Threads of Ambition

by Loren L. Coleman

  Representative Xiam-hu stammered a few half-articulated words, cursing his own stupidity for having fallen into so simple a verbal trap and barely able to believe Sun-Tzu Liao could be so blatantly callous about escalating the budding conflict. "You cannot do that," he said finally, his formal speech failing him. "Our people will not stand for it. The Star League member states will not stand for it."

  Now Sun-Tzu reached forward to pull the manila envelope toward him, completely ignoring Xiam-hu's blustering assertions. Slowly he opened it, so that all three men could see the transcript of Candace's repeal sitting directly on top of the small stack of papers.

  "Ah, but they have, Mister Xiam-hu. The member states already have." He tapped one long fingernail on the repeal. "Four to two, I believe, was the final vote."

  24

  Royal Compound

  Tian-tan, St. Ives

  St. Ives Compact

  26 February 3061

  Candace Liao sat at a table in the Royal Compound's southern-front sun room amid several broad-leafed plants, sipping a morning demitasse. She wore workout ghi in preparation for her tai chi practice. It was something her late husband had taught her years before and now served in her advancing years to keep her generally fit.

  She set her cup on the white-painted wrought iron table, then gestured her AFFC liaison to a chair opposite her. General Simone Devon sat with a weary slump, a fact Candace noted and that did not bode well for their talk. The general does not carry good news, but then I haven't expected good news for some weeks now.

  "Speak your mind, Simone." Candace smoothed her hair back on the left side. "Since you arrived without Caroline Seng, should I assume that she will not be joining us?"

  The general nodded. "She sends her regrets, Duchess, and a message that she will be up to talk with you later. Some new reports were coming in on Nashuar and Indicass, and she thought she had better see to them at once."

  "And the news is?" Candace trailed off, encouraging a response.

  Simone Devon pushed impatiently at her own dark hair, unruly from a long, sleepless night spent reviewing troop dispositions. "Not good, I'm afraid. Indicass is a mess. The Cheveux Legers are under-strength. Rubinsky's Light Horse does what it can to prevent a quick Confederation victory, but without the Cossacks' heavier First Regiment they can't really hope to dominate the world either. Nashuar. . ."

  Simone shook her head lightly. "Nashuar is a disaster waiting to happen. With the Seventh Federated Commonwealth Regimental Combat Team on-planet to support your Home Guard, the occupation force cannot hope to force a disarmament. Sun-Tzu will send in more troops, and soon. And the fact that the current occupation force is Lyran leaves me uneasy."

  Candace frowned, then lifted her cup to take another small sip of the sweet beverage. "I had hoped that those units would settle down now that Katrina has assumed the New Avalon throne." Then again, I had not thought she would support Sun-Tzu so easily. Unless, of course, Katrina hopes to tie up Sun-Tzu by keeping him occupied here. Not a very settling thought.

  "The Fifth Lyran Regulars are very pro-Steiner," Devon said. "They resisted the initial merger of the two states and I would not expect them to ever get along with a decidedly Fed-Com unit like the Seventh RCT." She exhaled sharply. "There have already been skirmishes."

  "I understand the position you're in, Simone, if FedCom and Lyran troops come to blows." Candace pursed her lips in thought, setting her cup down on its saucer with a clink of china. "It's the kind of incident that ruins careers. You would like me to reconsider my decision to resist the occupation?"

  Simone Devon sat up straighter, suddenly showing a force of character that belied her small frame. "Duchess, my personal situation does not matter. Prince Victor placed me under your authority, and the Archon Princess Katrina has not given me any countermanding orders, yet." She relaxed slightly. "But I do see a problem that Nashuar represents all too well." The general placed both hands flat on the table. "If you continue to resist the SLDF occupation, what happened on Denbar is sure to repeat itself and the situation will spiral out of control."

  "We are already there, General." Candace looked up through the glass ceiling and into St. Ives' sapphire blue sky, taking the time to organize her thoughts. Such a beautiful day for so dreadful a conversation. "When my nephew's forces claimed Denbar, he stepped past the point of no return. To return the world to the Compact would be a loss of prestige that he cannot afford. It could shatter his renewed Capellan efforts, and that he will not chance. His rude treatment of my ambassador supports that."

  Candace looked back at Devon, feeling a firm inner resolve. "And neither will I surrender worlds. I know Caroline Seng advocates that I renounce the Compact's claim to Denbar and any other world in the place of Indicass. And the Star League might even threaten to censure Sun-Tzu then, forcing him to accept the deal. But he'd be back, and the reclamation of two Compact worlds would give him a stronger base next time for a call of Capellan unity."

  "Then we need to buy time," Devon said. "Sun-Tzu will find ways to force or manufacture incidents. What we have to do is delay things until the Star League finally takes notice and agrees to do something."

  The Duchess finished her sweetened coffee, then pushed the cup and saucer aside. "I have been in contact with my representatives on Outreach," she said. "Several mercenary units are already en route, including Group W, which I've managed to sublet from Katrina. Plus I've been approached by The Arcadians and Burr's Black Cobras."

  Simone Devon's eyes glazed over a moment, which Candace knew to be the general's photographic memory in operation. "Good units, the three of them. Group W is a tough outfit. They'd be a big help. And I know the Cobras are still spoiling for a fight and the chance to redeem themselves for their 3057 disaster."

  "I'll also pass along the order to step up our resistance efforts," Candace said. Sun-Tzu will have his incidents no matter what. Might as well take advantage when we can. "Fighting should be avoided whenever possible, but tactical raids against supplies can be authorized."

  "And if I may suggest, Duchess, you might want to release Cassandra from St. Loris."

  Candace's eyes narrowed. "By all reports I am receiving she is still too eager." She held up one hand, to forestall any comment from Simone Devon. "Her actions on Indicass precipitated nothing that would not have happened anyway, I know. But the choices were still wrong and she has yet to fully understand that."

  "True," Simone agreed. "But I've known Cassandra for several years now, Duchess. I've talked with her. She has high standards to live up to." The general sighed. "We all have made mistakes in the field, Candace." Her use of informal address was rare but allowable when it came to personal matters. "But that is where we learn. Cassandra will figure it out, and in the meantime we need her."

  Candace allowed no personal feelings to show. "I'm listening, Simone. What is your idea?"

  "Release her for this tactical raiding you spoke of. Send her to Milos or Vestallas. It would be good for the people of the Compact to see her on the border, fighting in the St. Ives Lancers, just as it helps when Kuan Yin delivers humanitarian aid, as she did on Denbar."

  The Duchess could not help a smile of fondness showing through her stern composure. "Yes, one week before Capellan relief arrived. That must have upset my nephew, again."

  Simone nodded, but also pressed forward in her cause. "Cassandra's role is no less vital, Candace. Your people could use a Liao hero to root for. Kuan Yin, for all her important work, does not inspire as would a military figure. Young Quintus is nearly forgotten, and well that he is."

  Mention of her youngest child gave Candace a twinge, bringing his prolonged absence to mind. But she agreed that it was best that Quintus remained cloaked in the anonymity he had built around himself. And also good that we still have eyes and ears focused on Katrina. May he continue to be overlooked.

  General Devon leaned forward, elbows resting on the table's edge as she continued with her case. "Kai, of course, would
be perfect. But he is not here." She sighed. "And let's face it, your and my days in a 'Mech are over."

  "Speak for yourself, General," Candace said, drawing herself up with over-exaggerated pride. But she did give serious thought to Simone's advice. Have I been too critical of Cassandra? Kai limited himself for so long, until he gained confidence, and in doing so never made too grievous an error. It is not fair to judge her by Kai's successes. And Simone is right in suggesting that I have made graver mistakes than the one Cassandra made on Indicass. "All right, Simone. I'll send the order."

  Devon smiled her support. "Cassandra won't let you down, Duchess."

  "Let's just make sure that I do not let her down." Candace grew serious once again. "We need some solid plans for keeping Sun-Tzu tied up on the border. Anything," she said, "to keep him from advancing against more worlds."

  Hazlet, Nashuar

  St. Ives Compact

  Working on his tank in Hazlet's main vehicle maintenance facility, Maurice Fitzgerald glanced up from his work and saw Danielle Singh crossing the large bay. Looking for someone else, he told himself, though he kept one eye on her progress while continuing to work with a technician on the J. Edgar's turret assembly. She angled his way, obviously searching for someone, and was close enough for Fitz to read the look of surprise when she finally recognized him. Dressed in overalls and up to his elbows in grease for the turret's rotation mechanisms, he doubted he looked the same warrior she'd trained with.

  By contrast, her uniform was neat and pressed and displayed the new rank of sub-commander that had come with her advancement to lance leader in the Nashuar Home Guard 'Mech company. "Fitz," she said, stopping at the J. Edgar's front. "You're a mess."

  He shrugged. "I'd like to see how you look after helping to replace some myomer bundles." He handed his tool belt over to the technician. She didn't come here for idle talk. We're traveling. "Let me get cleaned up."

  "Still making predictions?" Danielle's voice was very controlled, but he still caught the hint of interest. "Well, you win your bet this time. Take five minutes."

  It only took three. Still wearing the coveralls but with most of the grease cleaned off his hands and arms, he followed her back to the Home Guard training facility and into Mech Warrior Hall. A pair of Mech Warriors passed them in the corridor, their faces registering a certain amount of surprise to find a greased-up tank jock in their area, but Danielle's frosty glare kept them quiet. "I never really thanked you," she said, once the others were out of earshot. "Without your action, I would've come home with a lost man during the Salt River Canyon battle."

  "Forget it," he said, shrugging slightly. "You don't thank soldiers for breaking orders, even if they get lucky."

  "I'll remember you said that after your meeting with Nevarr."

  Nevarr? Fitzgerald had already caught a stiff lecture from the Home Guard CO himself. Nevarr wanted to bring it up now, after over a month? "This isn't about the raid the Lyrans made, is it? My Prowlers weren't responsible for the northern patrol." And whoever had been would probably have been cashiered if not for the desperate need for all warriors right now. Fitz had heard about the casualties in that one—the Seventh RCT losing three 'Mechs, and the Home Guard company one of their own as well.

  Danielle glanced at him sidelong. "Hmmm. I think the appropriate answers would be sort of, and we know. In that order." Then there was no more time for him to ask her any questions. They stopped in front of one of the doors lining the hall and they entered the office after a quick rap on the door by Danielle.

  Nevarr looked as unruffled as ever in his black garb, half sitting against the edge of his desk and with arms folded over his chest. "Lance Sergeant Fitzgerald. Good to see you again."

  "And you, sir," Fitz returned the politeness automatically, though remaining on his guard. He was sure Nevarr had not brought him here to inquire after his health.

  "Relax, Fitz," Nevarr said. "I didn't drag you here to chew you out. I want you back in the unit." Just like Nevarr, pulling no punches.

  Danielle moved to a nearby chair and seated herself. "Lance Sergeant Mangh was critically injured in the Lyran assault," she said, "so there's a hole in the TO&E." She paused, then fixed him with an unreadable stare. "My lance."

  Fitzgerald frowned in confusion, his dark eyebrows knitting together as he studied Danielle. "I disobeyed orders, and you are requesting me in your unit? No offense, Danielle, but that's one of the worst examples of positive reinforcement I've heard lately."

  "She requested you," Nevarr said, "but I approved it." He leaned forward, hands on his thighs as he matched Fitz's gaze with an icy-blue stare. "Your insubordination comes from Mech Warrior training. You are too used to the independence. But you responded to your lancemates. And more important, in my eyes, your people voluntarily followed you back into a hostile situation without hope of support. You've earned their trust, which means you've learned how to be a part of a team."

  That is probably the longest speech I've ever heard Nevarr make. And along with the praise, here the commander is offering me what I've worked toward for so long. Worked toward, and failed. "I'm flattered, Danielle, Commander Nevarr. Really. Your opinion means a lot to me." He took a deep breath. "I decline."

  Danielle recoiled in shock, but Nevarr merely blinked once, the only sign of surprise. "You no longer wish to be a MechWarrior?"

  "More than anything." Fitzgerald clasped his hands behind his back, the hollowness that had opened up inside him when he'd spoken his refusal now fading as he recognized how much it was the right course of action. "That you think I am ready would have been enough for me, once." He shook his head. "No, that is not right. What you thought didn't matter to me, only what I thought. And I was wrong."

  Fitz read a mixture of confusion and disappointment in Danielle's eyes. Nevarr, never an easy man to read, gave him a single nod of support for his decision. Accepting without judging.

  Fitz turned for the door, then paused and turned before reaching out to open the knob.

  "I will let you know," he said, "when I believe I am right."

  25

  Dansing Resort

  Dansing, Nashuar

  St. Ives Compact

  13 March 3061

  The snow-packed slopes of the Dansing ski resort were vacant of skiers and snowboarders. The abandoned lift chairs swung in the stiff breeze, and the parking lot mostly stood empty. All to the better, as a dozen 'Mechs bearing the crescent moon insignia of House Hiritsu played their own winter games against an equal number of the FedCom Seventh RCT on the white slopes. The Seventh had taken the resort as their garrison post a week before and with events on Nashuar heating up, the resort owners had shut down, the history of three centuries and four Succession Wars having taught them a simple fact.

  The presence of garrison forces invite an assault.

  Aris Sung brought his Wraith down within a stand of tall pine, the fifty-five-ton 'Mech finding slippery purchase, but the trees helping him avoid a fall. He twisted around to face the beginner's downhill run, targeting the gray and black-painted Stealth that ended its own jump midway on the slope and not ninety meters distant. Belonging to the Seventh RCT, the Stealth gave Aris the first clear target he'd had since leaving Sarna almost a year ago. No Capellan this. Just one more Davion warrior, of the same kind that stole so many worlds from the Confederation in the Fourth Succession War. We offered them the chance to stand down. They declined. We owe them nothing more than that.

  Of course, House Hiritsu had not expected combat quite so soon, this being only their second day on Nashuar. The main Compact garrison force on-planet still held onto the capital city of Hazlet, located near the base of the mountains where Aris and the rest of his House currently fought. The Lyran force on planet had contacted them, however, requesting help clearing out several minor support bases that had been created to worry the Lyran rear. The resort was one of those.

  Aris waited for a good target lock, riding out a light buffeting as two medium enem
y lasers scored his armor over the left leg and torso, then he mashed down both triggers. Scarlet fire from the large pulse laser mounted on the Wraith's right arm splashed over the Stealth's left side, melting armor, which evaporated in a dull gray mist or runneled down into the snow to raise tiny streamers of steam. One of his medium pulse lasers cut along the outside of the FedCommer's left leg, while the second also chewed into the left side.

  Combined with the heat wash from his jumping, the temperature in the Wraith's cockpit soared as the fusion reactor bled waste heat. Outside, the snow melted away wherever the Wraith stepped, while inside Aris sucked in lungfuls of the scorched air, fighting for oxygen. He blinked burning sweat from his eyes, his vision clearing to find that his gamble had paid off. The Stealth was down, far too unbalanced after the loss of so much armor along its left side. It thrashed about in the snow as it tried to rise again, finally doing so and backing off to prevent Aris from jumping into its rear quarter.

  Aris gave the other warrior credit for taking the only fair option in a lousy situation. He held to the woods, keeping to cover while the heat scale dropped to a more manageable level. The Stealth missed with its lasers, the emerald beams cutting into trees and bursting trunks as the water within the wood flashed instantly to steam and expanded. Aris, with pulse technology at his disposal that allowed him to better track in on an enemy, did not miss. His large pulse laser hammered its darts of damaging light into the other 'Mech. The right arm this time, with almost every ounce of its protective armor sloughing off under his attack.

  The Stealth began a retreat and Aris gave a second's attention to his tactical screen, just long enough to determine that no one in his company required help. Then he ran his 'Mech out of the woods in pursuit of the Stealth, which angled further uphill and toward the more advanced runs. You do not escape so easily. Another trade of laser fire cost Aris roughly a half-ton of armor from his right arm, but in return he exacted double that, including the last of the protection that had been shielding the other BattleMech's left side.