Bred for war

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Phelan's head came up quickly. "How much do you know about the investigation and the indictment?"

  "Vlad asked me to help him with the investigation."

  "He what?" Phelan's jaw dropped open. "He did that to get at me."

  Ranna shook her head, then combed her fingers through her short white hair. "No, he may hate you, and you him, but the reason he asked is because we were raised in the same sibko."

  "Growing up together in the same batch of babies doesn't mean you'd support him in this, does it?"

  "No, Phelan. I love you too much to be a party to this charge of treason."

  "But you didn't tell me he'd asked you to participate."

  "It was an investigation initiated by the Loremaster. Even though I knew the charges were spurious, I could not tell you about it." Ranna crossed to where Phelan was sprawled out, then sat down when he pulled his feet away to make room. 'The issues at stake deserve to be discussed, but perhaps they have chosen the wrong method for addressing them."

  Phelan smiled at her as she rested her arms on his drawn-up knees. "You're saying you think the treason charges have merit?"

  She shook her head. "No, but the questions about the truce and the difficulty of advancement within the Clan warrant attention."

  "I'm not certain I understand."

  Interlacing her fingers, Ranna rested her chin on her hands. "Take me, for example ..." she began.

  "After ten days in the field I'd like to take you for a lot more than an example."

  "You had your chance before you started reading through the legal briefs the ilKhan had delivered in our absence."

  "Touché."

  "Indeed." She smiled at him, then focused a frown on her face. "This is serious, Phelan. I turned twenty-nine a month and a half ago. I am a Star Colonel, which is an excellent position, considering the fact that I have no Bloodname. Without one I can go no further, and if I do not earn one in the next five years, the chances of my ever getting one drop off precipitously—as do my chances of maintaining my rank."

  Phelan nodded. Unspoken was the fact that if Ranna did not earn a Bloodname, the chances of her genes ever becoming part of the Clan genetic program were next to nil. Phelan had chosen to withhold his own DNA against the day Ranna's was eligible for breeding, but that was an option he had as a Clan Khan. House Kerensky was known as ultra-conservative in deciding which of its blood to breed, and Ranna had yet to make the list.

  Phelan reached out and stroked her smooth cheek with the back of his hand. "Do you think unseating Ulric and renewing the war will let you progress?"

  "No, Phelan, I do not, but that is not the point. Clan Wolf has many warriors who have proved their worth in the invasion, but who cannot move up because war is no longer killing off the older warriors or forcing them to retire. Of all the Clans, only the Wolves did well on Tukayyid, but it has hobbled our young. They see themselves as part of the Wolf Clan, and reveal in its glory, but they do not believe they will ever be allowed to add to or increase that glory."

  "Thus speaks the gospel according to Vlad."

  Ranna reached over and gave Phelan's shoulders a shake. "If you focus on him as the core of the problem, you will miss the larger issue. We Clans are a warrior people. We have been breeding warriors for three centuries for the express purpose of becoming the most efficient fighting force ever created. The Wardens held sway for a long time because they promised we would one day fulfill our destiny of defending the Inner Sphere against some external threat. When that threat did not materialize, the Crusaders won the day and the invasion was begun to conquer the Inner Sphere.

  "When you have a people bred for war, how can you expect them to adapt easily to peace? Our whole social structure was designed to permit advancement through combat. We are not even allowed to reproduce unless we have proven that our genetic material will also advance the whole breeding program. To hold to such a social organization while simultaneously denying combat to three generations of warriors is guaranteed to produce the pressure from below we are now seeing."

  "But we have warfare. We carry out raids against the other Clans. Was it not that way before the invasion, back on the Clan homeworlds?"

  "Those are but simulator battles after taking part in the real thing." Ranna's blue eyes sparked with excitement. "Against the Inner Sphere and ComStar we held back nothing, neither asking nor giving quarter. We were tested to our utmost and proved ourselves and our war machines better than those of the Inner Sphere."

  "Not always."

  "No, not always. We lost battles to valiant warriors and clever tactics, but there is no denying that we now hold sway over almost a quarter of the Inner Sphere."

  Phelan frowned. "And, if the Red Corsair is any example, we could have much more."

  "Which is exactly the point Vlad and his people want to make." Ranna smiled carefully. "To them war means conquest, and conquests mean a future in the Clans."

  "And this indictment is a ranging shot to get the ilKhan to modify his views concerning the truce?"

  "That is how it seems to me, but you must remember that Vlad may be playing me one way because of our connections. His true motives—because of his sentiments toward you—may be far more dangerous."

  Phelan nodded. "I do take the treason charged based on my elevation rather personally."

  "I can understand that." Ranna stood and took Phelan's hands in hers. "And I think you will understand the charges and how to deal with them better after a good night's sleep."

  Phelan let her tug him to his feet, then he took her in his arms and kissed her pert nose. "I would agree, but I think I am too keyed up to fall asleep immediately."

  "Is that so, my Khan?" She kissed him quickly on the lips, then slipped from his arms. Taking his right hand in her left, she led him toward their bedroom. "I know of ways to relax you."

  "And then I'll be able to sleep?"

  "I should think so," Ranna said, reaching for the wall tab that would extinguish the lights. "Eventually."

  Avalon City, New Avalon

  Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

  Victor Davion did not hit the pause button on the holovid viewer's remote control until his intercom had buzzed at him a second, insistent time. Victor stared for a moment at the frozen image of Omi Kurita's face and smiled. This interruption better be worth it. His finger paused above the intercom button as he tried to imagine what could justify leaving Omi's message unfinished. Drawing a blank, he keyed the intercom.

  "Cranston here, Highness. I have the results of the polls you asked to see."

  "Bring them."

  Victor continued to study Omi's serene visage and replayed a sequence of the holovid in his mind. Her peaceful expression had not changed even as her monologue began to diverge from pleasant remembrances of her recent birthday and the gift conveyed to her by his ambassador. From there she had carefully shifted the subject and relayed to him a message from his brother Peter. She seems to hear from him more than I do.

  She and Peter had apparently formed a solid bond of trust during Omi's visit to Solaris the previous year, and that made Victor very happy. Omi had been the one to tell him that his brother had traveled with her from Solaris to Zaniah. Once there, according to Omi, he had voluntarily entered St. Marinus House, a religious retreat for warriors. That solved the mystery of where Peter had gone after vanishing from Solaris, and in getting the news from Omi, Victor trusted that he was learning all he really needed to know about the situation.

  What amazed him was how well Omi truly knew and understood him. She had told him where his brother was, then added that Peter wished information on his whereabouts be restricted to Victor, Kai, and Omi. She added nothing by way of excuse or explanation to mollify an angry reaction from Victor. Because the news came from her in such a frank and open manner, it didn't anger him. Under any other circumstances his reaction would surely have been very different.

  Peter had definitely defied him in leaving Solaris without permission
. Victor should have been furious, but the fact that Peter had been aided and abetted by Omi changed everything. Had Peter been in danger, or had Peter posed a danger to him, Omi would have said as much in her message. That she did not meant that she believed Peter was acting responsibly. Victor knew where his brother was and that he would be safe, so—as Omi's casualness indicated—there was no use in pursuing the matter.

  She knows me better than I know myself, this woman I have grown to love. Though they had met only three times, and had never consummated their relationship, Victor could not imagine being more tightly bound to anyone.

  Even so, he knew that Theodore Kurita would never allow Omi to marry him. Theordore already had his hands full with the many nobles in the Draconis Combine who viewed his various reforms as serious breaks with tradition. For Theodore to make peace with the Federated Commonwealth by marrying his daughter off to Victor could easily trigger a civil war. Traditionalists would battle reformers in a bloody conflict that would cripple the Combine's ability to fight the Clans when the truce expired.

  If Victor had believed he had any chance of successfully winning Omi's hand, he'd have gone to Theodore Kurita long ago. Perhaps it was just as well that their union was impossible, for it would be equally troublesome to him here at home. Until recently Victor might have expected the most potent threat to his realm to come from the lord of the Draconis March. The people of those border worlds would have feared being awarded to the Combine as some sort of bride price. Victor was sure he could deal with them easily enough, but the new threat made theirs seem insignificant.

  Both halves of the Federated Commonwealth had long suffered from Combine predation. A thumb of F-C worlds thrust up into the Combine above the Terran corridor, many of them seized only thirty years before in the Fourth Succession War. Because of the Clan threat, large numbers of troops on either side of the Combine/Commonwealth border had been rushed to the Clan front, leaving the border world peoples nervous and defenseless.

  More important, those worlds had more in common with the Isle of Skye than with any other part of the Federated Commonwealth. Now that Katherine was exerting her influence in Skye, she also controlled those worlds. Should she have viewed Victor's marriage to Omi as a threat, or chose to use the threat as a way to alienate the people from him, she could split the Federated Commonwealth in half without firing a shot.

  Victor didn't think for a second that was what Katherine wanted. By conspiring with Ryan Steiner to murder their mother, Katherine had removed the next to last obstacle between her and becoming Archon Princess of the Federated Commonwealth. She was in a strong position because she had the Lyran half of the Commonwealth as a power base, but the threat of the Clans meant she would always be dependent on the other half of the Commonwealth for firepower and defense.

  With ten more years left in the truce, Victor had that much time to find hard evidence proving that Katrina had killed their mother or to somehow rebuild the confidence of the Lyran people. No matter how difficult the latter, he imagined it would be the easier to accomplish, but he could not abandon hope that his sister had made some crucial mistake in covering up her connection to Ryan and the assassination.

  A gentle knock prefaced Galen's entrance and gave Victor time to turn off the holovid viewer. Looking up from his desk, he set the remote down and smiled at Galen. "Well, Mr. Cranston, what have you got for me?"

  The bearded man returned the smile. "The scandal-vid pieces about Joshua and his double have been very popular. The girl, Missy Cooper, has been given a modeling contract to tout clothes that look like designer fashions, but cost considerably less. The fact that she has a cousin who is also suffering from leukemia has made the whole saga even more poignant. Because the cousin has now been flown to Avalon City for treatment at the NAIS—both the trip and treatment at your personal expense—the polls show your approval rating rising nicely. Surveys indicate the people see you as more compassionate than they did six months ago. This is significant because of the reputation for cold-heartedness you picked up for missing your mother's funeral two years ago."

  Victor nodded. "At the time I thought Katherine had decided to proceed quickly with the funeral because the way my mother died made it difficult to have her lie in state. Now I wonder if Katherine scheduled the services so speedily to embarrass me."

  "I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised by malice anytime your sister is concerned."

  "So, have we begun distribution of the scandal-vid material to the Lyran districts?"

  "Yes, Highness. We will saturate them over the next two weeks with packages including enough material for each local media conglomerate to edit together its own presentation. The exception is the Isle of Skye. They'll get the more precise and compact version that will also be released to the Free Worlds League, the Capellan Confederation, and the Draconis Combine."

  "Good." Victor opened a desk drawer and pulled out a holovid disk. "I recorded this message of condolence for Thomas Marik. Please see that it gets to him at the highest ComStar priority."

  Galen nodded. "Consider it done."

  Victor thought for a moment. "What do you think are the chances of Thomas Marik discovering our little deception? Now that his wife has died, he could ask for the return of Joshua to Atreus, and our whole plan might unravel."

  "We've had no such requests yet and Sophina died a week ago. The funeral is scheduled for two weeks from now, which is not enough time to get Joshua there. I don't think it's something we need be concerned about." Galen shook his head. "I also don't think we need to worry about the League running any intelligence operation here. We're fairly certain SAFE has sleeper agents on New Avalon, but they don't have the resources to snatch Joshua and prove he isn't genuine. Our security at the NAIS is pretty tight and we've also got a ready-response team in place to stop any violence against the boy. Always have had one there just in case Sun-Tzu decides it would be better if Isis inherited her father's power."

  Victor raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you selling SAFE a bit short?"

  "Perhaps so," Galen said, "but not as much as some other folks in the Intelligence Secretariat. SAFE has reported, and Thomas believes, that the Clans used nuclear weapons when the Smoke Jaguars destroyed the city of Edo on Turtle Bay in thirty fifty. They even seem to believe the planet is now a lifeless hulk. If they're that far off on events commonly acknowledged to be otherwise—I'm afraid they don't generate much concern among our people."

  "It's hard to believe they're quite that backward, but that doesn't mean they can't get lucky. Make sure the hospital staff is given a security refresher, and don't let the people of the Secretariat get too complacent."

  "Yes, sir," Galen shook his head. "I think part of the problem is that Thomas, being such an idealist, believes spying is beneath him. As nearly as our people can determine, SAFE's budget hasn't grown much, especially since the formation of the Knights of the Inner Sphere. Our counterintelligence people have been asking for transfers to the Capellan Confederation desk so they can see some action."

  Victor sighed heavily. "Well, see if you can stir them up a bit. We're using a double to buy us some time. Like most of my father's other plans, it's solid. We have to make it work to our best advantage. Let's do what we must to be sure we get all the time we paid for."

  "It shall be done."

  "Good." Victor picked up the remote control. "Thanks for all you're doing, Ga—Jerry. Learning to be a leader is difficult enough. Without your help, it would probably be impossible."

  "Impossible just takes a little longer, sir." Victor Davion's face and expression were suddenly somber. "A little longer may be far more than we've got."

  9

  An ally has to be watched just like an enemy.

  —Leon Trotsky

  Tharkad City, Tharkad

  District of Donegal, Federated Commonwealth

  26 June 3057

  Katrina Steiner-Davion kept her eyes focused at the far end of the vast throne room as the doors slowl
y opened. The man and woman who appeared looked tiny against the immensity of the room's high vaults and the sheer massiveness of the stone columns. As they marched toward her, she noticed how first one and then the other tried to gain a step in walking down the thin red ribbon of carpet. Such antics might have drawn a smile, but Katrina was determined that the two ambassadors understand the solemnity of the occasion.

  As their pace slowed, she knew they had begun to analyze the clues to her mood and disposition that she had so carefully put in place. Her clothes were a conservatively cut black suit over a high-necked blouse of white silk. The skirt fell to mid-calf, but her knee-high boots hid any glimpse of leg. A simple string of pearls and matching earrings were the only jewelry, and her make-up was equally subdued.

  Three thrones were set regally on the stepped dais toward which the ambassadors marched, and Katrina had taken a seat on the one to the right, as viewed from the entrance. Above it hung the armored-fist banner of the old Lyran Commonwealth. Because she was regent over the Lyran districts of the Federated Commonwealth, this was an appropriate choice, but she knew her two visitors would be quick to mark the fact that now she had her grandmother's throne in addition to her name.

  Even more significant would be the sight of two envelopes sitting on the cushion of the centermost throne. That was her brother's place as Archon Prince of the whole Federated Commonwealth, yet her visitors would see that she was using his throne as a side table. Katrina knew that would surprise them, which was exactly what she intended.

  Behind the thrones, dwarfing her as easily as the architecture dwarfed the ambassadors, two BattleMechs stood as sentinels. Behind her throne was a Crusader painted in the red and black colors of the Kell Hounds, but black garlands were wrapped around its wrists. The visitors would know that the Crusader had belonged to Galen Cox, a connection that would explain why she was dressed in somber mourning clothes.