Jeana nodded and swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. "My mother said he organized a raid that got you off Poulsbo."

The Archon nodded solemnly. "Your father and his comrades in the Bangor cells of Heimdall provided us with clothing and disguises. They raided the military side of the Bangor spaceport so that we could slip into the civilian sector and steal a small shuttle. We succeeded and managed to escape. I later learned that the craft was stolen from a Heimdall sympathizer who covered our escape."

Jeana nodded. "Loki ops shot my father after he blew the radar tower."

The Archon's lower lip trembled. "I know. Arthur had a radio link with your father. He blew the tower so that we could escape. The last thing your father said to us was, 'You're free. Return the favor to the Commonwealth.' "

The Archon stood and turned away. "I tried to find out your father's identity, to reward him and the others, but I could never crack Heimdall's security. I don't even think ComStar knows what Heimdall is." Her lips pressed into a thin, grim line, Katrina turned back to Jeana. "I was able to tighten the reins on the LIC, and the Loki no longer runs rampant." The Archon nodded at the folder. "Had I known, I never would have allowed Loki agents to be the ones to bring you here."

The Archon clasped her hands behind her back. "In view of your family's sacrifices, though, I cannot allow you this duty. To release you is the least I can do to honor the memory of your father."

Jeana shot to her feet. "No, Archon! You cannot deny me the chance to serve you. You have rewarded me and the people of Heimdall many times over." Jeana balked, but knew that Katrina deserved to know all of it.

She bowed her head and completed her confession. "Your husband was a member of Heimdall. He had been a member for years, and though neither he nor my father recognized one another, the Duke of Donegal trusted my father. Later, in the five years left to him, your husband saw to it that the families and cell-members of Poulsbo were well-cared for."

Jeana pointed to the folder from which the Archon had been reading. "Your husband engineered the restructuring of my history files, and he secretly endowed many of us with monies or other bequests. I went to Slangmore on a scholarship that he arranged, and I'm sure he assisted the children of the others who helped you, too. As I said before, everything I have and everything I am is because of you."

The Archon started to speak, but Jeana would not be interrupted. "My father died because he believed in what you would do for the Commonwealth as Archon. You said you'd spare me this difficult duty out of honor for my father's memory. But to accept the mission would allow me the greatest tribute I could pay to that memory. The reason I became a MechWarrior was to continue what he believed in. Though it meant losing her daughter, my mother never flinched from the same mission."

Jeana opened her hands. "Now I have nothing and no one but you and the Commonwealth. What could you ask for me that I would not willingly agree to carry out?"

The Archon's head came up and she impaled Jeana with a harsh stare. "What I ask of you is a total sublimation of yourself. Jeana Clay will, in fact, cease to exist. You will undergo a minor amount of reconstructive surgery. You will spend the next six months in an intensive learning environment where everything you are will be broken down and discarded. You will learn to do everything differently, and you will receive neither medals nor applause for your efforts. In fact, the mark of your success will be total anonymity."

The Archon pointed to the folder that contained most of the details of Jeana Clay's existence. "If you accept this mission, you will be forgotten forever."

In reply, Jeana simply pulled herself to attention.

The Archon nodded slowly. "Johnson was correct. You are an excellent candidate." She stood up and drew Jeana to her feet as well. Looking the girl directly in the eyes, Katrina Steiner said, "Jeana Clay, will you accept the role of my daughter's double for now and all time?"

* * *

Albert Tompkins watched the members of the 24th Lyran Guards walk away from the gravesite and into the mist. The old man brushed tears off his cheeks, then placed a white rose on the loosely packed earth. "Rest well, Jeana Clay. Though your life was cut short, you made all Heimdall proud."

12

New Avalon

Crucis March, Federated Suns

20 January 3027

Count Anton Vitios narrowed his brown eyes and nodded to the military tribunal. He turned so that the holovid camera in the courtroom's corner would catch him at his best. "The prosecution calls Leftenant Andrew Redburn to the stand."

Redburn wiped his moist palms against his trousers as he stood up, then shuffled through the crowded aisle where he'd been seated, whispering apologies as he went. Once clear of the packed gallery, Redburn straightened his dress uniform jacket, took a deep breath, and walked toward the bailiff, who held a low wooden gate open for him.

Though Redburn was holding himself ramrod-straight outwardly, his guts had turned to icy slush. He took his place at the mahogany witness stand while a court clerk held out a leather-bound copy of The Unfinished Book."In the name of the freedom-loving people of the Federated Suns, this court calls you to a pledge of truth," the clerk intoned. Redburn raised his right hand and placed his left firmly on the book's brown cover. "In the name of duty, faith, and honor, I pledge this sacred oath," Redburn declared, feeling the solemnity of the time-honored phrases. He licked his lips. "So help me God."

Vitios stood at the prosecution bench and conferred with the aide who had interviewed Redburn. Seated at an identical oaken table across the aisle were Major Justin Allard and his lawyer.

Redburn shivered. Justin stares straight ahead,he thought. It's almost as though he's not even in the room.The sight of the black leather glove on Justin's left hand gave Redburn a start, but fascinated him so much that he missed Vitios's first question.

"I asked you to state your full name and rank." The irritation in the prosecutor's voice had characterized his whole performance in the courtroom, and Redburn suddenly dreaded what he had hoped would be his chance to help his friend.

"I am Leftenant Andrew Bruce Redburn." Redburn allowed himself to linger over the "r's" in his name. Though he'd struggled mightily to suppress his accent during his cadet days at the Warriors Hall on New Syrtis, he summoned it now in the defiant spirit of his Scottish ancestors, whose motto was "Die fighting!"Redburn gripped the railing of the witness stand and met the prosecutor's black stare.

Vitios pointed to a folder. "I have studied your deposition, Leftenant, and it has been entered into the official record." The man's face suddenly reminded Redburn of a hungry raptor stooping toward its helpless prey. "How did Major Allard come to be with your unit on that training exercise?"

"I requested his participation."

Vitios nodded. "Did you not request his participation several times before he agreed to attend the exercise?" Redburn swallowed. "Yes, sir.”

“How many times?"

Redburn narrowed his eyes and decided to go on the offensive. "Four times, in writing. Perhaps the Count does not understand that the Major was busy."