"Second: through your actions, you have taken a true MechWarrior from our forces and denied the First Vega Regulars their commander. Therefore, 1 declare you responsible for the First Vega Regulars. You will guide them until a new leader can be appointed. When a new leader has been chosen, you will remain answerable to their needs and requests, though you will not be under their direct command. You will be responsible for their training, and their transition from Industrial 'Mechs to BattleMechs. You will bear this responsibility until such time as I or the FVR commander determine that it is no longer necessary.
"Do you understand, agree and submit?"
Huntsig looked up, barely concealed pain on his face. He unbuckled his belt and unfastened the sword's matching sheath, presenting it to Conner. "I understand, agree and submit."
Duncan took the sheath, placed the sword in it, turned and walked away. "We are done here."
He walked through the barracks, all eyes on him as he turned the corner at the end of the corridor, walked through the building's small lobby and went outside. He passed by the parked ground vehicles and began to walk along the road to the 'Mech hangars.
The road was poorly tended, and weeds grew high along the sides. He pulled out the sword and slashed at the brush as he walked along.
When he reached the hangar, the great doors stood open at each end, allowing the slight breeze to keep the heat within from becoming unbearable. He walked inside, past the rows of new 'Mechs lined up and awaiting service. A mechanic looked up and saw the Star colonel brandishing a sword, her eyes growing wide.
Suddenly feeling conspicuous, he sheathed the sword again and marched along the row of 'Mechs, studying the faces of everyone working there. As he walked past a welder busy patching the armor on the foot of an Ursus, the welder finished the bead and flipped up his welding mask. He looked up to see Conner Hall before him and went pale. He spotted the sword in Conner's hand, and went paler still.
This was the man Conner had seen painting Freeminder graffiti.
Conner reached down, pulled off the welding mask and tossed it aside, grabbed the man by the biceps and dragged him towards the nearest door in the side of the hangar. Once again, Conner was aware that he was the center of attention. Mechanics, technicians and laborers stopped to watch, not just on the hangar floor, but on the scaffoldings and catwalks above.
Conner ignored them, pulling the man through the door and into the sun outside. He turned back to face the man. and spotted more graffiti on the wall above the technician. think the unthinkable
Conner looked around. The sidewalks outside the hangar were empty. They were alone. He stared at the man. "We have to talk."
The man said nothing, only looked at him nervously, clearly anticipating the worst.
"Tell me," demanded Conner, "about the Freeminders."
The technician squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw. "I will take whatever punishment you choose to hand out, but I will never betray those who have put their trust in me." Conner gripped the sword tightly with both hands. "You do not understand. I do not want you to betray them. I want to join them."
13
From the Great Work of Galaxy Commander Isis Bekker
Of all the words handed down to us by our Founder. Nicholas Kerensky, these weigh on me most heavily: "If there is no unity, nothing can be achieved." They are from his enthronement speech when he became the first ilKhan of the new Clans. They are literally the words on which the Clans are formed. They are our foundation, our creed and our heart. I think of them, and my heart grows cold, for they are lost to me.
This planet is called Vega, but if I could name it now, I might instead call it "Disunity." Wherever unity is, be it Strana Mechty or Terra or someplace else, this is certainly the place it is farthest from. There is no unity among these people and, increasingly, there is no unity among the people of my own Galaxy. The lower castes grow restless and rebellious, the warriors impatient and angry. Our enemies gather all around us and we cannot stand against them, because we are divided.
Of this, my Clan upbringing and teachings tell me little. It is assumed that through the way of the Clans, because of the Honor Road, we will always stand united.
Yet even in history, this has not been so. Since the betrayal of the Not-named Clan, Clansman has stood against Clansman. They were the first of the Clans to fall from grace. They were not the last. Even we, the Ghost Bears, faced a vote of Abjuration when we moved our people to the Inner Sphere.
We prevailed, but I think it was a close thing, more a matter of technicality than judgment. It was decided that the Clans could not expel a Clan that had already expelled itself, and we were spared that mark of dishonor.
This is primarily what our Clan way teaches us about disunity: we either amputate the offending part, or we conquer it, crush it and draw it into ourselves.
There must be more to it.
It is difficult to imagine creating unity out of nothing, but that is exactly what the Founder did when he created the Clans. The people were uncertain, divided and had just emerged from a bloody civil conflict. Somehow, out of that nothingness, Nicholas Kerensky brought forth the Clans.
How did he do it? Why did he not leave us that lesson? How am I to take these disparate parts and return them to the two wholes from which they began?
No matter how I run the scenarios in my mind, I cannot think of a way to return things to what they once were.
But then, I realize, that may be my mistake. If I cannot restore what was before, I must then make something new. Like the Clans—something different that did not exist before.
Perhaps my mistake is in thinking there must be two wholes, instead of one.
Provisional Capitol Building, East Central District
Nasew, North Nanturo continent, Vega
30 November 3136
Galaxy Commander Isis Bekker paced the end of the small conference room located under the congressional chambers. Sitting around the conference table were the speakers of the various Vegan political parties: the four major ones, Centralist, Labor, Freedom Vega and the Planetary Nationalists, plus the four minority parties, Green, People of Ra, Hawks and the Pacifist League. For the last hour she had been trying to forge some sort of agreement, at least in principle, to cooperate in uncovering agents of the Draconis Combine on Vega. As Trenton had predicted, it was not easy.
She wished Vince were there. He was far better at talking to the Vegans than she was, but he was still missing from the building.
Clark Avila, the almost impossibly elderly leader of the Freedom Vega party, glared at her from his seat. "You can't ask our people to betray their own to your occupation force. You can't ask people to turn against their own."
"All I'm asking is for them to help us locate agents of a hostile foreign power."
Chance Elba smiled a sour smile and said in a singsong voice, "I spy, with my little eye—"
She frowned at him. "This is no laughing matter. Speaker Elba." She was careful to use the respectful honorific. She was trying to pull these people together, even Chance Elba—not drive them apart. "The threat is imminent, and it is real."
Rama Daul of the Pacifists sighed. "Can't this matter wait until the Articles of Reunification are finished? This should be a matter for the new government."
Isis dropped back into her chair. "If we wait that long, Speaker Daul. the only new government will be the one enforced on you by the Draconis Combine. We need an agreement now."
Chance Elba knitted his fingers together in front of him, and gently rocked back and forth in his chair. "I might be willing to consider backing a temporary article of defensive cooperation—if certain conditions were met."
She looked at him skeptically. "Conditions? What kind of conditions?"
"We of the Labor Party have, for some time, felt a great sympathy for the plight of your oppressed, so-called lower castes. We have become aware of an oppressed reform movement within your Clan called the Freeminders. These people meet an
d organize in secret out of fear of reprisal. We find that intolerable."
"I am aware of the Freeminders as well, Speaker Elba. They are an internal matter of the Ghost Bear Clan, and no concern of yours."
"The greatest number of Freeminders come from your laborer caste, Galaxy Commander. It is in the great tradition of organized labor to support actions of like-minded organizations. You require us to act, and we require you to act. It is that simple."
"And what would you expect us to do?"
"Create a new policy of openness among your people here on Vega. Allow the Freeminders to gather without restrictions or reprisals. Allow people from any caste to join the Freeminders without loss of rank or privilege. Allow freedom from censorship, and freedom of assembly. And allow free discourse between the Freeminders and like-minded groups here on Vega."
"Meaning yourself and your party."
"If they find us to be kindred sprits, as we find them to be."
"You ask me to allow you to advise and influence a dissident group within my own people."
"If dissident means asking for freedom and equal rights, then yes, that is exactly what I mean."
She looked around the table, trying to judge the reactions of the others. The Centralist leader seemed unimpressed, but she could be counted on to support the measure. The Planetary Nationalists would likely follow Labor's lead. The minority parties didn't have enough votes to do much besides break a tie. The Freedom Vega and Centralist parties were the key.
She made eye contact with Caleb de La Cruz of the Freedom Vega party. He looked back. "We would consider such an action to be a sign of good faith and a spirit of compromise that we have, until now, found lacking in the Ghost Bears."
She seethed at the idea of having Elba dictating terms to her. But she could not allow her ego to get in the way of her greater objectives. "Very well. I will announce such a policy, providing we can come up with a useful agreement and vote it into action."
Elba nodded. "Good enough."
"Speaker Elba, Speaker Tracy"—the latter being the speaker of the Centralists—"can you draft a document for the rest of us to amend and then vote upon?" They looked at each other, then nodded in agreement. "Please be quick about it. As I said, the threat is imminent. As for the rest of you, I beg that you not wait for a vote to take action. Contact your networks, let your constituents know of this problem and encourage them to report any unusual activities to our paramilitary police. This meeting is adjourned."
The leaders filed out of the room, talking quietly among themselves. Looking through the open door, she realized that Vince was standing just outside the room. As she brought up the rear of the group, she saw that Security Chief Ricco was standing behind him, and rather far into the governor's personal space.
She stopped and looked a question from one man to the other. Vince had a curious expression on his face, as though something he had eaten was not agreeing with him. Ricco's face was a stern but unreadable mask, all business.
She focused her attention. "Is there a problem. Chief Ricco?"
He looked around, making sure that the speakers were all out of earshot. "There has been a breach in security that you should know about. It concerns the governor, here. He says he was coming here to report it to you himself, but I feel it is my duty to verify that he, in fact, does so."
Vince looked over his shoulder at the man. "If you don't mind, Chief, I'd like to discuss this in private."
Ricco lifted a brow. "I need to verify that the fundamental nature of the incident is reported to the Galaxy commander."
Vince frowned, then said quietly, "Jacob Bannson. Is that fundamental enough for you?"
Ricco did not look entirely satisfied, but he relented. "Explaining that should keep you busy. The Galaxy commander will be reading my own report on the incident shortly, so I would not recommend scrimping on the details." He turned and walked away.
Vince watched him go. "He's just upset because Bannson's men eluded him again."
"Bannson's men? Now we have Bannson agents here, too?"
He looked around. "Let's go to my office, where we can talk about this privately."
She nodded. She would have preferred her own office, but his was nearer, so she didn't argue the point.
The office had once belonged to MyoMaxx's chief financial officer, and she could see glimpses of the original walnut paneling and fine hardwood furnishings under all the clutter. There were piles of newspapers, magazines, books, photographs, report folders, economic projections and other detritus of his job.
But there were also countless personal items, even more than in his apartment: photographs; a child's doll, scorched and water-stained; a baseball bat; a windup music box with a ceramic horse on top, its head missing; a crude toy 'Mech made of stamped metal, operated by a windup key.
Though Isis had spent much time in Vince's apartment. she was rarely in his office, and then usually not for more than a few minutes at a time. This was his retreat, and he rarely took meetings there or invited people in.
He walked over and stood in the corner by the simulated window, hands clasped behind his back, looking at some kind of group family photograph. "I try to take a moment to check out one of my mementos every time I come in here. I lost almost my entire extended family in the Warlord Massacres. I have a few cousins left, but that's all.
"Before things fell apart, I wasn't very close to my family. Now I curse myself for the wasted opportunities. But looking at these things, it reminds me what this is all about, what I'm working for.
"I want a world where families can be safe and thrive again. I want a world that's strong enough to stand alone, and stable enough not to eat itself alive." He reached up and touched the picture. "I want what they would have wanted."
She furrowed her brow. "What is this about, Vince?"
"A small betrayal. Ricco is upset because he caught me having a meeting with two men representing Jacob Bannson. I honestly was coming to tell you about it."
"Bannson? What could he want here?"
"He's an opportunist, and he sees this world's instability as an opportunity. He's come to forge alliances for reasons that are vague. But the reports we have say his deal with House Liao has soured and he's looking for another base of operations, or at least a staging area before he moves on to his next plan. That's my guess, anyway. You'd have access to far better intelligence reports on him than I do."
"And you believe these men genuinely represent Bannson? Con artists frequently show up in war zones making all manner of outrageous claims."
"They had gold ingots with Bannson's name on them, and they've been spreading them around the city like playing cards. I'd say they're genuine."
"And you met with them. What did they want with you?"
"They fancied me as a useful ally in my current position. and seemed to believe that I might be even more useful in the future if I win the free elections. But that isn't going to happen."
"What? Why not? I thought you were the favorite."
"Word of our relationship is out, Isis. I knew people would find out sooner or later, and I knew the cost. The people aren't going to vote for a man they consider to be sleeping with the enemy."
She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. "Is that what we are to you. still? The enemy?"
He turned and looked at her sadly. "It doesn't matter what I think. I've said it a hundred times—it's what the people think that counts. But personally, I still consider the Ghost Bears a dangerous occupying force whose motivations and goals are unclear. I trust you, Isis. I love you. But you don't speak for the Ghost Bears any more than I speak for all the people of Vega, or even most of them."
"We're here to—"
He held up his hand. "Stabilize The Republic of the Sphere by restoring order on key worlds. Yes, I've heard it a hundred times. I've got to tell you, Isis, I don't give a rat's ass about The Republic. Devlin Stone is gone, neither succeeding exarch has been capable of holding it togethe
r, and all the Great Houses are casting restless eyes on their former possessions. I think The Republic is doomed."
She just stared at him.
"If you can find a way to save it, or at least to slap on some bandages and drag it along for a few more years, more power to you. But all I really care about is Vega.
"In order of importance, I care about my world, I care about you, and I care about this—whatever—we're trying to build. The Republic is a far-distant fourth. And frankly, I am very concerned about what the Ghost Bears will do if The Republic falls. If it no longer exists, your Clan has no reason to relinquish this world to independence, and every strategic reason to hold on to it for as long as you can."
She found her voice. "Vince, I thought we were in this together."
"We are, Isis! In so many ways, more than even you know. But I freely admit to having my own interests and my own agenda. In respect of your Clan ways, I've never tried to hide that from you."
"But this meeting—Bannson's people approached you, and you went along to gather intelligence which you planed to bring to us—"
He shook his head. "My people learned that Bannson's crew was in town. We approached them."
She shook her head. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to hear what they had to say. I wanted to see if Bannson genuinely had anything to offer Vega."
"Did he?"
"I'm standing here."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that he didn't put anything of real value on the table. Certainly nothing worth the risk of dealing with a character like Bannson."
"And if he had?"
"Perhaps I'd still have been nabbed by Ricco, but I wouldn't be here discussing this of my own accord."
She could hardly believe what she was hearing, yet she couldn't blame him. Though he had hung up his neurohelmet, he was still a warrior. Battlefield wisdom said to get the best intelligence possible, to know all of one's options, and to act on them if it was prudent. She expected no less of him. Yet she found herself feeling angry and betrayed. Vince's support had been the one thing she felt she could count on. "How could you?"
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