Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
4 January 3014
"What was that?" Hanse Davion exclaimed in disbelief, his tone sharp as he stood in the shade of his Battlemaster.
His distant cousin Jessica nodded to confirm her previous words. "The Coordinator is here. On this very planet. The message calls for a forty-eight hour ceasefire so that the two of you can talk privately."
"It has to be a trap."
Hanse glanced around the group. Ardan Sortek's opinion wasn't one likely to rouse dissent in the group, even if the Captain was by far the most junior officer present. The new First Prince had pulled the Seventeenth Avalon Hussars regiment away from its accompanying tank and infantry forces to bolster the Second Davion Guards in this attack, expecting to have at least a two to one advantage over any likely garrison at the new supply base. But if the Coordinator was here, and expecting him... "It's possible," he agreed. "But we might have caught Kurita on the hop as well. If we've caught him by surprise then maybe he's the one who thinks we have him mouse-trapped. If not, I'd expect him to be attacking by now."
The other Marshal, Addley Verner, was in his 'Mech so that a sneak attack couldn't wipe out the entire command group but he was able to participate over an encrypted radio. "Forty-eight hours isn't long enough to bring in reinforcements unless they're already en route."
"No one's in the system that we know of, but they could be planning to use one of the pirate points that we did."
Another good point from Ardan but Hanse didn't think he'd take the advice this time. He was curious. "Where does he want to meet me?"
Jessica used a swagger stick to point at a map spread out on the Battlemaster's foot. "Right about there."
"No... I don't like that." Hanse tapped another point, this one closer to the ruins that were his primary goal here: ruins of a Star League era university that he didn't think that the Combine knew about yet. Or maybe they did. "We'll move along the river here and form up on the north bank. There's a ford here where the river bends, should be nice open ground on our side of the river. I'll meet him on the north shore at noon tomorrow. If things go wrong - well, we're two hundred kilometers closer to our objective."
"And two hundred kilometers further from our dropships," she pointed out.
"That's why he won't expect it."
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
5 January 3014
The details had taken some planning but an hour before noon with the ground examined thoroughly by AFFS infantry, a DCMS convoy crossed the ford and with ostentatious care to ensure that they were clearly in view at all times, they set up a spacious pavilion next to the water before inviting Hanse to send an aide to ensure that no trickery had taken place. Ardan, despite his suspicions, had found nothing of note to report although he had been chagrined when all but one of the DCMS soldiers departed across the river, indicating that the exception must be the Coordinator.
However, when Hanse opened the flap of the tent, the only person present was a woman not many years his junior, wearing the heavy boots and abbreviated shorts and halter of a mechwarrior under an open-fronted robe elaborately embroidered with dragons. Having come directly from the field, the Prince wasn't wearing dress uniform himself but he was fairly sure that this was not Takashi Kurita.
"When will Takashi Kurita arrive?" he asked bluntly, not yet stepping inside. Was the woman an assassin?
She shook her head, lustrous black hair rippling. "As the Obon Festival was three days ago, my late cousin will not be present even in spirit, your highness."
What? Hanse scrambled mentally to address this situation. Takashi's son was sixteen - not an ideal age but the only other close relative he had had was his nephew Isoroku, himself only seventeen. But surely... there hadn't been a female Coordinator of the Draconis Combine in almost four hundred years.
"Please, come in and sit." The woman gestured towards the table. "There was an incident upon New Samarkand that you are perhaps unaware of. Our security is excellent, as you may be aware. Certain of House Kurita were invited onwards to explain their complicity to their ancestors and their victims. I gather that your own family is not entirely amicable with regard to your succession."
The reference to the recent assassination attempt - almost certainly Michael Hasek-Davion's doing - tightened Hanse's face but he stepped inside. "My condolences on your losses..." he offered, fishing for her name.
She bowed her head. "I offer my own, your brother was a formidable foe to my cousin but also a respected one. But I am being impolite. I am Cecilia Kurita and you, of course, are the famous Hanse Davion."
Cecilia... The prince searched his memory. Ah, the youngest grandchild of Hugai Kurita by his son Undell. That would make her Takashi's first cousin. Born around... twenty five, maybe twenty-six years ago and a graduate of the Sun Tzu School of Combat rather than the better known Sun Zhang academy. She'd hardly registered when he was last briefed on House Kurita's scions, something that he suspected he might now regret.
"Your invitation said you wanted to talk, Coordinator. In my culture, ladies go first."
"In mine the Coordinator speaks first, a pleasing convergence," she observed, crossing her legs. Hanse was uncomfortably reminded she was not the middle-aged samurai he had expected. Don't be a damn fool, he thought. She's a Kurita.
"We both know the implications of the supply centre that has been established here," Cecilia observed. "I am not surprised that you would order an attack. However, while I would have anticipated the presence of your brother at the head of his soldiers, your reputation suggests you would not unless there was something more valuable here."
She knows!
She nodded. "Yes, the university ruins and the vault discovered within them. My engineers haven't quite cracked it yet, we don't want to risk damage to the contents. For this reason I am here along with the First and Seventh Sword of Light regiments."
Hanse calculated briefly. The two regiments were the equivalent of his on Davion Guards. The Seventeenth Avalon Hussars were a good regiment, but not quite equivalent - particularly since the Sword of Light regiments were typically reinforced with a fourth battalion. While he could probably rely on a slight advantage in tanks and infantry, it was a close match and edged slightly to favour the defenders.
"Under these circumstances, I have a good chance of defeating you - perhaps even seeing you perish as your brother did," Cecilia continued calmly. "As you might imagine, such a feat would do much to elevate me in the eyes of my countrymen."
"Then why talk?"
She made a sharp gesture. "Because I am thinking larger than that." Her tongue darted along her lips, a hint of nervousness that Hanse was pleased to see. She's as new to this as I am. "You have an heir in your nephew and your realm would be intact. I might have a momentary advantage - enough to take one or even two war torn worlds away from you perhaps. In the end, what difference would that make?"
"Quite a lot for the people on those worlds."
"I grant your point, but in the long run? Two hundred and thirty years of war and our borders are no more than thirty light years from where they started, with gains and losses just about even. How much of our people's wealth and lives were spent to accomplish so little?"
Hanse nodded. "A great number. Of course, without both our efforts to that effect, one or the other of us might have won by now."
"We're evenly matched, in other words." Cecilia raised her index finger and then pointed it at Hanse like a gun. "I've heard that you're an educated man. Are you familiar with the prisoner's dilemma?"
"They both stay quiet and neither goes to jail. One gives evidence for immunity and the other takes the full blame and full punishment. Or both betray the other and they both get a slightly lesser punishment."
"Exactly." She lowered her finger. "Our nations have the strongest militaries in the Inner Sphere. If we weren't at each other's throats all the time, what could we accomplish?"
It was a good point but the corollary was obvious. "And if one of us 'gives evidence' then the other one is going to take a beating that would make John Davion flinch in sympathy," he replied, referencing the ancestor who had died fighting against a DCMS offensive that had driven almost to New Avalon precisely because the Draconis March had been stripped in favour of the Capellan March.
"Both our armies were twice the size back then and we had navies worthy of the name," she pointed out. "Which probably hasn't affected your overall capability much since back then - since we're being honest - the AFFS was less of a threat than the Lyrans and their navy was worse."
"And the DCMS was ready to carry out the Kentares Massacre."
She paused at that and looking at her face Hanse felt slightly guilty for using that particular incident against her. But not very guilty. It was the truth after all.
"Very well," Cecilia agreed after a long, empty moment. "What you say is true. But it has to end somewhere."
"What do you suggest?"
She leant forward and Hanse couldn't help but notice how much skin was bared. He was a mature adult and a mechwarrior, not unused to women dressed like this, but most of the time there was a cooling vest to provide more coverage and hide curves. Current court fashions weren't that revealing either. "Let's start here."
"What do you want, a hug?"
Cecilia gave him a long look. "Maybe later. I was thinking we could share whatever is in the cache."
"We don't even know what's in there." Is she flirting with me!? Hanse thought incredulously. Her Warlords would kill her if they found out. Aaron Sandoval would probably try to kill me if he was here.
"Then let’s find out." She gave him a challenging look. "There's always tomorrow if we decide we'd rather kill each other."
Hanse considered that. If things went badly at least his forces would be closer to their objectives. Granted, so would the Sword of Light, but it saved having to fight across hundreds of kilometers to reach the ruins. "Alright." He couldn't help but think that this might be a trap but something - hormones, possibly - told him that this wasn't a military trap. Perhaps political, but not military.
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
6 January 3014
There was something deeply unnatural about watching combat engineers from both armies work together to open the vault that had been uncovered in constructing the depot. The soldiers could feel it as well, but under the eyes of their monarchs they simply carried out their jobs with a minimum of conversation even amongst their own contingents.
Senior officers did not seem to feel that they were under the same constraints however.
"Sire, do I really need to list the ways that this is a bad idea?"
A battalion of the Davion Guards and the Sword of Light were boxing in the site with less than a kilometer between them. Each was spearhead to battle groups that if they started a fight would level the entire site more or less incidentally. And in the middle, on foot, were two platoons of combat engineers, two platoons of body-guards and about the same number of staff officers from both sides.
"No Ardan, you don't. But the rewards are worth the risk."
"I still can't believe that she's the Coordinator." A decade younger than his prince, Ardan was no more immune to Cecilia Kurita's good looks, plainly visible even across the site from where she stood. She wore the black tunic and pants of a senior DCMS officer, but unlike those clustered around her, a red mantle hung from her shoulders, marking her as the Coordinator. Similarly, with no intention that fighting begin today, Hanse had ordered his own officers out of battledress and they wore the dark green jacket and pants of their dress uniforms although none had donned the heavy sunburst vests that usually went with them.
Hanse nodded in response. "I'm not sure all of her people believe it," he agreed as one of the officers around the young Coordinator started to express himself in a loud and angry voice. "Can anyone make that out?"
An officer with the rank and branch insignia of an infantry Captain cocked his head. "He objects to our presence and is comparing the Coordinator’s judgment unfavorably to that of her predecessor."
"No surprise there then." Hanse watched Cecilia's reaction. She appeared bored by the rant, something that was stoking the samurai to red-faced fury. Then she raised one hand, snapped her fingers and pointed at the officer with the same finger she had aimed at Hanse the previous day.
There was a gunshot.
Cecilia did not appear concerned or even particularly interested in the collapsing corpse of the man who had been haranguing her. In fact, her expression remained as bored as before, although she did start to speak.
"What is she saying?"
The captain cleared his throat. "'As the Dragon I encourage you at appropriate times and always in a respectful manner to question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan I've decided is the wisest, tell me so. I promise you here and now no subject will ever be taboo.'"
Ardan's jaw dropped. "She just had that guy shot for disagreeing with her and now she says it's okay for them to do that? What a snake!"
"Sometimes, Ardan, it's what a Drac' doesn't say that matters."
"That's correct," agreed the infantryman - actually part of the expedition’s military intelligence section. "She said it was okay for someone to query her politely and at a proper time. The implication is that she didn't execute the man for what he said, but for how or when he said it."
"It's still not going to make her popular."
"The Coordinator rarely is and as a woman she will be much less so. But it reinforces discipline and thereby strengthens her position. Remember, the Coordinator might legally be an absolute ruler but in practice her authority will depend on her ability to impose her will on those around her."
"Ah. Like you and Hasek-Davion?"
"It's a little more blatant than that, but basically," Hanse agreed. Ardan wasn't stupid, after all.
There was a boom from the vault entrance as the DCMS engineers used the holes they had been drilling to blow open part of the doorframe. "Sounds like they're making progress," he continued as an AFFS squad moved up with a jack to start forcing the door open.
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
6 January 3014
Strictly speaking the engineers had been the first into the vault, but they had only flashed torches around briefly to check there were no signs of booby traps or an incipient collapse. Hanse was barely able to restrain himself from rushing in after them. It was worse than Christmas when he was a boy: he'd usually had some idea what his family would be giving him, but this was a genuine mystery.
The moment he received an all-clear Hanse scrambled down into the vault in an undignified fashion, taking a powerful torch from one of the engineers. Behind him he heard footsteps as others crowded after him but ignoring them he snapped on the torch and played it over the contents.
Shelves. Dozens of shelves.
And stacked on them were treasures more valuable than gold or diamonds.
There was a low whistle from Ardan at the sight of thousands of books and computer memory cubes.
"I would have to agree," Cecilia observed in a reverential tone. "This has to be the greatest find in hundred years."
"Perhaps the largest since the Dead Sea scrolls," agreed Hanse, walking forwards to examine the shelves more closely. "Except these aren't literature or history. This is technical material."
"I think there's some of the former." She flashed her own torch around, the beam casting strange shadows on the dust-covered walls. "But I don't imagine that it would have been prioritised for a secret stash like this."
"The greatest prize we could ever fight over, and I agreed to split it." Hanse couldn't help but laugh. Even half of this was beyond price.
There was only the slightest scrape of metal against leather to start Hanse turning before he heard the MilInt officer speak: "That won't be necessary, your highness."
Reflexively Hanse threw himself aside before he realised that the laser wasn't aimed at him and that his attempt to dodge had actually thrown him into the weapons path. There was a burning pain from his right forearm, which almost instantly exploded in agony as he landed on the injured limb.
The boom of Ardan's sidearm gave him something to focus on and as he rolled over he saw the treacherous gunman fall, blood fountaining from what had been his head. There was a metal ornament jutting from below the man's waist and it took Hanse a moment to focus and recognise it as the hilt of a knife.
"Medic!" snapped a sharp voice he recognised as Cecilia a moment before she moved into his field of view, catching his right arm before it flopped onto the ground. "I see your arm," she told him. "Were you hit anywhere else?"
"I don't think so." Hanse looked up as a dozen bodyguards tried to jostle their way through the limited access to the vault, DCMS and AFFS rubbing shoulders heedlessly. "One of yours?"
"I don't know," she replied, producing a small knife from her sleeve and slashing open the arm of his jacket with a smooth gesture. Contrary to popular belief, laser wounds do not self-cauterize. "But he was aiming at me so it appears I owe my life to your gallantry."
One of the soldiers almost provoked a crisis, aiming his carbine at the Coordinator. "Drop the knife!"
"Put your gun down!" Ardan snapped as Cecilia stared coolly at what had all the potential of a further bloodbath. "The Coordinator just helped me kill an assassin and she's tending the Prince's wound."
A man in the elaborate robes adopted by the mystics of the Physicians of the Dragon pushed aside the infantryman, DCMS soldiers making respectful room for him. Cecilia moved aside for him to examine the injury. Mumbling a prayer, the surgeon examined the wound. "This is not life threatening," he assured Hanse after a moment. "Bear the pain bravely and with the Blessing of the Dragon you will recover quickly."
Hanse rolled his eyes. He knew the Physicians of the Dragon were perfectly capable surgeons but had no patience with their superstitious mumblings.
"This man threw himself in the path of a shot meant for me. Clearly he lacks neither courage, nor the blessing of the Dragon." There were gasps from soldiers on both sides at Cecilia's announcement.
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
6 January 3014
Hanse had been prescribed painkillers but had left the pills in his tent. For some things, traditional remedies were best and he'd been keeping two bottles of brandy in his Mech for the next time he saw Ian. One had seen him through the night he'd heard of his brother's death. This seemed as good a time as any to finish off the other one.
"I hope you didn't take your medicine before drinking that," a newly-familiar voice chastised him as he sat on the foot of his 'Mech and poured out a second glass.
"What are you, my mother?" he asked, craning his neck around to see a cloaked figure kneeling in the shadow cast by the Battlemaster's ankle.
Cecilia laughed and held up a bottle just far enough for him to see the label describing it as plum brandy. "Hardly. I just don't like drinking alone."
Hanse stood and moved to join her, placing the glass in front of her before sitting on the grass next to her. Fishing into a pocket, he produced a thick plastic evidence bag containing the knife that had been embedded in the assassin's groin. "Yours, I think."
"Thank you." She opened the bag and stashed the weapon somewhere about her person.
"I have to wonder though - a gun would have stopped him faster."
Cecilia chuckled and picked up the glass of brandy, sipping the contents appreciatively. "I barely qualified with small arms at school but I'm quite good with a kunai."
"Oh?" He couldn't imagine that was part of the usual education of a Kurita princess.
"I was the most terrible tomboy," she admitted, brushing back her hood. "I wanted to be a ninja, or failing that, to join DEST. With a child's romanticised notion of both, of course. And since I didn't meet DEST qualifications, being one of the Coordinator’s samurai and defending the Combine that way was an achievable ambition. I'm still sneaky though, witness my presence on your side of the camp."
"Ah. What unit?"
"Tai-i Cecilia Kurita, acting commander, Fourth Battalion of the First Prosperina Hussars," she said, bowing slightly. "I might even have been confirmed as Sho-sa next year if Marcus wasn't an ambitious idiot."
Marcus was - had been, presumably - her oldest brother, the Commander of Takashi's bodyguard regiment the Otomo and a former Warlord of Rasalhague. Hanse didn't have any difficulty believing that he might have tried to murder his cousins of the Kurita principal lineage in order to elevate himself to Coordinator. The only surprise was that he had half-succeeded.
He wouldn't pretend at false sympathy, besides he'd already offered his condolences yesterday, but her admission seemed to call for something on his part. "You realise I wasn't trying to take the shot instead of you."
Cecilia nodded in reply and drained the glass. "Of course. Neither of us had the time for that - I'm impressed enough you could do anything before he shot - you must have reflexes like a cat. But my version made for a better story. I didn't hear you contradict me earlier."
Hanse refilled her glass and then drank from the bottle. "As you say, it's a good story. Very... romantic. Almost half my officers don't think I should shoot you. Drag you to New Avalon in chains perhaps..."
"Whips and chains do not excite me," she told him drily.
"... that's good to know." He cleared his throat. "So how should we divide the spoils?"
"Well the simplest way would be for one of us to divide it into two halves and the other picks who gets which half. It keeps us both relatively honest."
"Sounds fair."
"True. But lacks a certain drama."
"Drama?" The bottle had ample brandy left to refill her glass once more, so Hanse did so and then raised the bottle to his lips again. "This isn't exactly a production of Shakespeare."
Cecilia drank from the glass while he drained the bottle of all but the dregs. "And yet how did your Bard put it: 'all the world's a stage'? This is politics, dear prince. The grandest stage for theatre and if we don't put on a show then being booed off of it might have terminal consequences."
"Should we fight a duel over it?"
He was rewarded for that proposal with a dazzling smile. "I like the way you think, Hanse. Maybe if you divide the books, I divide the memory cubes and the winner of the duel gets first and third selection out of the four groups."
"Well since we're being so friendly... sure," Hanse agreed before shifting position to discard the almost empty bottle gave his right arm a chance to remind him that he wasn't entirely ready for battle at the moment. "How about next week when my arm's healed?"
"How about the day after tomorrow and I'll grant you a twenty-five ton weight advantage?" She removed the cork from her bottle of plum brandy. "It gives us a day to divide up the contents of the vault and to recover from our hangovers." She poured a good measure into her glass and handed it to him.
Hanse accepted it cautiously with his left hand. "This is strong?" he asked, sniffing at it.
"It'll put steel in your spine," she assured him. "Along with other parts of your anatomy."
"Wha-" he began and then watched in bemusement as she placed her lips around the neck of the bottle and all but sucked a healthy measure out of it. "Coordinator are you trying to seduce me?"
Although she remained on her knees, Cecilia raised herself upright. "We are the masters of hostile nations, Hanse. The last marriage between our Houses led to a war even in the age of the Star League. And we have just agreed to face each other in a duel that could easily kill one of us. To desire you as a lover under these circumstances would be madness."
Then she leant forwards, propping herself up on one hand as she met his eyes with no more than two yards between them. "Now I have a question for you, First Prince."
"Oh."
"Is it working?"
Hanse swallowed, although there was no brandy in his mouth. "Cecilia, this is a very bad idea."
"Apocalyptically so, but you are avoiding the question." She shuffled herself closer, eyes intent like those of a hunter.
A mouthful of plum brandy didn't help his mind work but it did loosen his tongue. "Why."
"Hatred has a reason for everything." She took the glass out of his hand and placed it carelessly on the grass, not caring that it tipped over and spilled the contents. "But love is unreasonable."
"I can't marry you," he protested, placing his hands on Cecilia's shoulders to halt when she leant closer to kiss him.
Cecilia took his left wrist and firmly pushed it aside, knowing that Hanse's right arm couldn't stop her in its current injured state. "Hanse, I can't promise you more than tonight," she pointed out regretfully and then closed the last distance between them.
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
8 January 3014
Hanse cursed as he twisted his Battlemaster for what felt like the thousandth time, trying to bring his weapons to bear on his elusive adversary. As he'd guessed from her comment about 'spotting him twenty-five tons', Cecilia piloted one of the Combine's trademark Dragon heavy 'Mechs, albeit the variation known as a Grand Dragon. Little more than two-thirds the mass of his own machine and with less than two-thirds the armour that sounded like the odds favoured him, but any Mechwarrior knew that things were rarely as clean-cut as that.
The open ground decided on for the duel was allowing Cecilia to wring out every ounce of the Grand Dragon's greater speed and agility pushing it further than he had thought possible. Even worse, Hanse's Battlemaster was a D model, trading short-ranged missiles and rear-firing lasers for more armour and heatsinks. Unfortunately, that left an arc of almost sixty degrees behind his left shoulder that only the machine guns in his 'Mech's left arm could bear on and Cecilia was proving infernally good at keeping herself both in that arc and outside the reach of the machine guns.
"Hanse, you need to get around and bring your weapons to bear on her," Ardan urged him over the radio.
"Tell me something I don't already know!" He regretted taking out his frustration on his friend. "Sorry Ardan, but I can't just hop around the way your Victor does."
Breaking into a run straight forwards - and therefore directly away from his opponent - Hanse jammed one foot into the earth and pivoted the massive Battlemech to his right, hoping that he would be able to turn faster than Cecilia could circle around him.
It wasn't the first time he'd tried the tactic - sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. In this case it did bring his opponent into view but Cecilia had backed away, meaning that between them they'd opened the range past five hundred metres and his medium lasers wouldn't be any use. The big Donal PPC in his 'Mech's right fist fired a coherent beam across the distance handily though, and left a satisfactory scar in the armour over the left side of the Grand Dragon's angled chest.
Then he was rattled around in his straps as explosions blossomed around Hanse's canopy and his display fuzzed into unintelligible static. He knew what that meant - it had happened just a few minutes before - Cecilia had managed to deliver a flight of long range missiles directly into his face. He didn't think he was being dismissive to call it luck: while Cecilia had demonstrated an impressive ability to out-maneuver him, her gunnery wasn't remarkable.
Fortunately for the distraction caused by the missiles, the Coordinator had elected not to fire her own PPC. Most likely she was having to manage her heat carefully, Hanse understood that it was an issue with the Grand Dragon that many DCMS warriors had trouble with, being used to the cool-running Dragon.
When his display failed to clear, he glanced at the secondary systems monitor and snarled. The main sensors were out, and so was his radio. Worse, the armour around the cockpit was completely compromised. If Cecilia managed to land another hit on it then he'd die and while the odds were against it happening, she'd been luckier than he liked. Combined with her skill...
Okay, he was going to concede. But how? He didn't have a radio and just retreating would make the wrong impression. He couldn't believe that he was worrying about appearances when his life was on the line, clearly Cecilia's insanity was contagious.
Hmm. Maybe that would work. Punching two controls, he cleared the display, leaving himself piloting only by what he could see out of the canopy, and released the Donal PPC from the hand of his Battlemaster.
Ahead of him he could see the Grand Dragon hesitate as it raised its PPC to fire a shot into him. Focusing on using the gyro to keep the assault Mech balanced, Hanse tilted the Battlemaster;s torso forward in a shallow bow aware that by doing so he was leaving the cockpit even more exposed.
When he looked up he saw that the Grand Dragon's arm was raised vertically in triumphant salute. Sharply it brought the arm down and then bowed towards him, exactly as far as he had done.
Halstead Station, Ashio Prefecture
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
9 January 3014
"Congratulations on winning the duel," Hanse told Cecilia. There were a hundred other things he wanted to say, but there wasn't enough privacy with which to say them. Even thought they were sitting alone at a small table at the edge of the AFFS camp, at least a hundred soldiers had them in view.
She nodded serenely. "You fought with great honour, Prince Davion. The more so because you recognised when there was nothing more to gain and chose not to fight."
"What would you have done if I'd kept fighting?"
"Cursed you for a fool, prayed to the gods and then aimed low."
"It's good to know you had a plan."
"I always have plans, your highness. They don't always work but I always have them." Cecilia glanced over to where Hanse's share of the Halstead Station library was being loaded onto a dropship. "Four days ago we agreed to share the cache and we would appear to have succeeded in that. Have you given any thought to the rest of my proposal?"
Hanse nodded his head. "I have. Let's take another step together. When I get back to the Federated Suns, I'll order an immediate ceasefire. No attacks, not even a raid, on the worlds controlled by the Draconis Combine as long as you do the same. Let's see how well that works out."
From the knowing smile on Cecilia's face she had some idea how difficult it would be to persuade Aaron Sandoval and his Marshals that they should refrain from baiting the Dragon. Then again, she'd have to convince three Warlords to do the same so perhaps that wasn't surprising.
"Thank you, your highness," she replied and then lowered her voice slightly. "Perhaps we can afford one more step."
"Another step? Are you sure the universe can survive such drastic reconciliation between our realms?"
To Hanse's surprise, Cecilia smirked at the feeble joke. "I know a few people who might not survive it," she observed. "We both have half the library, but data can be copied. Once we've had a chance to take stock of our respective information why don't we exchange copies. That way we'll both have complete copies... or at least complete except for any little secrets we might hold back."
"Are you suggesting I'd be anything less than honest?" asked Hanse, a look of offended hauteur on his face. He managed to maintain the demeanor while the corners of Cecilia's lips twitched furiously but couldn't help but chuckle as a giggle escaped her at the effrontery of the remark.
They had to quickly restore their composure as Jessica Davion approached. "Your highness, we're ready to load your 'Mech."
Looking around, Hanse saw soldiers striking camp. The tanks had been first to load and then the bulk of the battlemech regiments. Now that the infantry were packing, only the perimeter force of two Avalon Hussar companies remained on guard while the force prepared to depart.
"I suppose this is goodbye then," Hanse said, standing.
Cecilia bowed her head. "Sayonara Davion Hanse-san." Then she rose sharply and turned her back on him, returning to the staff car that waited, surrounded by a light lance of Panthers.
"She's not the average Snake, is she?" Jessica observed.
"No," the First Prince agreed thoughtfully. "She isn't."
