The Last Charge

by Jason M. Hardy

  Vedet slammed the papers onto his desk. “I will not be ignored or trivialized!” he growled. “You will face up to how the archon has bungled this invasion!”

  “You were stalled on Gannett before the Clanners came in. You are advancing now. Forgive me if I can’t see how anything has been bungled.”

  Vedet pushed the papers toward Trillian. “If you can’t see it, you are blind.”

  Trillian took a deep breath. An angry, out-of-control Vedet would serve no one but himself. “Look, I understand the situation is difficult—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start with your empathy and understanding and all that shit! It won’t work—I’m not a woman! You can’t talk your way out of this. If you want the problem resolved, march over to Alaric Wolf and tell him to submit to my command!”

  Trillian surprised herself by laughing. Not surprisingly, this did nothing to calm Vedet.

  “This is amusing?” he said. He was lightly rocking in his chair, his torso completely stiff. “This is funny? Clan Wolf is making a mockery of the archon’s army, of the archon’s authority, and all the archon’s goddamned emissary can do is sit and chuckle? Is this how your cousin intends to rule?”

  “The archon will rule in her own way, which will not be influenced in the least by my behavior. But if you think there is anything I, or the archon, or any power in the universe can do to make Alaric Wolf submit to non-Clan authority, then you are more deluded than anyone in the Inner Sphere who is not part of the Liao family. He will never see himself as part of your forces, and he was never intended to be part of your forces. Don’t ever count on having him under your command.”

  “Why was he brought here if he wasn’t going to be a part of the archon’s army?”

  “He is a tool,” Trillian said, then mentally added Just like you. “He is in the Commonwealth to occupy a portion of the Marik-Stewart forces so you don’t have to deal with them. A function he’s performed quite well so far, I should point out.”

  “Tools need to be controlled,” Vedet said. “It doesn’t have to be by me. The less I have to do with this Alaric, the better, in my opinion. But someone needs to know what he’s doing if we’re not going to flail through this invasion like blind idiots.”

  Blind idiots keep their composure far better than you, Trillian thought, but again she managed to keep the comment silent.

  “I agree with you that the lack of communication is a problem,” she said aloud. “I don’t know how much coordination you can expect, but the two of you should at least be able to talk to each other.”

  Vedet nodded curtly and seemed about to speak, but Trillian cut him off.

  “But if it’s going to work, you need to treat him like an equal. Not a subordinate.”

  Vedet frowned. “I assume you will be talking to the Wolf commander soon?”

  “As soon as I can get to his camp.”

  Vedet smiled, though the effect was like a hyena baring its fangs. “Try to give him that same message,” he said. “Try to convince him that I should be his equal.” He made a short barking sound that might have been a laugh. “Good luck. Now get out.”

  Trillian decided now was not the time to enter into a discussion about the duke’s lack of courtesy or respect for protocol. She walked out without a bow or salute.

  It didn’t feel like the meeting had accomplished much, but at least she had managed to leave without having the duke vow rebellion or utter disloyalty. That had to be worth something.

  * * *

  There was a road through the mountains that was secure, for two reasons: first, it was not so much a road as a stretch of ground through the mountains north of Helmdown that was slightly smoother than the surrounding rocks; second, due to its poor quality, the road was seldom used and was essentially secure even before any hostile forces landed on Helm.

  Trillian was in the middle of a small convoy, three vehicles with large tires that were bumping over loose rocks and potholes. None of the vehicles were very well armed, and should an ambush erupt the enemies would overwhelm the entire convoy. But if any Marik-Stewart troops wanted to wait on these cold, inhospitable rocks for whatever troops trickled along, Trillian figured they had earned their prize, and she would not be too disappointed to fall to them. Plus, a little firefight would break up the monotony of the scenery.

  No ambush emerged, however, so Trillian occupied herself with business.

  “Did you make any friends while we were in camp?” she asked Klaus.

  “‘Friends’ might be too strong a word,” he said. “‘Acquaintances’ is probably more accurate.”

  “And they talked to you?”

  “Plenty. Once word got out that a Steiner had landed and I knew her, I became rather in demand.”

  “By admirers and well-wishers?”

  “By complainers and malcontents. There may be some admirers in camp, but they weren’t the ones who talked to me.”

  Trillian looked up at the dark blue sky. “And what was the gist of their complaints?”

  “It went something like this.” He took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks and bugged his eyes in imitation outrage. “How the hell could you bring Clanners into this? Since when aren’t Lyran soldiers good enough? The Mariks will just be a speed bump on the Clanners’ road to invade Lyran space!” Then his face relaxed.

  Trillian blinked.

  “That’s what I can recall. After hearing the same basic speech a dozen times or so.”

  “Wasn’t there anyone grateful to be moving forward after being stalled?”

  “Not that I heard. They would rather have been stalled on their own than moving with Clan Wolf assistance.”

  Trillian sank deeper into her seat, but all that meant was she felt the bumps in the road a little more.

  “People just keep missing the big picture,” she said, and spent the rest of the trip trying to stay convinced that Melissa’s choice of ally had been wise.

  * * *

  A tall, lean woman with short blond hair stared at Trillian when she climbed out of her jeep. Her fists were planted on her hips, and her face was long and weary.

  “Trillian Steiner,” the woman said. Trillian nodded. “The Star colonel wishes to see you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow,” Trillian said. “He wasn’t that eager to talk to me the last time we were on the same planet.”

  “He is now,” the woman said simply.

  “Okay,” Trillian said. “Let’s go.”

  The room the woman led her to was familiar in its lack of color. Alaric was carrying the same quarters with him as he traveled, though Trillian had trouble seeing the attraction. But the simplicity of the surroundings allowed her to focus on emptying her mind and preparing to continue her stupid act for the Wolf commander.

  Alaric looked very self-possessed when Trillian entered his office, leaning back in his chair and wearing an expression that was not too distant from a smile. “Thank you, Verena,” he said to the woman who had escorted Trillian. “Wait for me in my quarters.” The woman nodded and left.

  “Trillian Steiner,” Alaric said. “I will not waste time by asking what you are doing here.”

  “Okay,” she said. She remained standing, since she had not been invited to sit.

  “I assume you visited Duke Vedet before you came here.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I assume he had numerous complaints about me.”

  “That’s also true.”

  “And now you are here thinking you can change something about the situation.”

  “I’m just here to help,” Trillian said.

  “Then my message to you and to your duke is the same—I have no need of your help. Either of you.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” she said.

  “Then we do not have anything to discuss.”

  Trillian put on her best confused expression. “Okay,” she sai
d. “Then why did you want to see me as soon as I got here?”

  Alaric remained still, but he looked poised and taut. Like he could pounce in a moment, if he had a mind to. “To tell you that there was nothing for you to do here. To send you on your way.”

  “That’s very considerate of you. But I can’t leave yet.”

  She saw tension increase in Alaric’s jaw, but otherwise his face was unchanged. “Why is that?” he asked.

  “Well, my job’s not done. I can’t leave without doing my job. I figured you’d understand that.”

  “I understand commitment to duty,” he said, “though the commitment may not be as strong when the duty is less meaningful.”

  “I suppose, but that kind of discussion is a little abstract for me.” Since she was still standing, Trillian started pacing in the small room, waving her hands loosely as she spoke. “Look, there’s no reason for me to beat around the bush here. The archon wanted me to come here to make sure there was decent coordination between the forces, and I talked to Duke Vedet and he said you weren’t responding to anything he said. So, no communication, no coordination. I have to do something about that. That’s my job.”

  “Go back to Vedet Brewster,” Alaric said. “If you want to know why there is no coordination between our forces, I believe he can enlighten you.”

  “That’s a long way to travel. Why don’t you just tell me?”

  Now his expression was changing, but not in a good way. His eyebrows were becoming a V, and his cheeks became hollow. “Vedet is not interested in coordination.”

  “Then why does he keep sending you messages?”

  “For his own purposes, I am sure. Like most of your politicians, he has his various games that he needs to play, and he is trying to drag me into them. I have no desire to play, though.”

  Trillian stopped walking. “Have you ever met the duke?”

  “No.”

  “Can I ask how you know so much about him, then?”

  “Through his actions. The same way I know anything about anyone.”

  “What did he do?”

  Alaric leaned forward, then moved back so quickly Trillian wondered if she had imagined it. “He pretended to share information about Helm with me, but what he passed along was incomplete. He wanted me to land in the wrong place, to slow my advance.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s no good. Must’ve made you angry.”

  “It would only have made me angry if it was unexpected. I took the information at face value in order to put Vedet’s character to the test. He failed. I have no reason to deal with him further.”

  “But wouldn’t it do you some good to know what he’s doing? So you two aren’t running into each other?” There was a chair near Trillian, but she didn’t look at it or touch it. She did not want to appear to be thinking about sitting down.

  “The affairs of people without honor are of very little interest to me,” Alaric said. “If you are worried about our armies running into each other, tell him to stay out of the way of my forces when we advance.” He stood. “I believe our conversation is over.”

  “Okay,” Trillian said. “But I can’t leave camp here until my job is done.”

  “You are free to stay with my forces as long as you want,” he said. “But do not count on me to make myself available to you.”

  “Heard and understood,” she said. Then she left.

  * * *

  Trillian had given Klaus the fun of walking around the duke’s camp and talking to his forces, but she wasn’t cruel enough to make him mingle with Clanners. He stayed in their quarters while Trillian went to walk among the troops.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t this. It was so—familiar. There were times when she could shut her eyes and everything would sound like a Lyran army camp. Well, there were a few exceptions, and they went beyond the lack of contractions. There was occasional flirting among a few soldiers, just like there was in almost any group of soldiers not currently fighting, but among the Wolves it was much more direct. She heard a few direct requests for sexual congress, and the back-and-forth dance of Inner Sphere romance was rare. In fact, that seemed to be the biggest difference overall—the directness of everyone. People said what they wanted, expressed what they meant clearly and expected others to understand (and, if they were subordinates, carry out whatever was said).

  But mixed with all this was the normal talk of war—some bragging and boasting, some comparisons of wounds taken and kills registered, even some laughter over stories of the battlefield.

  She wasn’t sure why, but she had always had trouble remembering that Clanners occasionally laughed.

  No one addressed her. She saw several people look at her, but their glances never lasted long. They would see her coming and give her a quick evaluation, which she inevitably seemed to fail. Before long they would turn away and let her pass in peace. None of them said a word to her.

  She decided to take the initiative, walking up to soldiers and addressing them directly. But they either quickened their pace to pass her before she could talk, or looked her in the eye and told her to talk to their commanding officer. The one thing they never did was look away from her.

  Her job, though, was not to be dissuaded, so she pressed on, walking up to people, talking to people, trying to get them to talk while the artillery constantly rumbled in the distance.

  Her progress was halting, barely moving faster than the stalemate with the Silver Hawk Irregulars near Helmdown. But finally, finally, Trillian found herself in the presence of Star Captain Xeno of Alpha Trinary.

  He was tall—what Clan MechWarrior wasn’t?—with the face of a poet and the body of a mountain ape. His eyes were wide, brown and even a little watery, and his mouth lacked the severe lines that were prevalent in the Clan forces. Any ideas Trillian might have about this face indicating overall gentleness, however, were erased by the sheer power of the man’s body. Her instincts told her to stay out of reach of his arms, because it looked like anything he grabbed could easily be snapped.

  He spoke before Trillian could.

  “You have been interrupting my troops,” he said.

  And this was where half of diplomacy took place, in the small moments before saying the first words to someone new. Trillian had fractions of a second to take her read of Xeno, guess what he thought of her and decide on an approach that would use his impressions and instincts to her advantage. There wasn’t time to reason it all out, it was a function of instinct, and as she spoke, she hoped, like she always did, that she had made a good choice.

  “And your troops have been wasting my time,” she said. “So I guess we come out about even.”

  He did not immediately flare to anger. That much had worked.

  “I am more concerned with my troops than your time,” he said, the amusement she heard in his voice strong for a Clanner. “What is it you are after?”

  “Some acknowledgment by your forces of the reason you are here. Of what brought you here.”

  A cold wind blew down from the mountains and the plastic walls of some of the portable shelters rattled. Xeno frowned, but not at the wind. “You wish us to act like we are indebted to you.”

  Trillian shook her head. She had left all her flighty gestures behind at Alaric’s office, and spoke directly and firmly. “No. You are putting your lives on the line for the archon’s purposes.”

  “For our own purposes,” Xeno said.

  “That too. The point is, we’re the ones who are indebted to you. I’m not here to give orders to you. I’m here to help. You want to conquer Helm and move on, and I want that too—as soon as possible. Neither of our goals will be served by your commander treating Lyran forces like an enemy.”

  Xeno squinted at the mountains to the northwest that hid Vedet’s troops. “If we truly thought of them as an enemy, they would know it by now.”

  “Then talk to them. Communicate. Coordinate with each other.”

  Xeno folded his
arms. Trillian thought she heard a faint creak. “Communication will do little good when we cannot trust what the Lyran commander says.”

  “That’s it, then? It’s a personality issue?”

  “It is an issue of honor. And of people who have none.”

  That was it, then. The solution was simple—while also being quite complicated and liable to cause severe difficulties down the road. The first step, though, was plain. If honor was what this fight needed, honor was what it would get.

  “Thank you for your time and forthrightness, Star Captain,” Trillian said. “I will leave your troops to your preparation.”

  The Clanner nodded and turned away.

  Trillian walked quickly. She could leave now, go back over the rough road and sleep in the Lyran camp and eat whatever good food was left before she had to resort to military rations. But before she ate or slept, she would send the summons that would bring Roderick Steiner and his Broken Swords—the unit now known as the First Steiner Strikers—to Helm.

  9

  New Edinburgh, Stewart

  Marik-Stewart Commonwealth

  5 April 3138

  The solution to Anson Marik’s problems were, it turned out, quite simple. He had been isolated for too long. Alone in his mountain retreat, with no one around him but servants and his bloody advisers, he had been cut off from what really mattered. He needed to take the fight forward, to be where the invaders would be. And to be on a planet that mattered.

  The negotiations to get him to Stewart had been excruciating, and would not have worked with any other group than Clan Sea Fox. The mercantile Clan had used their previous victory over Anson’s forces as leverage to extract every last concession they could from him. Mining proceeds from Helm, agriculture proceeds from Stewart along with an enclave to call their own, and a list that went on and on. If any members of Parliament knew the entire series of concessions Anson had made, they would have had a conniption. Which is why it was good that they both didn’t know and didn’t have the power to do anything if they did.

  He’d brought about twenty members with him to Stewart, the ones who still jumped at any order he gave even after he had neutered them. He had a plan, and for once Parliament could play a helpful role. His return to Stewart would be a triumph, and Parliament would help him rally the people around him. The price he paid to Clan Sea Fox would be worth it—especially considering that most of the concessions Anson made were for planets that were on the verge of being conquered anyway.