold?"

"I hold the rank of Tai-i in the Second Sword of Light."

"Your father's regiment. You're very young to have a place in the Sword of Light, Tai-i. You must be an excellent mechwarrior."

Akira shrugged modestly. "I have been fortunate in some respects. Colonel Kell, is there any way that I can persuade you to change your mind?"

Kell paused and examined the young man in front of him. "I'm half-tempted to tell you to sign on with the Kell Hounds. Nine years ago you're exactly the sort of young hotshot I'd have recruited in an instant."

"That..." Akira considered. "That... might be feasible." Inwardly he winced. A Kurita serving as a mercenary? He'd be lucky just to get transferred to the Legion of Vega when he returned to the Combine. Mind you, the look on Morgan Kell's face at the idea was almost worth it.

I've got to go back to the beginning and read this all. Very enjoyable, keep up the good work!

I'm looking forward to getting this built into a PDF if drakenis wants it.

That's what I was thinking. When drakenis finishes this novel, if he wants a book I'll put something together.

Put Blacknovas maps in there along with the Tiger and you got a product friend.

And a winner!
And don't forget any surprise Drakensis might still have in his hat.

Sian, Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
3 March 3023

Twelve months could make a considerable difference to the atmosphere of the Celestial Palace, Candace mused as she sat at a conference table in one of the rooms adjacent to the throneroom. When things went well, the nobility flocked towards the throne, to take advantage of the Chancellor's good humour. At other times...

The court was distinctly underpopulated at the moment. Candace was just back from St Ives and she'd be leaving as soon as she could find an excuse. It might leave Romano with more access to their father, but right now it also left her more exposed to his anger and that was a trade-off that Candace was more than willing to make.

She'd have expended Tormano similarly, if with slightly more regret, but that wasn't an option any more. Her father had pronounced an Edict of Death against the mechwarrior responsible, but that hadn't stopped the Duchess of Chesteron from hanging a medal around the man's neck. Perhaps more prudently, she understood that Hanse had also transferred the young Captain to a post in the Draconis March. Normally that would put Justin Allard out of the Maskirova's reach but for this, extraordinary expense and effort would be merited. Candace hoped that it would also be rewarded with success.

At the head of the table, Maxmilian Liao remained the room's dominating presence but there was a rigidity to his shoulders that betrayed a certain defensiveness. While Candace, as heir, held the seat to his right hand, this placed her opposite her step-mother Elizabeth who was only two years her elder. Much as the Chancellor's daughter wished she could blame her father for falling prey to a pretty face, the years of their marriage had shown that his second wife had a genuine flair for politics which merited her seat at today's Prefectorate meeting as the representative of Capella.

The junior Prefect, now representing Tikonov with the loss of Waldemar Teng four years ago, Romano sat to Candace's right and opposite her was the Prefect of Chesterton. Victor Hargreaves was looking distinctly uneasy, which the apparently optimistic Romano might have drawn a lesson from. Neither of their Prefectures was in particularly pleasent straits at the moment. At the foot of the table the last Prefect, Chandra Ling looked as if she had nothing more pressing on her mind than wondering what flavor of cookies to feed to her grandchildren. Although the head of the Maskirova was as likely to bake children into cookies if she thought it would obtain results.

"I believe," the Chancellor declared, "That we must recognise that the Chesteron offensive has suffered a reversal of fortunes." It was understood that he was not a matter of the Prefectorate being aware of the problems but of what they would allow to be announced.

Romano shook her head. "Father, is it really necessary to allow such information to circulate?"

"I deem it so," he told her quellingly and Candace's sister subsided. "Duke Hargreaves, how is it that you can show your face here after letting my son die fighting in the defense of your homeworld?"

The Duke inclined his head solemnly. "Celestial Wonder, I am here at your command. No shame could compare to that I would feel had I the temerity to deny you."

"Very well then. Report to me on the status of the military forces with your Commonality."

"Following the defection of the Northwind Highlanders and the loss of Almach in January, the First Hew Hessen Irregulars have returned to their homeworld in the Tikonov Commonality. Colonel Baxter of the has also had to consolidate his own forces deployed into the Commonality into two regiments, leaving the total available forces as eight regiments and one Warrior House battalion. Of these, the Second New Hessen Irregulars are pacifying Holloran V and House LuSann is securing Algot, which is serving as my command post. Hamilton's Highlanders and the Third Chesteron Voltigeurs are also on Algot, regrouping from their unsuccessful assault upon New Aragon."

"At this time, two task forces are in the field. On Demeter, two Chesterton Voltigeur regiments and McGregor's Armored Scouts are spearheading a force resisting the attack by four Regimental Combat Teams of House Davion's Crucis Lancers. A similar force is still fighting on Valexa, built around two regiments of McCarron's Armored Cavalry. I understand that the remainder of the Chesterton Reserves are engaged in fighting House Kurita's forces but Colonel Baxter is requesting that the Fourth Regiment of McCarron's forces be permitted to travel from Menke to reinforce him."

Candace leant forwards. "With all due respect to Duke Hargreaves and to Colonel Baxter, the efforts to convince Duke Hasek-Davion to refrain from acting against us is reaching its limit. If the Chancellor elects to despatch Leo's Demons to assist the rest of McCarron's Armored Cavalry, this will seriously weaken the defenses of the Sian Commonality."

"We cannot be strong everywhere, sister," Romano pointed out cattily. "Or do you want the Chesterton Commonality to fall for a second time?"

From the look on Hargreave's face, he'd have accepted that quite calmly. He'd been trapped in the venture by his hereditary titles rather than any unrealistic expectations of success.

"That may not be avertable in any case, Romano. Perhaps you should concern yourself with seeing that your own Commonality is secured." Candace saw her jibe hit home: Romano hadn't left Sian since her election as Prefect. In the meantime three worlds had been lost to the Draconis Combine in attacks spearheaded by the Wolf Dragoons. Candace would have much preferred to be there herself to face the Dragoons: there was a score to settle there on her part, even if the Harold Jones, the Colonel who had humiliated her a decade before, had been dead almost four years before.

The Chancellor frowned at the conflict between his daughters but it was Elizabeth Liao who leant forwards to chastise them. "The discussions of the Prefectorate can be carried out with due decorum, I hope?"

Maxmilian Liao waited a long moment as the three woman glared at each other and then turned to Ling. "What of House Marik? Can forces be drawn from the border with the Free Worlds League to address this threat?"

The Director shook her head sadly. "I regret, Celestial Wisdom, that House Marik appears to be gathering forces for a fresh offensive and against all expectations it would appear that we are to be the Captain-General's targets rather than the Sirian worlds that have been taken by Cecilia Kurita. It is likely that he will employ his nephew, Duncan Marik, as a field commander as he did against the LCAF last year."

"Very well." The Chancellor laid his hands upon the table. "Duke Hargreaves, advise Colonel Baxter that his remaining regiment will be routed to his position on Valexa with all despatch." He glanced at Candace. "You need not concern yourself with Duke Hasek-Davion. A certain project that was intended to mark the destruction of Hanse Davion has become no longer feasible but its fruits will serve admirably to neutralise his troublesome marchlord for us."

Candace bit her lip lightly, frustrated that the menace posed from New Syrtis was so cavalierly dismissed by her father but also intrigued by his mentioned project. Whatever it was, her father's tone was that he usually reserved for such masterstrokes as his cultivation of Anton Marik, that had sparked a destructive civil war within the Free Worlds and largely negated them as a major menace for several years.

"Romano," Maxmilian continued. "Last year you asked permission to lead my soldiers into battle. I will now grant you your wish. You may take the third battalion from Hurloc's Hussars from Kaifeng and a further battalion from the Prefectorate Guards here on Sian to assist you in driving back the Combine's mercenaries."

Even Romano seemed intimidated by the thought that she would receive only two more battalions to add to the battle against the vaunted Dragoons but with elements of no less than eight regiments already engaged, the numbers were not as unreasonable as they sounded at first. The younger daughter of the Chancellor bowed her head submissively. "Of course, father."

"And Marik?" Ling enquired politely.

"Marik rules a house divided against itself," Liao replied, tacitly ignoring the hatred between his own daughters. "Given reason, even one of his sons has turned against him. I believe that poor Janos believes that Duncan Marik will follow the same path of rebellion as Anton did." He stroked his mustache. "What sort of a neighbour would I be not to give him what he wants?"




Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
3 April 3023

"I live to serve," the three men prostrated before the Dragon Throne repeated, as they had for almost an hour. Behind them, respectful ranks of the military and civil elite of the Draconis Combine stood as witness to the event. Towards the rear of the assemblage, Duggan Marik watched as well, although he was wrestling with the notion that this feat of endurance was considered a moment of ascendance for citizens of the Combine rather than the humiliation it would have been for someone to be on their knees in front of the Captain-General's throne, endlessly protesting their devotion.

These are truly an alien people, he realised.

The elaborately robed woman on the throne had not said a word to the three men in front of her, although to Duggan's understanding at least two of them were considered to be especial proteges of hers. Then again, the Coordinator was something of an enigma and other than his official reception - which had been so stylised he wasn't sure of much about it other than that it hadn't been a party - he had yet to actually meet with her, instead negotiating with various ministers.

Somewhat to his relief, one of the three officers seemed to be flagging, his voice growing hoarse. To his disappointment however, although that one (Tai-sho Satterthwaite, Duggan gathered) was reduced to croaking, the refrain continued until all three were inaudible, which wasn't for another half an hour. Until that afternoon, Duggan wouldn't have thought that anything could be more atonal than the traditional Japanese music that he'd been exposed to visiting one of the high nobles.

At some signal, which Duggan did not see or at least did not recognise, even the three broken voices fell silent and Cecilia Kurita finally stood as the three officers sat up in seiza. A servant brought her metal shield, upon which lay three medals, each upon a blue and black ribbon. "There is no greater honour than this," she announced. "To have extended the rule of the Dragon is the highest of ambitions and each of you has accomplished this, bringing the planets of Bryant, Procyon and the Sirius system into the Draconis Combine. In recognition of this, each of you is hereby admitted to the select company of the Order of the Dragon."

Ceremoniously she faced each man in turn, hanging a medal around each neck, before returning to the shield and plucking two small green badges from it. She returned to the men and exchanged these for the rank pins on the collars of the towering black man on the left and the grizzled veteran kneeling on the right. "Tai-sa McGavin and Tai-sa Tetsuhara are further promoted to the rank of Sho-sho that they may justly lead greater forces in the future."

Fortunately for Duggan's patience, the ceremony ended there with a wave of applause and the other attendees began to cluster around the men being honoured. Someone blocked his line to the throne and when he looked again the Coordinator was gone.

"Okay, well other than hearing three guys talk themselves hoarse, this is a wash," he grumbled to his aide. "Let's go back to our rooms and see if anyone will actually make a decision over dinner."

His aide gave him a pained look and then flicked his eyes to look behind Duggan, who turned to see the Coordinator standing behind him. "No, please go on," she said encouragingly. "I'm fascinated by your opinion of our traditions."

Say what you would about Duggan Marik (many did), he was an accomplished politican with years of experience in the Free Worlds League Parliament. "It was an interesting experience. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"The alternative, of course, is the sort of acceptance speeches that are common among honorees in other states." Cecilia smiled pleasently. "Less monotonous, perhaps, than our own customs."

"I can think of some exceptions to that," Duggan admitted. Relatively few soldiers were great speakers and given the intertwining military and political ambitions common in the Free Worlds League many of them were unfortunately unaware of their lack.

She gestured towards the large door of the throne room. "While we aren't the centre of attention, why don't we step out and have a quiet chat about your business here on Luthien."

Duggan enthusiastically followed her out of the room and through a series of short passages into a small japanese garden surrounded on all four sides by the wooden veranda that he associated with japanese architecture. His enthuiasm waned slightly as he had hoped for a slightly more intimate setting. The Coordinator was a beautiful woman despite having only recently given birth to twins and while he'd be a fool to expect too much from respectable Draconian lady, he was confident that if given the chance he could apply some charm to overcome his earlier gaffe.

"My officials tell me that you've come here to offer peace," Cecilia said, walking briskly around the edge of the garden. "Interesting choice, with the end of your fighting on Stewart I would not have been surprised to see your cousin Duncan seeking to retake the Sirian Concordance."

"That remains an option," he replied bluntly. "The Concordance was a problem for us, but it was our problem and the League does not relinquish our claims. However, my father is minded more to follow your example."

"My example?" Cecilia spread her hands slightly, looking down at her kimono which was covered by the red and black robe of the Coordinator. "I presume you don't mean in fashion, this probably wouldn't suit him."

Duggan smiled slightly at the thought of his father dressed up a japaneses. "Perhaps in purple, with eagle heraldry," he suggested, "But no. The example I'm thinking of is that of fishing in troubled waters. There are thousands of Sirians who've fled your soldiers or Grise's abuses. But there are far more powerful voices in Parliament who are more inclined to speak of our longer history of enemity with House Steiner and House Liao."

"And House Liao are in troubled waters indeed."

"Yes." He hesitated, looking aground the garden: fragrent shrubs surrounded by intricately raked sand and gravel. "There is an army being mustered. That army can be used to liberate Pollux or Graham IV. But it can also be used to strike into the Capellan Confederation. They are already fighting against you and against the Federated Suns so our prospects there are excellent."

"Unless, of course, we come to blows. Should the Confederation come apart - by no means a given - then the closest analogy would be the division of the Terran Hegemony between the Successor States back in the late twenty-eighth century. That was hardly peaceful."

"That might be the Liao's best hope," admitted Duggan. "Let me be clear: my father means to break the Capellan Confederation as a power. So I am not here to suggest that we simply relocate the conflict between our states to Capellan worlds. We want to offer a ceasefire to the same extent as you have with the Lyrans or with the Federated Suns."

They were approaching a corner and Cecilia gestured for Duggan not to continue speaking. She did not reply however, until they had walked the side of the garden from corner to corner.

"Good fences make for good neighbours."

"What?"

"I'm told you're something of a dealmaker, Duggan Marik. So I'll make a deal with you," she told him. "I'll make peace with you on terms of you recognising my de facto control over the four Sirian systems. I cannot guarentee none of my generals will break that truce, but I assure you that I will punish them severely if they do."

Duggan nodded. He was quite sure she would: her response to the raids onto Hoff and Mallory's World by DCMS soldiers during the truth had been brutal.

"As for the Capellans, my terms are simple. I'll not challenge any worlds you claim so long as they are not currently within the Tikonov Commonality. Those worlds will fall within my... influence, shall we say?"

"You're not giving up much there." For the DCMS to reach worlds outside the Tikonov Commonality it would need to take dozens, or even scores of worlds.

"Are you going to argue with Hanse Davion over the disposition of St Ives?" she shot back shrewdly. "You can fight over Tikonov with me, or you can fight over Sarna, Sian and Capella with Chancellor Liao. Which of those was it that your father wanted?"

He laughed in reply. "You have me," he admitted.

"I do," she agreed mildly. And then she smiled and added sweetly. "And if you break this deal, I'll have your head, Marik. Don't doubt me for an instant."




The Triad, Tharkad
District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
17 July 3023

"You know the terms I agreed to on Mars, Selvin," Katrina Steiner told the expatriate Duke of Tamar. She was sat upon her throne, flanked as ever by a pair of Griffin battlemechs in the colours of the Royal Guards. While she appreciated the security provided by the tradition, she did wonder what had possessed her ancestor Craig Steiner to select a fire support 'Mech to operate in the cramped confines of the Throne Room. She'd quietly ordered the pair modified to the medium range -1S variant and then to replace the LRM rack with SRMs. Both requirements had been met with foot-dragging in the name of 'tradition' until she put her foot down.

Selvin Kelswa crossed his arms across his chest. "The truce was guarenteed by the Federated Suns, but only for three years, Katrina. That expires in a matter of weeks and now that the Combine has made peace with the Free Worlds League they only have a small force fighting in the Capellan Confederation to supply. The Coordinator will look for a new direction to expand in and we are the obvious choice."

"Perhaps," the Archon replied with an air of scepticism.  "But if that is so then perhaps we should look to our defenses rather than seeking to go onto the offensive. We both know that public opinion rests far more heavily towards guarding our remaining worlds than it has to been reclaiming those lost. How do you propose to convince the Estates General to fund launching a war of aggression?"

"Lestrade assures me that he can convince the majority of the Skye representatives to support the proposal."

Katrina blinked. "Lestrade?" Aldo Lestrade, Duke of Summer, was one of Katrina's biggest critics and arguably the second most powerful noble in the Isle of Skye. And there were a number of people who'd rank him above the Duchess of Skye.

Kelswa cleared his throat. "I may have... exagerated the degree of our disagreement over the issue of Tamar."

Or maybe you're understating it now to soften the implicit threat. Even dispossessed of his ancestral home, Kelswa was a potent political ally and for him to join Lestrade behind their candidate for Archon (Katrina's cousin Fredrick Steiner) would be a substantial problem. She calculated votes: it wasn't a majority by any measure but Kelswa and Lestrade's factions together would be a powerful minority. "That might be enough. What exactly do you have in mind?"

The duke pulled out a star chart. "The first move is here, at the rimwards tip of Alshain District. A force from Skye strikes at Orestes and Al Hillah. Warlord Samonov won't want to call for help from the Coordinator or the other Warlords, so he'll use his reserves to bolster Rubigen Prefecture. At the same time, we step up raiding from Apollo Theater into Kirchbach to pin down the regiments there."

He moved his finger down to the space between the two named prefectures of Alshain District. Radstadt, the heartland of Alshain and the prefecture that contained Cecilia's conquests of previous years including Tamar itself. "And then our main force hits here: Skokie, Sevren, Laurent and Maestu. Break through here, take Moritz and then on to Tamar, driving a wedge into the Combine."

Katrina cupped her chin. "It's an interesting plan. It may well succeed until Cecilia Kurita takes a personal hand. After that, holding what we have taken will become a challenge. Where do you plan to in regiments from, because those already on the border won't be enough."

"I've raised funds," Kelswa promised. "Enough to hire mercenaries and to equip a new regiment of patriots: we're reviving the Tamar Tigers and -"

The door to the throneroom swung open and both Archon and Duke turned to look at the cause: while the meeting between them was in the throne room, it was only because Katrina had a flood of meetings in the room both earlier and scheduled for later in the day. Their discussion was supposed to be a private one.

Katrina's eyes widened as she saw a dark-haired man enter, clad in a familiar red and black uniform. "Morgan!"

"Morgan?" Kelswa muttered and then looked closer. "My god, Morgan Kell!"

A second man, asian in ancestry and clearly not yet comfortable in the uniform of a Kell Hound had followed Morgan into the throneroom but he casually leant againt the wall by the doors and pretended not to be there in the best approved fashion of a junior officer confronted by royalty.

"It's good to be back," Morgan said with forced calm. "I'm not disturbing anything am I?"

"We're just plotting a war, would you like to come?" offered Kelswa, still slightly stunned. He'd not seen Morgan since the debacle of the last attempt to liberate Tamar - he wasn't sure that anyone had seen the notorious mercenary since then.

The Colonel nodded. "Tamar again? I'll need a few months - I'm a little out of practise."

"Do you mean..." Katrina asked, looking at him in concern.

"Yes, I'm putting the regiment back together again." Morgan ran his hand through his beard. "I gather Patrick has a few months left on his contract with the Free Worlds League but I've sent the word out to those who left the Kell Hounds a few years ago. They'll be making their way to Arc Royal but it'll take some time."

"We may not have time," warned Kelswa. "I don't know if you've been keeping up but the ceasefire with the Combine is only guarenteed for another month. Kurita could already be rallying troops and supplies already."

"What does Simon have to say?"

Simon Johnson was head of the Lyran Intelligence Corps. "He agrees that it's possible: the Coordinator is rotating regiments through the fighting in the Capellan Confederation. Wolf's Dragoons are her spearhead unit there but she's blooding troops from Galedon and Pesht Districts that haven't seen action in ten years. It's slowing her progress - she's only taken two Capellan words since her first wave last year - but it's got her firebrands focused on the battlefields and not on politics. On the other hand, she isn't fighting the League any more so she probably has the capability to invade us again if she wants."

"If she wants." Morgan repeated that. "I've not met her of course."

"She's an unusual Kurita. Then again, among those misogynists the fact she isn't a man is proof of that." Katrina thought back to her meeting on Mars three years before. "I don't think she'd want to go to war, but she's a pragmatist and if a Warlord launches an attack she'd rather indicate her support for it than look like she can't control him."

"And there's another pressure on her."

"What's that?" asked Kelswa.

"I have reason to believe that Yorinaga Kurita will return to the battlefield."




Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
27 August 3023

The unheralded arrival of Yorinaga Kurita sent ripples through the court. Even the Coordinator was caught somewhat off guard - she had been made aware that a package had crossed the border with the Lyran Commonwealth and reached Echo, but she had half-expected to hear news of her cousin's death, not that he would elude ISF observation and make a covert journey to the capital.

When he walked up the stairs into the open plaza in front of the palace, no small number of people half-expected him to be followed by a host of soldiers. Instead he was alone, wearing a dress uniform that was a little loose on his frame. His swords were clearly in evidence.

Cecilia received him in one of the gardens. It was a familial scene: Siriwan was running across a grass lawn, arms widespread and occasionally making noises she thought were those of the guns and missiles fitted to whatever aerospace fighter had her fancy at the moment. Closer to Cecilia's seat, cribs held the newest additions to the House.

"Jon Kurita," she told Yorinaga, rather that offering a verbal greeting, and lifted her son from his cradle. "The great hope of my critics."

He bowed deeply to the infant Heir-Designate. "All children are the hopes of the future. It's the place of the Kuritas to carry heavier hopes perhaps, but they are the same in the end."

"We shall see how he bears those hopes," Cecilia replied and then returned Jon to his bed before lifting his twin Sanethia up for inspection. Her cousin murmered bland approval and as she returned child to crib the corner of the Coordinator's mouth twitched slightly in amusement at the unconcious partiality being shown. "Are you here to request permission to commit seppuku again? I can see that Akira recovered your swords..."

"My son has reminded me that I still have duties to fulfill in this life before I face the judgement of the afterlife." Yorinaga reached into his jacket and produced a crumpled letter. "His poetry hasn't improved, to judge by what he sent me."

"Oh?"

He surrendered the letter and Cecilia read:

Worthless warror
Without weapon or hope
Yet warrior still

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately it does not appear that Akira is poet of Takashi's stature." Then she read the rest of the letter and a look of annoyance crossed her face. "I did give him a leave of absence to retreive your swords but contracting himself to the Kell Hounds in exchange for them wasn't precisely what I had in mind."

"The young have been known to make foolish decisions," replied her cousin. "I find myself on the horns of a dilemma, Cecilia. There was a second letter, this one from Morgan Kell. I wouldn't be so trite as to claim fate, but I do believe that he and I will meet again, to resolve our... our past. I confess... I am uncertain that I am prepared, but my son has placed us both back in motion regardless and now I may find him on the other side of a battlefield..."

"I have no reason to seek battle with the Kell Hounds," Cecilia offered. "We have peace with both House Steiner and with House Marik, their current employers, should they renew their contract."

"I know what I feel."

For a brief moment they measured each other's confidence in their words.

"If a conflict breaks out with House Steiner, then they would probably not strike into Dieron," Cecilia mused. She glanced over at her elder daughter, ensuring that she was out of earshot. "I cannot send you back to the Second Sword of Light, Yorinaga-san. However, Tai-shu Shotugama is currently organising the Eleventh Pesht Regulars on Kagoshima. Most of the mechwarriors are only recently transferred from the Sun Zhang Academy Cadres. It strikes me that your many virtues would be an excellent example for these young soldiers."

"It would be my honour to serve as their Tai-sa," Yorinaga said with a bow.

"Excellent." She mused for a moment. "You may not have heard that in order to assist Tai-shu Sorenson, who is of course our very distant cousin and a man with a deep historical connection to the Alshain District, in restoring the harmony of the Benjamin District that the Legions of Vega have been allowed to carry out their reorganisation in the area under the guidance of Sho-Sho Tetsuhara, who was once of your regiment."

Yorinaga frowned. "I recall a Tai-i of that name."

"It would perhaps be the same man. Perhaps you could advise me, do you think it would be of benefit to have Tai-shu Shotugama send one of the Pesht regiments to support Sorenson's efforts there."

"It occurs to me that doing so would strengthen the bonds of loyalty among your Warlords, Tono."

"Then perhaps you will renew your acquaintence with the Sho-sho. I believe he makes his headquarters upon Kiamba."




FWLM Encampment, Old Kentucky
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
27 August 3023

I am expendable, Gabriel Quinn reminded as she was marched through the camp under the 'supervision' of FWLM infantrymen. The captain wasn't precisely a prisoner, she'd been admitted under a flag of truce. On the other hand, the acting-commander of a battalion in Hurloc's Hussars, a Capellan battlemech regiment, would not be allowed free run of the facilities.

The man waiting for her was several years her junior but of a far higher rank. General Duncan Marik, nephew of the Captain-General, greeted her more warmly than she had expected. She was, after all, an officer of the nation that he was invading. "Welcome to my humble abode," he declared, with a courteous bow. "Please, take a chair." It was only a camp stool at a table that probably supported maps when the tent was being used for military purposes.

Duncan sat across the table from her. "Tea, coffee, water?"

"Water please."

The General waved to one of the soldiers who had escorted her, who let his carbine hang by it's sling as he poured water from a carafe for her. The other soldier stepped back out of earshot, giving a little privacy for the conversation, and the one playing waiter followed suite.

"So, Captain Quinn. What brings you here to speak to me? Somehow I don't think you're offering terms of surrender."

"No sir." Quinn felt her spine stiffen. "I've been sent to convey a message for you from Chancellor Liao." Long practise kept any resentment from her voice as she said the name.

Duncan nodded. "Alright. What does Mad Max have to say for himself?" He smiled at the disrespectful nickname and despite herself, Quinn found her own lips curving slightly in appreciation of the jest.

"The Chancellor is aware that you have... um, put yourself forward as the next Captain-General."

"Well of course."

Quinn grimaced. "I'm instructed to ask if you are aware that Janos Marik has made arrangements to pass the office to his son Thomas."

The colour drained from Duncan's face. "He's done what!?" He slammed his fists down on the table, spilling water from Quinn's glass. "That's impossible. You're..." He paused. "No, my apologies. Your Chancellor must be lying, although I have no doubt that you are relaying his words honestly. Thomas is ComStar, for crying out loud!"

"I can't speak for the accuracy of the information."

"No no." Duncan shook his head and then gave her a perplexed look. "Why you?"

"Why me what?"

"Why send you?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Did he think that I'd be less inclined to shoot the messenger if this... this tall tale was delivered by a beautiful woman?"

Quinn drained what was left of her water. "I doubt Chancellor Liao would be unduly concerned if you did. I'm not a favorite of his."

Duncan frowned. "It would seem that he doesn't recognise talent then. Your battalion has held up a regiment - understrength, but a regiment - for almost a month."

"I don't think you're really interested in the whole story," Quinn told him. "Suffice to say, he pardoned me of certain military crimes on the petition of his son and now that Tormano is dead, he has no reason to continue his forbearance should I cross his mind again."

"But you still serve him?"

"I serve the Capellan Confederation."

"Your Chancellor would say that he is the Confederation."

"The Confederation is its people. Chancellor Liao is a..." She shook her head. "I say too much. Are you sure this is just water?"

Duncan smiled, reached over to the glass and drank from it himselt. "Just water," he assured her. "So, you're loyal to the Confederation but not to House Liao? Must be problematic."

"And you're loyal to the League even though you may have been supplanted as heir."

"Touche."

"I suppose the question would have to be: what are we going to do about our respective... problems."

Quinn shook her head, as if in resistance to the notion. "With respect sir, we shouldn't be having this conversation. We are enemies."

"Adversaries perhaps." Duncan touched the water on the table, using his finger tip to spread it across the plastic. "But who else can we confide in, hmm? Or do the rest of your battalion feel the same way you do?"

She laughed bitterly at that. "No doubt half of them would turn me into the Maskirova if they heard this."

"And even if SAFE isn't watching me - unlikely - no doubt dear cousin Duggan has his sympathisers amoungst my staff." Duncan shrugged. "But we can't help each other if we don't first help ourselves, or am I wrong?"

"Why are we even talking about helping each other?" Quinn asked, intrigued despite her urge for caution. "This is madness."

"There's nothing mad about self-interest," pointed out Duncan. "And if you can help me become Captain-General then maybe I can help you get rid of House Liao. Or vice versa, whichever order makes most sense."

Quinn hesitated and then - what the hell, the Chancellor would probably send her to her death more successfully one day even if she avoided being executed -  raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."

Full res versions of the maps can be found here: http://ourbattletech.com/downloads/.

Drakensis, I am sure that KM will happily put such a well written story in the downlaods section of OBT as a pdf.  He tends to come through pretty well on that kind of thing, ever for a soccer fan.

Burn.

We call it football. 

Great stuff drakensis! Keep it coming!