Dormuth, Marik
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
10 April 2780
The ancestral homeworld of House Marik (if one didn’t count their long history in Terra’s Balkan region) was considerably closer to Terra than the Free Worlds League capital of Atreus. From the balcony where Carl Marik waited he could see man-made lakes, pit mines that had long since been flooded and turned into upcountry reservoirs, aquaculture farms and even water sports facilities. Marik’s mineral wealth had funded his ancestor’s rise to power but they had long since diversified their holdings.
Carl had seen the dropship coming in to land and knew it would be only a matter of time before his father arrived. Looking out at the peaceful landscape he wondered if he could hold onto the serenity of the view.
The sound of the door behind him opening drew his attention and he turned to see Kenyon Marik crossing the lounge to the floor-to-ceiling (and it was a high ceiling) windows that looked out onto the stone balcony and beyond it to the mountains.
The dark-hair and hawkish face reminded Carl of another and he swallowed. “Father,” he offered, raising one hand in greeting.
Kenyon opened the door and stepped out, making no comment on the cold wind. He looked tired from the hasty transit off Terra and out of the Hegemony, lines on his face muting the resemblance his son had noted. “Hello, Carl. Martinson told me you gave instructions I should be asked to come to see you immediately on my return.” He looked around. “Where’s your brother?”
Carl nodded. “I thought it best, sir. I have bad news. Thaddeus is in the morgue.”
“The morgue?” Kenyon frowned and stepped over to the balustrade, glanced over and then turned back to his son. “Who died? Not Margaret?”
“No sir.” He swallowed. “Thaddeus died.”
“Thaddeus?” He saw his father pause, a wall of cold composure snapping into place. But the next words gave a lie to that cool demeanour. “My Thaddeus? It can’t be.”
Stepping forward, the Captain-General’s elder – and now only – son, took his father’s shoulder. “We’ve lost him, sir.”
Kenyon turned away from the view, instinctively hiding his face from where anyone with a telescope or binoculars could look up at the palace and see him. “How did it happen?”
“His latest mistress appears to have been an agent.” Both of Kenyon’s sons had married early and fathered children to consolidate the lineage, for the family lines had been narrowed sharply after the civil war fifty years ago. It was an open secret that Thaddeus’ marriage to Margaret Hemphill had been to stabilise relations between House Marik and the wealthy rulers of Kalidasa, not out of personal fondness for all that she’d given House Marik three children in the last few years.
The older Marik closed his eyes for a moment. “Whose agent?”
“She hardly carried an identification card, sir, but we’ve confirmed she was genuinely from Restitution, up on the Canopian border, and left when she was younger. I’ve had SAFE dig into her personal history after she left in ’74 and her family history before then.”
“You think she’s a Canopian agent.”
Carl released his father’s shoulder and shrugged. “It seems likely, but we’ve no evidence.”
“Evidence!” Kenyon cried out. “You speak of evidence, Carl. Your brother is dead!”
“I want to know who did it.” He clenched his fists. “I want to know when I tell his children that he was avenged that I didn’t miss the real culprit.”
His father faltered and then nodded. “Yes. That is wise.” His eyes closed a moment and when he opened them there was a more familiar anger in them. “Terra did not go well.”
“I heard. John Davion’s launched a counter-offensive as well. Reports are too early to say how well he’s doing.”
“Kerensky is dead and so is Steiner’s sister.”
“I heard.”
Kenyon walked back to the open door. “Robert Steiner will be back in control of the Archon’s throne, which is good news for us. What will happen to the Rim Worlds I don’t know, but again, any result is good for us. They’ll be distracted and that leaves our flank there secure for now.”
“Barbara Liao did not attend, but it was not in her interests to leave us a free hand. Her joke of a military has been thrashed soundly by Davion and she cannot afford our anger. It is possible she is behind Thaddeus’ death but it leaves you and I to take revenge, poor strategy.”
“Agreed, and she has no real cause to seek Thaddeus’ death,” Carl pointed out. “Rwannah Centrella, on the other hand, has every reason.”
“I agree.” His father rubbed his chin and then gestured inside. “Come out of the wind, Carl. I want to sit down and shouting back and forth isn’t conducive to this conversation.”
They found seats inside and called for drinks. Carl ordered a vodka and lime juice. His father just ordered lime juice and then called the servant back and shocked them both by telling him to add half a finger of vodka to it. Kenyon Marik almost never drank and when he did it was the bare minimum of wine to be socially acceptable.
“Basic military strategy is to avoid a war on multiple fronts,” Kenyon said softly. “But politics and geography make that difficult. But still, we need to focus our attention. Assume that what you and I believe is true, then we must punish the Centrellas.”
“Can we afford to, if the Star League is coming apart?”
The Captain-General smiled thinly. “There’s no if, any more. Perhaps Davion was right all along. Perhaps I…” He rubbed his face. “If the SLDF had been better led perhaps. My grandfather should never have approved that damn peasant as the Commanding General and father should have accepted his resignation in ’51.”
“Could have, should have, didn’t,” Carl pointed out quietly. “We have to work with the situation as it is, not as it might have been. So, we have to send an expeditionary force to Canopus.”
“Yes. The Humphreys will likely scream that we should strike for Andurien though.”
“Could we do both?” The younger Marik considered a map. The two areas weren’t far apart.
Kenyon shook his head. “No. It’s at least possible they might find common cause. We can sell it to Humphreys though, the groundwork for Canopus can serve as well for us against Andurien when we’re ready. There’s a more urgent target.”
Carl considered the options. “Every other neighbour is weak,” he said judiciously. “Who do you mean?”
“The Hegemony.” The Captain-General folded his arms. “The most intact industrial worlds in their realm are Terra Firma province, bordering ourselves and the Capellans. And the Hegemony’s armed forces are even weaker than the Capellans right now. With Davion exhausted from fighting the SLDF, the Chancellor will want those factories and I see no reason to let her take them uncontested.”
“And no SLDF to guard them.”
“Yes, exactly.” Kenyon looked away. “Those industrial worlds to strengthen the League and revenge for Thaddeus. Take those both before our neighbours recover and we will have served House Marik well.”
.o0O0o.
Landing City, Bristol
Crucis March, Federated Suns
27 April 2780
Thomas Holt-Davion arrived at the meeting point first.
Well, to be strictly accurate his escort detail arrived first and spent fifteen minutes sweeping the area for mines, infiltrators and wild animals. They weren’t wild about the idea of a General being out ‘on his own’ on the hill over-looking Bristol’s first and oldest city, much less a member (if only by marriage) of the royal family. It was touching in a way that they were so concerned for his wellbeing.
Once his safety was assured, the troops pulled back to the perimeter to wait for their counterparts. Holt-Davion slumped into one of the folding camp-chairs he’d brought and, careful not to tear it with his spurs, put his feet up on another. Whose stupid idea had those been? he thought. Maybe I should set a fashion and stop wearing the damn things. He closed his eyes for a moment.
When the sound of an engine woke him, he consulted his watch and realised twenty minutes had passed.
The SLDF had arrived in a pair of what looked like civilian cars. Holt-Davion was willing to wager that under the glossy paint the chassis were wrapped in ferro-fibrous protection and that the engine under the hood would be military rated. There might even be a hidden weapon – they did love their toys.
Four troopers got out of the cars and threw polite salutes in his direction before carrying out the same sweeps his own soldiers had done. Rather than risk dozing off again, Holt-Davion reached into the case at the side of his seat and pulled out a local paper. He didn’t have much context for the contents but reading between the lines it seemed that life had gone on more or less as normal for the populace of Bristol despite the SLDF occupation. That was something of a relief given the alternatives.
The soldiers presumably came to the same conclusion his own escorts had: there was no elite commando team of racoons out to ambush anyone (not an entirely unfounded concern, Bristol racoons had six limbs and claws that would go through a flak vest if they were motivated) and the old folks could probably be allowed out without supervision for a little while.
The woman who left the first car and walked over to join him was in her fifties, Holt-Davion guessed. Thin – too thin really – and she moved like a MechWarrior. He rose and bowed to her. “General Krieger, I presume.”
She saluted him, which was technically correct given their relative ranks, and held it until he returned the gesture. “General Holt-Davion. We meet at last.”
“It’s pleasant to do so other than on the field of battle. Please,” he gestured to one of the camp chairs. “Take a seat. I have some bottled water in the cooler if you’d like some.”
“I brought my own in the car,” she replied, taking the offered seat and resting her hands on her knees. “Before we discuss anything further I have to ask you: did your father-in-law have anything to do with what happened at the Court of the Star League?”
Holt-Davion met her gaze steadily. “No, he did not.” He paused and then added: “We did have a team in Unity City to try to snatch Thomas Kurita. Two of them were in the room and didn’t make it out.”
Kreiger’s eyes bulged a little. “You were going to abduct the Coordinator’s cousin out of Unity City? How were they going to get him off Terra?”
“MI4 managed to get two of the Camerons clear, I think MI6 took it as a challenge.” He had no idea what the logistics would be, but the impact of such an operation succeeding would have been tremendous for morale. “Shall we get down to business?”
“I suppose so. We’ve consolidated our position now and can hold Landing City for months if need be.”
The young General eyed her and decided it wasn’t quite a pro forma statement but very close to one. “I believe that you could, although the civilian population would suffer if that were the case.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “We are willing to allow civilians to leave.”
“Gracious of you. I must wonder what it is that you feel you would be accomplishing in that case. The two divisions left to you holding into an emptying city might tie us down for a while, but as long as we hold the orbitals you won’t be escaping.”
“At least we’ll tie down your troops,” Krieger said tightly. A week ago, her XXV Corps had retained three of their original six divisions. Holt-Davion had landed his troops almost on top of the 157th BattleMech division, and between his own three divisions and two independent brigades he’d had ten ‘Mech regiments to their six. The outcome had been obvious, even if losses in the three heavy ‘Mech regiments on point had been higher than the General would have liked.
“I don’t object to my troops being tied down if it’s in the course of their assigned mission,” Holt-Davion told Krieger mildly. “We’re here to liberate Bristol from SLDF occupation and if that takes a few months then so be it. Given the shape of your navy, there won’t be a relief force any time soon.”
“General Lucas has four squadrons of warships, more ships than your entire navy.”
“He had four squadrons,” he told her mildly. “You lost two cruisers when we took out the picket force here, and that’s far from the only defeat our fleet’s handed yours in the last few weeks. For that matter, how much have you heard from your Commanding General lately? Marlette is back in Federated Suns hands, you know.”
“Do you expect me to surrender?”
“The option is on the table. If you choose to take it then we’re prepared to stipulate that your enlisted troops will be repatriated to the nation of their choice with all despatch – disarmed of course. Your colours will be treated with respect and delivered to Terra as soon as possible. Only officers will be detained.” Without a command structure and with the soldiers scattered across half the Inner Sphere, the two divisions would effectively cease to exist.
Krieger shook her head. “I have my duty, Marshal. It doesn’t including surrendering my position when it’s tenable to fight on.”
Holt-Davion nodded. “Who is your duty to, General? To the First Star Lord? Because there isn’t one. To the Star League Council, who to all practical purposes aren’t talking to each other? Or to your fellow soldiers?”
She didn’t answer him.
“I can’t tell you what is and what isn’t worth fighting for, but you might want to see how many of your soldiers are willing to die for what’s left of the Star League.”
Krieger pushed herself to her feet. “I think we’re done here.”
Holt-Davion also rose and bowed. “As you will, General. If you wish to talk again then please contact me through the same channels we used to arrange this meeting.”
She nodded and left. Holt-Davion waited for the cars to leave range and then walked over to his own transport, a Kynigos APC that had parked down the slope from the hill.
“Do you think she’ll change her mind?” asked his aide, a young leftenant fresh out of Albion.
Thomas considered the woman’s reactions and nodded. “I’d give it about a week,” he said judiciously. “She’s not the sort of officer who’ll sacrifice the lives of her men for a principle she knows is increasingly hollow.”
.o0O0o.
Somewhere
Somewhen
Hanse Davion found himself in a place and his inability to identify it as anything more bothered him. He appeared to be in a sphere of clarity surrounded by a white fog that glowed without giving off any warmth. Up, off in the distance, he saw a bright disc, a light, that looked to him like a sun seen through clouds.
He heard a voice and – with nothing else to do – he followed it. The words were unclear but the tone was one of confusion – whoever it was must feel very much as he did.
The clouds parted and he saw a short man facing away from him, wearing a white kimono and hakama in the style of the Draconis Combine. “Something is definitely not right here,” the man said to himself, not looking back.
“It’s unexpected, I’ll give you that.”
The man turned sharply and the sight of his face stole the breath from Hanse for a moment. “You look like my father,” Victor Steiner-Davion said, almost accusingly.
There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there, a square-jaw set with a hint of the explosive temper Hanse remembered. “And you look like my son, Victor. Plus a few years. Time goes on, I suppose.”
“It’s been more than six years.” Victor rubbed his chest, as if searching for something.
“Only six? It feels more like twenty to me.” What the hell is going on?
“Have you been waiting here for me?”
“No… I’ve been, somewhere else.” He met his son’s eyes. “I’m dead then?”
Victor nodded sharply. “Yeah. Don’t you remember? I got back to New Avalon and found you in your chair, watching that damned disc from Sun-Tzu.”
“Ah yes. I wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. It seemed likely I’d died but…”
“This isn’t the hereafter?”
Hanse narrowed his eyes. “Victor, do you have reason to believe that you’re dead?”
“Uh…” The boy… no, he was a man now, rubbed the back of his head. “I’d been stabbed through the chest.”
“We’d better hope we’re dead or your mother will kill us. How did you manage that?”
Victor flinched. “I was on Luthien for the new year. Apparently not everyone there was happy about our alliance against the Clans.”
“Didn’t you have security!?”
His son coloured. “Omi and I were alone. Or supposed to be.”
“You acquitted yourself well,” a harsh voice declared.
Both men turned and they saw a third watching them. He wore traditional Japanese armour, all in red. Two swords were at his side but he showed no inclination to draw them.
“Takashi.”
The thirtieth Coordinator of the Draconis Combine nodded sharply. “Hai. Your son is a credit to you, Davion. In my grand-daughter’s defence he slew two of the assassins with only a sword and the brief training my grandson gave him in the use of a katana.”
“Is Omi dead?” Victor asked urgently. “There was blood on her sleeves, I thought her wrists…”
Takashi laughed curtly. “She cut down the last of them. Kuritas also take a lot of killing.” His face sobered. “You died like a samurai, Victor Davion. Come with me now, to the afterlife of a samurai.”
“Hold on there,” Hanse told him bluntly. “Why should he do that?”
“He has passed on, Davion. No one can go back.”
“Really, because no one told me anything like that.”
The red-clad man bared his teeth in something like a smile. “That is your loss, Davion. You were a worthy adversary, I regret that your resting place is not to your liking.”
“Resting place? Who’s been resting?”
“What have you been doing?” asked Victor curiously.
“Trying to save the Star League,” Hanse told him. “I’ve been… well, haunting John Davion I suppose. I got to meet Jerome Blake, Aleksandr Kerensky… even Stefan Amaris and Minoru Kurita.”
“The great leaders of the time,” Takashi conceded. “Perhaps your afterlife is not entirely miserable.”
“They’re a bunch of squabbling idiots for the most part.” Hanse shook his head. “I guess whatever I’ve changed isn’t affecting you, Victor.”
“It sounds impressive. Seeing the Star League at its height but…” The blond shook his head. “I have things to do. I need to go back.”
“Other men must do those things now,” Takashi advised him. “One cannot go back.”
Hanse stepped between them. “Have you ever tried? You chose to end your life. Maybe it’s different for the rest of us.”
“One cannot wrestle with destiny.”
“If I’ve learned anything watching the League fall apart, there’s no fate or destiny. Just people doing their best – sometimes to screw everyone else up, but their best nonetheless. Aren’t there tales in your history of people cheating death?”
Takashi hesitated. “Yes, myths but…”
Victor reached into the throat of his kimono and pulled out a pendant. “Kai gave me this.”
“What is it?” Hanse squinted. It looked like some kind of monkey.
“Sun Hou-Tzu. He escaped from Yen-lo-Wang, the Chinese god of death. If this is real then he can lead me back to life.” Hanse’s son smiled slightly. “And if I’m just imagining this then I can imagine that.”
“No.” Takashi reached for the hilt of his sword. “You cannot…”
Hanse spread his arms to block the samurai. “Go ahead son, give your mother my love.”
Victor seemed on the brink of saying something and then his footsteps receded into the fog.
The two old rivals stood facing each other, Hanse fixing Takashi with a glare. At last the Coordinator released the katana and shook his head. “You may regret doing that.”
“Would you regret giving Theodore a second chance if it had been him?”
Takashi paused and then shrugged fractionally. “I have many regrets about my son but perhaps not that, no. There will be consequences though.”
“I can live with that. So to speak.”
“We’ll meet again, Davion.” Takashi Kurita turned and walked away in the opposite direction from Victor.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 May 2780
“Do you have dreams like that often?” John asked once Hanse had finished recounting his experience.
The redhead shook his head, “No, not like that. Mostly I dream of the past.”
“The past that was.” The First Prince rubbed his greying hair. “If we take it at face value then it would mean you’re dead.”
“I’ve had twenty years to get used to the idea. I can’t say I’m quite so happy about Victor dying, or nearly so, before he’s even thirty though.”
“Well to be fair, he could hardly have anticipated getting stabbed while on a diplomatic visit. It’s not as if he was challenging the leader of these Clans to single combat or something.”
Hanse grinned. “If he did that then he and I would have words.”
“The date might be significant,” said John, looking at the calendar. “Fifth of May.”
“Twenty years to the day since I woke up outside your bedroom, you mean.” Hanse shrugged. “I guess so. That would almost have to suggest something conscious guiding it since the rotation of Terra around Sol wouldn’t seem to have any natural relationship to the workings of the hereafter.”
“Well it can’t be relative to changes made since I can hardly see how yesterday was particularly significant compared to other events.”
Hanse nodded. “No ComStar, no looting of the Terran Hegemony - not yet anyway – and the Rim Worlds seems to be holding together even without Kerensky.”
“Yes… oh, perhaps that’s a factor actually.”
“Oh?” the ghost arched an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Aleksandr’s oldest son turned sixteen yesterday. It might just be a coincidence but…”
“It’s as plausible as anything else. Anyway, it’s not as if he’s in power yet, it seems they’ve settled on twenty-one as the minimum age before he’s recognised as Protector in more than name.” John smiled slightly. “It’s ironic that the same man Francesca set up to try to kill Amaris fourteen years ago is the Rim Worlds’ regent now.”
“He seems to have grown into his role as her counterpart,” Hanse observed. “Drummond might do well as regent.”
“At least he’s not off in the far reaches of the Periphery laying the foundations of a new society, so that’s averted.”
“And no ComStar!”
“For good or ill. Carving up the HPG network into national organisations seems to be the going trend but it’s going to make staying in touch with our agents trickier. Zabu Kurita’s already using that control to keep what’s going on inside the Combine from leaking out and Francesca says Marik is likely to do the same. Once that breaks we have to assume the Lyrans and the Capellans were doing the same.”
“In the long run we can live without close international communication,” Hanse pointed out. “We did so for centuries. Having all our interstellar communication, even domestic contacts, dependent on an outside conspiracy is a bit more of a problem.”
John shook his head. “Isn’t that also a situation that lasted for centuries?”
“Touché.” Hanse touched his chest in surrender of the point. “It may impact on Alpheratz being able to act as a centre of banking though. Even if we need somewhere neutral, the fact is that they’re out on the fringes of settled space. Terra did have some advantages with their central location.”
“We’ll have to see how it -” John was about to say ‘works out’ but a chime alerted him to an inbound message. He touched a control on his desk. “What is it, Owen?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a priority message from Wroxeter.”
“Wroxeter?” John exchanged looks with Hanse. “Alright, put it through.”
The screen built into his desk lit up, showing the spinning hourglass that was the traditional indicator that data was being loaded. “I wonder what Michael’s come up with,” the First Prince mused. Wroxeter was only one jump from Marlette and had been in SLDF hands for a year or so. While it had been bypassed in the initial counter-attacks, Michael Stopec had taken his Fourth Davion Guards division to clear it of the SLDF garrison once they’d finished off the main resistance around the SLDF headquarters on Marlette.
The face that came up on the video screen wasn’t the scarred and moustachioed face of the Prince’s Champion though. Instead it was Alexandra Davion’s face. “Uncle, I apologise for using priority codes but I felt that this was news that you would wish to hear as soon as possible,” her recorded voice greeted him.
“Shit,” Hanse said quietly.
“While the Guards are doing well in securing Wroxeter, I regret to advise you that the landing was quite heavily contested by SLDF aerospace assets,” Alexandra informed them. “Colonel Stopec and his staff were under escort by Pritchard’s Panzers in order to leave the main brigades free to concentrate on establishing a perimeter. Unfortunately, the SLDF seem to have picked out the Panzers for especial attention – either because they knew the Colonel was with them or because they’re ex-SLDF. The colonel’s ‘Mech was hit by several bombs and the cockpit was breached at least twice. I’m very sorry, sir, but medics have confirmed he was dead on arrival at the field medical station.”
John paused the recording and dropped his face into his hands. Hanse walked around the desk and rested his hands on his descendant’s shoulders, for all the good that did.
“How many more will we lose?” the First Prince asked sorrowfully. “How many men and women must I feed into the furnace for the others’ ambitions?”
Hanse considered platitudes but then dismissed them. “It doesn’t end, John. I wish it were otherwise. The most we can do is buy reprieves, a time between wars for a fresh generation to grow up and hopefully be wiser than we are.”
“The war is almost over, dammit. Dying so near to the finish of the campaign… so pointless”
“Not pointless, don’t demean it like that. You know damn well he had his guns firing up at the fighters dropping the bombs, protecting the people with him. And because he did that, some of them will live longer and be able to keep more of the people behind them alive.” Hanse stepped back as John turned around to face him. “It’s a tragic loss but it was not without meaning.”
The two men eyed each other and then John nodded tiredly. He activated the recording again.
“Brigadier Hewitt has taken over the division and I expect a formal report will reach you shortly,” Alexandra concluded. “If it’s any consolation, once our own aerospace had regrouped, not one of the enemy birds made it back home. We’re prepping his body for return to New Avalon per his recorded preferences. The duke made some noises about wanting to give him a state burial here but Hewitt straightened him out.”
