Hanse nodded solemnly. "It is. If he falls, the Federated Suns falls with him."

33

New Avalon

Cruris March, Federated Suns

6 August 3029

Hanse Davion accepted Morgan Hasek-Davion's proffered hand gladly. He met and matched his nephew's firm grip and pumped his arm strongly. He sensed in Morgan the ability and strength to crush his hand, but felt no concern. From what Kym just said, Morgan would strike off the offending limb before harming me.

Hanse waved Morgan to a chair. "Please, Morgan, be seated. I must speak with you about something urgent."

Morgan sat down, his long red-gold hair falling over the shoulders of his olive-drab jumpsuit. The fabric pulled taut over his massive chest, revealing the outline of a cooling vest underneath. He did not relax, but sat forward on the edge of the chair, following Hanse's pacing with restless green eyes.

Feet shoulder-width apart, Hanse clasped his hands at the small of his back, then turned to face Morgan. "I have a confession to make to you. Sixteen years ago, my brother Ian died in a war with House Kurita. Perhaps he was foolish to place himself in such jeopardy, but that was his right as the Prince of the Federated Suns. Right or wrong, his action left him vulnerable, and when he died, it placed me on the throne ..."

Morgan shook his head almost imperceptibly. "You don't have to do this, Hanse."

Yes I do, Morgan. As much for me as for you.As Hanse forced himself to smile, Morgan settled back in his chair. Hanse glanced at Quintus and bade him sit as well.

"Before that, I had never given much thought to ruling the Federated Suns because I was not raised for that job. I studied to be a military man, and I discovered, soon enough, that tactics and strategy mean little in the political arena. My brother's last heartbeat moved me from the world of battles waged in the open to a realm where you often don't see the attack until it's too late."

The Prince smiled at his nephew. "I never much liked your father, but I respected the hell out of his ability to create alliances and form power coalitions. When he and I struggled over who would actually sit on Ian's throne, I think my lack of guile threw him off. He spent so much time and energy looking for my hidden attacks that he let my frontal assaults weaken him. The only political lesson I had ever learned was that you can't fight a dead man, so I used the image of my brother's trust in me to keep a Davion on the throne.

"Over the years, I've learned more about politics, and the paranoia that made your father vulnerable began to infect me, too. I looked at you and took all the myriad signs of your loyalty and friendship for a facade hiding a possible plot for my downfall. I should have realized sooner, much sooner, that in you I was seeing the image of myself before Ian's death. I'm sorry it took so long for me to see."

Morgan looked down at his hands. "All I've ever wanted was to be a friend you could trust."

Hanse swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I know. For the record, I realize now that it wasn't my fear of your following in your father's footsteps that prevented me from giving you a combat assignment in this war. Nor was I afraid of what might happen were you captured or killed by Liao forces." He looked into Morgan's eyes. "The truth is, I couldn't bear the idea of losing such a close friend."

Morgan frowned. "How can you call me that when you said you were afraid of my disloyalty."

Quintus laid his hand on Morgan's shoulder. "Being afraid of fire doesn't mean you never strike a match. You just don't strike one in a place where the fire can get out of control. Hanse knew, deep down, that you could be trusted. He just had to be sure others could not twist you and use you against him."

Hanse nodded in agreement. "Now, however, a situation has come up that requires handling by a tactical genius. It is of vital importance. I will not repeat Ian's mistake. Besides, I'm not certain my skill could bring us a victory. You're the only one I can trust with it."

Morgan nodded once. "Give me a bucket of water and I'll storm the gates of Hell for you."

Hanse smiled uneasily. "Would that this mission were so easy." He plucked a folder from his desk and handed it to Morgan. As the younger man scanned the material, Hanse continued speaking.

"Liao has a minimum of one elite battalion—most probably his Death Commandos—heading in to Kathil. We believe they're going to destroy the generating facilities on the ground. On the planet, we have a very green militia unit. The only other forces I can give you are a reinforced 'Mech company and the tailings from the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers. We've nothing else in range that can get there in time."

Morgan looked up anxiously. "If they cripple Kathil, we'll have no way to repair JumpShips, nor will we be able to build new ones to replace those that can't be fixed. Our troops will have to pull back, our supply routes become more chancy, and our reaction time to enemy raids goes to hell."

Hanse sat back on the edge of his desk. "Now you know why you've got to stop the assault. The Death Commandoes are suicide troops. They'll keep coming until you blow them to pieces. They might have some help—in which case, things are going to get really nasty."

Morgan snapped the folder shut. He stood and saluted Hanse Davion. "I'll stop them. If it takes every man and every 'Mech I have, I'll stop them."

Hanse returned the salute. "You'll have to do better than that."

Morgan frowned in confusion. "Pardon?"

"We learned of this attack because of a risky move by an agent inside the Maskirovka." Hanse looked his nephew straight in the eye. "After the defense of Kathil, whatever you have left in the way of men and machines must go to Sian to bring him back home."

34

Tharkad

District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth

10 August 3029

Katrina Steiner stood before her throne as Frederick Steiner entered the hall. The tap of his heels against the polished marble floor sounded a rhythmic tattoo, faltering only when Frederick noticed Ryan Steiner standing in the throne's shadow. The Archon saw Frederick's valiant struggle to keep the surprise from his face, and she savored it. Yes, you idiot. You are undone.

Frederick, resplendent in the gray uniform of the Tenth Lyran Guards, came to a halt at the base of the throne. He clicked his heels and bowed to the Archon, but she did not offer him her hand. He straightened up stiffly. "You have summoned me, Archon?"

The Archon looked down at him. "So I have."

Frederick squirmed uneasily beneath her cold stare. His right hand almost rose to massage the scar at his temple, but he caught himself. "What is it, Katrina?" Frederick transmuted some of his fear into irritation. "There's a war on out there, and it's time for my troops to rotate back to the front. What do you want?"

The Archon smiled cruelly as she seated herself on the tall throne. Above and behind her, the two Griffin BattleMechs belonging to her Household Guard seemed to stare down at Frederick like executioners. "What do I want, Frederick?" She leaned forward. "If I had my way, I'd have your head on a platter!"

Frederick drew back a step. "What are you talking about?"

Katrina waved his question aside. "You moron! It's bad enough that you plot little treasons with Aldo Lestrade, but now you actively join him in this latest of his plots! Until now, I'd always assumed the attempts on my life were the work of Lestrade, and Lestrade alone." She turned to Ryan. "Now he brings me a holodisk you sent to Alessandro demanding his support in the situation resulting from my downfall. How could you have been so blatantly stupid?"