Anger exploded in Victor's blue eyes, but he held back his rage. There has to be more I can learn from it. The Twelfth Donegal Guards continued to send us sensitive telemetry as we headed out of the system. These visual images alone give us a better look at the raiders than anything else we've got. He choked back his emotions and nodded slowly. "I hope there is, Hauptmann. Otherwise, so many people will have died in vain."
Galen drew in a deep breath. "Sir, once again I ask that you give my resignation further consideration. I will, at your order, remand myself over for court martial on charges of striking a superior officer."
Victor looked over at the taller man, then shook his head as he strapped himself into the seat. "Yes, Hauptmann, I have considered your request and I apologize for keeping you on the hook for so long. Your resignation has been rejected." He glanced down, no longer able to maintain eye contact with his aide. "I admit that I blamed you for preventing me from trying to help defeat the invaders on Trell I. But no victory on that world would have been possible. I realize that now. As nearly as we know, all resistance to the Jade Falcons ended weeks ago. Even implementation of my plan early on wouldn't have changed that."
Victor raised his hand to forestall any comment by Galen. "Furthermore, I realize that your action probably spurred the men and women of the Twelfth Donegal on to even greater acts of heroism. Their radio chatter makes it clear that they were trying to draw the invaders' attention to themselves and away from me. Many died trying to help me escape. I must do all I can to make good their sacrifice.
"The fact that my father cut orders for me to attend this meeting in no way guarantees that I'll get a combat assignment. My parents would probably like to see me in a staff position with the First Kathil Uhlans. Morgan, on the other hand, might assign me to another line unit, but what general will take the chance that Hawksworth refused?"
Cox nodded. "Damned if you do and damned if you don't ..."
Victor opened his hands, then crossed his fingers. "Real close, but not 100 percent yet. If I can come up with an operation that is sound and has merit, Morgan might just give it to me. Remember, he wasn't that much older than I am now when the Uhlans assaulted the Capellan capital. Morgan won't let me throw away the lives of men and women in some vanity assault, but he will listen to reason."
***
"Looks like quite a reception committee waiting for you, Kommandant."
Victor turned around on the long escalator and looked through the building's glass wall at the five men standing in the blue carpeted visitor's lounge. "Guess it's old home week." He noticed Galen looked somewhat puzzled. "You know who they are, don't you?"
Galen shrugged sheepishly. "I'm afraid I haven't kept up with my reading of Burke's Peerage, Highness." Galen thrust his chin forward. "Perhaps I should just have you knock me out and get me through this."
Victor shook his head, then surreptitiously indicated the first man in line. "You see the one in the black and gold uniform, with the long red hair?"
"Do you mean Marshal Morgan Hasek-Davion?" When Victor looked back and shot him a nasty glance, Galen laughed lightly. "I'm bound to know the supreme commander of the armed forces in which I serve, after all."
"True," Victor said. "The man next to him is LeftenantGeneral Andrew Redburn. Before helping Morgan form the First Kathil Uhlans, Redburn commanded the Davion Light Guards Delta Company in the Fourth War."
Galen's blue eyes focused distantly. 'The St. Andre drop on Cochraine's Goliaths? I remember that being cited at the War College of Tamar as a classic action of maneuverability and surprise defeating larger 'Mechs. Didn't he also handle the defense of Gan Singh?"
Victor nodded. "3042. Some House Marik troops decided it was time to nibble on the Sarna March to see how badly we'd been damaged in the 3039 war against Theodore Kurita. Andrew convinced them, quickly and forcefully, that any weakness on our part was a figment of their imagination."
Galen rubbed his hand over his unshaven chin. "Yeah, I remember that now. I was just coming out of the War College. O.K., so that's who he is. Now what about the two next to him? Those aren't AFFC uniforms."
Victor looked along the line to the next two men. Both wore similar uniforms of red jackets and black trousers tucked into knee-high boots. The jacket was double-breasted and shaped as a hound's-head with ears that rose to each shoulder and a muzzle that fastened down at the jacket's waist. The older Mech Warrior had four ribbons sewn onto the hound's left ear to represent the unit's commendations. He also wore spurs on his boots, marking him as a product of a Federated Suns military academy. The younger man wore no spurs and his jacket showed only one unit commendation ribbon.
"The older man is Lieutenant-Colonel Daniel Allard. He's the commander of the Kell Hounds and the brother of Intelligence Secretary Justin Allard."
Galen squinted at the mercenary. "That's Dan Allard? He seems like he's been around forever."
Victor shook his head. "The white hair is throwing you off. He takes after his father and went white early. He's only in his fifties, though he's been with the Hounds for over thirty years. He was there when they rescued Melissa Steiner in the Silver Eagle incident. Morgan Kell appointed Dan as the Kell Hounds commander when he retired eight years ago."
"And the other man? Who's he?"
Victor hesitated for a moment. "That's my cousin, Christian Kell. He's a Major with the Hounds and commands the First Battalion."
Galen rested a hand on Victor's shoulder. "You say that as though trying to convince yourself he is Christian Kell. Now me, I thought Morgan Kell had only one son—the one who died out in the Periphery last year."
Victor bowed his head. How well you put it, my friend. I do have a hard time believing Chris is Chris because I see so much of his father in him. "Phelan was Morgan Kell's only son. Christian is Patrick Kell's son, but Patrick never knew it at the time he died. Eight years ago, Chris showed up at a world the Kell Hounds were garrisoning and presented Morgan with a verigraphed message from a woman who had been Patrick's lover. It said Christian was Patrick's son."
Galen raised an eyebrow. "The Kell fortunes are known to be vast, and that would have been right after your grandmother left a huge legacy to Morgan Kell. They had him genotyped to verify the claim, didn't they?"
"Yes, though it was hardly necessary." Victor's senior by four years, the tall, slender mercenary towered over him by twenty centimeters and outweighed him by fifteen kilos. In the way he wore his black hair and in the structure of his features, Victor saw a familiar face, but it was of a man who was older and who had died several years before his birth. "Only his brown eyes mark him as different from his father. I only know Patrick Kell from holovids, but the resemblance is eerie. My mother considers it the clearest proof ever offered of reincarnation, notwithstanding the fact that Christian was born almost a year before his father's death."
"Huh." Galen smiled quizzically. "Where did he go to school? Rising to Major so quickly means he must be hot."
Victor took pride in Galen's respectful tone. "He doesn't talk about it much, but he was raised in the Draconis Combine, speaks Japanese fluently, and is reported to be every bit the demon his father was in personal combat. When he arrived, Morgan retired and took Chris to the Dragoons' world of Outreach. For the next three years, Chris studied with the best. Rumor has it that Jaime Wolf even offered him a commission with the Dragoons. He entered the Hounds as a Lieutenant, but worked his way up to Major through his action during the Ambergrist Crisis."
"That's a fast crowd waiting for you." Galen nodded toward the last man in the group. "In that company, the last guy must be Death personified."
It took Victor a moment to recognize him, then he nodded. "Correction. This is the guy Death is afraid of. That's Kai Allard-Liao. He's Dan's nephew and Justin's son. You can't tell it by looking at him, or even by listening to him, but Kai is one of the sharpest tactical minds ground out by any of the Academies since his uncle or Morgan Hasek-Davion graduated. He's got an intuitive
grasp of military situations that's unbelievable. In combat simulations, he moves a 'Mech like it's grafted straight into his brain."
Galen's eyes narrowed. "I hear a 'but' lurking there somewhere. What's the down-side?"
Victor shrugged. "Given the chance, any chance at all, Kai will second-guess and berate himself into indecision and inactivity. And the damnable thing is that it's not just a lack of self-confidence. He knows he's smart, but just can't allow himself to think he'll be just as smart tomorrow or the next day or the next month. When it works, his analytical ability is uncanny at picking out the weaknesses of the enemy."
"He sounds to me like the type of man you bring in to assess a situation in toto, then confine his part of the operation to a narrow field in which he has little room to assess what he must do."
An astute observation, Galen. "I think you may well be right."
Victor bent and hefted the small bag of supplies given him by the Hejira's crew. Stepping off the escalator, he nodded to Galen. "Now that you know who they are, let's go meet them."
Rounding the corner in the circular jetway tunnel, Victor smiled and stripped the glove off his right hand. He stepped into the receiving lounge, then stopped and saluted sharply. "Kommandant Victor Steiner-Davion reporting for duty, sir." Behind him, Galen Cox stopped and saluted as well.
Marshal Morgan Hasek-Davion returned the salute crisply, then extended his hand to Victor. They shook hands, then embraced in back-slapping hugs. "It's good to see you safe, Victor."
Victor nodded, then pulled back away from his cousin. 'This is Hauptmann Galen Cox. He's the reason I'm here." Victor rubbed his jaw. "He has a foolproof method for dealing with officers who are foolish."
Morgan shook Galen's hand, then turned to the others in the greeting party. "You know General Andrew Redburn, of course."
Victor saluted Andrew, then shook his hand. "It is good to see you again, General."
Andrew chuckled lightly. "The last time was when they coerced me into giving a speech at the Nagelring."
"And an excellent presentation it was." Victor looked up and met Andrew's gaze. "It started me thinking about warfare in a different way, bringing home the awesome power we command in a single BattleMech."
Victor moved along to the next man in line and offered him his hand. "Hello, Colonel Allard."
The white-haired mercenary took Victor's hand in a strong grip and pumped his arm warmly. "I'm glad to see you here. I didn't think they could keep you away, but I was afraid someone might be foolish enough to try."
Victor took pleasure in Daniel Allard's sincere greeting. "Thank you, Colonel. I'm glad no one was so foolish as to try to keep the Kell Hounds away." With that, Victor extended his hand to the other Kell Hound.
"Greetings, Major. Very good to see you again."
The haunted look around Christian Kell's eyes vanished as he bowed, then took Victor's right hand into both of his. "I'm surprised to see you here, cousin. There were rumors that you were out in Trail's caverns with a cutting torch and survival knife while the invaders were still crawling over that planet."
Victor laughed and shook his cousin's hand. Chris knew that Victor would never willingly have left his station. "Crazy rumors, I guess, but I do want another go-round with the Jade Falcons. I owe them for the Twelfth Donegal Guards, and we both owe them for Phelan's life."
Chris nodded. "A debt we will repay in full."
Victor smiled gravely, then freed Chris's hand and turned to Kai. "I'm glad to see you here, Kai. These Jade Falcons are unbelievable."
Kai glanced down sheepishly, then met Victor's gaze and warm handshake. "I'm glad you're here, too."
Having greeted them all, Victor became more businesslike. "What's the agenda?" he asked Morgan. "How much time have we?"
"I don't know exactly," Morgan said, "but we're scheduled to meet here over the next eight weeks to study all the data we have on the invaders. By the end of that time—and sooner, if necessary—we'll have gathered the troops and
supplies needed to implement whatever plans we come up with."
Victor looked up at his cousin. "Will I get a command?"
Morgan showed him the barest hint of a smile. "You've already been transferred to the Tenth Lyran Guards at your present rank of Kommandant. Whether or not you'll see combat depends upon what you and the invaders do over the next two months."
Victor nodded grimly. Well, then, I'll just have to prove myself. I may have been born heir to the Lyran Commonwealth and the Federated Suns, but here and now is where I begin to earn the right to rule them.
"Let us go, gentlemen," he said, pointing to the door. "We have a war to plan and to win."
26
JumpShip Dire Wolf, Rasalhague 7
Darkside Rasalhague System, Rasalhague Province, Free Rasalhague Republic
7 July 3050
Water dripping from his face, Phelan Kell straightened up from the sink and stared into the eyes of Kenny Ryan's reflection in the mirror. Behind the pirate chieftain, a half-dozen Periphery bandits stood in a rough semi-circle blocking entrance to the lavatory. Further back, Griff Picon watched the whole scene with an amused look on his face.
Phelan turned slowly. "Sorry, Kenny. My dance card is full." He pulled the towel from his shoulder and wiped his hands.
"Funny, Kell." The small, unkempt man narrowed his rat eyes. "Real funny. You won't be doing much dancing if we decide to take your kneecaps off." The men backing Kenny smiled coldly.
"Oh, I get it." Phelan smiled courteously. "You had a thought, a real thought and you decided to let me in on it. That's real swell, Kenny, and very considerate of you, but I'm not interested." He turned back to the sink full of soapy water, but a hand on his bare shoulder spun him back around again.
"You don't get the picture, Kell." Ryan's cruel expression and greasy brown hair reminded Phelan of a wet rodent. "You've got an in with that Ranna and you're getting special treatment. You're going to help us get the same, or we'll make sure she doesn't think you're so pretty anymore. Got it?"
Ryan started to jab a finger into Phelan's chest, but he never completed the move. The mercenary grabbed the front of the pirate's jumpsuit, hoisted him up, then turned and jammed him, butt first, onto the sink. Warm water splashed everywhere and soaked up through the seat of Ryan's pants, Phelan's left hand slipped up to grab him by the throat and jam his head back against the mirror. Then he half-turned to address Ryan's henchmen. "If any of you interfere, you'll never visit the bondswomen again! Your choice. Walk away now or look forward to being your own best friend for a good long time!"
As the knot of men at his back dissolved, Phelan returned his attention to his captive. "I suppose this has been coming for a long time, quiaff, Kenny? I was hoping you'd behave and maybe even learn how to survive here with the Clans. I guess you're just too stupid to do either."
Phelan released the pressure on Ryan's throat, letting some of the reddish-purple color drain from his face. The pirate knotted his face in a ferocious leer, but his sputtering voice betrayed his fear. "Y-you've done it now, Kell. I've held them back from killing you or hurting you because I told them you'd be useful. No more. You're a dead man."
The mercenary slapped Ryan once, hard. "Don't try to scare me, you jackal. Those monosynaptic, evolutionary anomalies think with their gonads and I just convinced them—without much of a struggle—that my goodwill is their passport to paradise. You also decided, when I first joined this little community, that I could be physically intimidated because of how weak I was back then." Phelan's eyes burned angrily. "Back then, I was coming off months of chemical interrogation. Now I'm back in form, and perhaps even a little bit better, thanks to Ranna and Khan Ulric. I've half a mind to tear off your head and spit down your neck just to prove it to you."
"Go ahead." Ryan locked both of his hands around Phelan's left wrist. "If you think you can do it, go ahead.
You'll find me a little bit more difficult to kill than you think."
The young Kell Hound laughed to himself, then released Ryan and took a couple of steps back. "I'm not going to do it, but not for the reasons you think. You haven't learned the first thing about these people, or our status among them, have you? You don't realize how important it is for me to stay in their good graces, do you?"
"What are you doing that's so special, aside from sucking up to the Khan?"
Phelan let the barb pass without comment. "What you should understand about our masters is that each jump is taking us deeper and deeper into the Inner Sphere."
Ryan cackled contemptuously. "Delicious! And soon High-and-mighty Hanse and Teddy-bear Samurai will be joining us here!"
Phelan snapped Kenny's head back with a slap, denting the mirror. "Idiot! This isn't some holovid drama or staged Solaris championship. People are dying in droves. The Clanspeople are toying with us. They only send down enough troops to make it a good fight. You remember how quickly they went through your people! That's happening all across the Inner Sphere."
The pirate tugged unconsciously at the braided cord encircling his right wrist. "Why should I care about that? Why should I care whether or not the others are getting what I got?" He spat at the floor.
The scorn in Ryan's voice echoed through Phelan's head. He's right, quiaff? It's the arrogance of the Successor States—the same sort of blind stupidity that got DJ killed— that's making them vulnerable to the Clans. You can see, just from working with Ulric and Lara on the Rasalhague bid, that the Clans are not invincible. Others should be able to see the chinks in their armor, too, but they're too busy hanging on for retirement or studying up to win that next promotion. They just don't think anymore and you don't owe them a thing.
He shook his head to clear away such thoughts. "Civilization is dying around us. The Clans strip away the best and the brightest from the worlds they take. They impose martial law. They're crushing Rasalhague and destroying the hopes of millions. Someone has to stop them."
Lethal heritage Page 23
