Bred for war

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Ulric smiled indulgently. "That is true. The charges would founder for a while, but if I do not accept the indictment, Dalk will convince someone in the Clan Council to pass a resolution of no confidence. That leaves me open to unseating by the Grand Council."

  "We will demand a Trial of Refusal and kill them if they vote against you."

  "Natasha, I will not be a party to pitting Wolves against Wolves."

  "He's not concerned about that." She glared at Cams. "Don't accept it. Force him to go through the proper steps."

  "And suggest that I am guilty?"

  Natasha threw her hands up in frustration. "You will do what you will do."

  Ulric took the sheet and set it on his desk without cracking the seal. "You will forward the arguments for the charges?"

  The Loremaster nodded. "I will. You have one month before trial."

  "Very well," Ulric said calmly.

  Phelan frowned. "Wait a minute. What are the charges?"

  "The charges are confidential, Khan Phelan."

  Ulric laid his hand on Dalk's shoulder. "You may tell them. They will know soon anyway."

  Dalk grinned coldly. "The charges are most grave," he intoned. "For his collusion with ComStar in the battle of Tukayyid and for elevating a known Inner Sphere agent to the position of Khan within the Wolf Clan, ilKhan Ulric Kerensky has been accused of high treason."

  7

  This maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.

  —Edgar Allen Poe, Annabel Lee

  Marik Palace, Atreus

  Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

  15 June 3057

  As Thomas Marik opened the door to the chamber where his wife lay, strains of Mozart's Requiem drifted toward him. The soft music muted the serpentine hiss of oxygen flowing to her mask, almost permitting Thomas to ignore her malady. As a concession to the use of oxygen, the candles surrounding Sophina's canopied bed were electric, their little glowing filaments flickering in the best imitation of fire they could manage.

  Thomas let the door close slowly behind him and recognized instantly the effect she'd intended. The gentle music and gentler light combined with the sheer netting wafting down from the canopy to make Sophina look as she had ten years before, on their wedding night. Though it had not been their first night of intimacy, she had never seemed more beautiful to him.

  Thomas knew she wanted him to remember her as she had been then—beautiful and vibrant, full of life and love and joy, but the illusion was not completely successful. The electric candles lacked the warmth and sensuous guttering of real flames. The Requiem, though beautiful, could not be mistaken for the more romantic strains of the Moonlight Sonata.

  And on their wedding night Sophina had neither an oxygen mask over her face, nor a needle in the vein of one arm.

  Thomas had come tonight hoping he could talk her out of ending her life, but seeing how spent and exhausted she looked made him surrender silently to her wishes. Every breath was torture for her, yet he knew that if he asked, she would continue that torture for days or weeks or years. The fierceness of her love for him had not waned over time, nor had his for her.

  And because I love her, I must free her.

  Thomas smiled and approached Sophina from her left to keep his scarred profile hidden. "I have come, my love, as you bid."

  Sophina's eyes opened slowly. "I had no fear ..." The oxygen mask muffled her words, and her breathlessness silenced the rest of her thought. Her bluish lips still formed the words, but the fog on the inside of the mask made it impossible to make out what she was saying.

  Thomas parted the gauzy curtain that separated them and sat on the edge of the bed. Opposite him he saw the saline sack that dripped into the tube leading to the needle in her right arm. Connected to it through two electronically controlled switches were two more polymer sacks, one colored yellow and the other filled with a green liquid. The device that controlled the switches lay clutched in Sophina's trembling right hand.

  Thomas took her other hand in his, nearly flinching at the coldness of her fingers. "You are the passion of my life. The mother of our son and the keeper of my heart. Before you I had no hope of knowing the peace and security of love. After you ..." His voice trailed off as a lump rose in his throat to strangle his words.

  Sophina gave his hand a feeble squeeze. "After me will come others ..."

  "No. No one will take your place."

  "Dear, dear Thomas, you are strong." Her chest labored, rising and falling abruptly beneath the thick coverlet as she struggled to catch her breath. "You are virile. You will have women."

  "No. Coupling with another would mock what we had and defile our bed."

  "Thomas, do not be blind. I was not the first ..."

  "Perhaps not, but by God, you will be the last." Thomas gripped her hand more tightly. "You are the only one I wished to wed, and the only one I ever shall. I shall be faithful to you beyond death."

  Sophina smiled, then coughed. Thomas leaned down to cradle her against his chest, which, to his relief, calmed her coughing. He stroked her limp hair and tried not to think about how wasted her poor body had become.

  A painfully thin hand came up and stroked his smooth cheek. "Thomas, my love, I was but a mistress to you."

  "How can you say ..."

  Fingers pressed against his lips silenced him. "You have been wed to your nation since before I met you." She fell back slightly, gathering the strength to continue speaking. "That I had you this long is the joy of my life. But I know you took me, in wonderful passion ... because your wife, the state, required an heir that it could not give you."

  Thomas began to protest, yet knew her words contained a seed of truth. Passion had influenced his choice, making it a very happy one, but it was true that he had chosen to marry to provide the Free Worlds League a legitimate heir to the Captain-Generalship. By the time Isis had reached the age of ten it was readily apparent that she was too flighty and taken with herself to provide the leadership the nation needed. The shadow of illegitimacy surrounding her birth would also work against her. Having an heir who could replace him became vital, and Sophina had provided him with that heir.

  His wife looked up at him. "I wish I had done a better job."

  "Hush, woman, you speak nonsense." Thomas gave her a brave smile. "Our son has faced his trials and suffering as bravely as any grown man could. He has the heart of a lion. The doctors tell me that Joshua knows more about his disease than they do and that he does not complain even when the treatments are painful."

  "But he will never reign, Thomas. You know that." Sophina shook her head slowly. "Here, at the door to death, I feel as if many light years no longer separate me from my son. Mark me, Thomas, it will not be long before Joshua and I are together again. It pains you, I know. But you must face . the truth."

  "Our son is strong."

  "But not as strong as you must be, my love." A cough wracked her. "You must take another wife."

  "I cannot."

  "For your nation."

  "I will not."

  "For me."

  "What?" Thomas leaned down and kissed her forehead. "How can you ask that?"

  "I am your wife, but I am also your subject. Your lot is to put your personal desires second to the needs of your nation. That I once served both is the crowning achievement of my life." The darkened tip of her tongue wet cyanotic lips. "I would not have my death harm my nation."

  "Your death wounds your nation's leader to his heart."

  "Better his heart be hurt than his brain, for his brain must prevail in this." Tears pooled in Sophina's eyes, but could not spill free until she turned her head and looked away from him. "You must choose a new wife ... for your nation."

  "I do not want for a wife."

  "But your nation wants for you a consort." Her fingers traced their way around his left ear, as they had done many times in the languor after lovemaking, when he had held in her his arms as he did now. "The Duchess of S
t. Ives has daughters, as does the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine."

  Thomas tried to push the words from his mind, yet he had become too used to coolly evaluating anything that had bearing on the welfare of his nation. Cassandra and Kuan-Yin Allard-Liao stood behind their brother Kai in the order of succession. Though they were identical twins, Thomas knew the sisters were very different. Cassandra had become a MechWarrior like her mother Candace and was vivacious and outgoing. Kuan-Yin had a quiet spirituality about her that Thomas had noted when the Inner Sphere's leaders had gathered on Outreach to lay their plans to meet the Clan threat. Marrying either of them would forge a link between the Free Worlds League and the St. Ives Compact, leaving Sun-Tzu's Capellan Confederation sandwiched between and making him much easier to control.

  Omi Kurita, daughter of Theodore Kurita, would never inherit the throne of the Combine, but her influence with her brother Hohiro meant she would no doubt help shape policy in the future. Marriage to her would renew the old alliance between the Free Worlds League and the Draconis Combine, creating a powerful force to counter any aggression by the Federated Commonwealth.

  "And then," Sophina whispered softly, "there is Katrina Steiner."

  Thomas started at the name. Katrina, who he had once dismissed as being no more responsible than Isis, had lately shown herself very capable in handling the Skye crisis. Her efforts alone had prevented the eruption of civil war in the Isle of Skye. Victor Davion obviously trusted her enough to turn the Lyran half of his nation over to her regency, and who could know her better than her brother?

  Marrying her would secure two-thirds of his border as well as render unnecessary any alliance with Sun-Tzu Liao and the Capellan Confederation. Her dowry would likely include all the worlds lost to the Federated Commonwealth in the Fourth Succession War. The opportunities for trade and especially the exchange of intellectual properties and research with the F-C would mean a renaissance in the Free Worlds League and a strengthening of its position among the nations of the Inner Sphere.

  Thomas again stroked his wife's hair. "And there are many, many more women in the Inner Sphere. Now I wish only to think of one."

  "But what of all those in your nation who depend upon you."

  "To this I say 'No.' For now. While I mourn."

  "But you will think on it?"

  "I can gainsay you nothing, Sophina."

  "Hold me, Thomas."

  As he drew her closer, she pushed the plunger in her right hand. With a little whirring, the switches opened stopcocks, changing the mixture of liquid flowing into her arm. First, from the yellow bag, a sedative began to enter her bloodstream, gently letting her drift off to sleep. Within five minutes the second stopcock turned, and the emerald liquid infused the intravenous line. It was a neurotoxin that slowly stopped her tortured lungs from laboring and stilled her pounding heart.

  Thomas continued to clutch his wife's limp form to his chest beyond the point when he felt her spirit flee her body. His tears wet her face as well as his own and sobs wracked his chest as coughs had hers. Finally he loosed his embrace and lay her down against the pillow. He straightened her limbs, removed the oxygen mask, and pulled the needle from her arm. Then he backed away and let the gauzy bed curtain float down between them.

  Wiping at his tears, Thomas Marik spoke to his wife one last time. "I shall not forget the wisdom of your words, but neither shall I act upon them. For now our son lives, and you live in him. I will not deny our nation the service of our child and the selfless wisdom that comes to him from his mother."

  Daosha, Zurich

  Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

  The knock at his door surprised Noble Thayer. He was expecting no visitors, and his landlord, Kenneth Fox, had left Daosha for a weekend at his lakeside cabin in the rain forest. Opening the door slightly and peering around it, he found a slender, pretty young woman in an oversized work shirt, old jeans, and older canvas sneakers standing on his doorstep. "Can I help you miss?"

  She smiled and extended her hand to him. "I hope so. I'm Cathy Hanney. I worked with Dr. Lear, and she asked a few of us come over to clean out her things from the basement."

  "Noble Thayer. Mr. Fox mentioned something about that."

  "Deirdre cleared it with him through ComStar messages. I think you have the key to the locker."

  "That's right. Please come in while I get it," Noble said, turning from the door as the young woman stepped over the threshold. "I take it your friend left rather unexpectedly?"

  "You could say that. About a year ago Tormano Liao whisked her away to Solaris where she and Kai Allard-Liao decided to get married."

  Noble smiled as he pulled on a gray sweatshirt bearing the logo of Stevenson Military Prep. "A real Cinderella story, isn't it?"

  "The strangest part was that she never talked about him to any of us, but it turns out that he's the father of her son."

  "That would be David?"

  Cathy nodded, though her blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know?" Noble opened a drawer and pulled out a large plastic tyrannosaurus and tossed it to Cathy. "When I was moving in, I found a loose section of floorboard back in the small bedroom. I thought maybe I was going to unearth somebody's buried treasure, but all I found was this."

  Cathy laughed. "I'm sure to David this was a treasure."

  "Sounds like any normal boy."

  "Sure, except now he's in line for the throne of the St. Ives Compact."

  "Or," Noble smiled, "destined to become the Champion of Solaris. Here are the keys. Let's go."

  Cathy looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  "I'll help you."

  "That's very kind. But I don't want to put you out."

  Noble ushered her through the door and locked it behind them. "Look, I don't mind. I need the exercise. And, well, I've been here on Zurich for almost a month and the only people I've met are Mr. Fox, his daughter, and her half-wit husband. Maybe with you I can chat about something more than old wars, new holovids, or how many mips a new computer can perform."

  "Well, I get the part about a little occupational therapy, but I wouldn't say you're in need of any exercise at all." Cathy led the way down the stairs and around to the back, then down another flight to the basement. A doorway leading to the rear parking area had been opened, letting sunlight flood the basement. Cathy signaled to a little group of three standing next to a jeep with a trailer attached to it, then made the introductions when they walked over.

  "Noble Thayer, this is Dr. Richard Bradford and his wife, Carol. He's the director at Rencide Medical Center and Carol runs our child care and community outreach programs."

  The smallish, dark-haired man shook Noble's hand firmly. "Call me Rick."

  His wife, who stood a little taller than him, likewise gave Noble a firm grip. "Please to meet you, Mr. Thayer."

  "Noble, please."

  Cathy pointed to the apple-cheeked woman who completed the trio. 'This is Anne Thompson. She, Deirdre, and I all started at Rencide at the same time."

  "A pleasure." Noble shook her hand.

  "Noble has offered to help us," Cathy said, touching his shoulder lightly.

  He shrugged agreeably. "Many hands make short work."

  "Happy for the help," Rick said heartily. "We'll load the trailer, then ship it off to St. Ives. After that, we were thinking of getting dinner. Like to join us?"

  "Yes, do," Cathy added.

  "Well, let's see if you still want me when we're done. You'll want to see whether I pull my own weight, right?"

  Carol patted her husband's back. "As the person who would have been massaging the back of someone who would claim for himself all the heavy lifting jobs, you're very welcome here and at dinner."

  "Thanks." Noble held the keys up. "Let's go. The sooner we start, the sooner we're done."

  Cathy smiled at him. "That will give us more time to get to know you over dinner."

  "Ah, even more incentive to get started." Noble ushered them all toward the
basement door. "I'll have to send a message of thanks to your Doctor Lear. I've never met her, but I'm certainly grateful for her role in introducing me to some interesting folks here in my new home."

  8

  Soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer.

  —Lord Burghley, Advice to His Son

  Tamar, Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

  21 June 3057

  Phelan sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. His eyes felt like burning coals set into their sockets, and his head like someone was pounding on the inside of his skull to get out. "These charges are all groundless, but the indictment has been worded in such a way that it does appear like treason."

  Though he'd really been talking to himself, Ranna leaned heavily against the doorway into their bedroom. She yawned, tugged up at where her nightshirt had slipped off one shoulder, then smiled sleepily at him. "Phelan, you would do better going over that material when you are rested."

  "You're probably right, but I want to know what they're going to bring against Ulric. I'm not too tired for that."

  Shaking her head, she clucked at him. "You are fatigued enough to be using contractions, my love."

  "That is your grandmother's influence, Ranna."

  "Maybe so, but we have both just returned from ten days in the field where Natasha's unit had us running around in circles. I am exhausted and all I did was command a Cluster. You had the whole Galaxy to worry about. You must be dead."

  "I'd be dead—sorry—I would be dead if I had let your grandmother take the city. Losing the industrial zone to her was bad enough." Phelan went from the table to take a seat in the living area. Stretching his legs out, he sighed. "I much prefer real combat to the war we will have to wage in the Clan Council."

  "I gather the people who were behind the charges would prefer real combat to the mock combats we have been waging."