Nothing happened.

With a glance, Nelson saw that his auxiliary monitor had gone dead. "Have to do it manually." This ejection seat will get me clear and then I can get a message out through ComStar.

With his left hand he reached over to flip the small lid over the manual ejection control. It popped up, but before he could hit the red button, it snapped shut again. He did it again, but once more gravity made the casing close. If my hand were only quicker.

Suddenly the sunlight from outside his cockpit died. When he looked up he saw one of the bandit's PPCs eclipsing the sun.

"Your fight is done," she said. "Surrender. You can no longer hurt me."

Nelson worked the lid up with his left middle finger and slid his index finger in over the red button. "I could eject. The chair would destroy your PPC."

The Red Corsair's voice filled the speakers in his helmet. She sounded surprised. "That you could. Surrender or die—your way or mine."

Nelson looked at the button and back up at the muzzle that would kill him. Is this how futilely Jon died?He swallowed hard and remembered his grandsons playing in the yard. Was Dorete right?

"Your decision, Kommandant?" Nelson's half-hand slid back into his lap. "I surrender."

The Red Corsair's voice turned cold. "You disappoint me. A real warrior would have chosen death."

"Part of me has." His left hand tore ineffectively against the buckle of the straps holding him into the command couch. "Perhaps someday my body will catch up with it."

BOOK I

The Best of Times

1

Arc-Royal

Federated Commonwealth

12 April 3055

Prince Victor Ian Steiner-Davion turned toward the elevator in the waiting area as its door opened. Tugging down at the hem of his dress jacket, he smiled and nodded at the two security men flanking the elevator. Those two remained motionless, yet Victor knew from long years of experience that their eyes were alert behind the mirrored glasses and that their guns were near at hand.

The Prince's smile broadened as a tall, robust warrior in the red and black dress uniform of the Kell Hounds stepped from the lift. The warrior's long hair brushed the shoulders of his jacket, but it had changed over the years from black to almost white, matching the equally snowy field of his beard. The crow's-feet around the man's dark eyes deepened as his face creased with a warm smile.

"I'd not expected to find you up so early, Highness," said Morgan Kell, cocking his head toward the windows giving a view of the the dark spaceport. "Having the DropShip arrive this early in the morning was meant to keep the idle curious away."

Victor's laugh was good-humored. "I am hardly the idle curious, Morgan." Knowing that the leader of the Kell Hounds was well-aware of his secret reason for being on Arc-Royal, Victor played along with the banter, assuming it was for the benefit of the elevator's other passenger. "I suppose I still haven't adjusted to Arc-Royal's time. And then after we got the news of the bandit strike at Pasig, I was up all night studying the preliminary reports."

"I heard about that—not good." Morgan turned back and looped his left arm around the shoulders of the young man who had trailed him out of the elevator. Tall and gangly, the youth had the black hair of a Kell, but his eyes were an unusual blue-green. He was still blinking away sleep.

"Highness, this is my grandson, Mark Allard. Perhaps you remember seeing him when we came to greet you on your arrival."

The Prince of the Federated Commonwealth extended his hand to the young man. "Victor Davion."

Mark smiled as he looked down at Victor and shook his hand. "I am honored to meet you, Highness."

"Just call me Victor, cousin." Victor frowned slightly as he glanced at Morgan. "I have tried, repeatedly, to get your grandfather to do that, but he insists on formality. I could order him, I suppose, but everyone knows that the Kell Hounds can't follow orders."

Morgan laughed, but Mark's eyes became distant for a second. "Like Phelan." The words, heavy with contempt, hung in the air like a foul vapor.

Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought it would be good for Mark to see his uncle again in a less formal situation than what all the receptions are likely to be later this week."

The younger man tried to shrug off his grandfather's arm. "Why you want to save that traitor embarrassment, I don't know." Mark looked over to Victor. "You must be suspicious of him, too. You have all your bodyguards here."

Victor hesitated a moment before replying. "Actually, these men go everywhere that I do. Were I really worried, I'd have asked Kommandant Cox to come along. And, yes, I am here in my official capacity as Prince of the Federated Commonwealth to welcome a Khan of the Wolf Clan. I am also here as myself to welcome my cousin."

Mark's hands balled into fists as the frustration all but shimmered off him. "How can you two be so blind? Phelan got himself expelled from the Nagelring, then went over to the Clans. He's a hero, to them, a hero to the same people who have tried to destroy the Inner Sphere. The Wolf Clan, the one he helped, has been the most successful in attacking us, and they rewarded him by making him a Khan. He shouldn't be welcomed, he should be shot on sight."

Victor folded his arms across his chest. "I think you have that a bit wrong, Mark. Phelan wasexpelled from the Nagelring, but it wasn't exactly what you're suggesting. Phelan saw a job that had to be done, and he did it. The Honor Board, as I understand it, believed he had violated the honor code. I was at the New Avalon Military Academy that year, so I only know what I read in the files, but Phelan's action saved lives."

Even as he spoke, Victor shifted uneasily. He didn't like having to defend Phelan because, despite being cousins, they had never been close. Victor had tried to get to know him while at the Nagelring, but Phelan had rejected the overtures. Actually, I thought he was a big waste at the Nagelring, and it didn't surprise me in the least when he got bounced. I was relieved when he was gone.

Mark clasped his hands behind his back. "Forgive me, Prince Victor, but I remember about Phelan. He was my idol. I was hurt when he left the Nagelring, but happy at his return to the Kell Hounds. When he was reported killed in what turned out to be the first engagement with the Clans, I was crushed. I took heart, though, because I believed, like so many others, that he had died a hero. Then it turned out he'd become a full-fledged member of the Wolf Clan, had rejected the Kell name, and even become one of their leaders."

Victor shook his head as he noticed several of his bodyguards nodding ever so slightly. "There is no faulting your logic, Mark, but I wonder if you have all the facts."

"Such as?"

Victor smiled at the younger man's fiery enthusiasm. "Well, for one, ComStar has just released the casualty figures for the worlds the Clans have captured. Of all the Clans, the Wolves have been the easiest on the indig population of the worlds they've taken. And they say Phelan captured the planet Gunzburg without a shot being fired."

Mark nodded curtly. "Sure, he wanted to save his troops from being killed."

"More important, Mark, Phelan saved countless lives among a people who had treated him monstrously while the Kell Hounds were trapped on Gunzburg. He could have insisted that the planet be razed. And I'm sure more than one person in the Inner Sphere would have been happy to see Tor Miraborg get his arrogant head handed to him when the Wolf Clan hit Gunzburg."