Malicious intent

by Michael A. Stackpole

  "They are but the remnants of a Clan. We can overwhelm them."

  Crichell shook his head. "No, we cannot."

  "We were that seriously hurt?"

  "Ulric did his work well." Elias frowned. "No one else, save you and I, has any idea of just how gravely the Falcons were damaged. Our brethren in the invasion force believe so fervently in the Crusader vision that they cannot conceive of a Warden force being able to overcome our best troops. Because they believe the Wardens' reluctance to press for total conquest of the Inner Sphere is an inferior philosophy, they also believe the Wardens to be inferior warriors."

  "Fools."

  "Yes, but fools we must use at this critical juncture. In recognition of defeating Ulric, I can be elected ilKhan. It is imperative that I assume the office so that we can buy the handful of years needed to rebuild to our former strength."

  Marthe's jaw hung open for a moment. "A handful? We would need a minimum of fifteen years for our sibkos to mature sufficiently to provide us the warriors we need."

  "Not so, Marthe." Crichell smiled slyly. "Remember, I once did my share of fighting, and it taught me well the destructive capacity of war. I looked ahead, nearly twenty years ago now. What I saw in the future let me plan for just such a moment as this."

  "You sound like some dreaming Nova Cat."

  "Not dreaming. Thinking. Seeing far and wide with the eyes of a falcon. Then I acted on what I saw." Crichell smiled confidently. "I am having the files sent for you to review and decide the best use of what my far-seeing produced."

  "What have you done, Elias?"

  "Calm yourself, Marthe, it is not as hideous as you seem to imagine, though I am sure your Pryde sensibilities will be offended at first. Perhaps you will find it more palatable to think of it like a storm front that rolls in and grounds your enemy's aerospace fighters. The weather is there despite your intentions or desires, but you can still use it to your advantage."

  "Using weather is one thing, violating our honor as Jade Falcons is quite another." Marthe tapped the pectoral. "You have authorized some program that runs counter to our traditions and you expect me to vote for you as ilKhan? I should denounce you before the Grand Council!"

  "You won't do that because my deed will preserve the Jade Falcons, Marthe." Crichell raised himself up to his full height. "What you threaten will destroy us."

  She hesitated. "We are Jade Falcons. The other Khans must respect us for that."

  "As the Wolves respected the Widowmakers when they absorbed them, and as we respected the Wolves when we absorbed them?" Crichell laughed harshly. "At this crucial juncture, we are fighting for survival, not respect.

  "Think about it, Marthe. We have been bred to fly high and attack weakness where we find it. When the other Clans learn how weakened we have become, they will devour us."

  Seeing her brow furrow, Crichell knew the shot had hit true. As rigidly as Marthe honored the way of the Clans and the traditions of the Jade Falcons, she could also see how a reluctance to adapt could doom them. Though she believed that honoring the fundamentals was their strength, without enough warriors to fill their ranks and defend their worlds, the Jade Falcons would perish. Given a choice between working with him and the death of the Clan, Marthe took the only logical path open to her.

  "The decision whether to use this plan of yours is mine alone, quiaff?"

  "Of course. All yours, Marthe. You will be pleased, trust me."

  "I will never trust you, Elias, and never respect you."

  "I will try to live without either."

  "As ilKhan."

  "I think you will find that unless I become ilKhan, your vision for the future of our Clan will wither on the vine." Crichell hefted the gold and green enameled falcon's-head mask he would wear in the Grand Council chamber. "I give you the Clan's future; you give me your vote."

  Marthe nodded stiffly. "Bargained and done."

  "As a Jade Falcon Khan, I respect you, Marthe. As ilKhan I will exalt you."

  "None of that, I beg of you, Elias Crichell." She fixed him with an arctic glare. "It suffices you do not embarrass me."

  Following Marthe into the makeshift Grand Council chamber, Crichell nodded at Kael Pershaw seated toward the front of the room. Pershaw rose from his seat behind the wooden desk and hammered his flesh and blood hand against the oaken desktop. "I am Kael Pershaw and have been chosen to act as Loremaster for this gathering of the Grand Council. I hereby convene this conclave under the provisions of the Martial Code handed down by Nicholas Kerensky. Because we exist in a state of war, all matters shall be conducted according to its provisions."

  "Seyla," Crichell called out in unison with his fellow Khans. Fourteen Khans were present in person, the other twenty attending via holovid monitors stacked on desks, chairs, and tables around the tiered amphitheater. Of those who had not physically attended the last Grand Council meeting, only the Khans of Clan Diamond Shark had bothered to appear in person this time. Elias took this as a sign that his efforts to persuade the absent Khans to give him their votes had been successful.

  Pershaw sat down again and glanced at the screen of the noteputer on the desk. "Today we come together to select a new ilKhan."

  Removing his glittering helmet with the dorsal-fin crest, Khan Ian Hawker of the Diamond Sharks stood. Pale, of light eye and lighter hair—like so many of the Hawker line—his expression was severe. "This action is unlawful! The ilKhan has ever been elected on Strana Mechty. Calling an election here and now mocks our ways."

  Crichell would have spoken in reply, but Vladimir Ward rose from his place at the far side of the room. He wore the gray leathers of Clan Wolf, though both he and Marialle Radick had added a mantle of jade-green leather over their shoulders. Vlad removed his enameled wolf's-head and set it down in front of him. "I would beg to differ with you, Khan Hawker."

  "I am certain you would, if you had standing here."

  The scar on the left side of Vlad's face burned bright red. "I do have standing here, Ian Hawker. As do my Jade Wolves. I have been given, these past two weeks, to studying the Martial Code handed down by Nicholas Kerensky. A fitting task for a newly elected Khan, quiaff? I have read carefully the passages providing for the creation of a new Clan—an action that requires no approval by this conclave."

  Crichell saw fire in the younger man's eyes Vlad let his glance travel over the faces of the gathered Khans before speaking again.

  "Neither did my studies turn up any directive that the Grand Council must convene in a specific place in order to select a new ilKhan." Vlad smiled slowly. "Perhaps I might also remind you that this conclave sanctioned a Grand Council meeting to be held on Tamar for the express purpose of unseating a sitting ilKhan. If an ilKhan can be demoted in the field, certainly he can be elected in the field."

  Vlad finished speaking and looked directly at the elder Jade Falcon Khan. Crichell nodded in appreciation and Vlad took his seat. You are learning to play the political game, Vladimir Ward. You have obviously puzzled out why I created a new Clan for you, and it seems you acknowledge yourself in my debt. That is good.

  Lincoln Osis, Khan of the Smoke Jaguars, stood. The gray creeping into his tightly curled dark hair contrasted sharply with his dusky skin, but his heavily muscled body seemed to defy the ravages of age. Osis was an Elemental, and though standing a row below Hawker, still looked down on the man.

  "Your scorn for the pragmatic, Khan Hawker, may make you a good leader among the Diamond Sharks, but it will not help us settle the urgent matter facing us here. The ilKhan is dead and one of us must take his place. Were we to return to Strana Mechty, not only would it remove us from the theater of combat, but it would also give our enemies even more time to prepare. To permit that is both unwise and unnecessary."

  Osis turned toward Pershaw and called out for all to hear, "I offer Elias Crichell of the Jade Falcons as a candidate!"

  When Severen Leroux, the ancient Khan of the Nova Cats, seconded the call, Elias wondered why. He'd not lo
bbied the Nova Cats for support because they tended to seek guidance in mystical visions and portents rather than logic. The Nova Cats often acted as if they were agents of fate, and right now he dearly wished he knew what they saw in store for him in the future.

  Kael Pershaw punched something into the noteputer. "The name of Elias Crichell of the Jade Falcons has been placed before this conclave. You will each cast a vote aye or nay. If Elias Crichell obtains half plus one of the ayes, he wins the vote. I will poll you individually."

  Crichell kept his own tally as the votes were cast. Neither Severen Leroux or Lucian Cams of the Nova Cats explained their votes, but both cast in his favor, so their reasons mattered little to him. Both Diamond Sharks cast against, which he had expected, but the Smoke Jaguars, Steel Vipers, and Jade Falcons voted for, establishing an early six-vote edge toward victory. The Ghost Bears cast against him, but they had long-standing ties with the Wolves and Diamond Sharks. The holo-vote split almost evenly, leaving him a positive two-vote margin when they came down to the newest Clan.

  At Vlad's urging, Marialle Radick voted first. "It was I who first brought Ulric's treason to the attention of my Clan. It was I who took the first step on the road that led us here today. I, Marialle Radick, do vote 'aye,' for Elias Crichell."

  The old man smiled. That does it. Vlad's vote makes no difference.

  Vlad stood up, taking a moment to compose himself. "I welcome the selection of Khan Elias Crichell to the post of ilKhan of the Clans. It is my duty, however, to honor the memory of the ilKhan who led our glorious invasion— without whose leadership we would never have come this far in the conquest of the Inner Sphere. His thinking may have been flawed, but none can deny that Ulric Kerensky was a warrior born. I vote 'nay.' "

  Pershaw hit one last key on his noteputer and twisted his ruined face into what might have been a smile. "By my tally the vote is seventeen in favor and fifteen against. Let it be proclaimed by the authority of this solemn conclave—Elias Crichell is today named Khan of Khans, the ilKhan of all the Clans!"

  "Seyla!" the assembled Khans cried out, and began to thump their desks and tables in approval as Crichell descended to the head of the room and stood behind Pershaw. He removed his helmet and held it in front of him like a short podium. He smiled as the sounds died away, then bowed his head to the other Khans.

  "I vow to prove myself worthy of your confidence. Your vision for the future is my vision for the future—the restoration of the Star League and the elevation of the Clans to our rightful place of rulership in the Inner Sphere, a place only we were born to hold."

  He glanced down at Pershaw's noteputer. "And now we take up the crucial question of when to resume our invasion of the Inner Sphere. Yes, Khan Vlad?"

  "Forgive my interruption, but there is another matter ..."

  "I thought you would be the one to see this." Crichell nodded indulgently. "You wish to postpone the discussion, quiaff? Because of the unexpected loss of my saKhan, I have had insufficient time to prepare an accurate survey of my resources. I assume the same is true for you and your Clan, Khan Vladimir. Shall we postpone the discussion until we have had time to prepare?"

  Vlad stood. "I would appreciate that, ilKhan, but a delay is not the other matter I wanted bring to the Grand Council's attention."

  "Then what is it?" The younger man's face sharpened. "I, Vladimir Ward of the Jade Wolves call for a Trial of Refusal."

  What? "See here, Vlad, we've had enough of your—"

  "You are not fit to lead us, Elias Crichell. You are not fit to be Khan of Khans. I challenge your right to be ilKhan."

  10

  Borealtown

  Wotan

  Jade Falcon Occupation Zone

  2 January 3058

  "What?"

  The incredulity and fear in Crichell's voice infused Vlad with power and made him smile. "You heard me, Elias Crichell. I challenge your qualifications to claim the title of ilKhan. I say you are unsuited."

  "You cannot!"

  Vlad nodded slowly. "I can. I have."

  The older man straighted up. "On what grounds?"

  Vlad ran a hand along his jaw. "Are you certain, Elias Crichell, that you wish me to answer that question?"

  "He asked and you will answer," snapped Lincoln Osis.

  Vlad turned on the Smoke Jaguar. "I am a Khan. You cannot order me to do anything."

  Osis glared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze toward the floor. "I intended no disrespect. Your accusation against the ilKhan is of more import than any ill will you bear him. If he is not fit to serve, we must know why."

  "Then know you shall." Vlad pressed his hands against the smooth wood of the table in front of him. "I could point out that Elias Crichell conspired with an unblooded warrior to destroy his rival for power. I could point out that he knew of evidence that proved Khan Vandervahn Chistu murdered Ulric Kerensky, but did not demand it be brought forward in the Jade Falcon Clan Council. Both of those things reveal a serious lapse of honor, but that is not the heart of it."

  He pointed at Crichell. "My challenge is based on the most fundamental qualification for the title of ilKhan: Elias Crichell is not a warrior."

  Crichell's face flushed crimson. "This is absurd! I have tested out in a Trial of Position just as any warrior must. The proofs are there for all to see."

  "Yes, ilKhan Crichell, the results are available, but there are no holovids of your tests." Vlad smiled coldly. "I took the liberty of obtaining the maintenance records for your BattleMech and those of the 'Mechs that tested against you. Your techs have fired more shots in your 'Mech than you have, and the 'Mechs you fought have required no more than the replacement of ejection seats afterward."

  Crichell folded his arms across his chest. "I cannot control the actions of my foes. If they fear death at my hands, is that a fault to be laid at my door?"

  "It surprises me, then, ilKhan, that so fearsome a warrior as you did not take his own BattleMech against the Wolves in the fighting last month." Vlad shook his head. "Your explanation matters not—my challenge stands and you must respond to it."

  "Very well, you will have your Trial." Crichell looked over at Kael Pershaw. "Summon Taman Malthus—he will be my second in this."

  "Kael Pershaw, ignore that request."

  Crichell stared coldly at Vlad. "What do you mean in giving my man orders?"

  Ian Hawker laughed aloud. "He means to prevent you from further proving yourself unworthy, Elias. He has read the rules and has you trapped. He challenged you, not the vote. Had he contested the vote, you might have named a second to fight for you. But he challenges your qualifications as a warrior, and only you can defend the Trial of Refusal against them."

  Vlad bowed his head toward the Diamond Shark Khan, then turned back to face the gathering. "A Khan of the Khans must be able to handle any type of combat. As the challenged party you would normally have the right to choose how we would fight: augmented or unaugmented. As ilKhan you abide by a random choice. Kael Pershaw, randomize a number, one or zero. One is augmented, null means we use nothing."

  Kael Pershaw hesitated for a moment and only moved to the noteputer when Marthe Pryde nodded to him. He tapped something into the noteputer, and a green zero flashed up into the holographic display. "You will fight unaugmented."

  Vlad vaulted over his desk and landed solidly on the main floor of the amphitheater. "I am the challenger. I say we fight now!"

  Crichell lifted his chin. "We fight unaugmented, but you are wearing a club on your left arm."

  Vlad whirled and smashed the cast against the table with a thundercrack. Plaster chips flew off in all directions, peppering Marialle Radick and the Nova Cat Khans. Vlad felt an ache start in the middle of his forearm, but he pushed the pain away. With his right hand he pried the cast apart and dropped it to the floor.

  Bits and pieces of it crunched beneath his boots as he walked toward Crichell. "I allow you to strike the first blow, Elias Crichell."

  The older man'
s right fist arced at his head. Vlad felt the impact and tasted the blood flowing from mashed lips. He felt himself losing his balance and moving involuntarily backward, then going down, but none of that mattered to him. With that first punch Crichell had confirmed Vlad's accusation: he was no warrior.

  A warrior would have gone for a killing blow. Vlad rolled to a stop against the legs of the Smoke Jaguar table. As he stood, leaning heavily against the table, he swiped blood away from his mouth with the back of his left hand, then smiled. And a warrior would have followed up his attack, giving me no chance to recover.

  Crichell waited for Vlad in the center of the floor. The younger man staggered toward Crichell, as if still addled by that one punch. Confidence blossomed on Crichell's face, and Vlad could see the man anticipating how this fight would add to his myth. Crichell had already begun to look beyond this moment to future times, and started to shift his weight around in preparation for the blow that would put Vlad down and out.

  Vlad's jerky movements flowed fluidly into a sidestep that gave Crichell's uppercut no target. As the older man recovered himself, Vlad jabbed twice, connecting with quick punches that crunched Crichell's nose and split his lips. Vlad followed them with an overhand left feint at Crichell's head. The older man brought his hands up to protect his head, opening the way for Vlad to bury his right fist in Crichell's middle.

  As Crichell jackknifed forward, Vlad snapped his right knee up, catching Crichell in the face and straightening him again. Then he grabbed the back of Crichell's neck to keep him close, and pounded the man's midsection with his right fist. While raining blows on Crichell's stomach and ribs, Vlad added a knee to the belly just to break things up.

  He could tell from the gasping sounds Crichell made that the man couldn't draw a full breath. Barking a harsh laugh, Vlad released the older man, then gave him an openhanded slap across the face. Crichell spun away and crashed into the desk in front of the Nova Cat Khans. He clung to it, keeping himself off the ground, then levered himself up and moved back into the fight.