"If you do not act now, you will know that feeling yet again."

Melissa Steiner rose to her feet. "I know that feeling only too well, as do others in this room. Colonel Wolf and Colonel Kell have both pledged their mercenary units to the fight. Hanse and I have agreed that we shall devote our forces to opposing the Clans. Candace Liao has promised her crack units, and we know Prince Magnusson and the Kanrei will contribute everything they have to defeating the enemy. I do not enjoy war, but I acknowledge that there are times it must be fought."

She turned and held out a hand in Romano's direction. "Madam Chancellor, Ipromise no Federated Commonwealth troops will disturb your sovereignty. Ipromise your troops will not be used as cannon fodder against the Clans. I make the same promises to you, Thomas Marik. Join us."

As Melissa sat back down, she slipped her left hand into Hanse's right. He felt her trembling and gave her hand a squeeze. When she looked up at him, he nodded reassuringly. "Yes, Melissa. If this is what we must do, if these are the promises we must make, I abide by your words," he whispered gently.

Romano stood with a languid motion that suggested great weariness. She stifled a yawn with the back of her right hand, then discarded her act with a look of disgust. "Keep your promises, Archon Steiner. As Hanse Davion's brood mare, you are amusing, but I have no doubt he would disregard your assurances as quickly as any he himself made. I will not sacrifice my people on an altar of hollow promises built solely on your vanity."

The Chancellor from the Capellan Confederation turned her cold eyes on Prince Magnusson. "As for you, my dear Prince, your nation and your son are of the same age. Given what I hear of his prowess in a 'Mech, I would guess they have the same life expectancy. Your nation is nothing more than a Combine prefecture given the illusion of freedom. If by now you do not realize the joke that has been played on you, more's the pity."

She raised her hand in a salute to him. "How curious it is, Prince Magnusson, that your people's hatred for mercenaries now turns to adoration for them. The citizens of Rasalhague may choose to forget events of the past because of present problems, but I do not have that luxury. Each morning I see from my window the overgrown remains of a 'Mech company that Hanse Davion destroyed in my capital. I will not be duped by him, nor talked into being duped by the rest of you. I remain unconvinced that the Fox has changed, and I knowhis old ways breed true in his children."

The scar over Magnusson's right eye stood out in stark white contrast to his florid features. "I pray, Lady Romano, that you are staring at those mouldering 'Mechs when the Clans take your capital away from you. Then you can lament not believing the Fox when he was telling the truth. There is no way out unless you choose to trust us, Romano. Otherwise you will be caught in a trap of your own making. Remember that when the trap snaps shut."

Thomas Marik rose again to speak, but Hanse barely listened. Our only chance to defeat the Clans is to band together. "Hang together or hang separately, as they used to say."He glared at Romano. All of us with out heads in the noose, and she's playing with the gallows lever. I hope to God the Clans are as divided as we are. If not, the days of the Inner Sphere are numbered, and those numbers have damned few digits.

19

Warrior Testing Center

Strana Mechty, Beyond the Periphery

21 July 3051

Phelan Wolf twisted his gunbelt around and tied the holster down to his right leg. Turning to present himself to Natasha, he tried to force a smile of confidence. "Ready as I'll ever be."

She returned the smile, but shook her head. "God above, your language has deteriorated."

"It's the company I keep."

Natasha slung her arm around his neck and guided him toward the 'Mech bay. "Look, kid, you'll do fine. I've got your 'Mech configured in a way that will do maximum damage. It's unique, like my 'Mech. I tagged your Omni with the name Lone Wolf."

Despite the big grin on Natasha's face, the younger MechWarrior felt something was wrong. He nodded grimly. "I hope that name's not an omen. I know it's not traditional, but are we working together out there?"

Natasha slapped the flat of his belly with the back of one hand. "You better believe it. The second I launch on one of your targets, it becomes a free-for-all." Her voice lost some of its jocularity and settled into a colder tone. "I need it like that because I'm going to have to ace my trio and kill one of yours to make these idiots sit up and take notice. Hope you won't mind me stealing one of your targets."

"Take them all. They're small."

Her laugh was half-hearted. "Can't do that. You'll have to take one to be put on active duty. That's the only way to get you in my unit." Serious again, she exhaled slowly. "On the other hand, only by taking four 'Mechs will I get a Cluster command. But if that's what it takes to get through the age bias, then I'll do it."

"I have no doubt that you will succeed, Colonel," Phelan said, though Natasha sounded as though she were still trying to convince herself of that fact.

"Are you so certain?"

The young man nodded confidently. "I recall your once saying that old age and treachery will beat youth and beauty every time. Sure, we'll be facing warriors younger and faster than you, but none of them will take either one of us seriously."

"Except Vlad."

"Yeah," Phelan said as his mouth soured, "except Vlad. This isn't going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, you can."

Natasha gave Phelan a sly smile. "Yes, I definitely want you in my unit."

Halfway down the row of BattleMechs in the hanger, Natasha gave Phelan a gentle shove toward his machine. "Here you go, kid. Warm it up and check all the weapons. I'll be online on Tac 29. We won't be able to communicate once the test starts, but until they give the word, we can exchange data."

"Roger."

"Phelan, remember that we have some advantages. They don't know about the configurations of our 'Mechs, but we're running assault 'Mechs that'll outmass any one of them. They're running nonstandard heavies, so we can't be sure what we're up against. The most important thing for you to remember, however, is that this is live. The testers are volunteers who are willing to risk death. That doesn't mean you go out to smoke them, but if it happens, it happens."

"I know that. With Vlad out there, though, I think they're going to be going directly after me."

Natasha shrugged. "He'll let the others soften you up first, then he'll take you. Play smart and you'll be ready for him."

"Thanks. Good luck."

"Save the luck for the other guys. Old age and treachery will do fine for me." She threw him a wink and headed off to her own 'Mech.

Phelan paused and looked up at his BattleMech as it stood there waiting for him. Six times his height, the war machine was painted black except in two spots. On the right hip, he saw the red wolf's-head crest of the Kell Hounds, the mercenary unit owned by his family. On the head was painted a mouth with sharp white fangs, war paint reminiscent of the markings on the 'Mech he'd lost when captured by the Clans almost two years ago.

Phelan made a couple of guesses from the exterior about the weaponry arrayed in the machine. The blocky shoulders were dotted with missile launch ports. The right arm ended in a blocky weapon pod with three laser muzzles poking from it like stubby fingers. The left arm ended in a muzzle, but it bore none of the telltale circuitry he would have expected on a PPC or laser, and it looked nothing like the autocannon muzzle hanging from the weapon pod underslung on the torso.