AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here's chapter two. Again, sorry for the delay…been pretty busy today and I was having some trouble figuring out how to write this. Hope I did a good job. (Yes, that means review this.) This is a short chapter, as it hits a good ending point before I move on to the next one (which is already half-written, so hopefully I'll get it up by Sunday or Monday). There's also the little fact of last Sunday's Super Bowl. Looks like my prediction was right—it really was Clan Patriot's Twycross. Justin Tyree did the Kai Allard thing, though; Eli Manning is frigging Morgan Kell!

A number of references in this chapter to other Battletech works, namely Warrior: Riposte. Justin Xiang Allard's role as a double agent during the Fourth Succession War should be familiar to most Battletech fans, but if not, then I strongly suggest either hitting Google or, much better yet, reading the Warrior trilogy. Also mentioned is "Jay Mitchell" and his book, Hell's Anvil, which is mentioned by Dan Allard in Riposte as a somewhat doctored history of the famous battle on Mallory's World, which saw the death of Ian Davion (Hanse's brother and predecessor to the Federated Suns' throne), the emergence of Yorinaga Kurita, and Morgan Kell's development of the possibly psionic and somewhat munchkin "Phantom 'Mech" skill. (Which, I notice, hasn't been mentioned since the end of Warrior: Coupe; Stackpole only comments on Morgan's piloting skills when he's dodging Nova Cat fire on Luthien in Blood Legacy.) The St. Marinus House monastery on Zaniah III is where Morgan briefly retired after that battle. I'm not sure if Morgan ever actually said he had made the wrong choice, but I got that impression from his conversation there with Dan Allard. While Morgan also never mentioned it to Sheila Arla-Vlata during their conversation on Outreach, just assume that they talked at some other point. Really.

I apologize for the somewhat explicit sexual reference between Sheila and Max, but heck, what would you do if your significant other had just woken up from a coma after you had thought she might be dying in prison? I also apologize for swiping one of the better lines from Star Trek. It was just too good to pass up. ;)

REVIEWER'S CORNER: GreenKnight, I got your PM, so I'll respond to that. Fraser, as this chapter may point out, the Clans are going to have to get in line…

Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters

Outreach, Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

20 July 3051

Hanse Davion made an effort to control his growing rage and tossed the fax onto the desk. "Can we confirm this, Justin?"

Justin Xiang Allard shook his head. "Circumstantially at best. Samuel Bonner has made no secret of his loathing for you or the idea of the Federated Commonwealth, but that's hardly a capital crime."

"Just as well. I'd probably have a three-year waiting list on executions," Hanse said. "What else do we have?" He took his wife's hand beneath the table.

"Liao did send a delegation to the Skye March Trade Fair on Solaris VII this year. We identified several Maskirovka agents among them, and this person Star Colonel Malthus identifies—Douglas Everson—was indeed listed among the delegates. We have a file on him, but he is—was--a minor functionary in Romano Liao's court, not even ambassadorial rank."

"How long has he been with her?" Melissa Steiner-Davion asked.

Justin's mouth quirked upwards. "I met him when I was at the Sian court." He referred to his time as Davion's most devastating double agent. "He was barely out of his teens then, but devoted to Romano…not to the point of her Thugee assassins, but he'd still probably lick her toes if she asked him to. His father was a fairly important figure in the Ministry of State and Foreign Relations, though."

"Family friend?"

"I would say that, yes."

"Continue," Hanse told him.

"He would've had enough time to catch a JumpShip from Solaris VII to Skye or Donegal. After that, though, the only way Everson could've made it to Vantaa before the Clans imposed a de facto blockade on it was to travel by one of the Sentinels' JumpShips. That's certainly possible, but it would be rather difficult."

"So you think Colonel Malthus was lying?" This from Melissa.

"No, Archon, I think she was being a hundred percent honest." Justin ticked off the points on his artificial hand. "One. Everson could have been onplanet—the Sentinels weren't exactly looking for Liao secret agents, so he would be easy to miss. Two, this has all the makings of a backchannel contact—Everson was a crony of Romano Liao's, not a formal emissary or a Maskirovka agent, both of which we at MIIO had a good chance of detecting. Three, Romano has every reason to want to use the Clans against us—as you mentioned at our last confabulation two weeks ago, they pose as much of a threat to her as they do is, but she's too insane to realize it; however, Romano would happily try to play the Clans off of us if she can. Four, Bonner also has a motive, and plausible deniability—even if we arrested him tomorrow, he could claim that he had no idea Everson was a Liao agent, and scream very loudly to the press that we were using the war to silence dissent among the Skye sepratists. Five, and most important," Justin said, "Senefa Malthus has no reason to lie. She has no dog in this fight, as it were, as she has no affiliation to any of the Successor States. The Clans, or at least the Jade Falcons, are not interested in nonaggression pacts or peace treaties; this saKhan Cavell Malthus had Everson shot for even suggesting it. She gains nothing by making up a story, and she is certainly no agent provacateur for the Clans. As crazy as it sounds, the Clans want a fair, straight-up fight with us. For the first time since the fall of the Star League—or even before that—we're facing an opponent that won't engage in dirty tricks, at least not off the battlefield."

"I don't mean to be a devil's advocate," Melissa said to Justin, "but your fourth point is salient." She shrugged. "I don't care if Romano Liao is trying to undercut us, really. We know she'll do that at every opportunity. It's an enemy we know. What concerns me more is a Lyran planetary duke trying to undercut us. And, as you say, we have no real evidence, not even circumstantial in his case. He's been named as party to a plot by a Clan warrior. We all know that won't hold up in court or the media. We try to prosecute him now, and we might just cause that very split in the Skye March that Bonner and my cousin—" Melissa spat the word like a piece of rotten meat "—Ryan Steiner wants."

Hanse Davion leaned forward, thinking. His wife was entirely correct, as usual. He didn't remotely suspect her of fearing to arrest Bonner for sedition and treason; Melissa was a Steiner, and like most members of that family, she possessed an iron, cold core. She projected an aura of understanding and civility, to the point where many considered her the light to Hanse's shadow, but she also was not afraid of crushing opposition if it became necessary. Unfortunately for them, they had no evidence other than the word of an enemy warrior, the knowledge that Romano Liao would happily doom half her own nation if it meant getting at the Federated Commonwealth, and that Bonner was an outspoken critic of Davion and the whole idea of a unified nation.

"I can increase surveillance on Bonner," Justin said, breaking the silence. "That's all I can do for now."

Hanse sighed and nodded. "Very well. We'll have to play a waiting game until something breaks our way."

Hyatt-Hilton Royal Tharkad

Tharkad, Donegal March, Federated Commonwealth

23 July 3051

There was a knock on the door—too loudly, Senefa Malthus thought. She forced down an urge to punch one of the guards that was constantly at her door; it would do no good and probably result in being thrown into the planet's POW camp. She knew her own survival there would be measured in minutes. Senefa rose from her overstuffed chair, put down The Count of Monte Cristo, and walked barefoot to the door.

It slid open to reveal Sheila Arla-Vlata, the last person Senefa expected to see. The two women stared at each other for almost a full minute, then Sheila smiled sheepishly and said, "Hi."

"Oh. Hello," Senefa returned, feeling just as awkward. "Ah…please, come in."

"Sure." Sheila came in. After a glance from the guard, who wore the black-and-white checkers of Lohengrin, the Lyran elite special forces unit, the door slid shut. Sheila expected to hear it lock, but the light on the door burned a steady green, indicating it wasn't locked at all. "You have free passage, then?" she asked Senefa, pointing at the light.

Senefa softly and bitterly laughed. "Certainly. I can go anywhere in the hotel, supposedly without guards—but a good third of the staff are spies." Sheila didn't doubt that Senefa was right. "They follow me everywhere. If I leave the hotel, I have an 'escort' of at least four men like the one outside the door." She sat down in the chair and ran a finger over the phone. "This is bugged. I have found at least five others so far, and I am quite sure I am under surveillance." She marked her place in the book and set it aside. "Were it not for the books and the hotel gym, I would likely go mad."

Sheila surveyed the giant pile of books that was the only thing out of place in the room; the bedclothes were so sharp that one could bounce a kroner coin off of them, and Sheila suspected it wasn't because of housekeeping. Some of the titles Sheila recognized: Senefa had evidently already read Thelos Auburn's massive The Origins of the Great Families, about the Successor States and their ruling Houses, and every book Misha Auburn had ever published. She also spotted, to her surprise, several novels. All of them had to do with being imprisoned…or with revenge.

The silence stretched on uncomfortably, and then she noticed Senefa staring at her artificial arm. "So…they had to remove that, quiaff?" Senefa winced at the Clan colloquialism.

"Yeah," Sheila answered simply.

"Does it hurt? Obviously you are more or less fully healed."

"More or less. Today was the first day I was allowed to leave the hospital—though I have to be back there by 1800 hours." She rested the arm on her lap. That morning, she had finally gotten the fingers to move without concentrating enough to get a headache, so she was making progress. Luckily she didn't need to use her arms to walk, or for the basic necessities of life. Using the fingers of her good hand, Sheila could mould the steel one to hold a cup or a bowl, so she could eat independently, and she had been able to bathe and give her legs a well-needed shave. Max had helped with both, though it had also led to passionate lovemaking sessions; after all, they hadn't touched each other in well over a month. Sheila had discovered that the neural function of her artificial arm worked just fine, embarrasingly in the throes of passion, when she had accidentally grabbed her husband's arm and nearly broken it. (Max was a trooper, however, and finished up before getting the deep bruises treated.) In fact, except for that incident, and the lingering fatigue from being in practically a coma for a month and still existing on liquid food, Sheila felt rather decent. The arm was troublesome, but she was certain that, with a few months, she would be back in top form. She wasn't worried about the Snowbirds, who seemed to be getting along well enough under Elfa Brownoak's command; they had recorded a holo for her that was cheery despite their losses and the retreat from Vantaa. Her parents were also fine, and Sheila had even received a holographic get-well from the young royals on Outreach, though Sun-Tzu Liao had been noticeably absent. That left really only one thing that was not satisfactorily resolved: Senefa Malthus.

"Other than that, how are you doing?" Even as she said it, Sheila wanted to crack herself across the head, with the metal arm. "Sorry. That's kind of like saying, 'Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?'"

Senefa's eyebrows beetled together for a moment, trying to place the reference, then the former Clanswoman suddenly broke out in laughter. Sheila blinked in surprise: she was sure she had never heard Senefa actually laugh, much less giggle like a little girl. "So you can laugh," Sheila remarked.

"Of course I can laugh," Senefa replied, wiping her eyes. "I am not a machine, Sheila."

"Glad to hear that. Let me rephrase that last transmission…what are your plans?"

The humor abruptly vanished. "For what?"

"For the rest of your life, Senefa." Sheila gestured at the books. "Or do you plan on becoming a librarian?"

"I do not know." Senefa sunk deeper in the chair. "I do not know what I am going to do."

"My offer still stands, you know." Sheila pushed off the bed with her good hand and stood, walking to the window. "The Snowbirds could use you."

"I doubt I would be welcome. I am an enemy."

"You were an enemy. What you did on Vantaa means a lot—a lot more than anything you did before that, which was just be a damn tough opponent. Hell, Senefa, the Sentinels have ex-Kurita and Liao MechWarriors among them, people that fought us on several occasions before they were forced to leave or decided to defect. We know you didn't have anything to do with Front Royal, so you don't need to worry about that."

"You cannot tell me that all would be forgiven."

Sheila faced her. "Look…if you were a bondswoman, and I was offering to adopt you into my Clan, would you refuse?"

"It is not as simple as that," Senefa sighed. She got up as well, and walked to stand beside Sheila, staring out over the snowy peaks that surrounded the Triad. "Sheila, I was not captured or taken as a bondswoman. I left of my own free will. That makes me a traitor. The Jade Falcons have a price on my head." At Sheila's look of shock, she nodded sadly. "Aff, it is true. Mr. Johnson told me, and I do not believe he lied. The MechWarrior that kills me will automatically receive a berth at the next competition for his or her genetic house's Bloodname. My own Bloodname was stripped from me in absentia. I am…nothing."

The room was silent for a long moment. "You gave all that up…for me?" Sheila asked, in a voice just above a whisper.

Senefa shook her head. "Neg. You were just the catalyst. I could no longer serve my Clan. I had to do something, Sheila. I only wish now I had thought of the cost." She leaned against the windowsill and bit her lip. To Sheila's surprise, the ex-Clan MechWarrior looked to be on the verge of tears. "I have been offered much. This Simon Johnson fellow told me they would give me free passage to anywhere in the Inner Sphere. I could join Wolf's Dragoons on Outreach, or even the MIIO organization here on Tharkad or on New Avalon—I would be a spy." Senefa snorted. "I really would be rather dead in that case. Johnson did mention a monastery, St. Marinus House, on Zaniah III. I thought I might go there…at least for awhile."

Sheila felt her anger building, prepatory to hitting Senefa. She had expected some resistance from her old enemy, but not this. It was as if Senefa Malthus had been the one severely injured on Vantaa, not Sheila. The fire was gone from Senefa, leaving a hollow shell. Then Sheila let her fury die aborning. Senefa deserved to find her own place. Sheila herself had refused to raise her hand against her own nation, so it was vastly unfair for Sheila to ask Senefa to do the same. "I guess I understand," Sheila said finally. "I…guess I'll be going then."

"Surely you are not returning to the front so quickly, quineg?"

"No—neg. I have a long way to go with this arm." Sheila turned and walked to the door, then paused in front of the stack of books. She reached down and picked up one of them. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Senefa was like herself and Sheila's father, and preferred the feel of real paper beneath her fingers, rather than reading off a screen. Sheila inspected the cover of the book, which showed an Archer and a Warhammer in battle. "Hell's Anvil," she read the title. "Jay Mitchell's book on the Battle of Mallory's World. This is good. We had to read this in the Nagelring. Did you like it?"

"I have not read it yet."

Sheila put the book down on top of the stack. "You know, after that battle, Morgan Kell went into exile for eleven years. I asked him about that, a few months ago when we were both on Outreach, why he did it. He told me he felt it was the right thing to do at the time, but that he wished he hadn't. He felt those years were wasted—years he could've better put to use leading a 'Mech unit or staying with the woman who became his wife." Sheila looked up at Senefa. "Senefa, maybe it's the right thing for you to do, to go to that monastery on Zaniah to sort things out. I'm not going to try to talk you out of it because that would be selfish on my part. But I am going to say this, because you're the most skilled MechWarrior I've ever met, on the field or off it. Yeah, maybe you were bred for it, genetically, but dammit, I've run into a hundred Clanners who couldn't hold a candle to you.

"Being a MechWarrior is your first, best destiny, Senefa. Anything else would be a waste. You want to get back into that cockpit as much as I do."

Senefa stared at her former nemesis' back as Sheila went to the door. As it slid open, Senefa spoke her name. When Sheila paused and looked over her shoulder, she pointed at Sheila's artificial hand.

Sheila brought her hand up. It had curled into a fist.