She shrugged ever so slightly. "The idea occurred as you made your way over here. Please, do not fear. Your sister is safe with Hohiro ..."
"I have nothing to fear from your brother, outside of a boxing ring, that is."
Omi reached up and stroked the side of his face. "I see that. It does not hurt?"
The similarity of her gesture to that of his sister Katherine struck Victor immediately, but their contrasts separated them easily in his mind. Katherine went at the bruise as if it were a dirt smudge that could be cleaned off. Omi is far more gentle and caring.
"It doesn't hurt anymore." Victor looked around. "Lots of prying eyes here. Would you care to join me for a walk in the garden?"
"I would be pleased to, but Tharkad's climate is a bit... I have yet to acclimate to it and despite the thaw, it is cold." Omi nodded toward the French doors leading out to the darkened garden. "No one else is foolish enough to have ventured out there."
Victor caught the secondary meaning in her statement. And for you and I to leave together, unchaperoned, would be unseemly. "You're right, of course, Omiko. Having grown up here I think of the weather now as wonderful, but I know not everyone would see it that way. Perhaps, as the conference continues, I will able to prove this to you."
"I shall cherish your efforts in this regard." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And I would relish time well away from where I feel on display."
Before Victor could comment, Morgan Hasek-Davion and his wife approached them, smiling as they came. Kym clung to her husband's arm affectionately, momentarily reminding Victor of times when he had seen his parents together in similar settings. With Morgan in the black and gold uniform of the First Kathil Uhlans, and his wife wearing a gold gown trimmed in black, they made a matched set that seemed to Victor more elegant than any other couple present. White locks lightened her gold hair, just as traces of white streaked his red mane, but their eyes and smiles contained enough life to belie their fifty-five years.
"I hope I'm not interrupting, Victor, but Kym was saying she felt the reception hall was a bit crowded. I suggested we wander off and tour the gallery your grandmother maintained of bronzes." Morgan jerked his head back toward the stairs and the doorway behind them that led to the gallery. "The soldiers posted there said access was restricted."
Victor blinked. "They wouldn't let you enter?"
"No. I was thinking they could hardly refuse you." Morgan grinned easily. "Perhaps if you would like to show Lady Omi the bronzes, Kym and I could tag along."
Omi smiled briefly, then glanced down at the ground. "I should enjoy seeing the bronzes, but I would not intrude upon the time you wish to spend with your wife, Marshal Hasek-Davion."
Kym reached out and touched Omi on the arm. "It would not be an intrusion. I recall very well feeling as if I were in a glass bubble when I first knew Morgan. At the time he was Hanse Davion's heir and the most eligible bachelor in the whole of the Inner Sphere—Hanse was betrothed to Melissa by then, you see. I always felt I was being gawked at, except when I was with friends. Touring the gallery with you and Victor would be being with friends and therefore delightful. In fact, if what Morgan has told me of the gallery is accurate, we could easily get lost and never see each other."
Victor looked up at Morgan. "I appreciate this effort, Morgan."
"Victor Davion, you can think I'm making this suggestion to allow you and Lady Omi to slip away, but that's because you underestimate how much I would truly like to show that gallery to my wife. You should know, after all, how much time we already spend apart, and how much time we are likely to be apart in the future." Morgan took Kym's hand in his own. "And you should know I've learned to relish what little time I have to spend with the woman I love."
Omi folded her hands together. "Victor, I see no way we can fail to assist them. To do so would be most ungracious and rude."
"As always, Omi, you are as wise as you are beautiful." Victor smiled at her. "Shall we ask your brother and my sister to join us?"
Omi cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hohiro has little interest in bronzes, I think. This deficiency should be corrected, but not tonight."
"No, not tonight." Victor waved toward the doorway with his right hand. "Please, if you will join me in the bronze gallery, it would be my pleasure, my extreme pleasure, to share its wonders with you."
6
Grand Ballroom, Royal Court The Triad
Tharkad City, Tharkad
District of Donegal, Lyran Alliance
3 October 3058
Victor looked about the room and marveled at how, in two days, his sister's people had transformed the Grand Ballroom of the Royal Palace into a meeting room. The delegation tables had been laid out in an octagon. Several rings of tables and seats on risers backed the main tables, creating an amphitheatre arrangement. Data terminals sat on all of the tables, the cables that linked them snaking down beneath the stands.
A dais and podium stood at the top of the octagon, leaving the speaker's back exposed to the staircase leading down into the chamber. Standards from each of the nations represented had been placed on the stairs to form a dramatic backdrop for the speakers, and a circle of holographic projection plates had been placed at the heart of the octagon so any data a delegate wanted to share could be displayed easily. Present in the room were enough security personnel from each nation that despite the speaker having his back to the entrance and stairs, he would hardly be vulnerable.
Besides, all the attacks will be coming from within the octagon, not outside it. To the podium's left was the table shared by ComStar and the Free Rasalhague Republic.
Prince Haakon Magnusson and the Precentor Martial were accorded equal standing despite the fact that Magnusson's nation had been all but overrun by the Clans and only continued its existence because of ComStar's victory at Tukayyid. ComStar had effectively established the seven remaining Rasalhague worlds as a protectorate and Magnusson's presence was really a courtesy.
Victor's table came next, and he was fairly certain his sister had seated him there so he and his delegates would have to turn in their chairs to face the speaker. It was no real hardship, of course, just one of those little inconveniences that made life annoying. She wants me distracted, but she doesn't realize it will take a lot more than this to turn me from my purpose. Victor smiled. Of course, I am going to have to get Morgan Hasek-Davion to shift over to my left so I can actually see the podium.
To the left of Victor's table came the one originally given over to the St. Ives Compact. Candace Liao and Kai Allard-Liao still had their places there, but Candace had graciously allowed Morgan Kell and his son Phelan to appropriate half of it. This gave the Arc-Royal Defense Cordon the status of a nation-state, something Victor was certain his sister would protest. Though the St. Ives Compact was not very big, and the Arc-Royal Defense Cordon had not seceded from the Lyran Alliance, the leaders of both groups were, along with the Precentor Martial, the most seasoned and experienced warriors on hand.
Beyond them, arranged to face the speaker's podium directly, was the Lyran Alliance table. Though made of identical blond oak and shaped just like all the rest, it look different somehow. Victor noticed that his sister's golden hair seemed to shine more brightly as well. Glancing up, he noticed a pair of pinpoint spotlights in the constellation of lights above. The illumination is meant to suggest that Katherine is enlightened. I wonder if the lights will follow her to the podium, too?
Thomas Marik and was seated at the table located to Katherine's left. Victor found it interesting that Isis Marik chose to sit with her father instead of her betrothed, Sun-Tzu. There is doubtless something significant to all this. I'll have to ask Jerry what he makes of it. Victor realized that Isis was really a cipher. He'd met her years ago on Outreach, but she'd always remained in the shadow of her father or fiance.
Victor slowly smiled. I wonder how she'd react if she knew that the man seated beside her is not her father, not the rightful heir to the Captain-Generalcy of the Free Worlds
League? Genetic tests run at the New Avalon Institute of Science had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Thomas Marik leading the Free Worlds League was not a Marik at all. Though no one had been able to prove where the man had come from, Victor felt certain he was a double that ComStar had substituted for a dead or dying Thomas Marik after an assassination attempt in 3035. It was even possible that the real Thomas was still alive somewhere.
The irony of it was that the fake Thomas had turned out to be more effective than almost any true Marik before him, and under his rule the Free Worlds League had come into full flower as a power in the Inner Sphere. Isis' impending marriage to Sun-Tzu would unite the Free Worlds League with the Capellan Confederation, creating a huge nation and a deadly enemy for Victor's own Federated Commonwealth. And giving them a bomb for a wedding present would probably be frowned upon.
Directly across from the Federated Commonwealth's table sat the Draconis Combine's table. Hohiro Kurita flanked his father on the right and Narimasa Asano, now one of the Coordinator's closest advisors, sat at Theodore's left. Omi sat behind and above her father in the first row of the seats ringing the octagon. Victor looked up and thought he caught her eye, but he couldn't be certain since any number of other things could explain the trace of a smile on her face.
The Capellan Confederation table completed the octagon. Sun-Tzu sat there with Wu Kang Kuo, commander of the Harloc Raiders. They were the Liao unit that had been sent to Coventry, and their presence at the conference was by Sun-Tzu's invitation. Prior to Coventry, the Capellan Confederation had not committed troops against the Clans. Victor had found Wu to be an intelligent and thoughtful man. Perhaps he'll be able to talk some sense to Sun-Tzu.
Anastasius Focht, Precentor Martial of ComStar, mounted the dais and approached the podium. He stood tall and lean, unbowed by his years. His thick white hair contrasted with the black of the eye patch over his right eye. The other eye was a pale gray, and its gaze was cold but strong. The Precentor Martial looked around at the assembled leaders and advisors, then smiled and, to Victor's eyes, seemed to pull himself up even taller.
"I call to order the first session of the Whitting Conference. I am, as you know, Anastasius Focht, Precentor Martial of ComStar. I have watched the Clans from both sides of the battlefield—first as the old ComStar's ambassador to them, and later as the defender of Tukayyid. The successful defense of Tukayyid earned us a fifteen-year truce, of which we have used up more than six years. This conference, or one like it, to discuss our common interests and concerns should have been held at that time. The delay is regrettable, but it is not a mistake from which we cannot recover."
Focht tugged at the sleeves of the light blue fatigues he wore, then smoothed down the golden mantle draped around his shoulders. The ComStar insignia of an oval with two elongated diamonds extending from the bottom had been worked of gold and set with hematite, then made into a brooch that held the mantle closed at his throat. Standing there, his rich voice filling the room, he seemed very deserving of his status as a legendary warrior like Aleksandr Kerensky.
"We know who the Clans are and whence they have come. Three centuries ago, when Aleksandr Kerensky used the Star League Defense Force to put down the Amaris coup d'etat, he knew that the Star League was dead. The various member states had already begun to vie for dominance, each leader intent on reestablishing the Star League with him or herself at the head. Kerensky realized the nationalistic fervor being whipped up in the member states would destroy the SLDF, so he took them and fled from the Inner Sphere.
"The Exodus took the SLDF out of the Inner Sphere, but he could not cure his own people of their violence. Despite Kerensky's efforts, his followers eventually descended into war, and almost blew each other into oblivion."
Focht paused for a moment to let the horror sink in.
Victor shook his head. What the SLDF did to itself the Inner Sphere's states did to each other, battering each other not quite back to the Stone Age, but cutting damned close to the Industrial Revolution. It was only thirty years ago that a Star League-era memory core had been discovered and so many things stopped being referred to as lostech. Having been born after that discovery, Victor hadn't experienced the phenomenon of lostech so severely, but he knew that plenty of those sitting around him still remembered only too well what it meant.
"Aleksandr's son, Nicholas, took over for his father and conceived of a means by which the SLDF could be saved. He created the Clans and remade the SLDF society into one where warriors are the highest caste and the reason for the existence of all the other castes. The goal was to produce the most perfect warriors possible, which meant specialized breeding programs, brutal testing, and most resources being directed to weapons-system modification and development.
"Within the Clans there arose two factions: Crusaders and Wardens. The Wardens believed their job was to protect the Inner Sphere—they clung to the original purpose of the SLDF. The Crusaders, on the other hand, believed it was their duty to reestablish the Star League and punish those who had destroyed it. The Crusader faction grew in power over the years and finally led to the invasion of the Inner Sphere."
Focht nodded toward Victor. "Three months ago, on Coventry, Prince Victor Davion argued that part of the Clans' advantage over us was that they were fighting on our worlds, forcing us to defend targets of their choosing. We had lost sight of that truth despite the fact that the Federated Commonwealth and the Draconis Combine used it to defeat the Clans at Twycross and Wolcott, respectively. But we are blind no more, and have come together to create a united front against the greatest enemy ever to threaten the Inner Sphere. The time is now to take the war to the Clans."
The Precentor Martial held up two fingers. "To accomplish this we will need two things, two results of this conference. The first is a unified military force that will be tasked with taking the war to the Clans. On the agendas kindly provided by Archon Katrina you will note that we have scheduled military planning sessions in addition to these political sessions. The military planning group will report back to this body with its conclusions, though many of you will also attend them personally or via your military advisors.
"The second result we need is a political one. It is a decision that will require a consensus and will provide our military with a potent weapon against the Clans. Without it, our military operation can still take place, but its efficacy will be severely compromised. In that case the overall result we want—an elimination of the Clan threat—probably will not be achieved."
Focht looked around the room. "Our political objective is the re-establishment of the Star League."
Even though Victor had known that was coming, hearing the Precentor Martial say it was still a shock. For three centuries, ever since Stefan Amaris tried to usurp the power of the Star League, every nation-state here has dreamed of placing its leader's arse on its throne. To be the First Lord of the Star League was an ambition that prompted my father to start two wars. Countless people died in the Succession Wars and now, for the Inner Sphere to survive, we will have to do bloodlessly what centuries of warfare could not achieve.
"The reasons for reestablishing the Star League are simple and subtle, but no less vital. The Clans hearken back to the days of the Star League and do not recognize our authority because our ancestors destroyed the Star League. In reestablishing it, we undercut one of their basic assumptions about their mission and about us. As a unified Star League command, our military will carry with it an authority that it has not had before. The Clans, by opposing Star League troops, will be forced to question a mission they hold almost sacred. In losing to Star League troops, they will realize they have been beaten by a force that has more legitimacy than they do in the Inner Sphere."
Off to Focht's right, Sun-Tzu Liao stood. "Forgive my interruption, Precentor Martial, because I find what you are saying rather fascinating. However, before proceeding any further with this discussion, there is a procedural matter that must be dealt with."
; He pointed across the octagon toward where Candace Liao and Morgan Kell sat. "How can we effectively plan the restoration of the Star League when we have people present who have no legitimate political standing? One might argue that the St. Ives Compact, by virtue of its twenty-nine years of pseudo-independence, deserves a seat here. The Arc-Royal Defense Cordon has no such history, has not even declared itself independent of the Lyran Alliance, and is led by a man whose son is a Clan quisling. Arc-Royal is harboring Clan Wolf, the Clan that has done the most damage to the Inner Sphere, and its Khan is seated behind his father, ready to relay details of what we are planning to his Clan masters."
Phelan Kell's mocking laughter cut through the buzz of conversation sparked by Sun-Tzu's remarks. "Precentor Martial, perhaps you can confirm for the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation that, despite my affiliation with the Clans, I am not controlled by them. My people and I are Wardens through and through, and fought a war against the Jade Falcons that devastated them."
Sun-Tzu's jade-green eyes sharpened. "If they were so devastated, perhaps you can explain how they attacked Coventry?"
"I would rather remind the Chancellor that it was the advice of a Wolf, one of my Wolves, that led to the solution on Coventry."
"A solution," Sun-Tzu shot back, "that allowed Jade Falcon troops to flee the planet unmolested."
Victor frowned in Sun-Tzu's direction. You're doing wonders for reinforcing your image as an idiot.
The Precentor Martial held up his hands. "Your argument concerning Phelan Kell is baseless, Chancellor. He possesses a wealth of information about the Clans without which the planning of any operation against them would be folly. I trust him implicitly and emphatically."
Thomas Marik narrowed his eyes. "I believe, Precentor Martial, that the Chancellor has a valid point concerning the seating of Morgan Kell at this council. Neither he nor his son were invited by our hostess, but by her brother. Morgan Kell's presence here is obviously a goad to anger her, though I should point out she is far too gracious to react to it. The fact remains, however, that Morgan Kell has no place here."
Grave Covenant Page 5
