Chapter Six

            Cochren sat at his desk in the office he'd taken nearly five months ago, going over readiness reports for both the Angels and the newly formed St. John Militia.  "Where did all the time go?" he wondered idly to himself.  The Angel's initial contract with the Free Rasalhague Republic was nearly complete.  There had been no action on the planet other than exercises, which was both a blessing and a curse.  On one hand lack of action dulled senses and skills, but on the other, well, nobody in their right mind enjoys combat.

            The protesters had, for the most part, left the Angels alone.  After his talk with Reese, it seemed word of it had spread.  Just the fact that he had even bothered to come and talk to them personally had quelled much of the bad blood.  As time went on and the Angels spent their money on planet, patronizing local stores and restaurants and being well behaved, word of that spread as well.  Then there were the members of the Militia, who went home each day and talked about what they'd done that day with the mercenaries, fostering more good will.

            The training regimen that he and his officers had created for the Militia had done wonders in a short time.  The ranks had swelled after his Angels made planetfall.  Most of the new recruits had simply been placed in the infantry platoons, but a few had shown enough promise to become tankers and even MechWarriors with enough training.  Nothing could substitute experience, which was the point of the exercises. 

In fact, he was supposed to go and monitor an exercise this afternoon.  Putting down the paperwork and swiveling to look outside, he mused about what a beautiful day it was, sunny and warm.  The telecomm on his desk warbled, and he spun around twice before punching the button.

"Cochren here."

"Colonel, this is Jordan.  Major Mellert says they are almost ready to begin."

"Thanks, Jordan.  Tell him I'll be out on the field in twenty minutes or so. Is he in Death or groundpounding it?"

"The Major's riding high today, sir."

"Excellent.  I'll hop in Gabriel, then."

"I'll let him know, sir."

"Good.  God out."  He severed the connection before standing and stretching.  He'd been sitting in that damned chair for over five hours already today.  Time to have a little fun.  He peeked out the door to make sure no one was in the corridor before sprinting off towards the MechBay where his Victor was berthed.  After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to see the Colonel running along the hallway like a child in a neighborhood race.

Two minutes of running put Bryan in the MechBay before his fourteen-meter tall VTR-9B Victor assault mech.  The sight never failed to give him pause.  Almost half of the Angels' forty BattleMechs were out of the bay currently, either for the exercise or on patrol.  Sun Chin's Grasshopper was missing, but Jordan's oddly painted Cyclops was to Gabriel's right, after the empty stall that normally housed the black Atlas piloted by his XO.  He quickly stripped down to shorts and scrambled up the chain ladder towards the cockpit of his mech, earning several grins and odd looks from the technicians working over a few of the regiment's machines.

When he reached the top of the ladder, Cochren slapped the button that would retract it into a small storage space in the shoulder of the mech.  Slipping into the cockpit, he pulled the hatch shut and twisted the handle, sealing it.  The Victor's life support systems would provide him with air until he opened the hatch again.  Turning in the cramped space, he pulled his cooling vest off of the command couch and shrugged the heavy garment on.  Layers of ballistic cloth with coolant lines sandwiched in-between, it was the only thing that would keep his body cool enough during combat for him to stay conscious.  Once he had that on, he settled into the couch and plugged the coolant line into a jack to the right of his throne.  Reaching out, he flipped the switches to begin the start-up sequence on the mech.  The thrum of the fusion reactor buried within the Victor's breast made him give a whoop of joy.  He never felt as alive as he did when nestled in the cockpit of his BattleMech.

As more and more systems reached standby status, Bryan reached up and behind him and pulled down his neurohelmet from its shelf.  He settled the heavy helmet onto his shoulders, feeling the sensor patches contact his temples securely.  The neurohelmet transmitted his own sense of balance to the mech's enormous gyroscope, keeping it upright during movement.  With the helmet on, he was ready to bring the machine up to full power.  He flipped a master switch from Standby to On and felt a brief wave of vertigo as the neurohelmet matched his brainwaves with those stored in the computer, verifying his identity.  There were still other checks, though, and the computer's soft female voice calmly asked, "Final voice code, please?"

"In the beginning, God created the Angels, and he knew that they were the best."  Everything in the cockpit lit up and the thrum of the reactor became a mild roar as the computer allowed full power to the Victor's systems, matching both his voice patterns and the phrase itself.  Grinning like a schoolboy, he took first one step, then another, guiding the eighty-ton machine out of the MechBay.  He turned on the radio, switching to the regimental Command Lance frequency.

"God's online.  Where are you guys today, Mellert?"

A short crackle of static was followed by the cheery voice of his XO.  Of course, he'd been out running around in Death, his Atlas, all day while Bryan had been stuck reviewing paperwork.  "Nice of you to join us, sir.  We're five klicks northeast of the barracks bearing zero-five-zero.  We'll start when you get here."

"Roger that, ETA five minutes.  God out."  Swinging around to the bearing provided, he throttled up to run, Gabriel's legs pumping fast enough to propel the machine at well over sixty kilometers per hour.  As he neared the fence on the west side of the barrack grounds, his radio squawked as the MechWarrior on guard there hailed him. 

"Sir, we'd really appreciate it if you would use the gate like everyone else."

Still running straight at the five meter tall fence, Cochren had just enough time to respond, "Gates are for those who take orders, Lieutenant, not the one that gives them!"  Still laughing, he took his feet off the foot pedals and stabbed them down onto the pegs to the outside of each, igniting the enormous jump jets in Gabriel's legs and back.  The assault mech lifted into the air and soared over the fence on three jets of silver fire.  If ever the mech looked like an avenging angel, it was then.  Feathering the jets for a soft landing, he hit the ground running.

"Damn, Dave, I've known you to plan some brutal exercises, but this is a new low," Bryan said over the mech to mech frequency he had set up with his executive officer.

"What?  The armor ambush?  You're just still mad about the last time I did that to you."  Mellert had actually had nothing to do with this exercise's planning and execution, he was simply acting as the judge and referee, trudging around in Death, his Atlas.  Similar to the last time they had done a large scale exercise, though, two Demolisher tanks had lain in ambush, rendering the Militia Cyclops assault mech so much scrap in a single salvo.  Watching the battle, though, that wasn't what Bryan was referring to now.

"Not that, Dave.  I meant setting Chin on those poor Militia MechWarriors.  He's tearing them up."  Chin had already claimed both the Militia's light mechs, a Stinger and a Locust, along with bowling over a medium-weight Wolverine.  As he spoke, the Grasshopper sailed over the head of the Militia's Banshee, which had fired its particle projector cannon and popgun autocannon under the jumping mech.  Chin's heavy machine landed with its knees bent to absorb the impact, then pivoted smartly and unloaded its entire complement of lasers into the larger mech's back.  The light array was dazzling, and the effect would have cored the back of the Banshee and destroyed the gyro and engine shielding.  The computers controlling the exercise decided this in the blink of an eye and relayed the information to Death's computer. 

Switching on an exercise channel, Mellert calmly informed the Banshee pilot of his 'death' and ordered him to power down.  Going back to his mech to mech link with Bryan, he muttered, "Banshees are pieces of junk anyways.  We should see about getting a refit kit for it. Slower, but firepower to back it up."  The Grasshopper, meanwhile, and leapt again and cored a Vedette medium tank, which according to the computer had suffered a magazine hit and exploded spectacularly.  "I see what you mean, though."  Bryan laughed.

"God's never wrong, my wayward creation."

"Yeah, yeah," Dave replied, dismissively, then belatedly added, "Sir."

The other Vedette and a huge, ancient Behemoth tank both cranked their turrets over and unloaded on the Grasshopper, which had taken back to the air just a moment too late.  Missiles with dummy warheads streaked in and peppered the mech's lower torso and legs.  Autocannon shells tore into the right knee, and lasers finished the job.  The computer determined that the mech's leg had been forcefully amputated.  Thumbing the exercise frequency again, the major whooped, "That's it, Chin, you're down. Kneecapped!"  He flipped off the radio still laughing.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, Dave?"

"Hell yes.  Sir."

Bryan laughed and turned his attention back to the exercise action.  The Behemoth and Vedette that had finished off Chin turned their attention to a Hunchback that had been supporting the Capellan, peppering the medium mech with laser and missile fire.  Suddenly his radio squawked at him.  Bryan looked at it and noticed that the call was coming in over his personal frequency with Jordan.  Frowning, he toggled the radio on.

"Sir?  This is Jordan, acknowledge, please. Sir?  Si -"

"I'm here, Jordan, what is it?"

"Sir, you've got a Priority Alpha message waiting at the HPG station."

"What the hell?" Cochren thought to himself.  "Who'd be sending me a Priority Alpha message?"  Out loud, he said, "Well, patch it through to me out here, will you, Jordan?  The exercise isn't finished yet."

"No can do, Colonel.  Already asked.  The Acolyte says it's marked Eyes Only for you.  You'll have to go down to the station."

"Damn it.  Well, if someone paid for an Alpha, it must be worth it.  God out."  He flicked off the frequency and opened his link to Dave again.  "Major, finish up here.  Send the battleROMs to my office when you get back.

"Roger, Colonel," came the reply, sounding much more serious than usual.  It wasn't often Bryan called him by rank, so he knew something was up.  "Where are you heading, sir, if I may ask?"

"The HPG station, Major.  Someone paid ComStar a huge amount of money to send me a message.  Alpha Priority.  If I can, I'll fill you in later.  Good luck with the rest of the exercise, Lucifer.  Give Chin a good ribbing.  God out."

He turned away from the battlefield, where the Wolverine was now getting back to its feet.  The Militia seemed to be recovering now that Chin was out of the fight.  His was the heaviest mech on the Angels' side.  The Militia really had come a long way, though they were still very green troops.

Gabriel accelerated until it reached its maximum running speed of over sixty-four kilometers per hour.  He could make it back to the barracks in less than five minutes at that pace, and then grab a hoverjeep for the drive over to the HPG station.  With a few minutes to freshen up and change, he could make it there in about a half hour or so.

"Just press that button when you're ready to view the recording, sir," the Acolyte said.  Dressed in white robes, he nodded and left the room when Bryan acknowledged his understanding.  ComStar, a quasi-religious order, controlled the HyperPulse Generators, or HPGs, that allowed faster-than-light communications between planets.  Normally messages were batched and sent out perhaps once a week, depending on which planet they were going to.  For someone to pay the exorbitant sum for a Priority Alpha message meant that whatever it was they needed to tell him, they thought it was very important and needed to get to the recipient as soon as possible.  Bryan brooded for a few moments before hitting the button, wondering again who the message was from.

To his great surprise, Morgan Kell's visage appeared on the screen.  The Angels' Colonel' eyes widened at the sight of the famous Kell Hound leader.  Morgan wasn't a young man, but he looked very old to Bryan, his eyes haunted.

"Bryan, hopefully this message finds you well.  I have received news from Dan, relaying information that my son managed to broadcast while fighting Ryan's pirates out in the rim of the FRR.  Unfortunately it is several weeks old already, but I feel that you should see this as well, since you are also operating in Rasalhague space."  Morgan turned to his left a little bit, and he muttered, "Insert the footage here," to someone off-screen.  His bust was replaced by battleROM footage, presumably from his son Phelan's BattleMech.

The landscape shown was barren red rock, probably from high iron content.  In the distance an old Rifleman was sprinting from boulder to boulder, trying to stay out of sight of one of the oddest mechs Bryan had ever seen.  It looked like a cross between a Marauder and a Catapult.  The large blocky arms housed PPCs and lasers, but instead of the autocannon over the back, it had a pair of missile racks on the shoulders that, combined with the bullet-shaped body, made it resemble a Catapult.  As he watched, paired large lasers lanced out of the mech's arms, stabbing into the fleeing mech.  Then he noticed the range indication on the battleROM.  "Over 700 meters!" he thought.  "Impossible!"  But as he watched the unknown mech polished off the Rifleman with another salvo.  Phelan's mech charged in at it, scoring several hits, before the battleROM transmission ended and Morgan's face came back into view.

"The mech you see is like nothing I've ever known, Bryan.  Apparently it and it's companions not only finished off Ryan's pirates but also the lance that we had on planet."  He stopped talking for a moment, and his eyes teared up.  Bryan felt a stab of sympathy for Morgan.  He had no children himself, but he could imagine the pain of losing Nichole like that.  His phone rang, but he angrily turned the ringer off and ignored it as Morgan continued.  "The rest of that ROM is much the same.  They fire at impossibly long ranges and apparently have better armor and heat dissipation techniques than we do.  I have no idea where they came from or what their true intentions are, but obviously they are hostile.  I would suggest that you keep your eyes and ears open, my friend.  The Rock, where that recording was taken, is a ways from St. John, but just the same.  Be careful, Bryan.  Your contract is almost up for renewal.  You might want to bear this in mind."  Cochren's phone warbled again as the message ended.  He yanked it off his belt and stabbed the answer button.

"What?" he answered rather rudely.

"Colonel, this is Jordan.  Sorry to interrupt you, but you'd better get back here right now."

Bryan blanched and was filled with a horrible sense of foreboding.  When he spoke, his voice was like ice, almost a whisper.  "What is it, Graham?"

"We just received a radio transmission from the Messiah, sir, notifying us of a new, unidentified vessel in-system.  It was followed less than a minute later by a broadcast from the new vessel."

"And?"

There was a pause.  "They're asking for the ranking officer on the planet, and they want to know with what forces we're defending the planet, sir."

Bryan dropped his phone in shock.

On his way back to the barracks, Bryan tried unsuccessfully to get ahold of Harper Meryl, or any of the Council members.  None were answering their phones.  "Probably in a damned meeting," he muttered to himself.  He stuffed his phone back into his pocket as he pulled up to the barrack gates and flashed his badge at the MP on duty there.  The young man flashed a smile and salute at him, obviously not picking up on the Colonel's dark mood.  As the gate rolled open he rocketed through, before killing the fans and grinding to a halt in front of the offices.

He leapt out of the hoverjeep and sprinted to the communications room to find Jordan hunched over the screen and two other technicians busily examining readouts.  Nichole was there, as was Quix and Perry.  They all turned and saluted him smartly.

"Where's Mellert?" he demanded.

"He should be here any minute, Bryan," his wife answered.  "Graham told him to get his ass in here ASAP, so he left Chin to clean up the exercise and get everyone back to base."

"Good, he'd better get here soon, I want everyone present for this.  Can we get Patsy, Dallas, and the Old Man in here as well?"

"Out on maneuvers, sir," Jordan answered.  "I've informed them and they are making all due speed back to base."

"Any luck raising the Council?"

"Nope."

"Keep trying, we need to inform them of this as soon as we can."  The door of the already cramped room opening made him turn to see Dave and Kelly Packard join them.  He nodded slightly to acknowledge both before turning back to his communications officer.  "Play it, Graham.  This is enough for now."  Jordan flicked some switches on his board and the display lit up.

A dark-skinned man with broad shoulders and long braided hair shaved away from the temples in the manner of MechWarriors appeared.  Behind him was what appeared to be an internal bulkhead of a jumpship.  A sigil Bryan had never seen before, of a snarling canine in black with a background of what appeared to be swirling snow adorned the bulkhead behind him. 

"I am Star Colonel Ramon Sender of the 341st Assault Cluster.  St. John, hear my batchall.  I have come to take your world for the glory of Clan Wolf.  I wish to speak to the ranking officer of this planet, and to know with what forces he will defend so that I can bid my forces accordingly.  We shall make planetfall in three days.  I await your response."

Absolute silence filled the room.  It was almost as if nobody dared breathe.  Jordan, who'd already seen the recording, seemed by far the least affected.  Bryan took a deep breath and asked Jordan to play the Messiah's recording.  There was no video transmission with this, only voice and data.  The captain of the Messiah, Jaleel, spoke slowly and clearly to the room of tense officers.

"The data we've included is everything both passive and active sensors could pick up on the new vessels.  It appears to be a pair of Star Lord-class jumpships and an Invader-class jumpship.  They are carrying what appear to be five Unions and two Leopards, but their profiles don't quite match.  It's as if they've been heavily modified and the computers no longer really recognize them.  There's also an additional dropship that I cannot get a make on.  Profile suggests it's a blowtorch carrier of some sort.  I am taking the Messiah away from them slightly, but we'll not stray far so as to keep an eye on them.  We will continue to update as possible, especially if they disengage.  Horne out."

Mellert broke the ensuing silence.  "Shit."

Packard added, "Knew this job was too good to be true."

The Colonel flashed back to watching that bizarre mech take part he Rifleman from Kell's message.  "You said it, Dave.  Jordan, of course you have the frequency to respond on?"  The communications officer nodded.  "Okay…umm…anybody know what the hell this guy Sender is talking about?  Batchall?  Bid his forces?"

Perry spoke up next.  "Does he really expect us to tell him our TO&E?  Are they Dracs?  Some point of honor or something?"  Everyone shrugged.

"He said 'for Clan Wolf', not for the 'Draconis Combine'.  That isn't any unit symbol I remember, but we can go through the database and check," Nichole added.  "And what the hell is a Star Colonel or a Cluster?"

"Good idea.  Damned if I know, though.  I'll -"

"I've got Meryl on the line, sir," Graham interrupted him.

"Put him on."  A moment later the Planetary Administrator's rugged face appeared on the screen.

"Good afternoon, Colonel."  A small frown of worry creased Meryl's brow.  "I trust there was no problem with the exercise today?  I've been told there have been accidents."

"No, Administrator, those are normal in training, nothing major.  I do need to speak to you and the Council as soon as possible.  I would prefer to do it in person, rather than over the comm."

The frown grew.  "I see.  Just a moment, please."  Meryl leaned out of the picture for a moment, then came back in to view.  "Will three hours from now be good enough?  The Council is in deliberation right now, the only reason I am here is I already cast my vote and decided to leave."

"That should suffice, Administrator."

"If that's not good enough, I can call an emergency meeting."

"No, sir, three hours will give me time to get my thoughts in order, and they won't make much difference to the news I have."

"Very well, Colonel, meet us in three hours then at the Council Chamber.  Until then."

"Until then, sir."  Bryan motioned to Jordan, who killed the connection, then sighed.  "Okay…suggestions on what to tell Mr. Sender?"

"Well, we could tell him there's only a lance here and pound the snot out of whatever he lands with," Mellert suggested.

"First off, there's nothing to suggest that he won't land everything anyways planning on pounding the snot out of our single lance, Dave," Bryan said. 

"Tell him the truth, sir," intoned Quix.  "He'd better say his prayers, because God and his avenging Angels are standing ready to kick his ass straight to hell."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Quix.  But we have to imagine worst case.  Five Unions, two Leopards and an unidentified dropship is a lot of hardware.  He could potentially have two plus battalions.  In case anyone's counting, that means he roughly matches us in strength."  The Colonel sat down heavily.  "This is not going to be pretty."

Major David Mellert summed it all up for them again, with one quiet syllable.

"Shit."

Cochren stepped up to the microphone, reminded of the time several months before when he had first addressed the Council of St. John.  Now, however, he was alone, having sent all his officers off to begin preparations for battle.  He was filled with nervous energy, just like the first time he went into battle in his ancient Clint, his first 'mech, many years ago.  "Some things never change," he mused as he collected his thoughts.  The entire Council looked quite grave, even the normally cheerful planetary administrator Harper Meryl.  Bryan wondered idly if they already knew what he was about to tell them, then cleared his throat.

"Administrator Meryl, Council members," he began, looking each one in the eye in turn.  "I have rather disturbing news.  A few short hours ago, I received news that there is a hostile force in system."  He paused, and noted that only Meryl seemed unaffected by the news, confirming his suspicion that the man already knew.  The rest of the Council gasped and either leaned forward or rocked back in their chairs.  "At that time they contacted us and made their intentions to conquer this planet known."

"Who are they, Colonel?" asked Senator Bjorn, a slight man with Nordic features.

"In their communications they identified themselves as 'Clan Wolf', but other than that I cannot say who they are or from where they hail.  I will voice my opinion that they are not affiliated with any of the Successor States."

"What makes you say that?" pressed Bjorn.

"Call it a gut reaction.  I also received a communication from a friend that I believe is related to this and it also points away from the Successor States as an origin."  Bjorn nodded, apparently satisfied with that, which surprised Bryan.  Until today he would have scoffed had anyone told him that an invasion army lurked outside of known space.

Meryl rapped his knuckled on the table behind which he sat, then brought his chin up as he turned to look at each of his Senators.  "I also saw the communication that Colonel Cochren refers to."  In response to Bryan's narrowing gaze, he quickly added, "It arrived just after I finished speaking with him regarding this very meeting.  They wished to speak to the ranking military officer on the planet.  Obviously this would be the Colonel, since our militia is still untrained and yet half-formed."  The Senators nodded assent, though Koeling, a slight women who appeared to be in her early forties, seemed rather disgruntled about it.  Meryl turned back to Cochren.  "Colonel, in your opinion, can you mount a successful defense of the planet?"

Bryan thought for a moment before replying.  "Unfortunately, I cannot say at the moment, sir.  My jumpship captain reported enough ships out there to support two full battalions of BattleMechs as well as sizable air support.  My Angels field a battalion of 'mechs as well as a reinforced battalion of armor and air and infantry support.  If those ships are full of 'mechs, it would probably give a slight edge in firepower to them, while as the defender we would have a tactical advantage."  He sighed.  "However, that's dependant on knowing where they will land with sufficient notice to prepare a defense.  We won't have any data like that unless Jaleel can send us telemetry data.  Offhand, I'd say things are pretty equal and that means we've got a seriously nasty fight on our hands."

Her eyes narrowed, Koeling asked, "Will you stay, Colonel?"

A bit taken aback, Bryan blurted, "Excuse me?"  Meryl glared at her venomously.

"Will you be staying to fight, or will you run.  Your contract is, after all, up in only a couple weeks," Koeling continued, ignoring the poisonous stare from Meryl and the dark cloud descending over Cochren's visage.

Bryan pressed both hands to the edge of the podium in a white-knuckled grip.  "Do not insult me, Senator Koeling.  My Angels fought and died on this world over a decade ago and the way things are shaping up we will again."  His voice grew colder with each word.  "I've already entered negotiations with the FRR to extend my contract here and while it hasn't yet been concluded, I will do everything within my power to fulfill that contract and keep St. John under the Rasalhague banner.  If it comes down to it and I have to make a choice between extermination or evacuation, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."  He narrowed his eyes.  "Any more questions?"

"No one expects you to throw your men's lives away, Colonel," Meryl said, standing and raising his hands in a placating gesture.  "During your time here, you and your unit's conduct has been exemplary, which most of our people have picked up on.  Some people," he glanced at Koeling, "simply cannot let go of past hatred.  If, as you said, the choice is to leave or be wiped out, no one will gainsay you saving your command.  If they try to, well, they'll have to deal with me first."

"Thank you, Administrator.  It's nice to know that some of you live in reality.  I do have some items of my own to discuss."

Meryl sat back down and nodded.  "Ask, Colonel."

"First of all, I'd just like your opinion of something.  The invaders have asked with what forces we'll be defending this planet, and they phrased it in such a way as if they intend for things to be a fair fight.  Do you believe I should tell them or underestimate our strength?"

"Lie, of course," barked Koeling.  Jorgensson and Kyuss nodded in agreement with her.  "Isn't deception a part of warfare, be it in the office or in a 'mech?"  Cochren just nodded.  He had his own opinions on the matter and would follow his logic, but it was always interesting to hear the politician's point of view.  Or at least amusing.

"Shall I plan on including the militia in any battle plans?"

"Do you think they're ready?" asked Senator Staff, another of the revolutionary fighters from the Ronin War. 

"In a word?  No.  However, I don't believe that any military force is truly 'ready' until they've been through their first combat, a trial by fire, as it's often referred to.  If you want them to receive that and take part in the coming battle, I will do my best to place them in a position where they will be the least at risk and be supported by my more experienced fighters."

"I believe we should use all of the assets at our disposal, Colonel.  Though untried, our militia is not an insignificant force, either."  He paused for a moment before asking, "Do you believe the city will be in danger?"

Bryan shook his head.  "Again, I cannot say without further information, but I will do everything possible to keep the fighting out of the city.  No one wants to find out how bad urban warfare really is."  Everyone nodded agreement to that.  Not only was city fighting brutal on the combatants, with all the buildings reducing everything to point-blank ranges, but there was generally a lot of civilian casualties and property damage to boot.

"As expected, Colonel.  I know you to be a responsible man."  Bryan nodded a salute to the Administrator.  "I will obviously have to make an announcement concerning this, as it will soon be known regardless of my actions.  I'll notify the populace and have the civilian autho- "  He was cut off as the large doors to the Council Chamber swung open with a bang.  The aide who had originally shown him and his officers to the Council Chamber was there, with a white-robed Comstar Acolyte, clutching a data disk, behind him.  "Yes?" Meryl asked, his tone icy.

"Sir, the Acolyte insisted.  He says that he has a very important message for you from the Prince."  Meryl waved the pair forward, then took the data disk from the Acolyte and popped it into a player.  He was about to press the play button when the Acolyte cleared his throat.

"Sir, that message is for your planetary officials eyes only.  Colonel Cochren," he indicated the mercenary, who had been watching with interest from his place, "is -"

"- going to find out what's on this disk from me regardless of what you think, Acolyte, so he can stay."  He jabbed the play button and the Free Rasalhague Republic's Prince Magnusson appeared in front of him. 

"Officials of Rasalhague, I will be brief."  He spoke in the bizarre Swedenese that many of the Rasalhagians favored, but Bryan knew enough to catch what he said without translation.  "Our nation is under attack by forces from the Periphery.  Alleghe, The Edge, and New Caledonia have fallen.  All Rasalhague military forces are hereby placed on active status.  Report any contact with the invaders immediately.  I have attached what data we've amassed on the forces so far.  Stand fast.  We have faced threats from beyond our borders and triumphed.  We will again."  He winked out as the recording ended.  The Senators released a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding.  Bryan rocked back on his heels.  "Three planets fallen already!" he thought to himself.  "And at least one more under assault…these aren't just Periphery bandits."  Images from Morgan Kell's message again came to mind.

Meryl stood and leaned over the table, fixing Cochren with a hard stare.  "I hereby declare St. John to be in a state of emergency.  Colonel, you have full control of our defenses.  Anything that you need, within our means, to exert that control and provide us a successful defense will be given to you.  Go, and keep us updated."

"Yes, sir, Administrator."

"Godspeed, Bryan.  And I truly hope He's looking down from Heaven on us today."