Part Three - Atreus
I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine
Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind
Human pride sings a vengeful song
Inspired by the times you've been walked on
Chapter 15
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
9 April 3065
To her annoyance, Alys realised she wasn't the only Marik lying in wait for Isis when her cousin arrived at the drop-port. Her nicely anonymous groundcar wound up parked right next to another that she recognised from the motor pool.
If I can recognise it, then probably neither of us is being as anonymous as we think, she noted. It wasn't as if she'd spent all that long on Atreus until now.
When she reached the waiting lounge, accompanied by bodyguards and a couple of warm bodies to handle any luggage Isis had brought with her, sure enough she saw a similar little cluster around someone she knew well enough to recognise instantly, and who knew her just as well.
"Alys," Corinne greeted her with warmth in her voice and only some suspicion in her eyes. "I see we both had the idea of welcoming the prodigal home."
"If you asked Isis, she might not agree that Atreus is home." The two groups jostled briefly around them, a dance so familiar that neither woman paid it any mind.
"That's unfortunate," the older of the two cousins - there was almost eighteen years between them - noted. "But at least she's back in the League and setting down some roots."
Alys shook her head. "On Irian, which she's been dragged away from by this mess."
Corinne sighed. "I wouldn't blame her if she was mad. But there aren't many Mariks left, we have to stick together."
Despite their mutual grandfather's huge brood of children by two successive wives, House Marik was rather threadbare in numbers, Alys mused. Besides her aunt Therese and her sons, Isis was the only remaining descendant of the marriage - unless the real Thomas Marik returned. And of the three children of the second marriage, Corinne's father Paul was the only survivor. The next generation was similarly few in number - so far, only Photon, Corinne and Alys' dead sister Ana had borne children.
"Would you like to try that line on Aunt Therese?"
Her cousin paused and then shrugged. "Given that Uncle Jeremy's career has been derailed a second time because of family politics, I'll pass." Not that Marshal commanding Tamarind Military District was a bad position to retire from. There weren't many people who could give orders for Jeremy Brett to disobey, but the Captain-General was one of the exceptions.
Further prodding on that was cut short as the passenger gates opened and the dropship disembarkees entered the concourse. Both Mariks withdrew slightly behind their guards, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Even if this was for first class passengers, it was still rather public.
While a Duchess could have insisted on being allowed off first, Isis came towards the end of the throng, talking brightly with a blond man with clear military experience. He wasn't in uniform but the cut of his clothes betrayed it and - Alys glanced down - his boots might not have spurs fitted but the option was there. Only AFFC mechwarriors wore those generally, which meant this was almost certainly the famous Galen Cox. Well, he wasn't the sort of luggage she'd expected Isis to bring but it might work out well.
"Cousin, it's been too long." Corinne stepped forward into Isis' personal space and kissed her on both cheeks. "I haven't seen you since you were in your teens and now look at you."
The youngest of the three Marik women affected surprise - perhaps more for the other passengers, who hadn't all filtered out and into the customs area yet. "I wasn't expecting a welcome party."
"Well you did let us know when you were arriving."
"I didn't," she protested.
Alys snorted. "You didn't hide when you were arriving is what she means. Once your name appeared on the arrivals list, it got picked up almost immediately. Fortunately, I had it removed before the paparazzi spotted it. I'm guessing that that's what tipped you off, Corinne."
"Next time I'll travel under a false name," Isis grumbled. "No, SAFE would catch that…"
Corinne smiled smugly - her father being the Minister of Intelligence gave her a headstart there.
"Colonel Cox." Alys offered him her hand as he tried to fade into the background. "I'm guessing you're here on official business? Isis probably wouldn't drag you all this way just to be her plus one."
Galen accepted her hand with a rueful look. "Well, we had dinner planned and had to rearrange where after she got summoned here."
"Cox…" Corinne mused for a moment and then her eyes widened. "The man who came back from the dead."
"It's a good trick, or at least better than the alternatives."
"So uncle Thomas claimed… at least until recently." She shook her head, trying to banish that issue from her mind. Probably unsuccessfully, Alys suspected.
The fact that the serving Captain-General of the Free Worlds League (since years before she'd even been born!) wasn't actually her uncle had come as an utter shock to everyone in House Marik except Corinne's father. It was hard not to be left reinvestigating everything and even the current financial scandal hadn't entirely eclipsed it from her mind.
Eventually it might become the new normal. But not yet.
"Do you need to report in somewhere?" Alys asked Galen. "We can put you up if nothing specific's been set up. It's not as if we're likely to run out of guest rooms, even as things stand."
The Marik palace in Atreus City was centuries old. Entire academic careers had been built on it's history, and as might be expected, at times it had sprawled out from the original site.
"I was planning on grabbing a Bachelor Officer's Quarters at the local garrison. The reciprocal standards require them to put up with SLDF officers."
Corinne shook her head. "They're probably as overcrowded as the hotels are at the moment, with officers from provincial militias arriving from all over. That's no way for us to treat a hero of the SLDF."
Galen glanced sideways at Isis and then shrugged. "Well, I'll accept your hospitality as long as the local SLDF representative doesn't object."
"You can make a call from the groundcar," Alys offered, and extended one hand towards the door.
Corinne drew Isis with her and within moments they were on the road, the two new arrivals separated into the two cars. Galen made his call and received approval to guest with House Marik, then listened in amusement as she called ahead to advise her aunt of their expected arrival.
"Family politics?"
"Does it seem petty to you?" she asked the man. He'd been at the side of Victor Steiner-Davion for a decade and a half, he could hardly have avoided the politics of his homeland.
He stretched. "What lay behind the Federated Commonwealth Civil War? I hope for Isis' sake that you've got a better handle on it than the Steiner-Davions did."
It wasn't a perspective she was happy with. The war had sparked the betrayal that had killed her parents. If the League fell into the same sort of conflict, the Krushers - her mother's mercenary regiment, it was still hard at times to remember that they now looked to her for leadership - could go through a second cycle of carnage.
"I wish I could assure you of that."
Galen adjusted his position in the seat. "Is there anything you can tell me? I am going to be asked to report on this. Do the charges stand up?"
She sighed. "For myself… I don't know. There's certainly been some padding of contracts. Tho… The Captain-General has admitted to us that he allowed it to an extent, but he swears he was only looking the other way for three to five percent."
"Would that be enough to save him?"
Alys shrugged and glanced out of the car, seeing Parliament's great dome off in the distance before more high rise buildings blocked it. "If it wasn't for the issue of his identity dividing the family against him, probably. But there was already pressure to push him aside for Photon, or Corinne… or myself… well."
The SLDF officer sighed. "Right."
She considered. "One more thing I can tell you."
"Oh?"
"William Blane is the Captain-General's closest ally in the Word and he seems to back the idea of five percent. But there are a lot of other factions in the Word of Blake. And as far as I can tell, Uncle Paul is more closely aligned with another faction, which might mean that he's the one with the best idea."
"Your cousin Corinne's father," he said slowly. "And she's a leading candidate to be the next Captain-General."
"Read what you want into it," she told him. She knew what it suggested to her.
Chapter 16
Telesian, Furillo
Bolan Province, Federated Commonwealth
25 April 3065
Reinhart Steiner found it comforting that Furillo was entering fall as he returned to the Ducal Mansion. Both Tharkad and New Avalon had broadly similar seasonal cycles to Terra, with their principal settlements in the northern hemispheres and thus the Federated Commonwealth might take this for spring, but Furillo was almost diametrically opposed in its seasonal calendar. The trees around the estate were terrestrial breeds that were beginning to show gold in their leaves and the chill in the air spoke of a bracing winter coming up, not the heat of summer.
"Your grandmother is waiting for you on the terrace," the butler informed him on arrival and thus, the young Brigadier General (the Skye Rangers had quixotically elected not to follow the permitted german form of the rank, Brigadegeneral) followed the main hall and then took a familiar dog-leg out to the back of the palatial residence to where a broad paved terrace looked out over the formal gardens.
Iris Steiner, Duchess of Furillo and one time Margrave of the entire Cavanaugh Theater, sat on a chair looking out over the lawn and flowerbeds, a distant look on her eyes. A steaming mug of coffee was between her hands and Reinhart saw a carafe on the table next to her, alongside a plate of biscuits.
"Grandmother," he offered, dropping to one knee beside her chair.
"Hmm?" She looked up, having apparently missed his approach in her reverie. Iris allowed him to kiss the back of her hand before ruffling his hair. "Do stand up, Reinhart, or better, pull up another chair. I've been waiting here for you to bring me all the gossip."
He laughed and turned a chair so he could sit at an angle to her, neither blocking her view of the gardens nor out of her easy line of sight. Having commanded half the border with the Free Worlds League during the height of her career, and given his own father's stellar performance as a commander - currently Caesar Steiner was the Generalfeldmarschall assigned command of all AFFC forces in Skye Province - he suspected that the duchess probably knew more about what was going on than he did.
"What would you like me to start with?" he asked. "The arguments over shutting down Tharkad City's main fusion reactor for a two year refurbishment?"
"It's Star League era," she snorted. "It'd probably be good for three more centuries unless it got shot up during Peter storming the city, and if that happened we would have heard about it by now."
Reinhart shrugged and picked up a small fairy-cake. He didn't care if it made him look unmanly, he liked them. "It's Peter's money to spend."
"It's the capital's infrastructure budget," she grumbled. "And if that needs topping up out of the national budget or the Steiner family funds then it'll hit us to some degree. And if you eat too many of those you'll end up as fat as your father."
"Father's not that fat."
Iris shook her head fondly. "Not for want of your mother trying."
Reinhart snickered. His father was noted for his appetites, of various kinds, and it hadn't shocked the royal court when he ended up marrying a professional chef. However 'inappropriate' it might be for the heir to a duchy, at most ten places removed from the Archon's throne, to marry a commoner.
"He seemed to be in good spirits when I last saw him."
"Caesar is always in high spirits, I should have probably reined him in more but it's too late now. At least he's happy." Iris shrugged her shoulders. "And how about you, Reinhart? Are you happy? I thought Victor might have given you the Tenth Guards for yourself if he'd taken the throne."
"Might have, could have, didn't," the younger Steiner replied calmly. "And in hindsight, I don't think Victor ever intended to reclaim the title of Archon-Prince. He was always happiest on the battlefield."
"I note that you avoid the thrust of the question." His grandmother stabbed one finger at him, for a moment suggesting to him what a holy terror she must have been in her own service days, before reaching for the carafe to refill her coffee. She only filled the cup halfway though, topping it up from a flask hidden in the pocket of her jacket.
"And you complain about father's drinking?" he asked wryly.
"I know my limits."
Reinhart grinned. "Actually, I am. The Twenty-Fifth need a strong hand given how their last colonel was in Robert's pocket. And transitioning them to a frontline command is just the thing after serving in the Lyran Guards. I hadn't noticed but I think I'd gotten into something of a rut."
"Hmm. Well, if a jumped up militia makes you happy then who am I to complain. Robert won't have stopped with just the colonel though. His father was more thorough than that, and he's a chip off that block."
"I have LIC doing some digging but it's a delicate balance to let them work without it turning into the sort of witch-hunt that damages morale."
The Twenty-Fifth Skye Rangers were a very recent addition to that long-standing brigade, having formerly been the Alexandria FTM and before that, the Alexandria SMM. Neither the March Militias or the Theatre Militias had fit well with Lyran military customs and Peter's solution to that had been to abolish those established in the Lyran half of his realm, transferring personnel and equipment into existing brigades (or in the case of the Coventry Strikers, creating a new one). The result had been a surprise reprieve for the Jaeger regiments established by the former Archon. While most commentators had expected them to be dissolved, instead the Bolan and Alarion Jaeger regiments had found themselves with sister regiments. Only the Skye Jaegers remained orphaned, since the militia units in Skye had been rolled into the Skye Rangers to open up the famously rebellious units to reorganisation and a quiet purge of the most hardline or high-ranking pro-Free Skye personnel.
Colonel Timmerman had been handled comparatively kindly: a transfer in grade to the Lyran Regulars where he'd be surrounded by loyal personnel and hopefully be swayed away from any further sedition. Other officers had joined the comparative flood of ex-LAAF mercenaries on Galatea and Outreach.
It was opening a lot of room for relatively junior officers like Reinhart or his cousin Sabine to jump up to positions that would have previously been years away. A bloody war or a sickly peace, as the saying goes.
"He calls himself 'leader of the loyal opposition'," Iris observed tartly. "I'd hate to see what disloyal opposition looks like."
"Robert?"
She nodded. "Victor's mistake wasn't having Ryan killed, it was in not following through and purging the rest of them. A ruler can afford one really thorough purge of their opponents."
"And Kathrina went too far in the other direction?" Reinhart enquired musingly.
"Correct." She dipped a cookie in her coffee and shook off the droplets before putting it into her mouth. "Peter, I will reserve judgement on for now. He hasn't really been tested yet."
"Not by the Civil War?"
"He wasn't the ruler yet," the old woman told him dismissively. "He's shaking things up, which is good, but the question is where they will settle. This 'grand senate' idea could bite him in the ass." Reinhart choked and she gave him a sharp look. "I've seen plenty of asses in my time, Reinhart. Yours a few times when you were still wearing nappies that needed to be changed."
"It does give everyone a stake in what happens with the Federated Commonwealth going forwards."
"It gives a comparatively few elites a say in what happens," Iris corrected him. "And look what that's done for the Free Worlds League. Peter was right to send his brother here to straighten things out before we have a war across the border. Are your troops ready to deploy down there?"
He nodded. "Either aggressively or as SLDF peacekeepers."
Iris shook her head. "This won't be like Anton's mess or the Andurien war. Once they turn on each other we could push the borders to back where they were in 2864."
That was a little before Reinhart's time - or his grandmother's - but he took the point. The end of the Second Succession War had been the highwater mark of Lyran success against the League, with their forces in raiding range of the world that bore House Marik's name, as well as strategic industrial worlds like Thermopolis and Irian. "And probably retake the worlds we lost in 3058, but the trade-off might be too high. I think Peter is still focused on rebuilding and preparing for outside threats looking to conquer us."
"Like the Clans." For the first time in a while, he saw Iris look uncertain. "Perhaps. Yet he managed to see them off easily enough at the end of the Civil War. I'm hesitant to dismiss them as a threat but they seem to be less of a problem now than they were when we first encountered them."
"They weren't seriously pushing. We're better off when we were, but it's still a risk." Reinhart made a face. "Of course, if Sun-Tzu jumps in then we'll have to step in. No one wants him picking up more worlds."
Iris nodded. "Ignoring him was another mistake by Victor. But if I list those then we'll be here all day."
With a sigh, Reinhart decided to let it slide. He'd worked with Victor Steiner-Davion for years, and he both liked and admired his cousin, but there was a certain willful blindness on his part to how decisions like the election of Sun-Tzu or his open admiration and friendship for the ancestral enemies of both sides of the Federated Commonwealth…
"What's been new here?" he asked, seeking a safer subject.
Iris blew on her coffee - although surely it must have cooled off by now - and took a sip. "Well, Defiance have been pulling older production lines out of storage and shipping them out to some very secret site off world. Using the space to extend their production. I don't know what Peter's up to there but it's probably a better use of government funding than a reactor no one has complained about in as long as I can remember."
"I haven't had any briefings," Reinhart admitted. "Probably because I've no need to know. But I guess it's likely part of his grand 'rationalisation." While Defiance Industries was best known for their massive factories on Hesperus II, still the largest single BattleMech factory in the Inner Sphere, they also had a secondary site here on Furillo that mostly manufactured medium 'BattleMechs.
"My suspicion is that he's setting up secondary sites for parts, on worlds well away from the borders." His grandmother sipped again and then licked her thin lips. "Not before time. Katrina looked at doing it and so did Melissa, but they always had higher priorities for their political capital. I'm guessing that Peter jumped on the opportunity to be a new broom sweeping clean, as he has so often."
Chapter 17
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
12 May 3065
The ancient hall that housed the Free Worlds League's Parliament had been rebuilt several times, sometimes due to expansions - it had once had only two hundred members, less than half the current size - and sometimes simply because maintenance had grown too demanding. The institution was in its eighth century after all, with the result that even architecture had fallen behind it. There had been talks about potentially closing and refurbishing it again in time for the octennial in 3071, but that seemed unlikely right now. The members would likely have other things on their minds.
Isis Marik wasn't a member herself, but there was a sizeable visitor's gallery that looked down on the purple and gold seating and the marble floor separating the chamber in two. Row after row of formally robed members sat there, with the highest seats on a level with the floor of the gallery above.
Enthroned at the far end of the room, beneath the great eagle emblem of House Marik, the Captain-General looked very small. He was dwarfed by the more than life-sized portrait in one of the arched niches above and behind the carved eagle. Isis knew from brief childhood explorations that the portrait, like the other three pieces of art on that wall, were changed every few years. Voting on that was one of the more minor issues that might be presented before Parliament.
Today, weightier matters had a hold though. She thought she saw tension growing ever deeper on the scarred face of the man she'd thought to be her father. But perhaps that was her imagination. He was probably too far away for that sort of detail.
A member from the Regulan Fiefs, one of the tiny provinces that were heavily influenced by their much larger neighbour, finished a denunciation of House Marik's corruption. He differed in only a few words from that of some previous speakers, and she wondered absently if they shared a script or if there was just a dreadful lack of imagination to their preparations.
"You're next," Therese warned her, under her breath. The grey-haired Duchess of Tamarind was watching proceedings like one of the hawks she flew for sport.
"I know." Isis left her seat and went to the end of the gallery.
The Speaker, Li Weaver, managed to make his formal thanks to the MP for his words sound almost sincere, and barely glanced at his agenda. "The House calls Duchess Isis Marik of Irian to address Parliament."
"Objection," a voice challenged even as the attendant started pulling aside the barrier that separated Isis from the stair down to the main floor.
She looked down but couldn't tell which of the Members of Parliament had spoken. Their robes gave them some anonymity.
"We will hear the distinguished lady from Vanra," allowed Weaver grudgingly.
The attendant gave Isis an apologetic look and held the barrier closed. She gave him a forgiving look, since it wasn't his fault. Although if she'd come all this way to be sent away like a naughty child, it wouldn't be amusing. Vanra was the main world of the Duchy of Orloff, a mid-size province with a more than respectable military force. Despite having broken off from the much larger Duchy of Oriente, their MPs usually followed the example of their neighbours and Duke Christopher Halas was the Captain-General's father-in-law.
Either this was someone breaking ranks, or perhaps the Captain-General didn't want her around for this. Given he'd awarded her Irian, that seemed unlikely. Unless he'd wanted her to stay there.
"There is no cause for us to hear from the words of a bastard whore of a Capellan," the Member of Parliament declaimed with venom.
Oh yes. Orloff was right on the Capellan border. That would do it, she thought bitterly.
Weaver scowled. "The distinguished lady is out of order. You may consider yourself reprimanded and if this inappropriate language continues then I will remove your right to speak."
The woman sneered. "Then I remind the House that the woman invited has spent almost her entire adult life on Sian or following a Steiner around Lyran space. What weight can be placed on her words other than that they were put into her mouth by her foreign friends?"
Before the Speaker could pick up that verbal gauntlet, the Captain-General leant forwards to whisper something. Whatever the words might bem they were sufficient to sway Weaver. "Per our proceedings, it requires a two-thirds vote to overrule an invitation to speak by the sitting Captain-General. Do I hear a vote to sustain this objection?"
There was a murmuring of voices, although the actual vote was electronic. Isis couldn't see any of the screens that discreetly reported them but it must have fallen short for the attendant pulled back the barrier.
"Thank you." She descended to the marble floor and crossed the narrow aisle, reaching the podium next to the throne. The Captain-General seemed to have aged a decade since she had met with him on Tharkad.
Before beginning her formal speech she leant over towards him, pitching her voice to be picked up by the microphones. "Orloff still permit duelling, is that right?"
"...they do," he allowed.
Isis bared her teeth. "Good." And then she stared at the Member from Vanra. "Should the 'distinguished lady' wish to discuss my merits or failings in future, I will have no difficulty finding seconds."
There was a ripple - a mix of amusement and of distaste - through the seated Members. Clearly some would like to see the outspoken woman taken down a peg or two. Isis doubted there would follow any such challenge, but with this as groundwork, if there was any further outburst she could readily justify issuing one.
Isis might not be a mechwarrior herself, but she had done some fencing and she suspected the Member didn't. Sword duels were entirely permissible.
"Ahem." Weaver cleared his throat. "Your grace, you have been invited to speak on the matter of allegations of gross misconduct by the Captain-General, based on your personal knowledge of him. Please refrain from other issues or from filibustering."
"Of course." She paused and looked around the room. "The sitting Captain-General has led the Free Worlds League for almost three decades. The results? Victory in war, prosperity in peace. There are few leaders anywhere not only in our recent history but that of the Inner Sphere who can boast the same."
"Is he perfect? No. But who here can say with honesty that they have never made a mistake. Is he my father? Also no, but since the actual Thomas Marik has been absent my whole life I can honestly say that the Captain-General has done a better job of fatherhood than my biological parent." As poor as that was.
"I am not a financial auditor, and I understand that experts are already reporting far beyond I could on whether funds have been misappropriated. However, the question rests on whether or not the Captain-General knew. I have no facts to report that can definitively answer that question. Based on my knowledge of him, and reports upon the Word of Blake shared with me by both the members of House Liao and House Steiner-Davion -" Take that, Member from Vanra "- I think that it is very likely that the Captain-General authorised some limited padding of contracts in order to support the establishment of the Word of Blake Militia, reasoning that they could serve as a reinforcement in the event that the Clan War spilled over into the the Free Worlds League, or that we found ourselves at war with the Federated Commonwealth."
Isis shook her head lightly. "From what I understand, the expectation that that support would be repaid was let down and I hardly think that such a successful leader would have reinforced failure. However, the Word of Blake is not merely an organisation. It is a doctrine and evidence overwhelmingly supports that it has supporters outside its known ranks. It would not surprise me - and more tellingly, it would not surprise analysts serving our neighbours - to learn that significant elements of our government have been subverted beyond anything that would be permitted by the Captain-General."
"Many of those individuals may feel that they, as the Captain-General surely did, were serving the Free Worlds League by supporting an ally. I doubt if any great number have a full grasp of the extent of their collective impact. Indeed, the factionalism within the Word makes it entirely possible that even their membership do not know how deep or shallow their support is within the Free Worlds. Yet it unquestionably exists."
"For all his great successes, I must count this as a failure on the part of the Captain-General. Not outweighing his meritorious record, but it is the duty of this House to address his complete record, neglecting neither the good nor the ill. And alongside this there is a second failure: the rising tensions that could potentially undermine the benefits his reign has led us to."
She turned on the podium, seeing that Thomas 'Marik' was stone-faced. "The long reign of Janos Marik and our sitting Captain-General mean that few now can remember the last peaceful succession of a Captain-General. The disorder around the brief reign of Duncan Marik is an example we should not wish to emulate. I will therefore presume to counsel the Captain-General to cap his career with one more act of genuine merit and statesmanship: oversee a peaceful transfer of power to a chosen successor rather than letting your tenure end in bloody and avoidable conflict."
There was a spark of anger in the Captain-General's eyes. Isis reached for the podium and found the microphone's mute button. With her head turned she hoped no one would have a good look at her lips. "For your family's sake, sir," she murmured.
And then she turned and nodded to Li Weaver, unmuting the microphone.
"Thank you for your words, Duchess." The Speaker remained urbane. "I appreciate it has taken no small exertion for you to address the House today. I hope that you will be able to take the time to attend our ongoing debates."
Isis nodded and then saw the Vanra representative standing again.
"Would the distinguished lady care to remember my former warning?" Weaver observed.
The woman squared her shoulders. "Duchess Marik, I withdraw and apologise for my previous remarks. I disagree with much of your position, but as you had the courage to present it, I am forced to recognise you as a true and patriotic daughter of the League."
If that was sincere, it was something. She wasn't sure what, but something.
Before she had reached the gallery again though, another Member of Parliament was at the podium. A distinguished gentleman from Regulus.
"I endorse the proposal that Thomas Marik should stand down, and put forward the name of Kirc Cameron-Jones as the next Captain-General."
The response was a roar of mixed approval and opposition.
Therese Marik shook her head slightly as Isis reached her. "The moderate's road is a brave one, but you're just going to take fire from both sides."
"Well, they say a politician is known by the stature of their enemies…"
Chapter 18
Arc Royal
Donegal Province, Federated Commonwealth
31May 3065
Daniel looked up as his father entered the little cubbyhole that served him as an office at Arc Royal MechWorks. "Please tell me there's not another problem."
Barely taller than the desk, Clovis studied him and then shook his head. "I'm cutting you off from coffee. You need a full night of sleep. And maybe a weekend off."
"I'll take some time off when we get the bugs out," he muttered.
"There are always more bugs. They breed." The little man climbed into the seat across the desk and reached under it for a control. A gas cylinder hissed and the seat rose a few more inches, not equalling their eye-lines but at least putting them a little closer. "You, on the other hand, are breakable. Men are more fragile than machines."
Considering the throbbing behind his eyebrows, Daniel couldn't entirely dismiss that advice. "Well, at least when I have the issue with the framework around the torso lasers done? We're still not getting the tolerances right."
"You'll do a better job once you're rested." His father gave him a heavy look. "And more importantly, your mother and sister will stop bugging me about you. Close and save your files. We can talk shop while you wind down and then I'll drive you home."
"I…"
Clovis ahemed and buffed the name badge on his jacket, the one that bore his official title. "Which one of us manages this madhouse masquerading as a Mech factory?"
"Okay, okay." Daniel started saving his work. "I just… the Mackies are kind of my project. My contribution. I want this to go right."
"You're doing fine. You'll just be doing better when there aren't bags the size of a kroner… a sovereign, I mean, under your eyes."
"So what else is going on?"
"I'm glad you asked." His father tossed a print-out onto the desk. "Take a look."
With his working documents closed, Daniel triggered the back-up function and then examined the document while he waited for everything to be copied to multiple secure servers elsewhere in the complex. "Looks like a Loader King loadermech, with guns."
"Correct." Clovis took the document back and flipped it around. "I got this from a contact in the Intelligence Secretariat. Don't ask me where they got hold of it, but my understanding is that the Prince of Regulus has been shopping around smaller parts and assembly plants in his province of the League, trying to get this into production."
"Bolstering his forces in case things go south for the League? Regulus only has five actual 'Mech regiments."
"They can influence several others, but yeah. Unlike the Marik Commonwealth and the Duchy of Oriente, Cameron-Jones doesn't have any BattleMech production to fall back on. Without it, his forces could be depleted through simple attrition. But the Regulans do build a lot of the needed parts - Magna has a site there that makes lasers and reactors, for example."
Daniel leant back in his chair. "How long has he been working on this? A conversion like the one we did during the war has its issues… as we found out. The Fifth Royals had more maintenance issues than any three other regiments. And we're still trying to work out proper production lines to replace them."
His father handed over a second printout. "He copied someone else's homework, or at least that's my conclusion."
The diagrams and specifications here looked very similar to that which he'd just looked at. "Where did this come from?"
"Achernar of New Avalon."
Daniel blinked. "Really?"
"Yup. When the Clan Invasion blew up, they were looking at possible ways to expand production to offset the loss of factories in Lyran space. One plan they had, which was pretty far advanced until the Truce of Tukkayid made it unnecessary, was to convert their own Loader King production line to build a BattleMech on the same chassis."
"Sixty-five tons, fairly typical mobility for a heavy 'Mech?"
"Yep. Armament isn't great, but it's a tough frame. Enough that they could fill out secondline units with it, focus more advanced machines on the frontlines."
"There are some differences but they have the same basic concept. Does anyone in Regulan space build the Loader King," asked Daniel, mind working on the problem.
Clovis shook his head. "Not until now. And they don't appear to be worrying about a license."
"Ouch."
"I assume that Cameron-Jones doesn't expect lawyers to get near him under the circumstances. He might be wrong, given the Star League. Or maybe not. Either way, Achernar are determined that if someone's making money of their design work, they won't be the only ones."
Daniel frowned. "Another project?"
"I think we're busy enough here, but I think it's likely militia forces would be interested so I might contract to finish up their work and act as a middleman for some of the other companies who are finding Peter's AFFC a harder buyer to deal with than they were hoping."
There was a lot of rumbling about that in the military manufacturing sector. While it wasn't hitting Arc Royal much, the Archon-Prince's preferences were causing some rethinking in what was being offered and to what buyers. It wasn't hurting mercenary buyers and noble retinues, since firms that were behind the curve were sometimes finding themselves forced to sell off high performance machines for less than they thought after AFFC buyers declined to contract for them.
It wasn't as if the AFFC wasn't buying. Just that they were being selective. Wolfhounds, a staple of Arc Royal MechWorks, were contracted several years in advance. And TharHes had relocated their production of the Wolfhound to a new and expanded site on Arcturus, with rumours that further expansion there would accommodate doubling production of the Bushwacker medium 'Mech.
On the other hand… "Who are you thinking? Blackstone?"
"They were lucky to grab the SLDF contract," his father agreed. "And they may not get that next year. But something they can offer to every militia within two jumps of them?"
"Is it a good idea to alienate so many of the manufacturers, right when he's trying to rebuild from the Civil War?"
Clovis cupped his hands behind his head. "I'm not sure. Since the Clans hit us, there's a sense in which the industrial side of the equation have been able to dictate almost everything here, particularly after the secession when Kathrina was buying support with favorable contracts. It wasn't quite so bad in the other half of the Federated Commonwealth because Victor was so cash-strapped after ransoming jumpships from his… well, we assumed she was his sister. They had to economise. So it's possible that this is just the same thing here. God knows, he must be struggling to balance his budget."
Daniel saw that the back-up was done and logged out of his terminal. "I hope you're right."
"My guess is that one of the reasons Blackstone didn't get much lately is that they're too close to the Jade Falcons," his father added. "A lot of new investment - start-ups like Felix Industries - is well away from any hostile neighbours. Or at least far enough away from other factory worlds that another invasion won't have too much impact."
"I wouldn't have his job for all the money in the world," Daniel admitted sincerely. He pushed back his chair. "Okay, dad, let's go home."
Chapter 19
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
17 June 3065
The soup plates were just being removed by waiting staff and Galen could smell the steak on the plate being carried over when Isis grabbed her purse and pulled out her comm, which was visibly vibrating until she hit the accept key.
"How did you know it was going off?" he asked, bemused.
"It pages a receiver I'm wearing if anything urgent comes in," she told him absently, reading the content of the unit's screen. "I… Blake's beard."
"What?" Galen had almost never heard her curse.
Isis grabbed her purse. "We're leaving," she told him, not bothering to tell the wait staff anything. Then again, her staff had probably arranged how the bill would be paid at the time the table had been booked so that something as crass as money wouldn't come up. It wasn't as if House Marik would have trouble covering a couple of meals here, however outrageous the prices were.
Galen's time with Victor had taught him that the rich were just like everyone else, except that they had money. And that royalty was just like the rich except that they never needed to even think about money. Well, not below the national budget level.
With a sad look at the steak, he pushed his own chair back and trotted after Isis. He sensed, rather than heard, the waiter following him and looked back.
"Would you like this in a roll to go, sir?" the man offered as if this happened every day.
Hot damn, now this was service! "Will the chef kill me?"
The waiter gave a faux chuckle at the joke and made a gesture up ahead. Before they reached the door a half baguette in a napkin was ready and Galen exited with his steak nestled in the bread. Which was, of course, excellent. "What's wrong?" he asked Isis as they reached the elevators, her bodyguards already moving up around them.
"Security teams were just ordered to get every member of House Marik on the planet back to the palace, as an utmost priority," she told him, hammering the call button for every elevator in the restaurant lobby. "We have a matter of minutes before one gets here." One of the doors opened and Isis held one hand out, blocking him from getting on. "Not that one."
"What's caused that?"
A second door opened and Isis nodded slightly. Two of her bodyguards entered and unceremoniously dragged the two occupants out. The couple seemed more shocked than hurt. Isis, Galen and the four guards entered, Isis stabbing the button for the viewing lounge on the top floor of the building.
"Isis."
She took a deep breath. "The orders came from Captain-General Corrine Marik."
He hesitated. If Thomas had stood aside then this wouldn't be necessary, probably there would be a discreet recall - if only so that everyone in House Marik sang from the same hymn sheet when the press started asking questions. But security teams… "A coup?"
Isis nodded jerkily. "And the security teams should be taking orders only from the sitting Captain-General. If they're moving then they've already been compromised."
A vision of Kathrina Steiner-Davion right before the explosion that demolished their hotel on Solaris VII crossed Galen's mind. Family and politics. Damn! He hated this. "Why the observation deck?"
"The security team will have the parking garage and the exits below sealed," one of the guards advised. "There's no helipad so that should be the only way out."
"I take it they're wrong." He bit into his steak sandwich. Might as well enjoy it while he could. The meat was delicious. He could only believe it would have been even better on the plate.
The man tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.
"What about the others?" Galen asked as the doors opened onto the top floor of the skyscraper. It was domed in crystalline glass, potted plants and faux grass giving it the look of a garden in the sky.
"Everyone has an exit strategy." Isis strode towards the southern view over Atreus City. "I don't think anyone really wanted this, but it isn't the first time House Marik has had an internal division. The question is, how many of those plans have been compromised."
Her comm unit vibrated again in her hand. "Sixty seconds."
One of the guards caught Galen's hand and directed him towards a gazebo. "Ladies and gentlemen!" another announced loudly, catching the attention of those already in this part of the viewing deck. "For your own safety, please withdraw to the other side of the viewing deck."
There was unsurprisingly a less than willing response. The woman removing an unnecessarily large pistol from inside her jacket was rather more convincing and almost everyone streamed away.
Galen tore another bite from his sandwich. It was just too surreal, he'd really rather be inside his 'Mech if something was going on.
"Ten seconds," Isis reported and crouched down inside the gazebo. "Take cover."
He followed her example and then craned his head around as bright lights illuminated the dome from the outside. "What… oh you're kidding." He dropped his sandwich and put his arms around her protectively.
The southern side of the dome imploded as a helicopter descended, shattering the glass panels and snapping the metal struts holding them in place. Sturdier supports limited the damage but almost a quarter of the dome broke apart under the impact of the fuselage. Fragments rained down on the gazebo, none of them heavy enough to damage the roof or harm those beneath it's shelter.
"Go go go!" one of the guards called, pulling Galen off Isis and hustling him towards the black-and-white painted VTOL that was shifting towards the edge of the rooftop. It hadn't landed - even the partial dome would have obstructed its rotor blades, but enough was down that hovering just off the edge it could descend until the side door was level with the rail.
It took Galen a moment to recognise the design. "Where did you get a Kestrel?" he called as they reached the rail. As far as he knew, they were built exclusively for use by the Wolf Dragoons' Seventh Commando special forces.
"This really isn't the time!" Isis called back as one of her guards lifted her and literally carried her in the brief hop across from the rail into the helicopter's infantry bay. Someone inside was waiting to catch her.
Then it was Galen's turn and he shook off the guard, making the jump. The Kestrel hatch opened downwards into the small wing surface that flanked the fuselage and that looked dangerously close to hitting the side of the building.
The man inside him who hustled him away from the door so that others could enter wasn't wearing Wolf Dragoons pins, but his jumpsuit was the exact cut that Galen had seen them wear when he was on Outreach. He'd even worn some himself while going through training there.
There were other passengers aboard, Alys Rousett-Marik most prominently, and a half-dozen people that he guessed were her own bodyguards and staff.
"Fancy meeting you here," Galen noted, taking a seat next to Isis and facing the other duchess. "Do I want to know who'll pay for the damage to the roof?"
"It'll probably cost less than hiring this helicopter," Alys muttered. "Really, Isis, the Wolf Dragoons?"
"I was in a hurry," the younger Marik said indignantly. "I haven't had the time to get this sort of thing set up in-house! And the hotel will bill Corinne for the damage."
"And she'll pay? Is there a book of rules for this game or can anyone play?"
"The first rule is that winning excuses anything," Isis told him seriously. "And yes, she'll cover the damage. It'd be poor publicity not to. Although she'll probably try to confiscate my finances, which would off-set the expense."
"We can cover Civil War 101 later." Alys pursed her lips. "Are you coming with us, Colonel Cox?"
"I suspect that Corinne would consider me an accomplice just for being here, so let's say yes. I do need to report in at some point though."
"Given the Word of Blake are probably backing her through her father, I wouldn't suggest going to an HPG station around here."
"Point." He felt the helicopter veer away. "I take it we're heading for a hidden dropship?"
"Yes. We need to be away before anyone has a solid grip on the orbitals. I hope you didn't leave anything behind that you can't live without."
"Military lifestyle is hard on that sort of thing," Galen told her. "And the whole false identity didn't help."
"Do you have any details?" Isis asked her cousin.
"We got enough warning that most of the family have a shot, I think." Alys closed her eyes for a moment. "The most likely people not to get away really is the Captain-General and his family. They would have been in the palace already so…"
"I'd have to imagine that he was Corinne's primary target," Galen agreed. "Are we blind to what else is going on?"
"Not entirely, but we're mostly monitoring military frequencies," Isis told him, putting an earbud into one ear. "A lot of them don't know what's going on at the moment."
The Kestrel wasn't a slow machine and the lights of Atreus City were already invisible out of the tiny viewports. "Pursuit?"
"Normally, yes, but right now anyone with the ability to chase us has other concerns."
It took less than thirty minutes before the helicopter descended, coming down what Galen would normally have said was an unsafe distance from a small dropship. It had barely touched ground before he felt it moving.
"We're being towed into the dropship," the loadmaster told him. "The dropship's primed to take off the minute we're locked down."
Galen sat back in the seat. It wasn't ideal to ride in while taking off, but better than some of the alternatives.
The ride up the ramp was as quick and efficient as he'd expected and interior lights for the troop bay brightened once the dropship door started closing behind them.
Isis sighed heavily. "Dammit."
All eyes turned to her. "What?" asked Alys.
"Naval frequencies just lit up. The Captain-General and his family are aboard a warship and heading for a pirate point."
"I'd almost rather Corinne succeeded," her cousin said half-heartedly. "Do you think they'll make it?"
"The Corinth is moving to intercept, but one of her escorts isn't on board with that…" Isis bit her lip. "I don't know, but we have to assume he'll get to the jump point, so House Halas won't back Corinne. She has no leverage."
"And with two sides inside of House Marik, Cameron-Jones will have enough of an opportunity that he'll continue his claim," Alys concluded. "A three sided civil war. Damn, damn, damn…"
This is turning into a bad habit, Galen thought. Who's next? The Draconis Combine? The Capellans?
Chapter 20
Castle Davion, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
23 June 3065
Peter Steiner-Davion had slept on the dropship, scheduling it to arrive at a private landing pad behind Castle Davion first thing in the morning. That way he had his staff would have a whole day to get set up and deal with any immediate action.
His staff. Ha. That was hilarious. He'd thought when he was younger that his parents were overdoing it with the number of people they kept around them to support their work. Experience of actually serving as the Archon-Prince had shown him the error of his ways. So far it was taking four separate staffs to help himself, Yvonne and Catherine to keep track of everything - Yvonne's own staff on Tharkad, Catherine's here on New Avalon, his staff on Tharkad who were busy maintaining smooth interaction between Yvonne's and the personal staff that had followed him to New Avalon… and one of the many chores he would have to do before his formal coronation in September would be establishing a permanent staff here to maintain communication between his personal staff and Catherine's when he returned to Tharkad.
Even though the individual staffs were smaller than either of his parents, in total they needed more people just to get as much done. It really showed him the scale of the shoulders that he was stood upon.
Catherine was waiting for him, dressed casually and she surprised him by hugging him first. It had been almost two years since they met in person, he realised. And he'd been her main support from their reunion on Zaniah until right after the Battle of New Avalon. Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders and let her cling to him for a few minutes. "Missed me?"
"A bit, yes." She let go of him. "Did you have a good trip?"
"Draining." He'd visited twenty different worlds on his way from Tharkad to New Avalon, meeting nobles, officers and officials to reinforce their support for his government. "I gather I have an easy first day?" He'd looked at his schedule yesterday, but something could have changed, for example… "Or has the Lucien Davion popped up again somewhere?"
Catherine shook her head. "I'd have mentioned that first thing."
Peter sighed. "It's like the Sword of Damocles hanging over us. Where is she? What is she doing?"
"If we're lucky, a misjump. She'll never turn up again or she will, but so late that she'll be entirely irrelevant."
Peter snorted. "That would be her getting off lightly. And if we're not lucky?"
His elder sister made a face. "Since she didn't turn up a week or two after New Avalon and start getting her own version of events out? She had a bolthole somewhere and is there, plotting a return."
Rubbing his jaw, Peter conceded that she was right. And agreed with all of the other analysis that he'd been offered. But where that would be… that was another question. "Well, I guess we can stick with the plan then. A informal privy council meeting and then military matters?"
"Dress fitting between the two, unless you count that as military," Catherine told him as they walked into the Castle.
He gave her a look. "Dress uniform, Catherine."
"A pretty costume for a special occasion is a pretty costume for a special occasion."
She wasn't entirely wrong, he conceded. But there would be no skirt unless someone had snuck kilts into the uniform code without telling him. His coronation would be the highlight of his first Royal Court as Archon-Prince, so what he wore would actually matter, however little he enjoyed being fitted for a suitably ornate uniform. It would also essentially unveil the new dress uniform for the reunified Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth. The original uniforms had had distinct Lyran and Suns versions, and that was just going to have to end.
A short elevator ride brought them up to one of the administrative wing of the Castle and they entered the traditional meeting room of the privy council. Most of those attending were dressed more formally than Catherine, despite the fact the meeting was supposed to be a low key way for Peter to get to know them.
At least he had plenty of recent practise pressing flesh, Peter mused as he worked his way around them. Most were somewhat familiar to him, at least by reputation. But that wasn't a substitute for face to face meetings, particularly when getting a feel for what might be between the lines of their memos.
Having worked his way around from Count Garek Davion - one of Jackson Davion's many close cousins and the Minister of Administrative Services - to his second cousin once removed Angela Hasek, representing the Capellan March Ministry, Peter took the seat at the head of the table with Catherine at his left hand and Bishop Sortek at his right. "It's good to meet you all at last. I'd have liked to come here sooner, but the Whitting Conference slowed sorting out affairs of state on Tharkad."
"I recall your parents wanted to operate a cycle of dividing the year between Tharkad and New Avalon," James Sandoval offered. The Duke was representing the Draconis March Ministry in person, an unusual choice but a welcome one. Keeping the Dukes of Robinson and New Syrtis favourably inclined towards him would ease a lot of Peter's burdens. "Do you plan to adopt that policy?"
"I don't think it's going to be practical in the short or medium term." Peter rested his hands on the table. "With the Whitting Conference every three years and the current expectations for likely military threats, I expect to need to spend most or all of 3067 on Tharkad, so currently I'm planning on spending the next year and a half on New Avalon or nearby… up until Christmas next year, most likely. So for now it'll probably be around eighteen months on each capital."
There were nods around the room. Good, because that was more or less forced on him. "I know Catherine's impressions but what would you say is the biggest issue we're facing right now?" he asked.
Heads turned as the Ministers wondered who would be first to speak up. It was Angela Hasek, as it happened. "I would say the suggested creation of new Marches, your highness."
"As we're being informal today, you can all call me Peter when we're meeting like this." He glanced at James Sandoval. "Would you agree with that assessment?"
"It would be one of the biggest administrative events in over five centuries," the older man observed. "Which may mean that it's time for something like that."
"I'm less convinced." Angela seemed to have strong opinions. "Other than trying to match the Lyrans by having five internal divisions, it seems to have little benefit."
Peter raised his hand before anyone else could pour oil onto the fire. "Let's be honest, the so-called Outback worlds have had legitimate grievances about how they've been last in House Davion's priorities for far too long. Reforming the Outer March in some form is essentially a done deal, although I am quite content for it not to affect the Capellan March if you and George are confident that worlds under your administration wouldn't benefit."
Angela nodded and James glanced over at his counterpart for the Crucis March, Conrad Davion. The young man had stepped in as Peter and Catherine's deputy for the traditional fief of House Davion after short but successful military and diplomatic careers. "I think Conrad and I have worked out a good basis for which regions should be included in an Outer March, drawing on current boundaries and economic numbers. There would still need to be new appointments for their leadership."
"The area is already getting strong investment. Is a new March really necessary?" asked Tames DuVall. The Minister of Ways and Means was from another of the major New Avalon political dynasties, though his branch of the family had left the world centuries ago. "The budget is already strained."
"Shortening lines of communication in the more farflung worlds will pay off in the long term," Catherine commented quietly. "The Terran March is more questionable financially."
Glancing around the room, Peter didn't see anyone disagreeing. "That's fair and most of the people I've met in the Terran corridor didn't seem to be motivated to push for the idea. I still want a presentation on the possibilities, but if we can agree on the Outworlds then the Terran March can be put on the backburner. If nothing else, the situation there is still more fluid than I like."
"If you want to save money," offered Bishop Sortek, "I'd be delighted to switch our purchasing away from Quikscell. The amount of money we waste fixing everything that gets shipped from their factories is a nightmare."
"Do we have alternative sources?" They built some benchmark vehicles for the AFFC and they were litigious when it came to anyone copying those designs.
To his surprise, Catherine spoke up. "There's a new start-up building vehicles that could fill most of their roles. I've approved funding for them under the military industries reform program. Their factories can start building basic light artillery vehicles and mid-weight tanks."
"Hmm. Parts?"
Sortek smiled toothily. "They have licensed spare parts production out to companies that operate a much better level of quality control. Without that we'd probably not be able to use their output anyway."
Peter considered and then nodded. "Starting from the end of the next financial year, cut them out of procurement. Alright, open floor. I understand Jackson Davion is looking to retire, maybe managing the transition would be a good job for him to handle while his successor is getting up to speed - something to talk about this afternoon, Bishop. Alright, everyone. What else do you feel should be high in my priorities right - ?"
There was a chime from the console built into the table. Outside communications were usually filtered save for important and urgent matters during meetings.
"I haven't been on-world for more than an hour."
Catherine shrugged. "At least whatever it is waited until we'd all woken up." Then she reached over and accepted the call.
"My apologies," the speaker on the other side of the channel began. "There's been a high priority message via HPG."
"What about?" asked Peter, resting one arm on the table.
"The Free Worlds League appears to have broken out into a civil war, your highness."
The Archon-Prince pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. "Well, I did just open the agenda for suggestions," he muttered, half to himself. "Send the message through. Unless anyone has anything they feel is more important, we may as well all read this at once…"
Chapter 21
Hyppo, Augustine
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
18 July 3065
Galen had grown his beard back out in preparation for a discreet journey back across the border and Alys had used her influence over Augustine's government to have an FWL passport issued to him under the name of Jerrard Cranston. That and contact details for a free trader operating out of Rochelle should get him as far as Solaris VII and from there he could rely on his contacts in the AFFC and ComStar.
Isis wasn't sure she liked the beard. Galen looked good with it, but it had been itchy when she kissed him goodbye in the drop-port lounge.
"Public displays of affection already?" Alys asked him once they were back in the discreet groundcar that would whisk them back to the ducal palace.
"Just maintaining cover. We looked like family seeing him off and all the other wives were doing that when they or their husband was departing."
"Oh, planning the marriage already?"
"I only kissed his cheek, Alys!" she snapped, hoping her cheeks weren't too red.
Her cousin laughed. "Well you're probably not pregnant just from that…"
"Oh shut up!" Isis snapped.
Officially, Alys was the only one who had arrived on her homeworld. If the security services thought Isis was still in transit somewhere then they might have to spread their resources thinner. It would be extremely bold for them to try to arrest a duchess at the seat of her power, but a visiting cousin might seem like a softer target.
The elder of the two didn't shut up, but she did change the subject: "Are you sure you don't want to go directly back to Irian?"
"As tempting as it is, our two worlds alone won't be much of a firebreak."
Thomas 'Marik' and his family had successfully reached a jump point with two warships before Corinne's adherents had managed to catch up. From there they'd taken refuge within Christopher Halas' Duchy of Oriente and were busy welding together a coalition to stand against the usurper. While messages via the Blakist-controlled HPGs should probably be taken with a pinch of salt, it seemed that both the Duchy of Orloff and the neighbouring Protectorate - once Anton Marik's power base fifty years before - had pledged themselves to that cause, providing a solid power bloc on the Capellan border, if the scattered Orloff and Oriente regiments could be re-amassed.
Corinne's own position was also solidifying with both her paternal grandfather, the Earl of Stewart, and the more distant Graham-Marik kin acknowledging her as the Captain-General. She hadn't received much more than that though, and many federal units hadn't declared themselves… at least, not as far as Isis or Alys had managed to find out.
The two largest provinces not to commit so far were the Principality of Regulus - naturally, given Kirc Cameron-Jones' ambitions - and the distant Duchy of Andurien. If the latter sided with Thomas then Duchess Humphreys would almost certainly bring the entire Ryerson Military District with her, seriously threatening the Regulans' ambitions. If she declared for Corinne then it would leave the deposed Captain-General and the Regulans with enemies on all sides.
But even more likely than that was that Dalma would renew her grandmother's ambitions for independence from thirty years ago. And there was very little in the way to stop her. Both the Canopians and Capellans bordered that corner of the Free Worlds League but it would serve both of their interests to have a comparatively weak buffer realm there rather than the mighty League.
"Everything between Stewart and Terra is in flux," warned Alys. "It would only take one officer in the wrong place and you could find yourself in custody."
"If I do nothing then I might as well be in custody." Isis glanced out of her window. "Sigmund Hughes granted me representative authority when I left for Atreus, second only to that of our MP. And since she gave her duress code during her statement of support for Corinne…"
Honestly, the coup on Atreus had been so mis-managed that she was beginning to think that it hadn't been planned with success in mind.
"I can negotiate with the governments of Savannah and Connaught before returning home. If they agree to a pact of neutrality then we can rely on Technicron and Kong Interstellar as well as Irian to supply whatever forces we can field."
Alys nodded. "I'll send word to officers I know and talk to my own neighbours," she confirmed. "Van Diemen IV may be feeling vulnerable now that the Third Oriente Hussars pulled out to head for home, they might be willing to throw in too. Not that they have much but militia-grade troops, but every little helps."
"Be careful about your neighbours," warned Isis. "They may be more loyal to Corinne than you want." Augustine was still part of the Marik Commonweath after all. Three of its nearest neighbours were also members of House Marik's personal province, while Berenson was base for the Fifteenth Marik Militia, a reinforced regiment that seemed to be cautiously favorable to Corinne's regime.
"Right now, Corrine has more to worry about at the other end of the Commonwealth. Atreus is only two jumps away from Regulus, and Cameron-Jones is only holding off his own candidacy because he's still pulling his own forces together." Alys reached across and took Isis' hand. "The real worry I have is the FedCom. You know Peter Steiner-Davion better than I do. What will he do?"
Isis frowned. "Not very well," she cautioned. "But… I don't think we have to worry about a sweeping assault, like Operation Rat. He doesn't have forces in place and this probably caught him as offguard as the rest of us. Besides, he's on New Avalon…"
"His brother is on Bolan."
She conceded the point. "And he's also worried about the Clans. The Jade Falcons have invaded three times in the last fifteen years, and Clan Wolf's Khan openly told Victor that they're just waiting for the Truce of Tukkayid to run out. But if we collapse into small conflicts, the Chaos March all over again, I couldn't rule out opportunistic attempts to take soft targets."
Alys nodded in understanding. "The Sirians, for example. The Concordat is like a dagger against his Terran Corridor, but if federal forces move out then there's only the three regiments of the Sirian Lancers to defend them."
"That would be the high end of what I'd expect," Isis agreed. "There are also isolated worlds - it wouldn't take much for the AFFC to push the border far enough back that Peter was in position to threaten Dieudonne. That would essentially let him neutralise half his border with the League, which could be tempting if the bulk of his mobile forces are committed elsewhere."
Dieudonne was the command centre for the military district that took its name from the world, almost a quarter of the Free Worlds League, including both Irian and Augustine. Losing it, or even having to worry about reorganizing around another headquarters would severely hamper any coordinated military action by the FWLM in the area.
Alys pursed her lips and leaned back, releasing Isis' hand. "Then building a power bloc wouldn't just deter the various claimants from trying to drag us into their mess," she observed. "It would also warn the Archon-Prince off."
"I agree. It's very unlikely that anyone would be able to convince him to authorise an attack that could drag him into a wider conflict. If nothing else, that could drag the Star League in and right now he looks like being the only viable candidate for First Lord in 3067."
"I thought that you said he didn't want it?" Alys gave her a questioning look.
Isis shook her head. "He didn't want the title then, he was still feeling out how to handle his new responsibilities and needed to show his focus was at home. But by the next Whitting Conference, election would cement his status as having brought his realm back from the Civil War. I'm not saying he has to have it, but it would be a useful political point to score and it probably wouldn't be difficult for him to get the position - unless they open it up to new members, it has to be him or the Captain-General and what do you reckon the chances we are there's a clear Captain-General by then."
Her cousin frowned. "A year and a half from now… Worse than they would have been if Thomas had died, or had the good grace to just live in exile. Corinne could probably have accepted his being under Halas protection."
"Grace isn't something he does well." Isis thought about her aunt Therese and then about her grandfather Janos, who she didn't remember having met - he'd died when she was a baby. "I suppose most Mariks are like that. Maybe it's a learned behaviour."
"The keyword in 'being a good loser' is 'loser'," pointed out Alys, which rather seemed to prove Isis' point.