"So, now with Chris and Caitlin readying themselves to one day assume command, and with Dan and his children coming up to ensure continuity, I leave the Kell Hounds in capable hands."

Morgan hesitated and looked over to where his son and the other visitors from the Clans were seated. "I hope that if the Clans someday decide they have had enough of him, Phelan might find a home here—more so if a Galaxy of his Wolves want to come with him. Surely if we can go to Luthien—the home of an age-old enemy— to defend it against the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats, then we can accept a Wolf into our company."

Victor sensed tension build as Morgan spoke about Phelan. No one in the room would have doubted the Kell Hounds' commitment to opposing the Clans were the war to heat up again, yet Morgan's hope that Phelan might be welcomed on Arc-Royal made his audience uneasy. Morgan obviously loved his son and had somehow resolved the conflict between his heart and his duty. Victor also felt a new kinship with Phelan after their talk. I think I would welcome him home were he to come back.

The mercenary leader smiled. "My job here is done, so now my wife and I can retire to the rigors of planetary government and pestering our children to produce children of their own so we can hopelessly spoil some grandchildren."

The elder Kell let the laughter from his remark die down before he concluded his speech. "Let me leave you with one last thought. There are those who would interpret these comments as bolstering their case for utter and total disarmament. They would say that without weapons of mass destruction men would be forced to work with each other to get along. They would urge us to beat our swords into plowshares to give us tools to reverse the destruction/creation problem I have cited.

"As much as I would like to agree with them, this cannot be. Man managed to hurt others before we had swords. In the absence of weapons, fists do damage. In the absence of fists, words do damage, and taking away words would also take away the means for communication we seek as the cure for all mankind's ills.

"In this they are correct: communication, meaningful and respectful communication among equals, is the key to living prosperously and well with one another. This mutual respect can only come when each side knows that it cannot just turn around and take what it wants if it does not get its way in negotiation. When war is the final option that neither side wishes to embrace, communication becomes the only other logical possibility."

Morgan smiled at his audience. "So, thank you all for being friends in the good times and bad. What we have shared, the history we have created, is not ended with my departure. It becomes the foundation for what I know will be a viable and vital future."

Without a thought Victor sprang to his feet applauding, and he was not the first person to do so. The ovation thundered through the hall, and for the first time in all the years he had known Morgan, the mercenary seemed truly at a loss. The applause continued after he sat down and only stopped when Morgan raised a glass in thanks to his guests and shared a wordless toast with them.

The banquet then began to break up. Katherine was doing fine entertaining those at their table without any help from Victor, so he excused himself and left. He debated whether to wade through the crowd of well-wishers surrounding Morgan and his wife Salome, or perhaps head over to the First Regiment's Assembly Hall for dancing, but could decide on neither.

Glancing back at his table, he saw Omi preparing to leave. She pressed Shin back down into his chair as she walked away. Victor caught her eye and headed over in her direction when she smiled at him. "Komban-wa. "

"And to you, Prince Victor." Omi, wearing a black velvet gown trimmed with white lace, had her hair gathered at the back of her head and held in place with a silver comb. "Colonel Kell is a good speaker."

"Why is it that the good ones finish before I am ready to stop listening?" Victor noticed his sister watching him out the corner of her eye, but he chose to ignore her. "Had you thought of going to the dance?"

"I thought it would be correct to do so, but I dread it because I am not well-versed in your styles of dance." Omi clasped her hands together shyly. "Which is greater, the embarrassment of dancing poorly or the rudeness of not attending a function?"

"I can sympathize, for I am not terribly graceful on the dance floor, yet I share the same obligations. It strikes me that if we went together, no one would dare to ask you to dance—given protocol and the like. And, if you are not dancing, I certainly could not inflict myself on some unsuspecting woman."

"That, Victor, is a wonderful plan." Omi smiled and slipped her right hand through the crook of his left arm. "And if it looked as if we might be asked to dance, we could slip onto the dance floor ourselves."

Victor smiled as he picked a path between tables. "Ah, minimize the damage to others by dancing together. Splendid planning."

They left the banquet hall and retraced their steps from the other evening through the garden. Turning south they walked past the small forest of bonsai trees the Hounds had brought from Luthien. "I have heard that the Hounds brought one bonsai for each pilot they lost on Luthien."

Omi gave his arm a light squeeze. "That is true. We have bonsai masters who created a tree for each of the Kell Hounds who fought in that battle. When one of them dies, another tree is sent here."

"I am certain there was a time, back when Morgan and Patrick started the Hounds, when they would never have believed they'd one day be fighting on Luthien in defense of the Combine. Times have changed incredibly, and so quickly, too."

Omi stopped and kissed Victor. "But they change very slowly as well, too slowly."

"Still they do change." He reached up and cupped her face in his hands. "Right now we cannot be together, but that does not mean that someday we will not."

Omi smiled and kissed the palms of his hands. "I know that, and I will work toward that day. It is just that it seems like forever until it will happen."

Victor again settled her hand onto his arm. "Well, for now we can dance together, which for certain Christian sects within my realm is the equivalent of far greater lusts being sated."

"I will dance with you, Victor, but only on one condition."

"And that is?"

The reflections of stars glittered in her dark eyes. "That our dancing is a promise of what we shall share when the times have changed enough."

13

Arc-Royal

Federated Commonwealth

18 April 3055

Phelan gave his mother a hug. "Yes, I know it's been less than a week, mother, but we must head back." He held her out at arm's-length and gave her a grand smile. "You always told me that the Wards who stayed behind when General Kerensky took the Star League army away from the Inner Sphere wondered if Jal Ward had made a difference. He did, a big one, which has given me the opportunity to do what I have done. Now maybe I can make a difference as well."

Salome hugged her son again. "I know you will, Phelan."

He moved from his mother's arms to his father's, enfolding the older man in a back-slapping bear hug. "There will be great rejoicing among the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats when they learn you have retired, father."