"I returned to the Clans because, for the first time since our mission began, we received a broadcast demanding all members of the Clan Council return in preparation for the election of an ilKhan. As I was the only member of the expedition who had attained a Bloodname before we left, I was the only one bound by my duty to the Wolf Clan. I did not see my attendance here as contradictory to my orders." She smiled evenly. "In fact, I saw my return as a way to keep faith with those orders."

Carol Leroux smiled slightly. "What do you mean?"

Natasha leaned forward. "The Khan charged us with the duty of preparing the Successor States to oppose an invasion. As a member of the Clan Council, it is my duty to advise the Clan and its Khans on the wisdom of continuing the assault on the Inner Sphere."

Sarcasm dripping from his voice, Carson turned on Natasha again. "And, pray tell, what would you advise us?"

"I would advise that your successes so far came because you took the Inner Sphere by surprise. The time it will take to elect a new ilKhan and resume the assault will negate that advantage. Your superiority of weapons and materiel will be slowly reduced as the Successor States are able to bring newer model 'Mechs on line. Already, as was seen in the Combine and the Lyran sector of the Federated Commonwealth, the Inner Sphere's troops learn quickly and can counter your attacks." Natasha leaned back. "I would advise, ultimately, that the Clans leave the Inner Sphere and never return."

"And leave our Star League in the hands of its destroyers?"

"The Star League ceased being ours when we abandoned it!"

A sharp rap of the Loremaster's gavel stopped their argument cold. "As Khan Ulric has pointed out, the discussion wanders from the issue of the disposition of Dragoon genetic material. We have heard that the Dragoons apparently obeyed the Khan's orders in both letter and spirit. That we do not agree with or sanction those orders is not grounds for recommending review of this matter to the Council of Khans. An excellent point made earlier was that this question can only be decided in the consciences of the Council members.

"I now call for a vote on the matter. As it is most serious, it will require a two-thirds majority to deny the inclusion of Dragoons' DNA in breeding programs. An Aye vote is for destruction of all sperm and ova taken from the Dragoons when they left on their mission. A Nay will kill the matter here and now, allowing our brave brethren fulfillment of their destiny. You have five minutes to post your vote."

Phelan watched as Cyrilla reached her hand toward the red Aye button on her console. "Wait! What are you doing? How can you deny Jaime Wolf and his people the right to reproduce?"

Cyrilla patted Phelan's knee. "Phelan, the moment Natasha and I reported that Khan Kerlin Ward gave the Dragoons orders to do what they did without reporting back, the issue was closed. There is no way that two-thirds of the Wolves will vote to have the Dragoons' DNA destroyed. The records Natasha brought back with her contain so much information that our scientists have only begun to analyze it. As each Blood House has members within the Dragoons, they will not deny themselves the chance of discovering a genetic diamond in the rough. Therefore, knowing the issue will be defeated, I choose to sow discord among the Crusaders by helping inflate their vote total."

"Wait, wait. How can you be sure the vote will go the way you want it to?"

Cyrilla sighed. "Phelan, those of us who have been around for a long time build up a storehouse of favors owed from members of other Houses. We also exert considerable influence over our own kin. Through exchanging a few favors with other Houses, I was able to gain an accurate picture of how the voting would likely go, and to change some minds so we could manufacture a pleasing picture for our Crusader friends."

Phelan nibbled on his lower lip. "How close will it get?"

Cyrilla shrugged. "Close enough that the Crusaders will believe they can replace one or both of our Khans in the next election."

Ah, I think I see now."With the vote ending up closer than they expected, they will believe themselves closer to victory and will not work as hard to gather the votes they need."

"And those Wardens who have consistently underestimated the Crusader threat will be alarmed at the situation." Cyrilla smiled knowingly as she punched the button that registered an affirmative vote. "After the final vote is tallied, one of the Crusaders, an Elemental by the name of Karl Nevski, will issue a preemptory challenge of the vote. Evantha Fetladral will accept the challenge."

Confused again, Phelan furrowed his brow. "Even a fair vote can be challenged through combat?"

"Certainly." Cyrilla laid a hand on Phelan's shoulder. "We are the Clans, we are warriors. Our final court of appeal has always been the battlefield. If Nevski's forces can defeat those gathered by Evantha, and do so convincingly in the eyes of the Loremaster, the vote will be overturned."

Phelan shook his head slowly. "The ultimate in might making right."

"It is tradition among our people," Cyrilla said. The elder Ward smiled as her eyes focused far away. "You see, Phelan, within the Clans, fighting does not end when you leave the cockpit of a 'Mech. There is always conflict everywhere. He who is not ready for it will be destroyed by it."

8

ComStar First Circuit Compound, Hilton Head Island

 North America, Terra

 5 March 3051

Precentor Martial Focht bowed deeply to Primus Myndo Waterly as he entered the room. Standing in the midst of her personal chamber, he felt uncomfortable and more than a little intimidated. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I came as soon as I received word you wanted to see me." He was about to apologize for the sweat-stained fatigues he wore when the Primus signalled him to be silent.

She turned slowly from the large window overlooking the courtyard below, obviously fighting back the urge to unleash her fury. "I am not pleased that you were 'out of radio contact.' Were I of a suspicious nature, I might think it was an attempt to somehow evade me." She still wore the formal robe of her office, but her mane of long white hair was loose rather than bound.

Anastasius Focht closed his one good eye and shook his head. "Far from it, Primus. I was engaged in an exercise that demanded total radio silence. We have been simulating the effects of long-term operation in Clan-occupied areas. In this way, we can better determine the abilities of our troops in a long campaign against the Clans."

The Primus raised an eyebrow. "That is foolishness. Ourforces will not be fighting the Clans."

"Apologies, Primus. I meant the term 'our' to refer to troops from the various Houses of the Inner Sphere. I did not mean to imply we would be engaging the Clans in the near future."

The Primus smiled with the condescension of a parent correcting an errant child. "We will never fight the Clans as long as there is a chance of taking them over from within. They are the hammer for reforging mankind, and ComStar is the anvil on which the New Man is being beaten into shape."

"Primus, I acknowledge the truth of what you say. Blessed be the will of Blake. These exercises, however, are necessary so that we can calculate what resistance the Successor States are likely to offer our allies when battle is joined again. The successes of the Davion forces on Twycross and the Kurita forces on Wolcott were a surprise."