A Bonfire of Worlds

by Steven Mohan Jr.

  At Melissa's right hand was a true monster, a hundred-ton Fafnir painted in the distinctive half-blue, half blue-and-white checkerboard of the First Skye Jaegers.

  Both machines were a visible reminder that although the Lyrans were known for their business acumen, they weren't bad at war either.

  Trillian reached the foot of the dais, went down on one knee, and bowed her head. "Archon," she murmured.

  She heard Melissa rise. "Come, Trillian. Walk with me."

  Trillian rose, following her Archon away from her advisors and her galleries, leaving behindallthe pomp of her office. The Archon's gesture would be interpreted as a sign of Trillian's favor at court, but Trillian herself knew better.

  An arctic coldness had grown up between the two women since Alaric Wolf's invasion. Trillian knew Melissa blamed her for the ugly break with the Wolves. Trillian blamed herself, too, whether because she had failed to anticipate the Wolves' treachery or because she failed to persuade her cousin of the danger, she did not know.

  Either way, it was her fault.

  Melissa studied something scrawling across her noteputer. "It's a message from Vedet," Melissa said coldly. "Listen to this. 'Your Highness, our forces suffer from inadequate supply. Please allow me to take this duty from you, so you will not be distracted as you turn back the Wolf onslaught that threatens our Commonwealth.'"

  Melissa's lips tightened into a thin, angry line. "He dares to tell me my duty even as he whines about his lack of supplies."

  Trillian felt her stomach tighten. There was something dangerous hidden in Vedet's message, though she could not say what it was. "I think a measured response might be called for, Highness."

  "Nonsense," snapped Melissa. "Vedet has forgotten his place, and if I don't remind him, he won't be the last."

  "Highness," said Trillian slowly.

  Melissa turned to look at her.

  "You recall the incident on Helm? When Alaric slaughtered Silver Hawk Irregular troops as they tried to surrender to Vedet? I suppressed the story by telling the Duke if he went public we'd portray him as a coward, accepting a fake surrender while Alaric—"

  "—fought on. You cast Alaric as the hero." "Obviously that threat will no longer work."

  "Obviously."

  "Anyway, someone has leaked the battlerom footage from the Helmdown Massacre. At least three different versions, all showing Vedet bravely trying to protect his prisoners against Clanner brutality."

  "Someone," sneered Melissa.

  "Yes, well it's obviously Vedet's agents who leaked the recordings. The point is the footage makes him look sympathetic. Even . . . heroic."

  "A moment ago," said Melissa, "I informed you how I would handle Vedet. Was my meaning unclear to you?"

  "No, Highness, I just—"

  Melissa's voice was cold. "Perhaps, then, you are having difficulty separating the role of cousin from that of subject."

  Trillian's breath caught. "Nein, Archon. I serve you in all things."

  Melissa stared at Trillian a moment longer to press the point. "In any case," she said, her voice not a degree warmer, "I did not call you here to discuss Vedet."

  "Yes, Highness."

  "The Wolves have taken all the first-wave worlds. Now they attack Launam, Gienah, Ford, and Megrez. Alaric has already taken Rahne and has moved on to Fianna."

  Trillian drew a deep breath. Jasek Kelswa-Steiner's defeat at Uhuru was bitter news. Maybe . . . "Our tripwire forces—"

  "Rush to confront the Wolves and leave only militia to defend the front-line worlds," said Melissa grimly. She stared at Trillian for a long moment.

  Trillian finally understood. "Oh, no," she whispered.

  "We received word an hour ago. Wolf reserves launched a new assault. It looks like they're sweeping up everything they bypassed in the first wave, from Amity to Shasta." She stopped and turned to face Trillian. "I want to know how this could happen. Why did the Exiles not warn us?"

  "I think Khan Fetladral is just as shocked as we were. In fact, if you were to move them in the Wolves' path, I think—"

  "A/o.”said Melissa firmly. "I have had enough dealings with Wolves. For now we will leave Khan Fetladral on the Jade Falcon border so his hot-blooded countrymen are not subjected to . . . temptation."

  "Do you really believe the Exiles might turn on us?"

  "Let us just say this situation has caused me to reevaluate who I can trust."

  Trillian did not miss the double meaning. "Of course, Highness."

  "I wish you to journey to New Avalon and request aid from your cousin First Prince Caleb Davion."

  Trillian blinked. She and Caleb were both descended from Hanse Davion and the original Melissa Steiner, but the Commonwealth and the Federated Suns had undergone a rather messy divorce in the generation after that union. Long gone were the days when the Commonwealth could count on the aid of its cousins in the Suns.

  "I'm sorry, Highness. I am unclear on your expectations."

  "I expect a regiment of troops to fight the Wolves. As a fallback position, I will accept Suns troops stationed on the Jade Falcon border so we may move forces rimward. But if this is all you achieve, I shall be most disappointed."

  Trillian opened her mouth and shut it again. "Highness." She swallowed. "The Suns skirmish with the Capellans and the Combine. And relations between our realms have been chilly at best. Why would Caleb help us?"

  Melissa's cheeks were flushed. "Surely he must see that the Wolves threaten not only my realm."

  No, Trillian thought, surely he sees you brought the Wolves to the heart of the Inner Sphere to threaten us all. "I don't think-"

  "To whom should we turn then, Trillian?" snapped Melissa, rounding on her. "Daoshen Liao? Or do you think Jessica Marik might help us?" "Highness, I-"

  Melissa's voice was low and venomous. "I ask you to execute a simple diplomatic initiative. I once knew a Trillian Steiner who would not shrink from such a challenge. Now I wonder if she is gone. So tell me simply, Trillian, will you or will you not do your Archon's bidding?"

  Trillian felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She bowed low. "I serve at the Archon's pleasure."

  "Yes," said Melissa coldly, "you do."

  * * *

  After dismissing Trillian, Melissa stepped into a small anteroom. The young woman waiting for her there rose as the Archon entered, bowing deeply. "Highness." The woman's doe-brown eyes were grave as they met Melissa's. For once there was no outrageous color streaking the tangle of hazelnut hair that framed the woman's lovely face, and she wore a Kell Hound dress uniform rather than brightly colored riding leathers. Melissa appreciated the show of respect.

  Callandre Kell didn't dress up for anyone.

  "I have a mission for you," said the Archon. "A service you can perform for the Lyran people."

  "You can count on me," said Kell earnestly.

  "Good," said Melissa. "It will be good to have someone to count on."

  Derelict Orbital Station in High Orbit

  Luyten 68-28, Exact Coordinates Unknown

  Prefecture X

  24 June 3140

  Tucker stuck the 'puter to the console and pressed his palms against his eyes. He'd been struggling with the program for six hours, and somehow he didn't seem any closer to the end. He sighed, puffing out a cloud of steam. He rubbed his arms, trying to force some warmth back into them.

  Heknewhe had norighttocom plain. TheAuxCommunications Nexus was the most comfortable spot on the station. There was a cracked-leather chair, electrical power to two of three main consoles, and all the oxygen he could breathe. Hell, Alexi (Alexi!) had even moved the three mummified corpses out of the nexus for him. Really, who could ask for more? For the life of him he couldn't imagine why he couldn't concentrate.

  He sighed. Self pity. Sure. That would solve the problem.

  The key to this particular jumble of code was to write something that wouldn't be detected by a JumpShip's virus software, something that wouldn't be detected even after it
broadcast its message. Tucker knew a lot about ComStar communications protocols and system security, enough to guess. But not enough to be sure.

  And he didn't want to gamble his life on a guess.

  Time was running out. They weren't sure when the next JumpShip would come. And they still had to fix the high-gain RF antenna before then.

  Alexi had managed to bring the C02 scrubbers up and she'd sort of fixed the water recycler, enough so they wouldn't quite die of thirst, but they wouldn't exactly be taking Hollywood showers either. She'd fixed the heat, too, but they had to be careful with heat. Make the station too cozy and someone might see them on IR.

  Anyway, Alexi was good at fixing things, but she was going to need his help on the antenna. And he couldn't do that and write code, too.

  So no self-pity. But maybe it was time for a break.

  Not that there was a lot of recreational opportunities on the station. He dug out a tube of sweetened bean sprout paste, thinking spacer rations really ought to be against the Ares Conventions, and dug through a filing cabinet, looking for something to do.

  He was hoping for a novel, or maybe a blank logbook, somewhere to document his confused thoughts, but all he found were some personal belongings—rings and a watch and family pictures—and a tray of data cubes. He didn't go through the personal stuff—that felt too creepy. Instead he took the cubes.

  He plugged the first one into the main console and something came up on the screen. It was ... A duty roster. A Blakist duty roster. Tucker shook his head. Great. Jerome Blake has foreordained that you will work Third Shift in reclamation. Right. He detached the cube and tossed it away. It bounced against a bulkhead and settled in mid-air, slowly drifting toward the overhead.

  The next two didn't work at all. They either had been shock- damaged or wiped by radiation. He almost didn'ttry the fourth cube.

  But he was bored out of his skull, and he wasn't ready to tackle the program again. So he slid the fourth cube into the slot. What came up on the screen was a title page:

  CLARION NOTE

  EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS

  CLARION NOTE? Now where had he heard that before? Frowning he scrolled to the next page, the table of contents. A phrase jumped out at him: Super Hyperpulse Generator. Super Hyperpulse Generator?

  He feverishly poured through the text. Apparently SHPGs had been a Blakist innovation that allowed communication over the entire Inner Sphere, rather than just the fifty light years of a standard HPG.

  But what really stopped him, what set his heart to pounding in his chest and bathed his face in sweat was the introductory paragraph under the heading of "Emergency Protocols."

  "The use of an SHPG shall be considered deployment of a weapon of mass destruction. As such, CLARION NOTE protocols will be initiated only on the orders of the Precentor Martial. May the Peace of Blake be with you."

  He had seen this before.

  He skimmed the text, trying to pick out what exactly CLARION NOTE was. When he found the answer his breath caught and he heard the roar of blood in his ears.

  CLARION NOTE was the use of an SHPG to cause a complete communications blackout.

  Defiance Industries, Maria's Elegy

  Hesperus II, Bolan Military Province

  Lyran Commonwealth

  2 September 3140

  Duke Vedet Brewer stepped to the dais, jeweled sunlight gleaming on his dark face. Normally he favored light colors to complement his complexion, but today he wore a dress uniform of Steiner blue to remind the Commonwealth's people of his recent history fighting on their behalf.

  And for those who chose to see it, there was a more subtle message, as well.

  He waited for a moment, looking out over the crowd, smiling, holding up his hands to accept the factory workers' cheers even as he gestured for silence. After a few minutes, the crowd quieted.

  Just as planned.

  Vedet didn't want them to stop cheering immediately. He wanted the citizens of the Commonwealth to see him basking in the love of his people as he stood before the gaping maw of an open door at the end of the Defiance production line. Two 'Mechs stood behind Vedet, an Atlas on his right and a Zeus on his left, both painted in the colors of the First Hesperus Guards, graphic reminders of the importance of Hesperus II.

  And if it happened to echo the symbolism of the Archon's throne room, well, that was just a coincidence.

  Vedet raised his hands again and finally the people stopped cheering.

  "My fellow citizens," said Vedet, "it is troubling times that bring me before you today. In the midst of a great victory over the Free Worlds League, we have suffered a treacherous blow. The Wolves have turned on us."

  He shook his head. "Now is not the time to assign blame for entering into this troubled alliance with Clan Wolf."

  So he got credit for being a statesman during wartime while still reminding people that it was Melissa's disastrous plan that opened them up to the Wolves' predations.

  "Now we must pull together to win this war."

  The crowd broke into three minutes and twenty seconds of spontaneous applause. Vedet had to fight the urge to look at his watch to see how well they hit their mark.

  "Here at Defiance Industries, our workers have been fighting this war as valiantly as any of us on the front lines." In truth, Vedet had been fighting House Marik, not Clan Wolf. He hadn't so much as slugged a Wolf infantryman, but most people wouldn't make that distinction. "These brave people you see before you have been working double shifts, building the equipment needed to support the war effort." He raised his right hand, palm flat, gesturing at the Atlas.

  "But my friends," he said, his voice grave, like the family doctor forced to deliver terrible, terrible news, "this equipment will not do a bit of good if it is not delivered to the men and women on the front lines."

  He looked straight into the holorecorders. "Through some terrible miscalculation, supplies that our brave troops need to beat back Clan Wolf have been moving coreward to our quiet border with Clan Jade Falcon."

  He swallowed hard and looked down. Drew a deep breath. Steeled himself to go on. Looked up. "In fact, it was a lack of supplies that allowed House Marik to defeat our own First Hesperus Guards on Kalidasa."

  He shook his head. "Ten weeks ago I sent the Archon a message requesting no more than the opportunity to assist in unsnarling this logistics disaster." His voice grew cold. "Today I received her response."

  He drew a slip of paper from a pocket and glanced down. '"I find our logistics effort to be adequate,' writes the Archon. 'Your help is neither desired or needed.'"

  Vedet lifted his face to the cameras, a look of incredulity stamped on his features. "Adequate? Our logistics efforts are adequate?" His voice rose with indignation. "Tell that to the dead soldiers on Kalidasa," he thundered. "Tell that to the people of Uhuru, new subjects of Clan Wolf." He slammed his fist into the podium. "Tell that to the citizens of the Lyran Commonwealth as all Bolan burns."

  "We have the will and the might to win this war." He raised his hand to the Zeus on his left as he looked directly into the recorder. "Archon Steiner, I beg you, please let us place swords in the hands of our brave soldiers."

  The crowd rose in thunderous applause.

  Vedet graciously accepted the factory workers' acclamation, knowing that the recording of his speech was already in post- production, and in an hour a JumpShip would carry it to the contested planet of Bondurant, the nearest world with a working HPG.

  And from there it would spread throughout the Commonwealth.

  Derelict Orbital Station in High Orbit

  Luyten 68-28, Exact Coordinates Unknown

  Prefecture X

  25 June 3140

  In a sea of cold, Tucker and Alexi huddled together for warmth. Tucker lay next to the heating element, clipped to the deck so he wouldn't float away. The little resistive heater glowed cherry red in the darkened space, like a fire burning down to its embers. Alexi lay next to him, her head near the heater, her face cen
timeters from his.

  "We really can't turn up the heat?" he murmured.

  "Not unless you want to signal Buhl we're here," she said sleepily. Her eyes were closed, her head pillowed on her hands.

  Tucker studied her beautiful face. That strange, alien face. Was this really Alexi Holt?

  She smelled like the Alexi he remembered. Sweaty, yes— Alexi had never been afraid to get her hands dirty—but there was something underneath, vanilla maybe, or lavender. Something delicate and feminine.

  And then he remembered the last time their faces were this close: when she'd roused him from his coma and had drugged him with TTX.

  It was a weird and unsettling juxtaposition. Tucker almost believed they were two different people: the vicious and cruel Sandra Whitfield and the brave and beautiful Alexi Holt who just happened to be disguised as Sandra Whitfield.

  "What did you find again?" Alexi murmured.

  "Something called CLARION NOTE. It was a Blakist plan to cause a communications blackout."

  "What?" Alexi opened her eyes and sat up. He sudden motion propelled her up a few centimeters until hertethers pulled taut, and jerked her back down.

  "The Blakists were able to use something called an SHPG to bend and twist high frequency hyperspace."

  Alexi frowned. "High frequency?"

  "We transmit messages through high freq. JumpShips travel through low freq."

  "So that's why JumpShip travel is unaffected. This . .. SHPG doesn't affect low frequency hyperspace?"

  Tucker shook his head. "No, there's an effect in low freq, too. It's just that the lower energy states means the change is smaller. If you could plot average jump error before and after the blackout I suspect you'd see a mean shift. It's just not big enough for anyone to notice."

  Alexi chewed on that for a moment, staring off into the distance. "All right, I still don't understand," she finally said. "But never mind. What I really want to know is why you were able to fix Wyatt's HPG, but not any others."