"And doing a terrible job of it," put in Maid Kris.
"Be that as it may," Masters said, "both Hsiang and Countess Dystar have been remiss in their responsibilities as leaders." Precentor Blane looked perplexed.
"They've been over-taxing us," Maid Kris said, "and now, with Word of Blake's arrival and ties to the government, our religions are threatened."
"I thought that was just guerrilla propaganda."
Maid Kris slapped one hand up to her forehead.
"I didn't know, dear! I don't work in your government. As members of ComStar our job was to keep the hyperpulse generator working properly and the flow of messages in order."
"We let you know what was happening!"
"It wasn't my business. Goodness. If you can't run your own planet, it's not my problem."
"Well, now it is, Precentor, for it is the planet of your people, too," Masters said.
"Yes . . . Well. . . You see, I put Starling in charge of such matters."
"And so we need help," continued Masters. "Regulus is backing the GFL. They've been supplying weapons, and they have 'Mechs on Gibson as well. And now the situation is even, worse than I expected, for the countess is essentially a traitor to my liege. We must get in touch with Thomas."
"But Sir Masters—"
"No buts. It will be dangerous, but we have to get to the hyperpulse generator."
Precentor Blane held up his hand. "I spoke with Thomas the day you fought with your own lance, Sir Masters. Thomas was convinced you were in the right, despite—I'll confess now—my reservations, and decided to come here with the Knights of the Inner Sphere. He's supposed to arrive today." The Precentor pulled a watch from his pocket. "He should be here now, actually." He turned his gaze skyward and toward the starport. Masters and Maid Kris did the same. High overhead they saw three DropShips descending toward Gibson.
* * *
"It's getting quiet," said Masters, and indeed it was. The sound of shelling had stopped completely, and the gunfire came only sporadically.
"The Captain-General's arrival has probably prompted all the villains to reconsider their positions," said Precentor Blane.
"The war won't hold. I think they'll be mending their ways soon," added Maid Kris.
"But the blood spilt . . . The city . . ." Precentor Blane gestured around at the damage done to the Old City. "They can't back down from this tragedy."
"I don't think they'll invest too much concern in it, Precentor," Masters said. "To the countess the men are money, to Starling the men are machines, and to Hsiang they are living statues for his vanity, the more dead the more glorious. We've got to get out of here. But I don't know how we're going to get past all the soldiers."
"I do," said Maid Kris.
She led them through little-used alleys and secret tunnels. The Old City was a shambles, but the righting had stopped. She got them through the Old Wall, and arranged for transportation to the starport. "I trust you now," she said to Masters. "You'll get a ride."
They saw a full regiment of Word of Blake 'Mechs stationed around the city, silent giants waiting for instructions. "This is bad," said Masters. "Very bad."
Meanwhile a host of red and silver 'Mechs—piloted by the Knights of the Inner Sphere—had taken up positions around the starport. The silver reflected the late afternoon light, giving the group a truly majestic appearance. A thrill ran through Masters. Assembled here, the Knights of the Inner Sphere.
Thomas' guards now manned the gate, and Maid Kris' driver came to a stop. The guards, guns drawn, stepped up to the car and looked inside. "Sir Masters!" one of them exclaimed. "Good to see you, sir."
"Good to be seen. We've got to see the Captain-General right away."
* * *
One of the cargo holds of one of the DropShips had been transformed into a war room. Functionaries and strategists moved briskly about tables covered with maps and charts. Thomas sat at a large round table in the center of the room. His assistants came to him with questions and proposals, and rushed back to their paperwork. When Thomas saw Masters coming through the door, he got up and quickly crossed the bay to meet him. Masters dropped to one knee, suddenly thankful for all that Thomas had given him by sending him to Gibson. "My liege," he said.
"My loyal and noble vassal. How do you fare?"
"Well, now that you are here."
Maid Kris and Precentor Blane walked up alongside Masters.
"Thomas," said Precentor Blane.
"Bill. And who is this?"
"Maid Kris, formerly in the service of Countess Dystar, and an active member of the GFL."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is an interesting turn." He gestured to the table. "You must tell me all about it."
They did. When they finished, Thomas Marik gave out a long sigh and said, "Well, this is quite a mess." The three waited patiently for the rest. "There's only one thing to do."
"Sir?"
"Get everybody in here. We've got to figure this out."
* * *
Masters had been right. When Thomas announced his arrival at the starport, all three corrupt factions in the Old City pulled back their soldiers and opened diplomatic channels to sort the situation out. Their negotiations came to a sudden halt when three hours later Masters invited each one to a conference with Captain-General Thomas Marik. Protocol and curiosity inspired their promises to attend.
Maid Kris went off to wrangle with Deraa, nominal leader of the GFL, so that he would come to the meeting. She had also been asked to bring back Colonel Roush, if he was willing, to represent Regulan interests on Gibson. Both men agreed to attend.
Thomas also asked for a cease-fire until the end of the conference. The GFL resisted, as the government forces had essentially collapsed during the Old City battle. But the Captain-General was actually on Gibson, and he was taking them seriously enough to invite them to the conference, so finally even the GFL agreed. For the time being peace came to the planet Gibson.
The conference was set for the next day, to begin shortly before noon.
* * *
They all gathered in the cargo bay, now decorated with a massive banner displaying the Marik eagle. The banner dominated the chamber, and it made all the guests feel as if Thomas meant to eclipse them. Or rather, that he already had.
Thomas sat in a great chair carried from the palace on Atreus. A seat for each of the participants was set around the table. Watching quietly, the functionaries kept a distance from the meeting.
Masters sat to Thomas' right. After him, going around the table, were the Countess Dystar, who on several occasions rubbed her knee against Thomas' leg; Principal Hsiang; Assistant Precentor Starling, who insisted that he was Precentor on some technical matter that Word of Blake theologians were still debating; Precentor Martial Arian; Deraa, from the GFL; Maid Kris, whose revealed alliances cause the countess to say, "Ah," as if she'd always known; Colonel Roush; and Precentor Blane.
"Well," said Thomas, as servants passed around tea, fruit, bread, and cheese, "let's get started. Countess Dystar, it has come to my attention that you have been remiss in your responsibilities to the land I have granted you, and are, in effect, a traitor to my house."
"Well!" the Countess huffed with annoyance. "Principal Hsiang, although my jurisdiction does not concern you directly—"
"No, no it does not. And you would do well to remember that."
"—I still feel compelled to take action concerning your policies. I have promised the Word of Blake a home, and your government—"
"Our government has done everything in its power to extend the full cordiality of our world," Hsiang said, smiling an evil, impish, supposedly ingratiating smile.
"Yes, sir. Precisely. You gave it fully, leaving nothing for your own people. Please, little man, don't waste my time. Of everyone here, you have the least to say, because none of us takes you seriously." Except for Starling and Arian, who remained somber, everyone smirked despite themselves. "What you have done to your people,
your own people, is a disgrace, for you have sold them out for material gain. You have betrayed their trust and earned their wrath."
He turned to Starling. "I have given your people a home, but you would abuse a good man, Precentor Blane, because he stands in the way of your vision—a vision not welcome in the Free Worlds League. I am afraid there was a misunderstanding. Let me make it clear now. Gibson is not yours. I chose it because it is a world that honors religious tolerance. Your people will honor it as well, or the only home you will know is the space you wander among the stars."
"They must leave!" said Deraa.
"No, they must not. For I gave my word, you criminal, and my word shall stand. Now as for you—you claim to represent the people of Gibson. But this is only partially true. You represent the fear of the people of Gibson. Your actions do not make you a leader, but a monster."
"We were given no choice. Our petitions to the countess and then to you—"
Thomas' deep tone silenced Deraa quickly, "I failed you," he said, then let the statement sink in. "Do you understand? I am telling you, openly, that as the ruler of House Marik, I have failed your people. I am not here to prove myself right by punishing the people doing the complaining. I am here to set things right. I am here to listen to your grievances. I am here to act on them."
Deraa smiled.
He turned, finally, to Colonel Roush. "A pleasure to see you, Colonel. A disappointment to know that the Principality of Gibson would throw in with these criminals." Deraa's smile faded.
"We want Gibson back, Captain-General," Roush said simply. "And we offer them protection from Hsiang's corruption." He bowed.
"How bloody noble. Officially, your people have covered their trail, so technically I cannot implicate Regulus. You are hired mercenaries, and your services were paid for."
"True."
"Know this: the days of mercenaries are coming to an end."
"So you think, Captain-General."
"So I know, Colonel. Here, in the Free Worlds League, we will stop the nonsense of hiring men to carry out the whims of the rich."
"You make it sound so evil, Captain-General."
"I see it as such."
"The people of Gibson did not. They saw our presence as a boon. They desperately needed help."
"You aided a war without an end in sight, did so for your own world's profit, at the expense of countless innocent lives."
"There are no innocents on Gibson."
Thomas stared at him, shocked. "What an immoral thing to say."
"He's right, Marik," said Arian, his voice gruff and tired. "The people here are savages."
"And your practices are not?" Thomas snapped back. "Sir Masters has given me a full report on how this war was conducted. If this is the logic of the Word of Blake, I rue the day the schism occurred."
"You miss the point, Captain-General," said Roush. "When someone wants to win, he will do anything he must. I would do it. Word of Blake would do it. You would do it."
"I would not," Thomas said coldly. "Such thoughts may soothe your conscience—and yours, too, Precentor Martial. But it is not the case. You sorely underestimate me, and yourselves, if you cannot see the trap of your logic. We choose what we will and will not do. And a man who is willing to behave like his enemy is no more than a puppet, controlled by the actions of others."
Everyone fell silent.
"Sir Masters," Thomas said.
"My liege."
"The Dystar House has ruled Gibson for two hundred years. The Countess, who is—somehow—without heir, has proven herself incapable of sustaining my trust. I remove the patent from her, and pass the title of count and all the lands of Gibson to you and your family."
Masters felt dizzy, but his confusion was cut short as the countess stood up quickly, her chair falling over backward. Her wry humor completely evaporated. "Thomas Marik. How dare you?"
With mock-confusion, he said, "I am the ruler of House Marik. Am I not allowed to do this?"
"No, you spoiled adept. How dare you suddenly leap in with all these pretensions of yours. I have done nothing that my family has not been doing for generations."
"Then I have arrived on Gibson far too late."
"And in countless worlds across the Free Worlds League and the Inner Sphere. For goodness sake—" She gasped for breath, incredulous. "You relieve me of my lands because of monetary corruption?"
Thomas looked at her, his gaze boring into her. "Yes I do this. The time of change has come. I cannot speak for the other houses. I cannot speak for everyone in the Free Worlds League. But I can speak for all those bound to me by an oath of fealty. You have broken that oath. And let me make it clear: failing your trust to me is the least of your crimes. Greater than anything else is the fact that you betrayed your responsibility to this world. By betraying Gibson, you made me betray Gibson!"
"I will back you, Countess," said Roush.
All eyes turned to him.
"What?" said the countess.
"If you would war with Captain-General Thomac Marik, I will side with you. You can lead your peop back to the Principality of Regulus."
Masters leaned back as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
23
Portent, Gibson
Principality of Gibson, Free Worlds League
28 February 3055
Countess Dystar turned to Thomas, and Masters thought he heard her purr like a contented kitten. "What do you think of that, Thomas Marik?"
Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "I'd advise you against trying to fight me, but you will do what you will do."
"Oh! you are impossible." She turned to Roush. "I accept."
"Excellent."
Hsiang, who had remained still, with head bent low, now lifted his gaze toward the countess. "Lady?"
"Very well, you little worm. If you wish to throw in your lot with me, I'll take you along."
"Oh, thank you!"
"Wait!" said Deraa. He turned to Roush. "You cannot do this. They are the enemy. We don't want them in charge. The GFL—"
"Of course they can do it, Deraa," said Maid Kris. "They only want the planet back. They don't care about our principles or our freedom." Her eyes settled on Thomas. "But he does."
"But Regulus provided us arms, supplies."
"No longer," she said.
"I will accept all who wish to ally with the Principality of Regulus," Roush said.
"No, thank you," said Maid Kris. "Not with the bedfellows you're accumulating."
"Yes," said Deraa, coming out of his funk. "Captain-General, we will fight alongside you." Masters noticed that Deraa gave Roush a smile full of dark mirth and hidden meaning. Roush saw the look, too, and his expression immediately became one of surprised fear as if he had just realized something. Roush glanced at Masters as though wanting to say something, then apparently changed his mind.
Deraa sat back in his chair and smugly folded his arms. Masters and Maid Kris exchanged glances. She'd seen it too, but the shake of her head said she did not know what it meant either.
"Well, if the GFL is siding with House Marik," Starling said, "we have no choice but to cast our lot with the Principality of Regulus."
Masters slammed his fists down on the table. "The Captain-General gave you a home."
"And now he wishes to take it back. We cannot live as equals with these people."
"That is not true," said Precentor Blane. "We agreed to come here under that stipulation."
"I never agreed to it."
"You were outvoted."
"Well, now I am Precentor."
"Is this true, Bill?" Thomas asked.
"For the time being, yes. I'm sure the council now at work will clear me of the heresy I have been charged with, but until that time ..."
"Very well. For the time being, Starling rules Word of Blake. But these are difficult times, and rulers cannot always depend on their subjects. Precentor Martial Blane, for which side will your MechWarriors fight?"
Blane thoug
ht it over for a long while. "There is no choice," he said finally. "Precentor Starling is the Precentor. We command together. I will work with him."
"It doesn't matter," put in Deraa, again grinning malevolently. "When we fight, it doesn't matter how many BattleMechs you have." And once more Roush looked frightened.
"I'm afraid not, my new ally," Thomas said. "Your people are outlaw warriors. I will not associate with you on the battlefield."
Deraa and Maid Kris said at the same time, "What?"
"Very simple. You are outlaw warriors. I will fight for you, but I will not let you fight."
"But . . . ," stuttered Maid Kris. "But we're legitimized now. You're on our side."
"First, you're on my side. Second, no. The precedent began the day I created the Knights of the Inner Sphere. Your tactics have shamed warriors throughout the stars."
"But you'll meet Arian's MechWarriors?"
"Exactly," said Thomas. "They are the enemy. I'll do what I must to defeat them."
"You speak like a Clansman, Captain-General," said Arian.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Masters noticed Arian reflexively touch his war-damaged shoulder just as he had the day they'd discussed the Clan invasion at the TOC.
Thomas finally broke the silence. "And what do you mean by that, Precentor Martial?"
"I met them face to face, sir, defending my home-world on the other side of the Inner Sphere. We captured some of them, and I questioned them. We had no idea what we were up against when they invaded the Inner Sphere, for when Kerensky and his followers left human civilization three hundred years ago, we lost all contact with them and their descendants. We did not know what kind of society they had built for themselves."
"Their society, from what I understand, is built on winning war at any cost."
"No. They have a detailed warrior code, it is true. And their society is built around a warrior class. But they are not indiscriminate. In fact, if a warrior breaks the code, he is discredited, just as you have discredited the GFL."
Ideal War Page 20
