"Send my message nonetheless. I will leave for Sandhurst as soon as possible."
The Acolyte regained some of his color. "It shall be done as though it were the Will of Blake, Precentor Martial."
Focht broke the connection with the flick of a finger. "Perhaps you were right, Aldo. Perhaps none of us can escape politics, but that does not mean I must succumb to them. One man losing an eye to politics is enough. I cannot allow Mankind to be sacrificed on that same altar. The most elegant speeches may sway the hearts and minds of men, but not one ever stopped a bullet."
1
Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth
15 January 3051
"You're who?"
Victor Ian Steiner Davion sat stunned in his chair as Romano Liao's shout filled the Dragoons' Grand Council Chamber. In front of him, his father stiffened while his mother reached instinctively for her husband's hand. Romano's voice rang out again. "By all the gods of heaven and earth, I can't believe it."
"I thought, Madam Chancellor, that my statement was clear enough." Jaime Wolf leaned heavily on the raised podium at the front of the chamber. Though the mercenary was not a big man, Victor could see the inner strength that had made Wolf a legendary leader and warrior. His black uniform and short cape only added to the grim expression his face now wore, particularly with the cloak thrown back from the left shoulder to reveal the ruby-eyed wolf's-head epaulet.
"Let me try again." Wolf looked around at the assembled leaders of the Inner Sphere, who gazed back at him with rapt attention. "More than forty-five years ago, Wolf's Dragoons were sent by the Clans to determine the level of military preparedness of your states, those fragments of what had once been the Star League. Since that time, we have worked both for and against every one of the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere."
Prince Haakon Magnusson of the Free Rasalhague Republic angrily raised a clenched fist. "Then I have you to blame for the Clans half-devouring my nation!" Magnusson, a silver-haired man who was neither tall nor particularly strong, put all his strength into the emotion that accented his words. "Was the Rasalhague Republic the choice target for the assault because we are a young nation or was it our reputation for disliking mercenaries?"
Wolf held up his hands to forestall other shouted questions. "Stop! You misinterpret my words." The diminutive mercenary turned to face Magnusson. "The Dragoons had nothing to do with the Clans' choice of targets. They are merely following the same route back into the Inner Sphere by which they left it. The Free Rasalhague Republic just happens to inhabit that slice of known space."
Magnusson returned to his seat at the table set between that assigned to the Draconis Combine representatives and the aisle that split the room in half. Varldherre Tor Miraborg, a sour-looking man with a long, deep scar down the left side of his face, leaned forward in his wheelchair to whisper something to Ragnar, Magnusson's son and the Crown Prince of Rasalhague. It looked to Victor as though Magnusson's heir was listening intently to Miraborg, but it was equally obvious that something in the words had taken him aback.
Hanse Davion rose from his seat with the ease of a much younger man. Though the years had slowed the elder Davion slightly and leeched the auburn from his hair, Victor knew his father took pains to remain physically fit. The Prince of the Federated Suns flashed his son a warm smile as he pushed his chair slightly back and out of the way. As always, the vitality flashing through Hanse's electric blue eyes made Victor confident his father would successfully gauge the problem and find a solution.
"Colonel Wolf, I gather by your answer to Prince Magnusson that you are no longer associated with the Clans?"
Wolf nodded, apparently relieved at an opening to explain. "Our last communication with the Clans occurred just after the Marik civil war in 3014. At that time, our leader believed that a Clan invasion of the Inner Sphere was a distinct, if distant, possibility. Even so, we were ordered to cease communicating information back to the Clans. Since then, we have had no contact with them until their recent broadcast informing us of the death of the ilKhan."
Romano Liao, recovered from her earlier shock, laughed derisively. "And we are to believe this, Colonel Wolf? What proof do you offer?"
Candace Liao, Duchess of the St. Ives Compact, rose from her place at the table to the right of the Federated Commonwealth contingent. Unlike her flame-haired sister, Candace kept a tight rein on her emotions and easily maintained an air of regal dignity. "I would point out, sister mine, that were Colonel Wolf still working for the Clans, we would all have probably died either en route to this meeting, if not before."
"Ha!" Romano waved away her sister's words with contempt. "You have so long clasped a viper to your breast that you cannot see Wolf for what he is."
The Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation would likely have continued to rant, but the savage expression on her face died the moment a slender young man seated behind her rested his hands on her shoulders. The youth threw her a wink when she turned to give his cheek an affectionate pat. As Romano turned back, now composed and in control, Candace slowly seated herself, still glaring at her sister.
Victor's blue-gray eyes narrowed as he studied Romano's son, Sun-Tzu. Clean-limbed and handsome, he did not have the wild look around the eyes that marked both his mother and his sister as seriously disturbed. The tales of paranoid purges and other lunacy from the court in Sian were so rife that Victor took Sun-Tzu's very survival to mean that he was both intelligent and politically astute. From Sun-Tzu's dossier, Victor knew he had undergone only rudimentary MechWarrior training, but the Capellan gave the distinct impression he could fight his own battles.
Victor glanced over to where the St. Ives Compact delegation was seated. Despite Romano's protests, Wolf had accorded the Compact full rights of a sovereign nation. The Dragoon leader had stated that Candace Liao was the ruler of an independent state of the Inner Sphere, even though the Capellans still claimed the realm as "occupied territory."
Behind Candace sat Kai, her eldest son, and her twin daughters, Cassandra and Kuan Yin. In comparison with his cousin Sun-Tzu, Kai fared well. Equally as good-looking and somewhat more athletic, Kai held himself ramrod-straight, as though the whole honor of St. Ives and his family rested on his shoulders. To Victor, the biggest difference between Kai and Sun-Tzu was that Kai's eyes lacked the hungry gleam that flashed from Sun-Tzu's. Perhaps it was because Kai, older than Sun-Tzu as his mother was older than Romano, could press a more convincing claim to the throne Sun-Tzu so coveted.
When Victor looked over his shoulder at his aide, he found the big blond man also staring at the pair, apparently making similar comparisons. "There will be trouble between them," said the Prince.
Hauptmann Galen Cox nodded, a predatory grin stealing across his face. "My money's on Kai. After what he did on Twycross, who'd want to bet against him?"
Hanse Davion, still on his feet, cleared his throat. "I must agree with Duchess Liao's assessment of the situation." Hanse gestured to the man seated beside Candace. "As my Intelligence Secretary can confirm, there has been no overt or covert contact between the Clans and Wolf's Dragoons since they took up residence here on Outreach twenty years ago."
Justin Allard, a slender Eurasian whose left forearm and hand were a black metal prosthesis, nodded in silent agreement with Hanse Davion. Given Romano's legendary hatred for her sister and her sister's husband, she might have risen up again in agitation, but a voice from the Draconis Combine steered the debate into less dangerous waters.
"I would agree that the Dragoons had ample opportunity for treachery in this situation, but I would more have expected some of us to try to kill one another than for Colonel Wolf to do the job." Theodore Kurita, Warlord of the Draconis Combine, steepled his fingers as he spoke. "If someone was trying to entrap us, he has succeeded, for here we are, all together, in a most, extraordinary gathering. As nothing untoward has yet occurred, perhaps it would be more productive to assum
e we have not been betrayed."
As Theodore spoke, Victor studied the delegation from the Draconis Combine. Theodore Kurita, the tall, lean Gunji-no-Kanrei of the Combine, sat between his wife and his eldest son, Hohiro. Hohiro had the fierce, noble features of his father, and Victor felt a jolt when their stares met.
The younger Davion could not suppress a grin. He's just like me. Our fathers have hated each other for as long as they've been alive. Now that legacy falls to us.
Behind Hohiro, Victor saw a man he recognized as Narimasa Asano, the head of the Genyosha, one of the most feared military units in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery. Then he noticed a beautiful young woman, made up and dressed in ceremonial Japanese fashion, standing between Hohiro and Theodore. A council of war seemed no place for such exquisite and serene loveliness, and it set Victor's mind to all manner of questions about her.
Jaime Wolf looked up from his podium at another contingent of royals from the Inner Sphere. "You are the last to speak, Captain-General. What are your thoughts? Are you in a trap, or can the Dragoons be trusted?"
"I do not think, Colonel, that your questions are necessarily two sides of the same coin." Though Thomas Marik did not rise to speak, he was an imposing figure. Tall and slender, he was severely scarred on the right side of the face and on his right hand, reminders of the burns suffered in the same explosion that assassinated his father. Despite the disfigurement, Marik's strong features and bearing hinted at an inner strength that may have been forged during his internship with ComStar. He wore a purple uniform, but without any rank insignia. Over his graying hair, he wore a short-billed service cap.
Wondering at the addition of the cap, Victor noticed that Sophina, Thomas's wife, also wore one. As did Joshua Simon, all of five years old, who sat holding his mother's hand. The boy's uniform imitated his father's, while the cap hid his baldness. Against the dark-colored uniform, Joshua's skin seemed even more pallid, His eyes sunk deeply in the shadows around them. The boy moved with a languor suggesting utter fatigue, yet was obviously trying to hold himself as tall as possible.
Galen sucked in a sharp breath. "It is true, then. The child is very ill."
"Justin's sources report leukemia." Victor shook his head in pity. "Marik hopes the boy will survive, but the prognosis is not good. Joshua is sensitive to the chemicals they're using to treat him, and they really knock his system out. Look how blue his lips are. It's anemia from the last bout of chemotherapy."
Seated next to the boy, Isis Marik preened herself like a debutante. She, too, wore a paramilitary uniform and had even donned a cap in solidarity with her half-brother. The cap, though, was set at a jaunty angle, flaunting the long, thick braid of abundant chestnut hair that Isis had drawn forward around one shoulder and down onto her breast.
Victor frowned. "It's almost as though she mocks how sick the boy is."
"If he dies, she'll become Captain-General, my Prince." A hint of distaste flashed through Galen's eyes. "You're first in line to the throne, so you may not think much about succession. But being a newly legitimized royal bastard could definitely give someone ideas about power and how to achieve it permanently."
"Well said, Galen. Though she's pretty, I'll do my best to stay away from her." Saying that, Victor stole another glance at the young woman in the Kurita contingent. As a thousand questions about her continued to fill his mind, he shook himself. This is a council of war, Victor, not some court picnic.
Thomas leaned forward, resting his hands on the table assigned to the Free Worlds League. "I share the Gunji-no-Kanrei's view that worrying about a trap is immaterial at this point. The Dragoons have brought us here to discuss the Clan invasion and what we should do since they have called a halt to their advance. I think such a discussion would be a most valuable pursuit.
"For my own part, I am not one hundred percent inclined to trust any military force that admits it was once allied with an enemy. Forgive me, Colonel, but the people of the Free Worlds League well remember the Dragoons for their role in the war between my father and his brother Anton."
"Your caution is understandable, Captain-General," Wolf said. "By the way, we have set up your medical team in our infirmary and have provided them all the equipment you asked be made ready for their use."
Thomas acknowledged Wolf's kindness with a nod. Joshua, meanwhile, sat unaware that he might be the subject of discussion as he dangled his feet idly back and forth above the floor. Victor smiled at the display of innocence, another note as odd as the presence of the beautiful young woman. He knew Jaime Wolf's brother Joshua had been slain in the Free Worlds League Civil War. He wondered if Thomas had chose the same name for his son by mere coincidence, or if it were a kind of peace offering to Wolf's Dragoons.
Victor looked around the massive room the Dragoons called their Grand Council Chamber. An amphitheater carved out of Outreach's bedrock, it had been paneled with slender strips of oak. Two dozen stepped terraces provided seating for spectators, and a golden oak railing separated the main floor from the spectator galleries. Down on the floor, a semicircle of wooden tables faced the speaker's podium. Victor suspected the Dragoons had removed the connecting pieces that normally bound the tables together so that the Great House leaders would be on equal footing.
Up in the galleries, Victor saw a number of Dragoon uniforms scattered among the small crowd of military advisors and state ministers. The courtiers who had accompanied the various royal parties were hardly necessary for planning a campaign to destroy the Clans, but they were vital to keeping the states of the Inner Sphere functioning. Never before had all these rulers of all the Successor States been gathered in one place at one time, and the stress of maintaining business as usual told on the faces of the civil servants gathered to watch the debate.
Victor noticed Jaime's son MacKenzie Wolf standing toward the back. Tall and slender and with a dark moustache, he cut almost a rakish figure in his black and scarlet uniform, but his bearing suggested he did not find the proceedings amusing.
Standing beside MacKenzie were Morgan and Christian Kell of the Kell Hounds mercenary unit. Their scarlet uniforms and waist-cut jackets were distinctive for the way the jacket's double-breast took the form of a black wolf's-head with triangular red eyes. The muzzle fastened at the waist and the two ears fastened at the shoulders. Breaking up the black, campaign ribbons slashed across the left ear of Morgan's jacket, proclaiming the elder mercenary's long career.
The trio's grim expressions reminded Victor of the gravity of the situation. A cold chill ran down his spine as he thought of Morgan's son Phelan—his own cousin—who had been one of the first fatalities in the Clan invasion.
Jaime Wolf sighed heavily. "We are wasting precious time. The Inner Sphere faces the greatest military threat the Successor States have ever encountered, either individually or collectively."
Wolf hit a button on his podium. The room lights dimmed as a holographic map of the Inner Sphere burned to life in the center of the semi-circle. It slowly rotated so everyone could get a good look, then it split into smaller representations of itself, with one hovering before each delegation's table. As Victor leaned forward to study the map, fear writhed like a snake through his belly.
Normally the Successor States and the worlds they claimed formed a rough circle of star systems approximately 370 light years in diameter, with the circle centered on Terra. On this map, however, a huge chunk had been bitten out of the circle, making it a fat crescent with both horns pointing up and away from the chamber floor. Though the ravaged Free Rasalhague Republic lay at the center of the conquered area, bites had also been taken out of both the Lyran sector of the Federated Commonwealth and from the Draconis Combine.
Victor leaned forward toward his father. "I didn't realize the Combine had been hit so hard. They've lost as many worlds as have we."
Hanse pressed his lips together into a thin line. "I daresay, from the expression on Theodore's face, he was not aware that we'd been hard-hit either. Wolf's
intelligence network is very good. Things are much worse than any of us dared imagine."
Wolf waved a hand to include all the maps. "As you can see, the situation is most grave. The Free Rasalhague Republic has lost its capital and over half its worlds. The invaders have also made substantial gains in the Lyran Commonwealth and the Draconis Combine. In less than a year, they have managed to take more worlds than changed hands in the Fourth Succession War, and the efforts to stop them have been less than effective.
"My purpose in calling all of you here is to propose that we unite to oppose these invaders. Only a concerted and joint effort can turn back the Clans. Otherwise, we face domination by an implacable foe. Just like the old saying, if the Successor States do not hang together, they will all hang separately."
Romano Liao glanced at her sister as though measuring her neck for a rope, then stood. "I am not certain I share the sense of urgency you seem to advocate, Colonel Wolf. Acting independently, my Lord Kurita and even Hanse Davion have fought off these invaders. And I have no evidence that these Clans are different from any other murdering, butchering, bloody-handed conquerors."
"As you will, Lady Romano," Wolf replied mechanically, but Victor heard the undertone of cold rage in Wolf's voice. "I assure you, however, that the Clans are vastly different than any army that has marched before or will ever march again. Yes, it is true that the Clans stopped advancing after Federated Commonwealth and Combine troops dealt them defeats on two different worlds, but it was not because the Inner Sphere forces had proved themselves superior. The Clans halted their invasion because their war leader was slain at Radstadt, and now they must choose a new one before they can continue to fight. Until then, their line troops will remain in place while the Clan leadership decides on who will spearhead the invasion. When the leaders return again, rest assured that they will come with yet more Clan armies, and if we do not work together, their victory is certain."
Blood legacy Page 2
