Main event

by James D. Long

  Rose looked the man over. He was roughly the same age as Rose, but he seemed much more at ease with what was going on around him. Everything from his posture to his expressive face told of a life lived in the open. Rose doubted that the man was trying to hide anything, and briefly wondered whether his original evaluation of Salander Morgain might have been wrong. He looked over at the VTOL.

  "Can you really fly that thing?"

  Bell's face lit up. "Sure. I'm not combat-rated, but all the combat gear was stripped when the militia sold it to Morgain. If we keep it on the straight and level, we're in good shape."

  Rose considered the statement. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of ability, but the risk was probably worth the time that would be saved. He glanced over at Angus, who only shrugged.

  "I'll get my maps," he said. Fifteen minutes later they were in the air over Houston.

  * * *

  The final stages of the reconnaissance took Rose and Bell three weeks. The Ferret was only a two-man vehicle, so travel was cramped. Like Hawg, Bell was talkative, but on a slightly narrower range of subjects. Their three weeks of scouting was most productive, however, and Rose figured that one more long day of flights to the north of the city would finalize this stage of his plans. He and Bell were on their way back to the compound when Antioch interrupted his paperwork.

  "Incoming call for you," the pilot said, and Rose reached for the headset. Normally he didn't wear the communications set while the VTOL was airborne. Though he and Bell sat in separate compartments, the intercom system didn't require the use of the "head clamps," as Bell preferred to call them. Slipping the set over his head, Rose gave a thumbs-up to Bell, who switched the channel.

  "Captain Rose, this is Chairman Cooke." Rose stiffened. The use of formal titles was rarely the harbinger of good news. "I understand you're en route to the compound?"

  Rose nodded out of habit. "That is correct."

  "Please divert to the Assembly Pavilion helipad immediately."

  "Something wrong, Chairman?"

  "We can discuss it on the ground, Captain. Cooke out." The line went dead and Rose was left staring out into the darkening sky. He slid the headset off and spoke into the intercom.

  "I guess you heard that." Bell flashed another thumbs-up. "We're on the way?" Another affirmative. Rose settled back into the seat.

  "Doesn't sound like war, so there must be trouble," Rose said, thinking out loud. "Can you raise the compound? I think I want Rianna and Esmeralda there to meet us."

  When the Ferret touched ground, Rianna, Esmeralda, and Chairman Cooke were all waiting on the pad. Rose jumped out of the craft even before the blades had stopped turning, and dashed the short distance to the assembled figures. He nodded a greeting to the two women, then turned to Cooke.

  "We've got trouble," the Chairman began. "Petr Ivaars, my strongest supporter on the Council, was arrested this afternoon on charges of environmental pollution and profiteering. He resigned in the face of the charges." The huddled group entered the back doors of the Assembly Pavilion and Cooke no longer had to shout to be heard. As the doors closed behind him, the Chairman adjusted his collar and continued.

  "We called an emergency session of the Council, and on the way to the meeting—" Cooke paused and Rose braced himself for the worst—"Amanda Hillerman was killed in an automobile accident."

  The group continued on in silence as Rose worked through what Cooke had told him. Suddenly it hit him. Two of the four members of Cooke's coalition were gone. Rose had no idea how politics worked on Borghese, but he doubted Ivaars would be back, even if cleared of the charges.

  "You're out," said Rose solemnly.

  "Not yet. I've got five more months left on the appointment, but there isn't much chance of another term. Meantime the first thing the Council will have to do is recruit two new members." The small group came to a set of closed double doors, which Cooke threw open in a show of strength and frustration. As echoes of the banging doors filled the corridor, he continued.

  "Once the seats are filled, they'll move to change official policy. They won't fight the Clans if they arrive."

  "What about the people? You said the populace was against the Clans."

  Cooke shook his head. "Crenshaw will conduct a media blitz. Soften the edge of the Clans and exaggerate the weaknesses of the Federated Commonwealth. By the time it's over the people will welcome the Clan advance and wonder how the Inner Sphere ever got along without them." He barked a short laugh. "Most of them won't even realize that they were manipulated."

  "It's already started," Rianna said. Startled, Rose and Cooke stopped in their tracks and turned to look at her. "I've been monitoring the local news reports. The Clans are being portrayed as unstoppable. Most of the footage is of destroyed F-C 'Mechs and the remains of the towns where the fighting's been heaviest. Things were kind of gloomy, but it didn't seem so bad, until tonight."

  Rianna didn't have to be told to continue. She kept speaking as Cooke's face turned redder. "The footage they were showing tonight... I thought there was something familiar about it. When you mentioned the media, I remembered. Tonight's footage was from the battle of Twycross. I remember it from the academy. It wasn't available to the public when we viewed it."

  "Meaning it's recently been declassified or else somebody has powerful connections," Cooke said. "Did they mention it was old footage?"

  "No."

  "That's it," said Rose. "If it was above the board, they'd have announced it was old film."

  Cooke rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Captain Rose, you're about to become very unpopular. I can stall, but eventually Crenshaw's faction is going to win. That means no resistance if the Clans decide to take Borghese."

  "What about a raid?" Esmeralda asked.

  "A lance could take over the whole planet, if they looked threatening enough," Cooke said.

  "You're joking."

  "Biota and Volders fell without the firing of a single shot," Rose reminded her.

  "But both planets were threatened. To a population who believes the Clans are about to destroy them, a couple of 'Mechs can seem very threatening."

  Esmeralda snorted, and Cooke turned on her.

  "Don't doubt it, lady. You're a warrior. Killing and destruction may come easy to you, but this is a planet of fishermen and farmers. They don't fight, and if they're threatened, they'll surrender to the first Clanner they see."

  Esmeralda was taken aback by the intensity of the diplomat's gaze, but she recovered quickly. Seeing that Cooke was about to get an earful, Rose quickly stepped between the two.

  "Point taken, Mister Chairman," he said, staring hard at Esmeralda until she was back in control of herself. "What about a counterattack?"

  Cooke looked at Rose as though the mercenary had lost his mind.

  "Crenshaw will try to persuade the people to accept the Clans," Rose said. "You've got to convince them not to. You've still got Morgain. If his reputation is as good as you say, he could slow the tide of support, at least for a while."

  Cooke nodded, his eyes lighting up for a moment. "We'll have to wait and see that it happens."

  "In the meantime, we're heading back to the compound. Rianna, consider the base on yellow alert." Rose turned to Esmeralda.

  "Make sure the 'Mechs are ready to go at a moment's notice. Until we see how bad things are against us, we play it by ear and prepare for the worst."

  Cooke checked his watch, then gestured in exasperation. "Now I'm thirty minutes late for the meeting I called." He started down the hall, but stopped after only a few steps. "Perhaps you'd better let your DropShip crew in on the news. They're still considered part of your force."

  "The Chairman's right," Rose said, turning to Esmeralda and Rianna. "You two head back to the compound. I'll see if Antioch can take me directly to the spaceport."

  24

  Houston, Borghese

  12 June 3055

  As it turned out, McCloud was better prepared than Rose for the news of the
change in Borghese politics. The Bristol's holds were already being filled for a trip to Cameron. In two days Rachel McCloud and the Bristol would leave Borghese. Rose doubted either would ever return.

  There were no tearful good-byes, just the harsh reality of the demands of McCloud's job and Rose's contract. Rachel made her living hauling commercial goods from one planet to another. Although Rose had a contract, she did not. The maintenance on the Bristol was too high for her to remain sitting on one planet, even if she liked the company. Rose offered her a position as permanent transport of the Black Thorns, but she rejected the offer. The unit didn't make enough to provide for the extended maintenance of their 'Mechs. How could they hope to cover the expenses of a DropShip?

  Rose left the ship after securing Rachel's promise to return to the compound tomorrow evening for a farewell dinner. It seemed the least he could do. Stepping off the ramp, he noticed Antioch leaning against a cargo lifter despite Rose's earlier insistence that he head for home. Rose crossed the deserted tarmac. With a sigh, he leaned a shoulder wearily against the same lifter.

  "Tough night." Antioch made the statement sound like a question. Rose didn't respond and Bell let the silence drag. Eventually Rose grew restless and heaved himself away from the lifter.

  "You know what I don't understand?" Rose asked rhetorically. "Me. I don't understand myself.

  "I meet someone I really care about and things are going pretty well." Rose turned and looked up the ramp into the empty bay of the DropShip. "I have to leave, but we're on good terms. I send a couple of messages via ComStar and a few months later we're reunited. It's not the same, but I figure it's because of the separation." Rose crashed back into his resting spot against the lifter and continued to look up the ramp.

  "Things start to get better on the trip here and I actually believe the relationship can last." Rose fell into silence.

  "So what don't you understand?" Bell asked.

  "When we're aboard ship, things are great. We talk and laugh and everything is fine. But the minute I hit the ground, I have to remind myself that she's even around. I mean, I think about her more than I should, but I rarely have the time to talk with her or tell her what I feel."

  "Maybe there's nothing there," Bell said softly.

  Rose looked hard at him, trying to pierce the dim light in search of mockery. Even in the darkness, however, he could see Bell was serious.

  "Yeah, maybe you're right. But why do I feel so bad that she's leaving?"

  "I've only known you for a few weeks, but I like you," Bell said tentatively. "If it's not out of line, I'd like to offer a bit of advice." Rose wasn't sure he wanted to hear what his companion wanted to say, but he was confused enough to realize that another viewpoint might give him some badly needed perspective.

  "If you don't want her to leave, tell her. At least give her the chance to say no."

  "I offered her a position in the unit."

  Bell shook his head. "That's not the same thing. That was an offer to the DropShip and its captain. Not to the woman. There's a difference."

  Rose knew there was a difference, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it aloud. The same thing had happened with Tiegard, with whom he'd also shared something special, but with Rachel it was different. She wasn't a 'Mech jock and she wasn't a warrior. Rachel looked at life in a completely different way, which was what Rose found so enchanting. Unfortunately, just as with Tiegard, Rose could not bring himself to admit how he felt.

  "Let's go," he mumbled, seeing a strobe light come on at the top of the ramp. As the two men walked toward the Ferret, the ramp retracted into the belly of the DropShip. Rose couldn't see it, but he heard the echo of the ship's heavy door as it was secured for the night. There was an ominous finality to the echo that haunted him all the way to the compound.

  * * *

  Across Houston, at Crenshaw's second home, the mood was much lighter. Crenshaw was entertaining a single guest in his study and he was doing his best to make the man feel at home. Following a Council meeting that had been cut short by Cooke, Crenshaw mentally cursed him to Hell, then decided to retire to his home in town rather than endure the ride back to his country estate. When his guest had appeared just as the Council was adjourning, Crenshaw was able to invite him to his home without the other members of the Council noticing.

  He smiled and offered his guest another snifter of brandy. This stuff comes all the way from Andro, he thought with a huff of annoyance, yet the man drinks it down like ale. Crenshaw had suspected it from the first moment this fellow had walked into the Council meeting almost three months ago—Salander Morgain was a mere shadow of his famous father.

  "Do you like it?" Crenshaw managed to hide his disgust. After his many years as a politician, few could read his moods.

  Salander Morgain nodded. The brandy had an intense warming effect he had never experienced with any other alcohol. He'd have to find out where to get some for himself. Crenshaw smiled and moved to a chair matching the one Morgain occupied. His movements were not those of an old man, despite his physical appearance.

  As the councilman seated himself, Morgain could not help but remember the first time he'd seen Crenshaw. Even as a young boy, he'd sensed something sinister about the man. It lay just under the surface, waiting for the right moment to spring to life. His father had managed to keep Crenshaw's ambitions in check, as had the string of other chairmen who'd run the assembly. Only Cooke seemed unaware of what Morgain knew was the man's true nature. Now the beast was free, and he could see it in Crenshaw's eyes as the man prepared to speak.

  "Salander, I will not mince words. We sit on the eve of an historic day. A day that will be remembered in the history of Borghese as the day we set our feet on the right path."

  Salander was amazed. Crenshaw actually believed whatever tripe he was about to express.

  "You know that I oppose Zenos Cooke in the Council?"

  Morgain nodded and sipped his brandy. The fact was common knowledge.

  "You also know that I would not oppose a Clan landing, if one were to occur."

  Morgain hesitated, then nodded. He'd always known as much, but the gleam in Crenshaw's dark eyes was unnerving. "I hear your name mentioned as the leader of a pro-Clan faction, which I believe the media has named the Preservationists. "

  Crenshaw snorted. "Populist hog wash. The name matters little, as does my involvement with the faction. I do, however, support their aims. This foolish war with the Clans must not come to Borghese. I am dedicated to preventing that by any means necessary."

  Morgain nodded again. Crenshaw leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

  Morgain continued nodding, then caught himself. The reaction had been reflex until he looked into Crenshaw's eyes. The old man was not joking around. The younger man swallowed the last of his brandy and set the glass on the table between them. He leaned forward, his position mirroring Crenshaw's.

  "I understand. I've fought against the Clans, and I know what they're capable of doing. I would also do anything to keep the war from spilling into Borghese."

  Crenshaw relaxed. Morgain was now on his side. He smiled and reached out to pat the younger man's knee. "Just like your father. You love your homeland." What a lie, thought Crenshaw. Power and money are all the boy cares about.

  Crenshaw leaned back in the chair and motioned Morgain to pour himself another brandy. While he did so, Crenshaw continued speaking.

  "I believe we can prevent a war, despite what that fool Cooke has already done. Can I count on you to help?" Crenshaw already knew the answer, but if he could get Morgain to verbalize his position it would seem more like his own idea.

  "Of course. Tell me how I can help." Crenshaw hid his smile as Morgain crossed back to his chair, his glass filled to the rim.

  "The Council controls the militia. If someone threatens war, the Council can keep the reins on any hothead who wants to start shooting. Since I control the Council—or will after tomorrow'
s appointments—I can keep the militia from starting something. But. ..."

  "But the mercenaries," interrupted Salander.

  Crenshaw bit his lip. He hated to be interrupted. He smiled through clenched teeth and continued. "But the mercenaries are beyond my control. I've tried to talk with Rose on several occasions, but he refuses to see me except during the Council sessions. If the Clans arrive before the end of his contract, he'll definitely try to fight them." Crenshaw let his words sink in.

  "The Clans would be forced to fight back and who knows where it would end," blurted Morgain. Crenshaw nodded solemnly.

  "We have to stop him." Crenshaw continued nodding as Morgain set the half-full glass back on the table. He looked at Crenshaw and started to speak, then stopped, his mouth hanging open.

  "That's what you need me for, isn't it? I'm the only one who can stop Rose."

  Crenshaw considered his options. Morgain's statement was not exactly true, but it was close enough. He looked at the young Mech Warrior and decided to be a little more circumspect than he'd originally planned.

  "I don't want you to stop Rose. I'm hoping it won't come to that. What we, the Preservationists, need is someone with a military background to support our cause.

  "You've been very outspoken in your views about what to do when the Clans come. Although I haven't always agreed with you, I respected your conviction. But consider the cost of resistance. Destruction like you saw while fighting with the Federated Commonwealth army. Do you really want that for your home? Could you live with that, knowing that the damage and death could have been avoided?"

  Crenshaw leaned forward and impaled Morgain with his stare. Long moments passed, then the younger man shook his head.

  "Of course you couldn't. I understand, son, how much home means to you.

  "All you need do is support the no-resistance policy that I'll be proposing to the Council in the next week. If you were the first private citizen to announce his approval of the plan, the masses would follow. You'd be a hero."