"Why are you dressed as a Falcon?"
"Because that is what I am."
That is impossible. He could not conceive of Marialle surrendering to the Falcons. Even if she had, they would have made her a bondswoman first and then, sometime later, they might have allowed her to become a MechWarrior again. And she called herself Marialle Radick, but the Jade Falcons do not possess blood from that line. It is a Wolf bloodline only. "How are you a Jade Falcon?"
"That is what we all are now, Vlad. The Wolves lost a Trial of Absorption. We are all Jade Falcons now."
Vlad's mouth hung open. "What?"
"Khan Chistu told us, the survivors, that we had been absorbed into the Jade Falcons. This is why he undertook the Ritual of Abjuration—he would not have Jade Falcons fighting Jade Falcons on Morges."
"But this was never a Ritual of Absorption."
"Not formally, no, but Khan Chistu said that when Natasha and Phelan pledged everything the Wolves had to fighting the Trial of Refusal, it automatically became a Ritual of Absorption." Marialle leaned forward slightly. "I did not like it at first—none of us did—but the logic is inescapable. Our war with the Jade Falcons hurt them badly, and hurt us badly. Alone, neither of our Clans is strong enough to stand, but together we are a fearsome force. The warriors who have survived are the best on both sides. Khan Chistu says this was a crucible in which the impurities of both Clans were burned away."
Vlad scowled. "The Trial of Refusal occurred in response to charges of genocide and treason against Ulric.The Wolves defeated the Jade Falcons on every world where we fought, save here."
Marialle threw him a sharp look. "It was closer to a draw. The Falcons offered us terms after Ulric's death. The terms were honorable and we accepted them. Some of us ran to Phelan, others stayed here."
"And Phelan still fights. The Wolves have not been defeated yet, Star Captain Radick."
"What are you saying?"
"The chronology of events you presented gives me the impression that Khan Chistu announced our absorption, then he initiated the Ritual of Abjuration to exile the Wolves who oppose his Jade Falcons on Morges, quiaff?"
"That is how it happened, aff."
"Yet the Wolves could only be absorbed if defeated, quaiff?"
"Aff." Marialle's eyes narrowed. "You are saying that if Phelan defeated the Jade Falcons, he could return and challenge Khan Chistu to a Trial of Refusal concerning the absorption and abjuration."
"Chistu would not have to acknowledge Phelan's claim because he has been abjured. It would take a Wolf to challenge the Absorption, but all the Wolves here on Wotan have become Jade Falcons."
"Except you."
"Except me. Come, Star Captain, help me from this tomb." Vlad smiled and stood slowly. "Tell me more of this fiction Khan Chistu has created about the death of Ulric. Do it, and I will show you how our honor may be redeemed. Do it and you will see why the Wolves were entrusted to me."
4
ComStar Military Headquarters, Sandhurst Military Academy, Berkshire
British Isles, Terra
13 December 3057
Precentor Lisa Koenigs-Cober rubbed sleep from her eyes and stifled a yawn as she was shown into the Precentor Martial's office. The room, with its paneling of dark walnut and shelves crammed with antique leather-bound volumes, seemed very warm to her. Through the high arching windows she could see snow drifting down through the night, and her stomach grumbled as she recalled the turbulence her plane had encountered passing through that storm over the Atlantic.
The demi-Precentor holding the door announced her. "Precentor Koenigs-Cober to see you, sir."
"Thank you, Darner, that will be all." The Precentor Martial, a tall, slender man, surrendered nothing to old age but the color of his hair and some lines on his face. When she had seen him before, at staff meetings or at troop reviews, he had always been dressed in a simple white cassock belted at the waist with a golden cord. That uniform belied his role as the supreme military commander of the Com Guards, and she had always assumed he wore it to prompt others to underestimate him.
The fatigues he wore now were white, but had obviously been chosen in keeping with the weather conditions and not for any symbolism of ComStar. His tunic bore no rank insignia, but the black eye-patch covering the empty socket on the right side of his face identified him as someone no Com Guard could mistake.
The Precentor Martial rubbed his hands together, then held them out toward the fire blazing in the huge hearth on one side of the room. He turned his head to look at her and she saw reflections of the dancing fire in his one good eye. "I apologize for summoning you at this hour. I had hoped to let you get some rest before I required a report from you, but there is urgent business that will take me to Morges in a couple of hours."
Lisa stood watching him for a moment, hands clasped behind her back. "Morges is where elements of Clan Wolf and Clan Jade Falcon are fighting. The Kell Hounds are there as well."
Anastasius Focht nodded, then pointed to one of the brown leather chairs facing the fire. "I'm pleased to see that you remain current on events outside the Terran system."
"Any Clan moving troops closer to the truce line is of concern to me, sir. I've not forgotten that their ultimate goal is the conquest of Terra. Forewarned is forearmed." She walked over to the chair he'd indicated, but paused before being seated. "Is it possible I might accompany you to Morges for a chance to observe more of their fighting— more than I saw at Tukayyid?"
"That would be a splendid idea, but no, I'm afraid it's not possible. Even though this trip is an emergency, I doubt I'll make planetfall before the end of the month. There's already been some combat on the southern continent. Given the way the Clans fight, the battle will no doubt be decided before I arrive." The old man looked down for a moment. "I expect Christmas there to be a rather bloody affair."
The Precentor Martial stared into the fire for a moment before turning back to her. "But that is not the reason I can't allow you to come with me. You have too much to do here. Brion's Legion has left North America?"
Lisa sat on the edge of the seat, not daring to lean back and let the warm, soft leather lull her to sleep. "Yes, sir. With the Sarna March balkanizing, the price of a mercenary contract has skyrocketed. The Legion is traveling to Pleione, to become one of the key units in the Tikonov Reaches."
Focht lowered himself into the chair opposite her. "I hope you know I tried to get the First, Circuit to match the offer Pleione made Colonel Brion. I know you were close to Major Iljir."
"I appreciate that, sir." Lisa held her hands toward the fire, though she knew the chill in them came from inside not outside. Rustam Iljir had asked her to leave ComStar and go with him to Pleione, and she'd asked him to join ComStar and stay with her, but both of them knew those requests were impossible for the other to comply with. We each asked because we had to ask, and we each declined because we had to decline. "The truth is, though, sir, we'll be getting a better unit in the Twenty-first Centauri Lancers. The Legion got a bit complacent here on Terra. The Lancers can use some light duty after skirmishing with the Second FedCom Regimental Combat Team on Hsein. Colonel Haskell is a good commander and I think her troops will benefit from the time spent here."
"Are they still set to arrive in early January?"
"Yes, sir. Alpha and Beta Battalions of the Terran Defense Force will take them through orientation ops."
The Precentor Martial sat back in his chair. "Then they should be fully operational in late February or early March?"
"Perhaps sooner. Colonel Haskell is prescreening replacements for the pilots she lost in battle or by taking this assignment. We're running security checks on all of them, of course, but we should end up with a squad that's more seasoned than the Legion was when it took this assignment seven years ago."
"Good. That leaves Terra vulnerable for only a month or two."
Something about those words sent a shiver down Lisa's spine. "You'll forgive me, sir, but are we really
in much danger here? I know there is unrest among the Clans, but that's a long way from seeing the truce violated, isn't it?"
Focht fixed her with his one good eye. "I negotiated the truce with ilKhan Ulric Kerensky. It was to run fifteen years, from 3052 to 3067. While he lives I have no fear that it will not be honored."
"And he is still ilKhan."
The Precentor Martial shook his head and his shoulders sagged a bit. "I hope that is true, but I don't even know if he's still alive at this point. The message I received today was sent less than a week ago and its contents lead me to believe that both Ulric's life and the truce are in jeopardy."
Lisa's mouth soured, for news of turmoil affecting the Clan truce could not come at a worse time. The Federated Commonwealth was engaged in open warfare with the Capellan Confederation and Free Worlds League in the Sarna March. In a protest over the catalyzing event that prompted the Free Worlds League to attack Prince Victor Davion's Federated Commonwealth, the Lyran Alliance had seceded from the Federated Commonwealth. To keep peace and maintain political stability in the Inner Sphere, Draconis Combine troops—serving as peacekeepers under the ComStar aegis—had occupied worlds trapped between Victor and his sister Katrina, angering the Lyran Alliance and making some of Victor's subordinates nervous about Combine aggression.
Just when the Inner Sphere needed to be united it was falling apart.
Focht sighed wearily. "I hope my mission to Morges will help clarify what's going on with the Clans. If Ulric is alive and still in control, we have no need for alarm. It he's not, then the next leader the Clans choose will have the power to repudiate the truce. Fortunately for us, the Clan Khans will have to return to their homeworld—a place they call Strana Mechty—to elect a new ilKhan. That bought us nearly a year of peace during the invasion."
"But we can't count on them doing that this time, can we?"
Focht shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "Anticipate, yes, but rely on, no."
She nodded. "Then would it be imprudent for us to begin to rotate my more experienced troops forward and bring the green troops back here for training? The orientation ops with the Lancers would provide some solid work for our people."
"True, but that would leave the defense of Terra in the hands of the Lancers, the Sandhurst Training Regiment, and your green troops. You will forgive me if that does not contribute to my peace of mind."
"But the Clans will have to work through the rest of the Com Guards in the Free Rasalhague Republic to get here. If they can do that, the number and nature of troops we have warding Terra will be largely immaterial."
"The Clans are not the only threat we face."
Lisa blinked with surprise. "You can't mean you think any of the Houses of the Inner Sphere would attack Terra."
Focht shrugged. "What Sun-Tzu Liao will do is anyone's guess, and Katrina Steiner is not proving to be terribly predictable either. My concern, however, is less over the aggressive tendencies of the Inner Sphere's rulers than with the possible actions our former brethren might take."
"Word of Blake."
"Exactly."
The resolution of the war against the Clans had split ComStar as seriously as it had allowed the Inner Sphere to fragment. Under the direction of Primus Sharilar Mori and Precentor Martial Anastasius Focht, ComStar had gone from being a cultish organization steeped in mysticism to a largely secular organization that maintained interstellar communications and used the bulk of its troops to secure Rasalhague's border with the Clans. This reversed centuries of tradition—tradition begun when Jerome Blake founded ComStar back in the 2700s.
The reactionary element of ComStar broke away and fled to the Free Worlds League. Thomas Marik, the League's ruler and a former ComStar Precentor, had welcomed the refugees. He had kept them and their actions from getting out of hand, but he did use Word of Blake agents to supplement his anemic intelligence agency, SAFE. Word of Blake members made noises about declaring Thomas "Primus in exile," but had yet to do so. ComStar's analysts assumed that would wait until Thomas made the League a Blakean theocracy or the Blakers somehow took control of Terra.
"I can see them as a threat, sir, but I think you would agree that the Clans are the more immediate and more likely one. Taking steps to deal with them should be our paramount concern."
Focht gave her an approving smile. "You're right, Precentor, but premature with your ideas of troop rotations. A decision on that can wait until after I visit Morges. I will send you what reports I can, including combat video and battle analyses. Perhaps you will find something you can use to surprise the Lancers."
"I would hope so, sir."
"So would I, Precentor. I have considered moving you into a command position with our Invader Galaxy, if you would like that."
Lisa hesitated. The Invader Galaxy was a Com Guard unit configured to fight like the Clans, using their doctrines and weapons. Technically speaking the move would be a demotion, for commanding the defense of Terra was a high honor. But the Invader Galaxy is the unit that will hone the rest of the troops for the day when the invasion begins again.
"Your offer is an honor, sir." She glanced down for a moment. "I would like time to think on it, if I might. I would want to be sure Terra's defenses are secured before considering such a move, but it is very inviting."
"That's a fair answer to a difficult question. We will speak more on it at a later date."
"Thank you, sir."
Focht looked toward the fire. "You know, there was once a time, ages ago—in another life entirely—when I would have spent a night like this with people I thought were my friends. Safely tucked away in the warmth, a snifter of brandy filling our middles and firing our brains, we'd plan and scheme and dream of what would happen when we managed to influence events to place us at the center of the universe. We looked at gathering power as if it were an end unto itself.
"In those days, at those times, I never thought I would be in this position." The Precentor Martial hesitated, something sparking in his eye. "Or, rather, I assumed that if I were old and able to sit before a roaring fire it would be because I had failed. I saw this as the repose of a powerless man—one who had failed to reach his full potential."
Lisa stared into the fire and saw phantom shapes and shadows immolate each other. "And now?"
"Now I am an old man who succeeded in defeating the greatest threat the Inner Sphere has ever known. I had hoped, in winning a truce that lasted fifteen years, that it would give us time to match the Clan's technological advantages, possibly even exceed them. In the last few years we've made strides, great strides, but now I'm not certain they're enough. And I'm not certain, faced with the threat resurrected, that I'll be able to stop it again."
Lisa looked over at the man who controlled the military might of ComStar. "The Clans will not prevail, Precentor Martial, because they cannot be allowed to prevail."
"A valiant sentiment, Precentor, but hardly armor against their BattleMechs."
"It's not meant to be that, sir." She straightened up and tapped her own breastbone. "The Clans believe in the superiority of their machines and their breeding, but those two things are but aids to the real core of battle inside a warrior. At Tukayyid you made sure we knew that surrender was not possible, so we fought far beyond what anyone would have expected was our capacity to fight. We had to win, so we did. So will we win again, with you as our leader, or with another, if need be. You showed us how to win, and in that you realized as much of your potential as any human has a right to realize in one lifetime."
The Precentor Martial unfolded himself from his chair and took Lisa's hand as she stood. He raised it up and lightly kissed her knuckles. "You will forgive me this contravention of military protocol, but you honor me with those words, and a salute seems a cold reward for such thoughtfulness."
She smiled at him and gave his fingers a squeeze before he released her hand. "The man you described yourself as once being was a destroyer. You, sir, are a defender and preserver. I know enough
to honor that. And to set it as a goal for myself and my people."
Focht nodded slowly. "The Clans are still the greatest threat we have ever faced, but with warriors like you to oppose them, it will never be an insurmountable one, and in that the Inner Sphere should rejoice."
5
Borealtown
Wotan
Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
14 December 3057
So, this is the last of the Wolves, Khan Elias Crichell mused to himself. He is a wretched beast. Standing before him was a warrior in a gray jumpsuit with Clan Wolf markings and the left sleeve slit to accommodate the plaster cast encasing his forearm. His flesh had the sallow gray tone befitting a man who had been fighting for months and living the last few days on survival rations.
But his eyes. Vlad's dark eyes burned with life and anger—enough to fill even the large chamber Crichell used for audiences. That anger had been easy to see, even in the holodisk the man had sent to request the audience. Crichell had been tempted to refuse the request, and Vandervahn Chistu had been quick to agree with that. That made Crichell wary, not because of his junior Khan's agreement but because he even deigned to pay attention to so trivial an administrative matter. Normally Vahn seemed bored or even contemptuous at the mention of such things. That it sparked interest of any kind was remarkable.
Crichell leaned back in the tall wooden chair and looked down at the man at the foot of the dais. "Your message indicated you had valuable information for me. How is it that a Wolf who has been buried like a turtle could know something of use to me?"
"I served Ulric Kerensky as aide during the Trial of Refusal—a trial still being waged on Morges."
"Renegades and mercenaries, led by a foundling—they will be swept away."
Vlad smiled in a lopsided way that made Elias feel uncomfortable. "You can wish that, Khan Crichell, but I do not think it will be so. And it would be best for you if it were not." The Wolf bowed his head—less, it seemed, as a gesture of respect than a performer's acknowledgement that he stood before a potential patron. "This is but one of the many things I know that could be of use to you."
Malicious intent Page 3
