"My plan is to so totally disrupt the governments of every one of the five Great Houses of the Inner Sphere that people will gladly turn to us for leadership and a bold vision of the future. And we will ride that wave of revolution straight to the cradle of mankind, to Terra, where we will storm the gates and once again raise high the banner of the Star League! Follow me and you will become my generals, my leaders, my templates to forge a brave new empire. Like no one else alive today, I alone possess the true heritage. I alone am the rightful heir to the Star League. I am the Star Lord. Stand in my ranks as Republican Guards. Join me, and let us forge a brave new future as the leaders of a great new empire!"
A bedlam of cheers rose up from the floor as many raised their fists in a gesture that was as much bravado as salute. Stefan Amaris nodded to one of his men, who tugged at a rope hanging down one wall. A giant banner unfurled, a blue shark swimming against a sea of red. It was a symbol that had been banned for centuries, as much from fear as from hatred. The symbol of the House of Amaris and the Amaris Empire. In unison the men and women, even the Red Hellions still surrounding the fallen form of their leader, began to chant aloud his title, over and over again.
"Star Lord, Star Lord, Star Lord ..." Even the Clave Lords, normally so suspicious and aloof, seemed infected by what was going on around them. Varas himself almost joined in, except that a part of him understood too well that this rally was a masterpiece of orchestration and planning.
Stefan Amaris smiled thinly, basking in his victory. As Varas watched him, he understood that this man operated in that dangerous zone somewhere between madness and divinity. He would either build an empire or destroy anyone or anything who tried to stop him.
Kalma Estate
Marik
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
"Duncan," the elder Kalma said, motioning to the report he had spread out across the table. "Look at this."
Duncan walked over to the massive oak table and leafed through the sheaf of hardcopy. He began to scan them, almost casually, sipping from his drink as he did so. "You could get into some pretty hot water showing me this, Father. It's all very classified and I'm not even a member of the Free Worlds Militia."
For the first time in hours Harrison Kalma smiled, if only fleetingly. "What can they do, fire me? Technically, I'm retired. Besides, no one knows I've got these reports. They came to me through my own sources."
Duncan continued reading though the sheets. "So, the Knights of the Inner Sphere have struck again."
"It's not the Knights," his father said flatly.
Duncan put down his drink and threw up his hands in mock despair. "But that's just it, Father. You can't know for sure."
"I have station reports that the Knights are currently posted on Epsilon, Rochelle, and Nestor. This wasn't them."
Duncan shook his head. "What if those reports were faked to cover their raiding activities?"
Harrison Kalma sighed deeply as they picked up the thread of the same argument they'd been having since the night before. "All right, Duncan, let's assume it's not the Knights conducting these raids."
"So then the question is, who is?"
"To know that we must ask who has the most to gain."
Duncan didn't have to think long on that one. "Just about everybody who sits in power in the Inner Sphere. The Free Worlds League hasn't been hurt by the Clan invasion the way the FedCom and the Kuritas have been. In fact, the war effort only strengthened the economy and Thomas Marik's prestige and power. Plenty of people would like to discredit him, knock him down a peg or two to keep him in line.
What better way than to destroy his pet project, the Knights of the Inner Sphere?"
"That's right, son. Since these raids have begun, every House leader must be thinking that the Free Worlds League is a danger to what little peace any of us have known in recent years. It could be the start of another great war. But who would benefit? Not Sun-Tzu Liao. He's to marry Isis Marik soon enough, and can look forward to gaining the League's power via the bedchamber rather than the battlefield. Not Victor Steiner-Davion, either. He's having trouble enough just holding together his own realm, let alone trying to spawn a brand-new war. Not to mention the Clans poised all along his Lyran border. That leaves Theodore Kurita and the Combine. The Kuritas don't even share a border with the Free Worlds League. Besides Kurita's got his mind on other matters—the very grave threat of the Clans, for one."
Duncan stood looking at his father for a moment. "I'll give you this, your arguments are logical. So maybe it's one of the Clans ... or one of the Periphery governments ..."
Kalma shook his head. "Our intelligence about what goes on inside the Clan Occupation Zone is pretty weak, but my best guess is that the Clans are too distracted by their own internal problems to mount a concerted effort at this time."
"That leaves the Periphery, but I can't imagine any of those wild and woolly worlds able to organize such a devious campaign."
"None of the Periphery governments would be rash enough to try and start a war in the Inner Sphere, then risk retaliation once they were found out. And none of the Periphery governments has the motivation to try this kind of stunt, especially given the planning and resources needed to pull off such an operation."
"Well, Father, I'd say you've just ruled out everyone known."
The General raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Which means what?"
"Which means we're dealing with a new threat." It was only once the words were out that Duncan fully understood the implication. The last great threat the Inner Sphere had faced was the Clan invasion. Now, suddenly, here was a possibiliry of yet another danger emerging from the unknown. The Clan invasion had been a bloody one, costing millions of lives and carving up huge areas of known space. The Free Worlds League had been spared so far because the invasion had halted before the Clans could reach their space. Had they only been spared for something worse?
Duncan's train of thought was interrupted by a manservant opening the oaken door of the study to announce an unexpected visitor. The General had just enough time to gather up and stuff the hardcopy report into a briefcase.
"Please see him in," he said calmly.
The servant opened the door, ushering in a man who was obviously a MechWarrior, though very tall to be one. His eyes were an unsettling gray and his black hair severely slicked back. He wore a formal dress uniform of red adorned with a pair of crossing silver sashes clasped in the center of his chest with a brilliant silver starburst buckle. His high black boots were buffed to a spit-polish shine, and he clicked the heels smartly together as he snapped to attention for the General. The man was a MechWarrior—and more— Duncan knew. He was a Knight of the Inner Sphere.
Duncan stared at the Knight in his impressive uniform and felt what might have been a twinge of envy. That could have been him, he told himself. He was a damn fine MechWarrior, plenty good enough to join their ranks of the Knights. But Duncan also knew he didn't have the heart for it. What he'd always craved was adventure, the kind of excitement he'd found on the freewheeling, often lawless worlds of the Periphery. He didn't think he could survive a single day of what he imagined must be the stiff, honor-bound life of a Knight. Let him wear that uniform, Duncan thought. It suits him.
"General, I am Captain Rod Trane, Knight of the Inner Sphere and loyal servant of Captain-General Thomas Marik."
"Welcome to my home," the General replied, motioning to a chair. 'To what do we owe the honor, Captain?"
Trane flicked a glance at Duncan, then turned back to Harrison Kalma as though the son were beneath his notice. "The Captain-General arrived on-world last night He asks that you come to meet with him of an evening three days from now."
"I'd heard nothing of the Captain-General's arrival."
Captain Trane nodded. "He came unannounced. May I inform him that you agree to his request?"
"Of course," the General replied in his best court-tone. "Please convey to the Captain-General that I would be most
honored."
Again Trane snapped his heels together as he saluted Harrison Kalma, then turned to leave. "Oh Captain," the General called after him. Trane turned. "Sir?"
"Will you also advise Thomas that I will be bringing my son?"
Second Oriente Hussars Field Headquarters
Shimgata Plains
Shiro III
"Bovos, are you sure you want to do this?" his senior officer asked, staring at the forms in front of him.
"Yes, sir," Hermann Bovos said. He had changed in the weeks since the raid that had destroyed his lance. His face was drawn and his eyes were sunken into dark circles. He'd obviously become a stranger to sleep and it was beginning to take its toll.
"I'll approve your discharge, but I think it's a mistake. It wasn't anyone's fault that the members of your lance didn't make it. It was a raid. Resigning your commission with the Hussars can't change that. It won't bring them back."
"I beg to differ, sir," Bovos said, remaining at attention and staring off into space instead of looking at his commander.
"They're dead, Hermann. Those bloody damn Knights killed them. It's over. Such things happen, even in times of peace. The sign of a true warrior is the ability to pick up the pieces and continue on. What you want to do is wrong. To take up arms on your own, to strike out blindly on a mission of revenge, with no direction or support, is madness."
Bovos wavered slightly as he stood. "Permission to speak freely, sir," he said. "Granted."
"It wasn't the Knights that did this. I think it was impostors and so do you, regardless of what the Oriente government is saying. No, I wasn't responsible for my men's deaths—I'm not so wet behind the ears that I don't know that I've seen men and women die before. And, yes, I know I can't bring them back. Still, if there's an answer, it's not here, but out there, somewhere." Bovos gestured toward the window and the sky and the vast space beyond. "But I also know this, the politicians won't bring whoever did it to justice. I can." And I will, he added silently.
The only reply was the sound of his commander slapping the thermo-stamp against the paperwork.
Hermann Bovos looked down and saw the word "Approved" lasered in red across the top sheet. From this day forward, he was no longer an Oriente Hussar. All that was done, finished, part of the past. He was no longer following in the footsteps of his famous father. And he was no longer just a loyal son of the Free Worlds League, sworn to protect and defend it. No, those days were over. But his own mission, his personal quest, had just begun.
5
Council Hall, Steel Viper Garrison
Jabuka
Steel Viper Occupation Zone
15 April 3057
Star Colonel Brett Andrews smiled proudly as he slipped the glittering snakeskin cape over his shoulders. Wearing it always seemed to lend him some of the power of the great viper of Arcadia. A truly fearsome beast, it possessed strength and tenacity unmatched by any other predator on that world. Today he would wear the cape and the rest of his ritual garments as a member of the Council presiding over the Judgment of Star Captain Dawn. Like the viper, they would coil around their prey, then finish it with deadly precision. Next he fastened the thick rolled collar that simulated the huge size and distinctive markings of Clan Steel Viper's fearsome namesake. As Leader of House Andrews, he was entitled to wear the full representation of the Viper, whereas others would not. Tradition, for the Steel Vipers, was sacred.
Brett Andrews could not remember the last time a Judgment, a trial of formal disgrace, had been called. He wondered if anyone alive among the Steel Vipers could. The hundreds of Bloodnamed warriors who would hear the evidence had come from near and far in the Occupation Zone, for they understood what was truly at stake. The charge of incompetence and conduct unbecoming a warrior would hold, he was sure of it. Had he not already met privately with various Council members who might have wavered on the vote, and persuaded them to side with him? Yes, Star Captain Dawn would be judged guilty and she would be publicly disgraced, for that was what she deserved.
The Steel Vipers must purge their ranks, must shed the old skin in favor of the new. Ever since the shame and decimation of their numbers at Tukayyid, all acknowledged the pressing need to rebuild the Clan's strength. The grip of the Steel Viper was viselike, its deadly bite pitiless. The Clan must be no less. It was this steely resolve that had made Khan Perigard Zalman refuse to engage in Trials of Possession for nearby Jade Falcon worlds. The Steel Vipers could no more spare the loss of troops than they could harbor third-rate warriors or weakling Wardens in their midst.
And Brett Andrews considered that to be the greatest of Star Captain Dawn's failures—she was a Warden among a Clan that was more strongly Crusader than ever before.
First she had dishonored herself at Tukayyid, losing every member of her Binary. Then she had bid for the right to lead the raid on Cumbres and failed again. Instead of holding fast like a true warrior, she had called a retreat. And still the members of her unit had died almost to a man. Once more, other warriors fell while Star Captain Dawn survived. As commander of the raid, she should have given her own life to save the rest, quiaff?
* * *
Dawn stared straight ahead, her eyes fairly boring into the blank white wall of the waiting chamber. So deep and hard was her concentration that the wall and her mind became as one. Blank, calm, pure. It cleared her confusion and opened her thoughts. Even to things she would have preferred not to think about.
It was no surprise that the Clan wished to make her answer for her failures. What surprised her was the gravity and formality of the proceedings. It was not just her commanding officer who would decide the charge of incompetence, but all the Bloodnamed of Clan Steel Viper. They had been arriving, hundreds of them, on Jabuka from near and far for days.
With her thoughts stilled and her mind clear, Dawn saw that she had no chance to prevail. The Steel Vipers wished to make an example of her. No matter. She would hold her head high, remain staunch before any Judgment handed down. She was a proud Clanswoman, a product of the Clan's breeding program to produce a race of superior warriors. And, above all, she was a warrior of Clan Steel Viper, destined above all other Clans to fulfill the vision of Nicholas Kerensky.
Dawn understood that it was not for the raid on Cumbres that she would be publicly shamed, but for the fact that she was a Warden among a Clan of Crusaders. Indeed, Star Colonel Brett Andrews was one of the most fervent, rejoicing when the Steel Vipers had won the right to participate in the long-awaited invasion of the Inner Sphere. Against the still waters of her mind Dawn recalled how her beliefs had come to diverge from the way of her Clan.
Like all Steel Viper warriors, Dawn had survived a cadet training that was as grueling mentally as it was physically. While the combat masters had been honing her physical abilities, the loremasters had fortified her warrior's spirit with the visionary words of the two great Kerenskys. Aleksandr Kerensky, the general who had led their ancestors far from the Inner Sphere to a new home among the stars. And his son Nicholas Kerensky, founder of the Clan eugenics program to breed a race of warriors who might one day restore the Star League.
One of those loremasters had been especially strict in his interpretation of the Clan's destiny. He had taught the cadets to learn The Remembrance by heart as a touchstone for their lives, and often quoted one of its most famous passages:
Without a pure soul we cannot give sight To blind eyes, but will only blind ourselves.
It was a passage that called for a crusade to cleanse the Inner Sphere of its dark ways, the very lines from which the Crusaders had taken their name. But that one loremaster had given sight to Dawn's blind eyes, reminding the cadets that Aleksandr Kerensky had prophesied that his people's destiny was to protect the Inner Sphere, not conquer it. Yes, Kerensky had predicted that his exiles would one day return, but when that day came they must come clear of eye and pure in heart. And thus had Dawn become a Warden.
That did not make her any less a warrior. Like every othe
r member of her caste, she had been bred for war. When she fought, it was without fear or thought of anything but victory with honor. That was the way of the Clan. But by the time she and her battered command lifted off Cumbres, there were only three other survivors of the battle. One was still in the hospital. Most humiliating of all was the loss of her 'Mech, the Crossbow now little more than a shell, to be dismantled for parts rather than repaired.
It was true that Dawn had failed in her mission, but she had expected to meet only the Twenty-fourth Lyran Guard, not the Guard and another company of unknown attackers. She and her Trinary had been outnumbered. Only a miracle could have saved them, and no Clan warrior believed in miracles. And no Clan Council would accept excuses from a warrior.
Her Advocate today would be Star Colonel Ivan Sinclair, commander of the 94th Battle Cluster. Despite Ivan Sinclair's Crusader beliefs, Dawn was pleased to have him speak for her. The man was stubborn and uncompromising, as any warrior must be, but she also knew him to be honest and fair. His assessment of her chances had been typically blunt.
He had told her that the convocation of a Trial of Judgment, the Clan equivalent of a court martial, was so rare as to be almost unheard of. And it was no surprise to learn that not a single warrior brought up for Judgment had ever been acquitted of the charges. Most had been branded with the dread stain of dezgra, some had been banished, and a handful had been executed. Dawn saw with calm clarity what would be her fate.
The sound of the door opening disturbed the still pool of her mind. It was Star Colonel Ivan Sinclair come to fetch her. "The Council has assembled," he said. "It is time."
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