Opalescent Reflections
Dealer’s Choice
Chapter 3
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol System
3 July 3048The sun was streaming into the First Circuit’s chamber through stained-glass windows that bore ComStar’s emblem, warming the room to the point that the heavy robes worn by those within were uncomfortable. That was Wei Rong’s feeling anyway - she could hear the air conditioning working hard to try to address the problem but it wasn’t quite sufficient.
For a moment she considered throwing an upgrade to the air conditioning onto the agenda, but if no one else was bothered by it then she’d be wasting time and credibility. Perhaps if she was on better terms with the First Circuit but despite being the one who’d appointed them, she wouldn’t call any of them friends. They didn’t spend enough time on the same planet to change that - it wasn’t like the original First Circuit, before the Precentor-Advocates were appointed. The twelve original positions were all based within direct HPG range of Terra, close enough for an (admittedly expensive) real-time conversation. Perhaps that was why Dieron was the most powerful of the five Precentor-Advocates before she moved that position to Luthien - it had easier access to Terra.
“Does anyone have any concerns about the proposed contracts for Krupp and Wangker?” she asked, instead of mentioning the air conditioning.
Gwyn Thorne frowned but then shook her head. “None I haven’t already voiced.” Precentor Rasalhague had been a good choice, Wei thought. She was towards the pacifist end of ComStar’s political spectrum and had a background in the financial side of the Order. She’d be delighted if the ComGuards shrank back to their previous side, balancing out the more militant voices.
Wei looked around the room. “Shall we approve the contracts for the upgraded Griffin and Corsair production by acclamation, or does anyone wish to call for a vote?”
“A vote would be a formality,” Joe Murphy declared. “Let’s just approve this and move on.”
No one spoke up in opposition after a moment and Wei tapped the approval button on her podium, dispatching the proposals back into the bureaucracy. She’d managed to keep the list of Focht’s requests to herself, and only requesting the two top items - a medium battlemech and a medium aerospace fighter - would keep enough money spare in the budget for other projects. And if there was money next year, she could look at the next few items. In her experience, a trickle of benefits for someone tended to win more support than a single bout of largesse.
“We have completed the scheduled agenda,” she declared. “Does anyone want to raise any new issues?” On her podium she brought up her own plan. Not the air conditioning, or at least Hilton Head’s air conditioning. Repairing the solar shade for Venus, after a quarter of a millennium of neglect, could be considered to be very large scale air conditioning.
Joe Buckley leaned forwards. “Yes, Primus. I do have a concern related to our last item of business.”
Wei gestured for him to continue - she’d invited input, she could hardly shut him up now. What was Buckley after now? Last time he’d asked for anything it was additional Psi and Nu presence in the HPG stations through the outer edges of the Crucis March, hoping to bring back the days when the Davion Outback had been a major recruitment area for ComStar. Wei had been delighted to send him all the Psi division staff he could have asked for - it got them away from Terra and it would give Federated Commonwealth intelligence something to focus on other than actually important ROM activity.
“I’m pleased that we’re taking the defense of our enclaves seriously,” the New Avalon Precentor declared pompously. “The most important, of course, being here on Terra. However there is an area that I believe is being neglected: our warship fleet is in a state of sad neglect.”
“We have the only warships left in the Inner Sphere,” Precentor Norris pointed out, slightly scornfully. “Just the fact we have three of them active means that Terra is completely secure, not to mention the dozens of mothballed hulls.”
“Ah, but we may not have the only warships for much longer.”
Wei turned sharply towards Buckley and restrained a sharp question only because Tiger Lily got there first with a: “What are you talking about?”
Buckley nodded seriously. “Hanse Davion’s secret warship programme is moving towards the construction of a class of warships - Project RX-78.”
Tapping at her podium, Wei searched for data that and found nothing. “If this is so,” she asked, “then why has ROM not reported it already.”
“I’m sure that the matter is working its way through their structure, Primus.” Buckley lowered his head obsequiously, which didn’t hide a smug smile. “It was only recently discovered and I brought the data directly to Terra with me.” He tapped at his own podium and files became available for Wei to read. Rather than do so on the podium, she activated the holoprojector built into the floor.
The diagrams that came up were clearly incomplete and it took Wei a few seconds to find the best overview of what it was - a thimble-shaped ship that looked more like an oversized dropship than a full-sized warship.
“It’s only a corvette,” Murphy observed. “And not much of one. We have three Dante frigates active, any of which would make mincemeat of this.”
“And this is only a design,” Wei observed. “Has construction begun on this?” If it had then she could take a figurative ax to ROM’s reporting processes. That should have crossed her desk before now.
Buckley shook his head. “Federated-Boeing of Galax is currently in the process of preparing construction slips, but the design has not been finalized and we do have a few years of leeway - but any response will also take years to be put into place. The Federated Commonwealth clearly proposes that this ship will be built in numbers - multiple vessels to be built at Galax and possibly at Alarion as well.”
Norris leant forwards. “That is concerning. Even if it isn’t directed at us, that would give the Federated Commonwealth a substantial advantage over the navies of its neighbors. I’m confident Theodore Kurita would order the use of nuclear weapons if he had to face FedCom warships, even vessels as limited as this.”
“...it could take us back to the Second Succession War,” Wei realized, speaking out loud.
“And if a flotilla of these could overwhelm our frigates,” added Tiger Lily. “Primus, the security of Terra requires that we bring more warships online.”
“We have the time to bring our fleet up to its full strength, more than sixty warships, in the time it will take Davion’s scientists and engineers to complete the first batch of these ships,” Buckley advised the other Precentors. “And thanks to the Primus’ fiscal care, we have something of a surplus of funds - enough to put this into practice.”
“I’ve been earmarking those funds for the solar shade over Venus,” Wei told him. “ComStar has been promising to deal with that for over a century, it’s time we kept our word.”
“Respectfully, Primus, keeping a few thousand Venusians happy is much less important than the defense of Terra.” Tiger Lily spoke hotly. “I don’t object to that project in principle, but we must prioritize.”
Wei glanced around the room and saw that the fear of the ship projected in the air among them had captured the imaginations of most of those present. “I understand your concerns, Precentor Atreus.”
“I’m sure the Precentor Martial has contingencies for reactivating the fleets,” Murphy declared. “I propose that an updated plan, based on the available funding, be prepared for us to consider before the end of the month. We have time… but we cannot waste it.”
“I second Precentor Tharkad’s motion,” said Joe Buckley. “Shall we vote?”
“All who say aye?” asked Wei. She knew how this would go thought - the four most powerful Precentor-Advocates were in agreement, even if Precentor Sian added his vote to her and Gwyn Thorne, the result was clearly going to be in favor of rebuilding the fleet.
Touching her podium, she dismissed the proposed solar shade. Sinking a fortune into warships that hadn’t been needed since Jerome Blake’s day instead of keeping faith with the people that ComStar has a duty for…
No, she thought. This isn’t over. I won’t let Buckley’s fear-mongering dominate ComStar. I have a month to find a solution.
Katyusha, Strana Mechty
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Homeworlds
16 July 3048The Bloodchapels of the Clans occupied a great park, called Svoboda Zemlya, that surrounded the Hall of Khans. More than eight hundred chapels stood, surrounded with trees and shrubs that in some cases had been planted by the first generations of the Clans.
Some that Ace drove past were blasted ruins, torn apart by the weapons of BattleMechs to mark the annihilation of the bloodlines that had once been under the custodianship of those working in the Bloodchapels. The Not-Named Clan and a few other examples since had suffered that fate.
Others were quiet and near-abandoned, either because the Bloodhouse that they had once represented had dwindled over the centuries or because the Clan that they sprang from no longer centered their affairs on Strana Mechty. A Clan’s most prized lineages would be fought for on their own capital, not here - reducing the bloodchapels to mere back-ups that functioned mostly as automated back-ups for the main repositories.
Guided by an automated navigation system, Ace guided his groundcar towards one of the many bloodchapels that still functioned as it had been designed to - a building that was a hive of activity today. Scientists out in force, as were warriors from four different Clans, awaiting the beginning of the Trial of Bloodright. Clan Burrock had long since relocated its capital to the world of Albion, but for Bloodhouses that it no longer held complete control of, it was still best for a Trial of Bloodright to take place here on neutral ground. Not law, but practicality.
Pulling the groundcar up alongside a rank of others, Ace climbed out and then removed the sunglasses he was wearing in deference to the bright light of Strana Mechty’s star. As he looked around, he saw that he’d caught the attention of many of those outside - worth one look as a potential rival and then a second as they realized that a fifth Clan had joined the mix.
No doubt there would be some jostling for position, warriors trying to psyche themselves up and discourage other contenders. Ace felt a degree of amusement at the idea, he’d had to face his entire Clan Council to be here. A little hazing was nothing.
One of the scientists manning a desk set up outside the chapel looked up at Ace’s arrival. “Are you sure you are at the correct place, warrior? This is the Enders bloodchapel. If you need directions…”
“This is where I should be.” He rolled up one sleeve of his jumpsuit, as he saw many of the warriors had. “I am here to register for the Trial of Bloodright.”
The man - shorter than Ace and already old enough to be balding - flinched. “My apologies. I was not aware that any of the bloodline served Clan Diamond Shark. If you would hold out your arm?”
Ace complied and the man tapped his codex bracelet against a scanner, downloading his official profile, then drew a blood sample with a second tool - a means of identifying fraud. Ace had never heard of someone trying to cheat their way into a Trial of Bloodright, but anyone who tried would almost certainly not be given long to regret the decision.
“Star Captain Ace… bloodline…” The man frowned. “Excuse me, could you confirm your sibko? There seems to be a mistake.”
The conversation around the table died down, silence spreading to those further away as they turned to see what had drawn attention.
“I was trained in freeborn sibko,” Ace declared, conscious that everyone here would hear the words. “My mother was born into Sibko Enders-Polcyzk-2997.”
“Your… mother…” the scientist said slowly. “Let me check…”
Ace slowly rolled down his sleeve, watching the scientist.
“You are definitely in the wrong place, freeborn,” a woman said quietly.
He looked at over her for a moment. A Burrock, no rank pins. “To earn a bloodline requires the correct matrilineal DNA… and to win. Being born in a test-tube does seem to help but it isn’t technically a requirement. Otherwise Natalya Enders couldn’t have held the bloodright we are all here for.”
The mechwarrior seemed about to say more but someone caught her shoulder, then had to yank his hand back before she seized it for a throw. “Relax, Annika. No Diamond Shark holds our bloodname so he has no sponsor. He is fodder for the Grand Melee.”
“Technician Sophia,” the scientist observed quietly. “Washed out of Enders-Polcyzk-2997 prior to her Trial of Position… This is irregular.”
“Does his Matrilineal DNA match?” a gray-haired woman asked.
“Aff.”
She shook her head. “Then it is not our problem.” Turning, she looked Ace in the eye. “The bloodhouse leader is inside, warrior. Your credentials are verified, you can go inside to complete your application to participate.”
“Thank you.” He tilted his head slightly in respect and then turned sharply - as if on a parade ground - marching towards the handful of steps leading up to the entrance. No one tried to stop him, but he heard a snatch of words from a cluster of Fire Mandrills and Goliath Scorpions. “Felipe… chew him up… wager… blood…”
Then he was out of the blazing sunlight and in the shadowy interior hall of the chapel, closing the heavy door behind him.
Below the floor would be the catacombs, level after layer of genetic reference material, offices and other working areas for the scientist caste. But here there was archaic wooden benches set on a marble floor. Once Ace was past the antechamber he found himself in a chamber of gothic paneling as high as his shoulders. Above that, the walls were marked with clips and niches to hold hundreds of trophies - donations by bloodnamed warriors wanting to leave a mark here for their successor. Each had a story… but he suspected that few knew what those stories were. Reverence for a predecessor made little sense when one was aiming to surpass them.
Four long benches with crimson cushions lined the upper half of the chapel’s main floor, a throne-like seat in the same black wood and crimson velvet for the bloodhouse’s leader facing towards the door. There was room for six people on each bench, though Ace knew from his research that twelve bloodrights had been retired over the years - mostly for mediocrity. The Enders bloodhouse had produced few warriors of great note. It must rankle with those who came here.
Even of the twelve living men and women who held the bloodname of Enders, half were absent. A stocky, dark-haired man in Burrock ceremonial garb sat on the throne, flanked on his left by three more Burrocks. Facing them was a redheaded woman in the colors of Clan Hells’ Horses and a lean, distracted seeming man whose cap bore the Goliath Scorpion’s badge.
“What is this?” The house leader had been examining a datapad - presumably linked to the tests done outside. “Does Khan Ian Hawker think Bloodhouse Enders is a joke?!”
“I do not speak for my Khan,” Ace replied quietly.
The Goliath Scorpion stretched slightly and then seemed to awaken - had he been napping? The man looked over at Ace with lazy curiosity. “I like the look of this one.”
“No one cares, Ellison.” The house leader set his datapad aside. “A technician’s sp-”
“I care,” Ellison replied mildly. “Ah, you were speaking Felipe?”
So this was indeed Felipe Enders, the current bloodhouse leader. Ace hadn’t been entirely sure - it was possible he might have not attended, requiring another to oversee the Trial of Bloodright. The man took a deep breath, clearly struggling with his temper. “Aff, I am speaking.”
“Please continue,” interrupted Ellison, smirking slightly.
“If you would bring your customary silence to the conversation - in fact, if you were to go back to sleep - then that would be much easier.” Then Felipe turned his glare on Ace. “And you can get the hell out of here, freebirth. A technician’s bloodline has no claim here on the Enders name.”
“Vladimir Enders was a technician before he followed Nicholas Kerensky in the Second Exodus,” the redheaded warrior said drily. “As you ought to remember.”
“That was a very long time ago. As much as I honor the founder’s legacy, if any of the founders of the Clans were among us today they would no longer be our equals,” Felipe asserted. “And whatever this one’s maternal lineage, I see no record here of whatever lineage was mixed with it to produce him. He has no place in a Trial of Bloodright.”
“Unless you can muster a vote of the Grand Council to amend the General Regulations… I meet the requirements,” Ace challenged. “You have no grounds to block me. Are you really so afraid that whoever you are sponsoring are unfit to face me?”
“I am the leader of this Bloodhouse and I have the right and obligation to deny participation of anyone whose credentials are suspect.” Felipe smirked suddenly. “Alas, without any of your Clan here, it may take quite some time to validate your identity.”
The redhead hissed slowly. “That is a dangerous position to take, Felipe. One that could get you reaved - or worse - if the Diamond Sharks go to the Grand Council.”
Ace did his best not to let on that Ian Hawker would probably be ecstatic about Felipe’s position.
Felipe slowly and deliberately sat down on his throne and tapped his knuckles on one carved arm. “Are you challenging me, Helena.”
For a moment the question hung in the air and then Ellison chuckled. “A vote,” he proposed. “If the Loremaster of even one of our Clans saw this the wrong way, it could lead to the entire Bloodhouse being censured. Not even the leader of a Bloodhouse has the right to drag us all into that against our will.”
Felipe looked at the so far silent Burrocks to his left and got a nod from the one nearest him. “Fine then. I vote that this Diamond Shark be detained while we refer the legitimacy of his candidacy to the loremaster of my Clan - on Albion. Who is with me?”
Two of the Burrocks raised their hands immediately, then jabbed the man between them below the ribs when he hesitated, stroking his beard. “Very well,” he sighed. “I agree.”
“Four votes to your two,” Felipe told Ellison and Helena. “So…”
“Five votes,” Ellison told him brightly.
Felipe blinked. “Are you so drunk that you cannot count, Ellison Enders?”
“Neg,” the Scorpion said brightly, “But I kind of had a suspicion that you might decide to put your finger on the scales in favor of your Clan, so I sent word to Jared, Allaria and LeBrun. Oddly, they all agreed to give me their proxies to vote for them if anything came up in their absence.” He pulled a datadisk out of his pocket and handed it to the Hells’ Horse-woman beside him and smirked at Felipe.
She picked up a datapad, slotted the disk in and checked the contents, then looked up. “It is true. Ellison holds four votes… and I believe I will side with him.”
With smooth suddenness that was entirely at odds with his earlier laxness, Ellison leant forwards into Felipe’s face. “I have the votes to remove you as House Leader, at least until you can get proxies from the Burrocks who are absent. You do not want that, quineg?”
The Burrock growled something that could be considered a neg. “You have your vote, Ellison…” And then jabbed a finger into the Goliath Scorpion’s face. “And I call for a Trial of Refusal. The freebirth is not a true warrior and I am offended that you treat him as such.”
Ellison blinked and then laughed in Felipe’s face. “Ha! I did not think you had it in you. Alright, take your shot at him. Who has a coin? Wait, I should have one.”
Ace could see the others were baffled, but it was the bearded Burrock who saw it first. “Ah, since this is a trial based on your fitness, Star Captain Ace, you must champion your cause.”
“At four to five votes,” Helena muttered.
“That is close enough to even,” declared Ellison. He produced a golden coin from one pocket. Heads or tails, Diamond Shark. Winner chooses the means of combat, the loser chooses the circle of equals.”
Ace blinked at the idea, but it wasn’t as if he’d come this far to back down. “Heads.”
The coin spun in the air and then Ellison snatched it back and slapped it onto the back of his hand. “Lucky as well as brave,” he said cheerfully. “Heads it is.”
“Wait - since I am the loser, I declare that our battlefield will be in here,” Felipe snapped, before Ace could declare they would fight in ‘mechs.
Helena made a face. “Legal…” she conceded.
Ace grit his teeth. Augmented combat would play to his strengths, but it was clearly impossible to bring even one ‘mech into the Bloodchapel, never mind two. And even trying would destroy the building - something that would disgrace Ace. Bloodchapels, like any other genetic repository, were sacrosanct.
The trouble was, unlike most Clan warriors, Ace hadn’t been practicing unarmed combat since he was born. He was adequate… but he wasn’t an expert. And Felipe had probably guessed that.
He needed a way out. A loophole…
“Well?” Felipe asked. “How will we fight?”
Something among the trophies caught Ace’s eye and inspiration struck. “Augmented,” he declared and before anyone could object, he ran at one of the empty benches, using it as a jumping off point to snatch two rapiers from where they hung on the wall. He had no idea who had left them up there, but they had the weight to not be merely ornamental.
Ace landed on the far end of the bench, behind the three Burrocks and jabbed one of the swords point-first into the wooden bench. “With these,” he clarified, backing down the bench until he could hop off it and onto the floor.
Ellison laughed. “Also legal. Well, Felipe? Go kill him if he offends you so much.”
Felipe reached over and grasped the hilt of the rapier, yanking it out of the wood with no great effort. “It will be my pleasure,” he declared, stepping between the benches.
Ace lunged forwards, driving the sword right at Felipe’s face. The Burrock threw up his sword to parry and sparks flew as the two blades ground against each other. Then he pushed and Ace let him break the bind, not convinced he had the muscle to win that contest.
Taking the withdrawal as weakness, the Bloodhouse leader advanced - hacking wildly with the sword. The other bloodnamed warriors scrambled back and away while Ace kept his parries short and kept backing away. His hands stung when the swords clashed - Felipe was strong and he was angry, putting a lot of force into the blows.
“I will send your body back to the Sharks in pieces,” the older man promised as Ace kept giving ground towards the door.
“Promises, promises. You have yet to even draw blood,” Ace reminded him.
Felipe snarled and attempted his own lunge. Ace sidestepped, pushing the other rapier just far enough out of line to miss and then punched with the basket-hilt of the rapier.
The Burrock’s head snapped back as half a kilogram of metal smashed his nose flat. He didn’t fall though and he had the wit to twist his blade around Ace’s, freeing him to attack again before the younger man could try to exploit the opening.
Ace backed up until his heel was against the door, taking a fencing stance - one hand holding the rapier out towards Felipe and the other behind his back for balance.
“Nowhere else to run,” the older man warned him, staring at him over their swords. “If you leave then you’ve exited the circle of equals.”
“And if talk won Trials then Clan Mongoose wouldn’t have been absorbed,” Ace shot back, deliberately stressing the contraction.
Felipe’s pupils shrank visible and he darted forwards, sword thrusting for Ace’s throat.
And Ace swung himself to the side, fingers on the hand behind him latched onto the door handle.
The door opened smoothly and the Bloodname leader found himself staring directly into the glare of the sun, with eyes adjusted to the shadowy light inside of the chapel.
He didn’t stumble, but his efforts to keep his sword aimed towards Ace went wildly wrong.
The Diamond Shark had no such problems and he’d yanked his sword hand well back to have maximum potential to extend. Folding one knee, he angled himself to thrust up and the rapier’s point stabbed upwards into the soft flesh below Felipe’s chin… and then up through the mouth and brain.
“Well,” Ellison murmured, perching on one end of a bench. “It looks like we have two open bloodrights now. And need to elect a new leader, quiaff?”
