Lost destiny

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Alex nodded sympathetically. "On that, Highness, I have no news, but that is to be interpreted as good news. Romano may be out of your reach, but not out of the grasp of justice. I take some comfort in that knowledge."

  "Some comfort, but not the same I'd get from having my hands wrapped 'round her throat, I fear."

  Both Alex and Hanse shared a laugh. "Alex, has my son learned of his new orders yet?"

  "No, the Barbarossa will not reach Biota until the end of this week. Morgan Hasek-Davion has already left in a DropShip to meet the Barbarossa when it makes the jump into the system. Morgan will brief him, then the whole of the Tenth Lyran Guards will make their way to Port Moseby for rest and refit. Morgan does not think Victor will like being sent back behind the lines. He assumes Victor will demand a transfer to the First Kathil Uhlans or another line unit. If his request is denied, he will assume he is being punished by being sent back."

  Only my son would think that. Hanse sighed heavily, wishing the anti-acid would take effect. "Morgan and I have discussed this likelihood. Morgan can handle him, being far more persuasive than I."

  "But you will expect a strongly worded message from your son protesting your pulling him back to protect him."

  "Of course." Hanse glanced down at his desk and felt the weight of all his years press down on him like the giant foot of a 'Mech. "Fortunately, I will only have to record a holovid to answer him, so I can edit it until I sound sincere. Yes, the Tenth is badly in need of rest and refit, and we will have them built into a better force than they were before, but they got mauled on Alyina. I almost lost Victor on the same day I lost Justin and his son. My wife is certain Victor will end up dying as did Ian."

  Hanse looked at the picture of his family on the corner of his desk. "I am afraid I do not look forward to that eventuality, for more reasons even than the deep dread of losing my son. I was not directly in line for the throne, so I was not expecting to have to assume the role and the power, but I was able to handle the transition. I am not so confident in my other children, mainly because of their youth. Katherine is only twenty years old and not experienced enough to assume the responsibilities of ruling the Federated Commonwealth. And Peter, at seventeen, already sees himself as a Warrior-Prince, which is not what we need right now."

  "Have confidence, Highness. They are your offspring. They will do well." Alex rose from his chair and stretched. "I think I will check the latest dispatches, then try to get a little more sleep. I might remind you that the doctors have suggested you should also be getting more rest."

  Hanse waved Alex's concern away. "As soon as I know Victor is safely headed toward the rear, I will be able to sleep again. Right now, I feel fine."

  "Highness, forgive my directness, but you are still wearing the same uniform from yesterday. Catching a cat-nap in your chair is not getting rest."

  "You've been talking with my wife, haven't you?" Hanse smiled easily. "Very well, you've badgered me into it. I will get some sleep."

  Alex nodded. "Very good. One more thing before I leave, Highness."

  "Yes?"

  "If Precentor New Avalon and I speak again, what do I suggest concerning his overtures for aid?"

  Hanse let his breath hiss out between his teeth. "Suggest we will support them with everything, but make no promises." Hanse rubbed his left hand along his unshaven chin. "For twenty years, ComStar has done everything it can to hurt us, and now they have aided the enemy in this invasion. They've been playing with fire, and it will be my very great pleasure to watch ComStar get roasted alive!"

  7

  ComStar Military Headquarters, Sandhurst

  British Isles, Terra

  5 February 3052

  Within the world presented to him by the Interactive Construct Reality helmet, the Precentor Martial strode like a giant across the battlefield. The computer drew the landscape in exquisite detail, providing Anastasius Focht a full-color map of Tukayyid, with a scale of two and a half centimeters real being equivalent to 10 meters subjective. At that scale, the BattleMechs arrayed across the landscape looked like toy soldiers, and a careless misstep by the Precentor Martial could destroy a legion of them.

  Focht brought his hands up, cocking his wrists as though preparing to type on a computer keyboard. The data-gloves encasing his hands passed this information to the computer, which obliged him by creating a keyboard template to give him a visual guide for his hands as he typed in a request to adjust the scale of the world. He noted with grim satisfaction that the computer had provided him the same keyboard he would have found in a BattleMech.

  Like a time-lapse film of mushrooms growing, the BattleMechs sprouted up until they reached the Precentor Martial's waist. He squatted down until sighting over the torso of one Wolf Clan Hagetaka, then smiled as he realized he could see nothing. He reached out his right hand, as he would have from the command couch of a BattleMech, and switched from vislight to infrared to magscan and back to vislight again. In none of the various scanner settings did he see anything.

  He stood again and smiled. "Computer, note that because of the landscape's rolling nature, at 150 meters on the Przeno Plain on Tukayyid, the Wolf Clan approached our entrenched forces without being able to detect them."

  "Noted," the computer commented emotionlessly. "A call has come in from the Primus. Will you leave the simulation or would you like the call woven into the world?"

  Focht sighed heavily. "Project it, per the last time." He knew it would annoy her, but he did not want to leave the simulation of Tukayyid. He had cracked one small portion of the Clans' invincibility and he did not want to lose it. I know the key to defeating them is here, somewhere. Now I just have to find it.

  The computer shaped a billowing white cumulus cloud in the sky. The Primus' face appeared on the cloud, and her expression gave the Precentor Martial an inkling of how Adam must have felt after eating of the apple. "You know how I hate to speak with you when you are there."

  "Forgive me, Primus, but I have much work to do, and being able to study the battlefield in the detail provided by the ICR equipment is vital to my purpose." He bowed his head, then glanced at his own image as projected in the sky behind her cloud to assure smooth animation. He knew her greatest objection to working with him while in ICR equipment was the expressionless computer-projected image of him that she saw on her visiphone screen. From the projection, she could read nothing of his facial expressions or body language. That left her at a disadvantage and she did not like it.

  "Very well, Precentor Martial. I would not wish to obstruct your defense of Terra. What have you to report?"

  He opened his hands wide. "This is the world of Tukayyid. A relatively mild and somewhat arid planet in the Skandia Province of the Free Rasalhague Republic. It is primarily an agricultural world, with most of its land masses comprised of grassy plains controlled by agrocombines. During the era of Kurita rule, several minority religions came to this world and set up monastic communities in the mountains, and in one case, under the Crucible Sea. As a result, the population of the world is relatively small. The government is decentralized, with each corporation running its holdings like a fiefdom, except where theocracies have carved out their little domains."

  The Primus yawned. "Interesting, Precentor Martial. I take it you find this world significant for more than its ability to bore the Clans to death?"

  "Indeed I do, Primus." Focht pressed his hands together carefully. "You are looking at the world that will be the salvation of Terra."

  "I do not understand."

  The Precentor Martial took pleasure in the computer construct's hiding of his expression of disdain. "As the Successor States have discovered, we cannot determine in advance where the Clans will strike next. By all analysis of their techniques for selecting targets, they should bypass Tukayyid because it presents no threat to mem. It has no native militia and any able-bodied individuals who could be spared from their jobs have long since left for the crumbling Rasalhague front.

 
; "But I know of a way to make Tukayyid a prime target for the Wolf Clan. That is, quite simply, to challenge Khan Ulric to a battle on this world, which will decide the fate of Terra."

  The Primus nodded, anxiety flashing across her face like heat lightning. "I had assumed we would have to fight the Clans, and I do not want the battle to take place on Terra, for obvious reasons. I assume you have chosen Tukayyid for more than its lack of potential civilian casualties."

  The way she spoke, the Precentor Martial got the distinct impression that the possibility of civilian casualties did not necessarily mean vetoing the plan.

  "Primus, Tukayyid has a number of things to recommend it. The world has many open areas for direct confrontations. The mountains are suitable for hit-and-run operations. The weather tends to be superior most of the time, which bodes well for aerospace and atmospheric fighter-craft. Moreover, Tukayyid has countless storage facilities, which, at this time of year, are empty and waiting for the fruits of the coming harvest. We can use them for munitions and supplies for our troops. Best of all, the low population is concentrated in easily defensible positions, which does not allow the Clans to use civilians against us."

  The Primus let a predatory grin spread across her face. "So, victory is assured against the Clans?"

  Focht stiffened, but the image sent to the Primus did not. "Primus, selecting a suitable battlefield on which to engage the Clans is but the first step in deciding a strategy to oppose them. I think Tukayyid will give us an advantage, but we still have to deal with certain facts. The first and foremost of these is that the Free Rasalhague Republic has not given us permission to land troops on their world or to use it as a battleground."

  "They will." The Primus waved away his concern. "Prince Haakon Magnusson is so desperate for anything approaching a victory in his pitiful nation that he will jump at the chance at having us defend that world for him. I will see that all the agrocombines get a message in the morning indemnifying them against any damage we cause. Furthermore, we will expedite all their communications so they will not notice any difficulties if they decide to evacuate their people, which we will recommend highly." She smiled like a mother indulging a child. "If this is the world you require for your victory, you shall have it. One way or another, Tukayyid is yours."

  I wonder if she believes she can decree victory this easily as well. 'Thank you, Primus. I appreciate your adding the suggestion to evacuate the world. It would lessen my potential problems." The Precentor Martial folded his arms. "I have already begun to issue orders to consolidate the Com Guards and prepare for their reassignment to Tukayyid. I have delivered preliminary requests for equipment and supplies that my Quartermaster has determined we have available. I have planned for a campaign that will take upwards of a month to complete."

  "A month?" Myndo Waterly frowned. "I have seen your requests, and with that number of troops, I would think you could defeat the Clans in a matter of hours!"

  "No, Primus." Focht pointed to the forest of Clan 'Mechs surrounding him. "The Clans are specialists in quick victories. If the fighting ends in an hour, it is ComStar that will taste defeat. In this battle, we have to assume that the Clans will bid everything they have to oppose us. In fact, I expect Khan Ulric to bring troops from all seven of the attacking Clans to Tukayyid to oppose us. They will pull no punches, so we must become adept at avoiding their punches."

  "But a month's worth of supplies? Is that not excessive?"

  Focht shrugged. "As I have long told leaders when requesting resources, I can return leftover supplies after I win."

  "If I run out of munitions, there can be no victory. Moreover, diverse supply points and the ability to move has proved successful for both the Federated Commonwealth and the Draconis Combine. In fact, breaking the Third and Eleventh Pesht Regulars into more mobile forces is all that has allowed Hohiro Kurita's force to survive this long on Teniente."

  "I will concede that point to you." The Primus slipped her hands into the opposite sleeves of her golden robe. "You have your battlefield, your troops, and your supplies. What else do you need?"

  "My advisors and I are working up different scenarios, based on past Clan performance so we can model their strategies in the computers. We will run repeated tests of our troops against theirs, with everyone from lance leaders on up working with computer simulations so they come to know the enemy. In running through these strategies, we will discard what fails and look at crafting a tactical and strategic guide that should enable us to handle the Clans."

  "You do not sound confident in your ability to defeat them, Precentor Martial. I would have expected more from a MechWarrior with your illustrious career."

  Focht brought his head up with deliberate motion so the projection would ape it. "Primus, it has been nearly twenty-three years since I last fought in a battle that was not a simulation. Before that, I fought whenever the Archon called upon me to do so. I led the best troops the Lyran Commonwealth had to offer, and I can tell you that our Com Guards are even better.

  "I did not always know victory, but I learned to respect my enemies, and the Clans are deserving of every gram of respect I can muster. I cannot imagine the Tenth Lyran Guards performing better under my leadership than they have under Prince Victor Ian Davion, but the Jade Falcons tore them to pieces on Alyina."

  While his left hand made a broad, sweeping gesture to distract her, Focht used his right to increase the ICR scale to 1=1, making the Clan 'Mechs rise up and dwarf him. "As we have known from the beginning, the Clans are the greatest threat the Inner Sphere has ever faced, and now their path leads directly to Terra. I will stop them, but I must have your full support in gathering my troops and forming my plans."

  "And you will have my complete support." The Primus' shoulders slumped slightly. "I will see to it that nothing stands between you and victory."

  "Good." Now to make the final request. "Then you will grant me permission to travel out to meet with Khan Ulric to bargain this fight in the Clan manner."

  Though Focht had kept his voice low and matter-of-fact, the Primus' eyes grew wide and her face flushed. "What? Are you mad?" Within the ICR world, the Precentor Martial expected the lightning in her eyes to shoot out and destroy him. "I cannot allow my Warlord to travel to the camp of the enemy. What if they capture and torture you? I have seen the-report on how they broke Phelan Kell. You might last longer than he, but you would divulge all our secrets in the end. That I cannot chance."

  "Primus, I must go." Focht signaled the computer to increase the time rate so that the world sank into nighttime shadows. "Khan Ulric will know this is a trap. He will know that we are lying in wait for him. The only way I can get him to agree to put the Clans' head into the mouth of the ComStar lion is to beard him in his own den. He will welcome my show of bravery, and he will respect it. Furthermore, my act will challenge the other Clans, so when Ulric calls for them to participate, they will comply. A formal bargaining session with the ilKhan is as vital to this operation as supplies and troops."

  He saw her face close over, and he knew he had lost. "No, Precentor Martial. I cannot allow it. I will not allow it."

  "Think about it, Primus. Consult the First Circuit before making your decision final." He folded his arms and met her electric stare evenly. "If you do not allow me to meet with Ulric face to face, to set this battle, you should begin practicing."

  She looked puzzled. "Don't speak in riddles, Precentor Martial. I know who and what you really are, and such mystical nonsense ill become you. I should start practicing what?"

  "Practicing what you'll tell Ulric when he bargains with you for the defense of Terra."

  In a flash the cloud went blank, leaving a void amid a star-filled night sky. The Precentor Martial shook his head. "The one thing politicians will never understand is the warrior's need to know the opponent he faces is a true warrior.

  It doesn't surprise me, for politicians consider compromise complete victory. In this war, no compromise is possible because anything
short of total victory over the Clans will mean the death of ComStar."

  Focht drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily. "Computer, Boreal continent, Cokoladu Mountains. Run the approach of the Nova Cat Lancers again...."

  8

  DropShip Barbarossa, Nadir Jump Point

  Biota, Federated Commonwealth

  7 February 3052

  Victor Ian Davion tugged at the hem of his waistcoat, then knocked on the bulkhead beside the Captain's cabin hatchway. Under normal circumstances, he would have foregone any formality in meeting with his cousin, Marshal Morgan Hasek-Davion, but the message requesting his presence had asked for Kommandant Davion, which meant the visit was business, not pleasure. "Kommandant Victor Davion reporting as ordered, sir."

  "Come in, Victor." Seated behind the small, spindly-legged desk, Morgan Hasek-Davion looked like a titan trapped in a dwarven hall. His long red hair hung down to obscure the golden epaulets capping the shoulders of his black uniform. With one huge hand, Morgan waved Victor to a chair, but took no offense when Victor remained standing. "I am glad to see you are well. I understand you had a rough time of it on Alyina."

  A rough time? My best friend dies saving my life and my command is crushed? And now you're here to take my command away. "I was unhurt, Marshal. The same cannot be said of my people. I don't know what happened. They overwhelmed us."

  Morgan stopped Victor by holding up a hand. "Analysis of the battleroms indicates no culpability or negligence on your part. You and your people did all you could. The Clans shifted tactics and came at you harder than they have before. What happened on Alyina was not your fault."

  Victor raised his eyes to meet Morgan's green gaze. "If that is so, why have you come here to strip me of my command?"

  The question clearly surprised Morgan. "What are you talking about?"

  "I know what's going on, Marshal." The diminutive Prince clasped his hands at the small of his back. "The grapevine has already let it be known that the Tenth Lyran Guards are bound on a command circuit for Port Moseby. We're going there for rest and refit, or so it goes, but I know the truth. We're being sent to the rear because we got pounded on Alyina. Other line units are coming up to take our place. You're mothballing the Tenth Lyran and ruining General Andrea Kaulkas' career because of the perception that I've screwed up."