Opalescent Reflections

Stacking the Deck

Chapter 4

Fair Weather, Qandahar

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

3 July 3053

Qandahar was a disaster of a world. The infantry fighting from foxholes outside the ironically named city of Fair Weather had to wear breath masks and the city had been covered in a dome.

Ace Enders was glad of the atmospheric seals on his Huntsman as he raked one of those fox-holes with the small pulse laser mounted low above the 'mech's left hip. His neurohelmet would serve as a breathing mask if necessary, but any breach would require vigorous scrubbing of the narrow cockpit to remove the toxins carried by the polluted atmosphere.

"We have cleared the tanks on the western flank," Julian reported. "There is no sign of enemy battlemechs."

"Good work, Star Captain." Ace's anti-missile system kicked in, wiping a SRM out of the sky. Turning, he obliterated the handheld launcher used to fire it with a shot from one of his PPCs. The shot was excessive, vaporizing the soldier using it, but he hoped to break the morale of some of the infantry.

If they ran away, he wouldn't have to keep butchering them.

Michel spoke up, from where his Warhawk was supporting the eastern flank. "We have only encountered one battlemech - an ancient Hunchback." Ace's one time bondsman sounded disgusted. "It never even got in range to fight back."

"These are brave soldiers," Ace acknowledged. "Is the flank secure, quiaff?"

"I have sent a Striker Star to sweep the rear of the hills, but they report no resistance. Aff, there is no threat here."

Looking at the domed city ahead of him, the young Galaxy Commander narrowed his eyes. "Good. Ivory Skate, prepare to move to flanking positions." He switched channels. "Star Colonel Hawker, you are clear to take the gates."

"Order acknowledged." Steven Hawker had shown surprisingly little resentment over Ace hospitalizing him in what some had called a less than honorable Trial. Ace had been prepared for the possibility of having to fight and likely kill the late Ian Hawker's protege, but instead the younger Hawker had thrown himself into reorganizing the Twenty-Seventh Cruiser Cluster after Ace pulled half the unit into the newly formed galaxy's Command Cluster.

As two of the Cluster's 'mech trinaries swept forwards, carrying the elementals who would do the dirty work of securing the huge airlock gate complex, Ace had to give the man credit - he deserved to be a Star Colonel. Steven had confided that he had spent much of his recovery time from the broken back studying reports from Operation Revival, evaluating which tactics worked against the Inner Sphere and which had failed.

That study was in evidence as thirty 'mechs swept across the limited resistance left, never pausing as they erased targets of opportunity between them and the gates.

Ace's command star had moved to join the eastern half of the Ivory Skate, but he was still close enough to see the Elementals clinging to the Omnimechs (and a few battlemechs that had had the required hardpoints refitted by technicians) were using their free hands to fire at any infantry that didn't flee the advance.

From what he saw there were no casualties and little damage even to armor before the force reached the gates. One Timber Wolf blew open a personnel hatch with its lasers and Elementals swarmed through it.

"Do you think this is a trap?" asked Michel quietly.

"They could demolish the gate," Ace answered, the idea worrying him. "Any explosives sufficient to cause heavy losses to our elementals would also rupture the dome and endanger the city's population, but I doubt that the ISF would be greatly concerned by that."

"The DCMS appears to have abandoned this world, they may be near to defeat if they cannot spare frontline forces even for a prefectural capital." The Steel Viper paused. "Although this world is no prize - the atmosphere is not natural, or so the briefing said."

"It appears that they allowed industrial concerns to mine and manufacture without regard to the impact on the terraforming," Ace admitted. "I had heard that worlds were ravaged by weapons of mass destruction during the Succession Wars, but this is just as bad and they did it to themselves."

There was a ping from his console and he frowned, seeing activity on the distress frequency.

"...ark commander. I repeat, I am Bradley Dammann, Earl of Qandahar and I wish to speak to the Diamond Shark Commander." The voice was nervous.

Ace cleared his throat and then hit transmit: "You are speaking to him."

"Ah, I… I am instructed to…" Then he cut off and there were the sounds of what might be a struggle.

A moment later, a second voice spoke up. "I speak for the population of Fair Weather."

"You and not the earl?" Ace asked drily.

The speaker lost something of his confidence. "He was useful to have your attention. I doubt my name would mean much to you. We offer the surrender of Fair Weather, but we have terms."

"Do you have the leverage to enforce those terms?"

"We have the explosives that the ISF wished to use at the gates," the man answered. "Several truckloads. I can still use them if you refuse me."

Ace paused. "My warriors are already securing the gates. I will hear your terms but those explosives threaten your people far more than they do my own."

"If we destroy the Dow-Jones Fusion Products factory, then your warriors are fighting for nothing. But if you let us govern ourselves then we will operate it for you," the man said hastily. "We have had enough of outsiders spending our lives for their profit."

"So you want it for your own profit?" Ace asked.

"We want to work safely! The DCMS and ISF murder protestors, but hundreds of workers die each year because managers care nothing for our lives!"

"I am Ace Enders," he said quietly. "You may have heard of me."

"I… yes. Your name is known here."

"And your name?"

"Ibrahim Chebli."

"Ibrahim, what your factory builds may need to change to meet the needs of our Clan. But we are not fond of waste, and the loss of skilled workers is exactly that. If you surrender the city and the explosives then I pledge that you, or another that the workers elect, will oversee the safety of those who labor here."

The man laughed, a little hollowly. "You drive a hard bargain, O-Same. But I accept. I will send you the coordinates for the explosives in the next five minutes."

"Bargained well and done," Ace confirmed and switched to the command channel. "Steven, I have been contacted by the civilian authorities offering to surrender. Are your warriors under fire?"

"Neg, Galaxy Commander. The elementals report they have dealt with the guards and they are opening the locks for my 'mechs."

A set of map coordinates appeared on the text channel of the distress frequency. "I am sending you what may be the location of explosives that were supposed to be planted at the gates. Your warriors are to proceed on neutral territory rules - do not fire until fired upon, but act cautiously."

"You suspect a trap?"

"I believe the man I spoke to is honest," Ace replied. "That does not mean he is competent. Further sabotage is possible."

"Understood."

It took half an hour for the gates to admit the rest of the Twenty-Seventh, followed by Ivory Skate. A distant explosion as Ace was entering the city had everyone on guard, until reports came in from the Elemental point securing the water purification plant that they and workers at the plant had interrupted an ISF attempt to destroy the facilities."

The architecture under the dome had few of the traditional Japanese touches Ace had seen in other worlds. Even the Earl's palatial residence, which doubled as an administrative building was using local stone and a terracotta-coloured plaster, with none of the wood and paper walls that were more common. Of course, he realized, there wasn't going to be much of a timber trade on a ravaged world like Qandahar. Small towers rose from buildings scattered across the city's landscape, all of a single style.

"The plant will need repairs," Ibrahim admitted as he faced Ace in the main hall of the palace, paying little attention to the cluster of warriors who had dismounted to escort the galaxy commander. He was slightly built but swarthy. Though Clan law would technically prohibit his carrying the pistol thrust through his belt, Ace had allowed it for now. Caste assignments would be made later, and if Ibrahim elected to take a position in enforcing the new compact and laws here then a case could be made that he was a police-warrior. "That is less urgent than a breach of the dome but no less dangerous in the long run."

"We have technicians skilled in such matters," he replied, not mentioning that they were in high demand. The state of infrastructure along the edges of the Draconis Combine were almost as poor as that of dark caste enclave he'd grown up in, Granted, the major cities of better developed worlds embarrassed even the finest cities of the Kerensky Cluster. But that should mean that there were engineers in the Combine capable of maintaining and replacing the water plant. "I will have you added to the list of priorities."

Ibrahim scowled accusingly at Ace. "We have heard that before."

"The fusion reactors built here are going to be needed for the power grids of other worlds," Ace told him. "That means we need your people healthy and willing to work. The technicians needed will not be diverted to make sure some lord has proper plumbing for his fountains. In the meantime, the workshops on our dropships may be able to fabricate components that you cannot obtain locally."

The man nodded. "That would be appreciated but… using the military grade fusion reactors for local power grids?"

Ace laughed. "Not exactly. I am aware that that is an invitation for bandits to try to seize it as spare parts for their battlemechs. Some production lines will be modified to construct civilian grade machines that cannot be repurposed so easily. As for the others, we do have some use for older reactors."

"We will trust you, for now," Ibrahim told him cautiously.

He clapped Ibrahim on the shoulder and escorted him to the door. "That is how trust is built, one day at a time."

For a wonder, Annika Enders kept her peace until the door closed behind the local. However: "Why are we wasting our time on backwater worlds like this?!" she exploded once the Diamond Sharks were alone. "This is supposed to be a frontline Galaxy. We should be moving on the real enemies around New Samarkand, not picking off third-rate militias that could be handled by a garrison cluster."

"Where would you get the garrison cluster from, Star Commander?" asked Steven Hawker rhetorically. The Star Colonel was leaning against one of the ornamented stone pillars that supported the hall's high ceiling. "The garrisons are already stretched to cover the worlds taken three years ago."

"Do we really need to take these worlds now?" asked Val more moderately than the former Burrock. "Surely if New Samarkand is taken and this region is cut off from the Combine they would wither on the vine and we could secure them at leisure."

"Could we?" Ace asked. He walked up to the low dais and leant on the Earl's vacant throne. "Setting aside that many warriors would still think such operations were beneath them?"

Val had the honesty not to meet his eyes.

Ace nodded. "Two reasons," he continued. "Firstly, another Clan might move in - the Smoke Jaguars are furious that we refused to let them cross our occupied worlds to claim worlds. Given long enough they could move in and then we woud find ourselves caught between two swathes of worlds under their control - or two ongoing rebellions, given how inept their occupation usually is."

There was a ripple of laughter from the warriors at that jibe against the rival clan.

"The other possibility would be the formation of a bandit kingdom at our backs. Hardly any better," Ace observed. "So no, this is not the most glorious of missions. But it must be done, and if a garrison force could manage it, could they do so as swiftly?" He shook his head. "The DCMS strategy is to buy time to extract soldiers and industry from our path, trying to move it beyond the truce line. By striking now, we have forced them to abandon the factories."

"If this pace is needed," observed Steven. "We should spread out to secure worlds more swiftly, quaiff?"

Ace glanced over at him. "Agreed. If the DCMS was going to leave regulars or mercenaries anywhere it would be here, on the prefectural capital. But nor will I spread us out too far. These worlds have been plagued by bandits so they will have defenses of their own. From here, each Cluster will be moving independently to secure these worlds as quickly as possible. That includes winning over local inhabitants and convincing them to accept us as their rulers. I am trusting that you all understand that we cannot afford to bog down fighting insurgencies." He grinned. "We will do this quickly, but we will also do it right. And next year we will sweep down out of the corewards Combine to join the push on New Samarkand."

Yamashiro, New Samarkand

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

12 August 3053

Minoru Kurita was sure, as soon as he saw Michi Noketsuna's face, that this would not be a good meeting.

He'd spent the last three hours dealing with ceremonial reviews of reports from the nobility of a dozen worlds that were little more than promises that they had heirs and their succession was secure and uncontested. The more, in this case, being repeated mention of every unmarried daughter they had. There was a certain artful nonchalance to how they all tried to make it seem incidental but also impossible to ignore.

The Coordinator just wanted to take off his haori and his boots, then have a quiet and hopefully positive conversation. "Whatever it is, give me a moment," he told the Gunji-no-Kanrei and slumped into a chair.

A moment later, barefoot and with the haori thrown over one of the spare chairs, he straightened his seat. Two out of three was clearly all he was going to get. "You may proceed."

Noketsuna slammed a stack of papers down in front of Chandrasekhar Kurita. "Do you know what these are?"

The rotund man lifted the top of the stack delicately and examined it. "Oh… oh dear."

"The much heralded Tora is a goddamned paper tiger!" the general snarled, "Do you have any idea how many mechwarriors have died because of it?"

Chandresakhar ran one thumb through the stack. "Too many. Far too many."

"What exactly is happening?" Minoru enquired, feeling a terrible sense of exhaustion. All he wanted was for one damned thing to go well. Was that too much to ask?

Noketsuna pulled his chair back and sat down, face suddenly tired. "The 'mech has proven… fragile. The extra-light reactor and improved ammunition storage were noted as an issue on the Grand Dragon, but it was manageable. Unfortunate, the issues appear exacerbated on the Tora. There has been a consistent pattern of the 'mechs suffering crippling damage after even a single salvo from Diamond Shark 'mechs."

"A single salvo?" Minoru could imagine how devastating that would be. Normally mechwarriors would attempt to withdraw once damage mounted, yielding ground in hope of winning back when their 'mech had been repaired. The greater Clan firepower made that something of a problem but it wasn't usually to this extent and individual battlemechs taking significant damage could fall back to cover and at least support their comrades.

A 'mech destroyed in its first encounter with the enemy could neither withdraw for repairs nor support its more intact comrades. It was a liability.

"The ammunition storage is supposed to vent explosions without damaging core components," his cousin said in confusion as he leafed through the papers, giving each but a single glance. "But major engine failures are occurring in almost all of these cases… I will take the matter to the engineers, but…"

"There is no time," Noketsuna confirmed. "The delivery of almost a hundred Tora in the first production run was a herculean accomplishment. I retract none of my praise for that, but more than half of them are out of action already. Something is seriously wrong."

Minoru sighed. "Chandresakhar, correct me if I am wrong but another production run is already underway?"

"That's correct," the industrial magnate confirmed. "I can send instructions to halt construction until the cause is identified, but there is no knowing how long that will take."

Noketsuna frowned. "Can we replace the engines with conventional fusion engines?"

"I'm no engineer, but I doubt it would be simple and undoubtedly it would impact performance." Chandresakhar made a concessionary gesture. "Though perhaps not so much as these reports indicate."

"The Dragonsteeth regiments have taken significant losses in equipment," Subhash Indrahar observed. "Perhaps the current production run can be completed and sent to them for warriors who survived the destruction of their existing battlemechs."

Minoru laughed bitterly. "They will be paying the price for their poor coordination with the rest of the DCMS. The rumors that are no doubt spreading will not reach them before the Toras do."

His cousin nodded politely towards Indrahar. "I am sure that the Director can control the flow of information. In the meantime, our designers will be instructed to improvise an alternative for any further production that does not use unreliable components."

"Reserve future production runs for the final defensive force of New Samarkand," the Coordinator ordered coldly. "There is no shortage of volunteers willing to pilot any 'mech that becomes available. Any tooling not needed for the modified designs can be packaged for use on any project that requires it. Something must be salvaged from this debacle."

Noketsuna rested one elbow on the table. "The K2 upgrades for the Panther are working," he said in a conciliatory tone. "I have not doubt that you could work the same wonder with the Tora with enough time."

"The credit for that goes to the engineers," Chandrasekhar told the veteran soldier. "I will inform the team's working on our newer designs that they must be tested for these flaws." He waved the stack of paper illustratively. "Through live fire if we must. The Daimyo is the only new design we have that does not use engines of this type, it is critical that we rectify such issues."

"Is there any more bad news?" Minoru asked, aware he sounded rather plaintive. His bare feet rubbed against the soft carpet.

"No new bad news," Noketsuna said in a tone that made it clear there was no good news either.

Chandrasekhar also shook his head. "There have been some minor issues with construction of the Gunslinger production lines on Quentin, but nothing outside of expectations. And that design, at least, was thoroughly tested by ComStar."

Subhash Indrahar said nothing at first, a pointed silence that told Minoru that the Tora's issues were not the worst thing he was going to hear about.

"Tell me," he said and for a moment the three men around the table looked at him the way he had seen courtiers react to his grandfather on the rare occasions Takashi had given a direct order rather than a circumlocution that suggested rather than commanded.

"Deprived of their immediate access to military force, the Black Dragon Society is investigating political options," the spymaster said quietly. "My informants report that they are attempting to make contact with your half-brother."

For a moment Minoru thought he had misheard. The shocked look on Noketsuna and Chandresakhar's faces told him he had not. "Indrahar," he said flatly. "I know you too well to believe that this is a joke."

The oldest man at the table looked unusually tentative. "During your father's youth, before he met your mother, there was another woman in his life. So far as I am aware, he was not aware that there was a child."

"But you were aware," he accused.

"Yes. Your father was an only child and at the time had no legitimate offspring. My obligation was to ensure there were options for the succession, and unfortunately your grandfather would not have approved of the mother as a consort. It was… challenging… to persuade him of your mother's merits. It was only after your brother and sister were presented at court and received Takashi's approval that young Franklin became superfluous."

Noketsuna's eyes narrowed sharply. "And you tried to 'clean up' after yourself," he accused.

"You defend the Combine in your way," Indrahar replied calmly. "I do so in mine. I have done worse things in the name of the Dragon that this. But in this case, there was a failure. The boy was confirmed as alive only recently and unfortunately the cell involved were not entirely without ties to more conservative nobles."

"The 'boy' as you call him would be several years my elder," Minoru said bleakly. "And we no longer have a clear heir and spare."

"Indeed." The old man shrugged. "I do counsel that you take care of that, tono."

He flushed, as much with anger as embarrassment. "A child heir would be too desirable a puppet."

"It is also a requirement for there to someday be an adult heir," pointed out Chandresakhar gently.

"And there would be no need to announce the existence of an heir until they are older," added Indrahar.

Minoru shook his head. "Provide me with all available information on my… brother, Director," he said with all the firmness he could bring to bear. "And take no action against him without my express consent. Your handling of this has been considerably less than I expect of you."

The director of the ISF nodded obediently, but Minoru knew that that meant absolutely nothing. His father couldn't control Indrahar and nor could his grandfather. They could only work with him… or kill him. It had been the problem of the ISF for the entire time that the organization had existed.

"Moving along, I gather that the Shin Legion will be deploying soon. It will be interesting to see how their own newer designs perform," he changed the subject.

Noketsuna sat up straight. "We will be paying attention to that," he promised. "I intend to deploy them alongside the Screaming Eagle regiments in place of the Ryuken - it should let us pull them off the line to refit and integrate replacement personnel."

"I trust your judgment on the matter," the young Coordinator assured him. "I am assured by Colonel Mackenzie Wolf that the two regiments of his Dragoons that we have contracted for will be departing Outreach in the next week, but it will be four months before they reach the frontlines."

It was entirely possible the Diamond Sharks would arrive before the Wolf Dragoons. Not likely, but possible.

"Could we not arrange a jump circuit as your father did for the regiment they sent to Luthien?" asked Chandresakhar.

"Not without disrupting all our other shipping. There are never enough jumpships," Noketsuna told him. "The fact they bring their own jumpships is part of why the Dragoons command such fees."

And they may prefer to have jumpships they can trust if they have to leave the Combine in a hurry, Minoru thought. Whether because of some significant reversal of our fortunes or because some imbecile like Grieg Samsonov.

It was the Ryuken and the Galedon Regulars that had been deployed against the Wolf Dragoons in 3028 and 3029, when the mercenaries had been pushed into open warfare against their erstwhile employees. Minoru hadn't forgotten that and he was quite sure that the new commander of the Dragoons was even more conscious of that fact.

Dali, Tamar

Clan Wolf Occupation Zone

9 September 3053

"How do you like your new battlemech?" Ulric asked once they had both dismounted.

Phelan Ward was grinning wildly as he removed his neurohelmet. "It's… it is fantastic, Khan Ulric. I thought that Grinner was part of my past."

The Khan nodded and smiled. Clan Wolf had encountered few Wolfhounds during the invasion and the mercenary's own had been almost completely destroyed on The Rock when they captured him, there had been a few found on Tamar. Piecing together two damaged chassis around the fusion reactor from an Adder had been a relatively minor challenge for the Clan's technicians.

Wrapped in ferrofibrous plating and carrying Clan lasers, the upgraded Wolfhound was one of a kind - a gift from the Khan to his protege as a reward for defeating Vladimir Ward in the final round of the Trial of Bloodright. As satisfying as beating his one time captor to the floor had been, Phelan seemed even happier with this gift and had accepted the invitation to test it on the training grounds outside the Ducal palace without hesitation.

It didn't seem to occur to the boy that it was as much a leash as a reward.

"You make good use of it," Ulric praised. While his own Executioner had far more firepower and armor, the agile little 'mech had been a difficult target and Phelan's accuracy with the lasers had been superb once the targeting systems were updated for the new weapons. "A powerful argument against those who say that the Inner Sphere has produced nothing of virtue."

"That and Timbiqui Dark?" the young mechwarrior joked.

Ulric chuckled. "Yes, that too." He had grown fond of that beer, and was pleased that there were several cases stored away in Duke Kelswa's beer cellar. "Unfortunately, when the Clans see something of value, we naturally begin considering how to obtain more of it."

"Like the Jade Falcons and the Nova Cats' offensives," Phelan observed, mood darkening. "Once the Diamond Sharks found that loophole in the truce, they were quick to seize on it."

"Very true," he answered and led his companion towards the changing rooms where they could shower and get back into uniform.

Even the Khan could rarely command privacy in operational spaces, but the warriors with the next claim on the training field had set out already and it wasn't close to change of shift for those on patrol, so they had the chambers to themselves. "You may have noted the frustration our younger warriors are feeling," he led as he closed the door behind them.

Phelan nodded. "I knew the trials would be ferocious but I did not expect so many of the contenders would fight to the death."

"They have had a taste of war," Ulric agreed. "And for those joining the touman now, they have spent the last years of training anticipating glorious and easy victories like those of Operation Revival. Finding themselves in garrison, rarely near enough to another Clan for serious combat…" He sighed as he dropped his shorts into the laundry bag.

"A lot of energy and not enough to do with it?"

"Exactly," he confirmed, pleased the young warrior had grasped the point. "As Khan I must find a direction for that before they lash out on their own."

"I would have thought that they would be too busy policing the occupied worlds," Phelan said as they entered the showers. "I heard from Tor Miraborg recently, he told me about how he is having to clamp down on skirmishing between local leaders who felt that without the Free Rasalhague Republic authorities, they were free to settle old grudges."

Ulric picked up a bottle and examined the instructions carefully to make sure it was actually soap and not something else. The inner sphere seemed to find commercial branding more important than clarity when it came to marking containers. "Sometimes our people and those of the Inner Sphere are more similar than they seem." Satisfied, he began to lather himself up.

"With old Kurita, Lyran and then Rasalhague landholders all brushing up against each other, it is not that surprising," Phelan observed, entering the next stall. "There's a lot of competing claims and even if there are not all that many 'mechs left out there, you do not need a 'mech to kill someone."

He stepped under the showerhead and let the spray wash soap and sweat off him. "Raids in the night or under other conditions that make the origins deniable. Unfortunately, defeating such campaigns are not the sort of action that our warriors are hoping for. And I have ordered garrison commanders to show restraint. I did not come here to bring the Inner Sphere under our boot - and injecting ourselves into such squabbles risks us becoming as entangled in them as the Smoke Jaguars are in their attempts to force Clan ways on the worlds they occupy."

The other warrior turned to him, looking surprised. "You may wish to reconsider that, my Khan. If you let them keep fighting then some of those worlds will turn into bloodbaths. Even ComStar has to police their own enclaves or the Successor Lords would take them back, claiming that they were not taking responsibility."

Ulric grunted in understanding. "It is a difficult line to walk - too little and, as you say, chaos ensues." Which could lead to problems with the Clan Council… more problems, rather. "But too much and we become the oppressors. What do you think of Natasha's latest brainstorm - you should be receiving the Clan Council briefs now that you have won your trial?"

Phelan paused, raking his hands through his thick black hair to make sure he had all the shampoo out. "Rasalhague?"

"Yes, that one."

He pursed his lips. "Taking the world from the Smoke Jaguars would certainly give the Clan some fighting. With how much the Jaguars have bled to keep control over Rasalhague, I doubt they'd give it up easily."

"Watch your contractions," Ulric reminded him casually and turned off his shower. "A hard fight is not exactly a flaw in Natasha's proposal, quiaff?"

"Aff," the younger man agreed, following him out to pick up a clean towel and start drying off. "But even if we win, we would be taking control of a world that is more of a mess than the ones you are already occupying. They might welcome us as an improvement over the Smoke Jaguars… but they might not."

The Khan nodded in agreement. And of course, Rasalhague was a running sore for the Smoke Jaguar. Every clash between the resistance and the garrison there was a continued humiliation for the former ilKhan's clan, and a drain on their resources. "It is a gamble. The other option is to send warriors to launch trials against the Jade Falcon occupation zone."

"Taking worlds from them?" Phelan asked warily, no doubt remembering that those worlds had once been part of the Federated Commonwealth, like Tamar itself.

"More to secure resources," Ulric told him. "Our invasion has impacted on the local economy and we cannot always meet needs easily from the worlds we control. The merchant caste has drawn up a list of minerals and other goods that are in demand - trials of possession could secure much of them from Jade Falcon worlds and force them to commit forces to defend those worlds rather than supporting their advance into the Federated Commonwealth." There was no immediate answer and he glanced over to see Phelan studying the wall. "Phelan?"

"I am sorry," the young man answered. "It just… Arc-Royal is one of the worlds on the border. If the Jade Falcons have not invaded yet…"

"As of our last report, they have not." Ulric shook his head. "But you are right. It is only a matter of time. If they do not, then the Nova Cats will."

Phelan sighed. "The resources taken from those worlds… that will mean people in the Jade Falcon occupation zone go short."

That, Ulric thought, was a problem for the Jade Falcons. But all he said was: "There are few problems that have ideal solutuions, Phelan." He finished toweling off and waited for the other man to do so. "I will give you access to reports from our occupation zone, can you draw up a list of where you think our intervention would be best accepted - and estimate what forces would be needed?"

That would give him a cutdown to work with when he allowed commanders to bid for the chance to take on the missions.

"Of course," Phelan agreed. "But it is going to be a patch on the problem. If you want the people there to stop fighting then it is going to mean being more involved in their governments."

"There have been others advocating that," Ulric agreed.

"Natasha is one of them, isn't she?"

He let the contraction pass. Natasha had never bothered to clean up her language after her return to the Clans, not caring who it offended. "She does," the Khan agreed. "But most of those who agree with her on that are Crusaders, who actively want us to conquer more of the Inner Sphere. If I concede too much to them, then they may be able to push towards overturning the truce."

Ulric suspected that Natasha's comments about needing a stronger grip on the occupied worlds were things that Erik had said to her. If the famous Black Widow had taken a hand in administering any of the worlds the Wolf Dragoons had been granted as landholds over their illustrious history, it was a very well-kept secret.

"More pressingly," he continued, "You may have heard what happened with the Smoke Jaguars? Warriors laying claim to tracts of land simply because they liked the look of them and then having no idea what to do with them. They spawned at least four rebellions in their ignorance of local economics and politics."

Phelan nodded. "It is a fine line to walk, as you said."

Ulric clapped him on the shoulder and led him around to the lockers where they had left their uniforms. "Get me that list and… I will think about what you have said."

Thinking cost him nothing and committed him to nothing.