Davion's ice blue eyes flared. "Don't push me, Major. I'm being generous with you. Do not presume, however, that I owe you even as much as the life I offer you."

For a half-second, Justin's eyes closed, then they jerked open. The pain of a lifetime showed in them and seemed to flood through the room. Justin smashed his black-gloved hand into the witness box railing, shattering it.

"What you offer me is as much a life as this is a hand! You flatter yourself to imagine I might be grateful." Justin stared at Hanse Davion, fury making his eyes shine with a malevolent light. "What is it, then, Prince Davion? Do you want to keep me as you do Ardan Sortek? Is not one captive MechWarrior enough?" Justin spat on the floor. "The life you offer me is as shallow as House Davion's conception of justice!" His anger spent, Justin cradled his lifeless arm against his chest and trembled.

Immobile as a statue, Hanse Davion stood within the silence that settled heavily over the room. Finally, he nodded slightly, the motion growing as he gathered his thoughts. "Very well, Justin Allard. I will give you what you most desire."

The Prince turned on his heel and stared up at Courtney. "Sentence him as you will. It makes no difference. I will strip him of his rank and commute any sentence to a lifetime in exile." The Prince turned again, this time picking out Quintus Allard among the crowd. "You, Quintus Allard, no longer have a son named Justin. He no longer exists, and no one will ever speak his name to me again."

Finally, Hanse Davion set his malachite gaze on Justin Allard himself. "I give you back your Capellan name, traitor. Justin Xiang, there is no place for you in the Federated Suns. You will be taken to any world willing to accept you, as long as it is beyond the borders of the Federated Suns." Hanse's head dropped for a moment, then came back up. "And if you wish to learn the true depth of justice in the Federated Suns, return here and we will drown you in it!"

* * *

Ardan Sortek and Andrew Redburn stood in the control tower, watching while the DropShip Sigmund Rosenblumaccepted its final passenger. As Justin Xiang passed up the ramp and into the ship's dark interior, Redburn turned from the window. "I'm sure, Colonel Sortek, that Justin—I mean Major Allard—did not mean what he said in court."

Ardan Sortek smiled knowingly and rested a hand on Redburn's shoulder. "No need for you to apologize, Leftenant. There was a time when I, too, believed that I was wasting away here on New Avalon. I went back into the field, but after a harrowing adventure or two, I realized that a man at peace with himself can be useful anywhere." He looked out as the DropShip's engines ignited and the egg-shaped ship slowly shuddered skyward. "Your friend has a lot of pain in him, and he'll not be satisfied until he can deal with that. I take no offense at anything he said while so sorely troubled."

Redburn nodded. "It's a waste of a damn good MechWarrior."

Sortek shrugged. "On Solaris VII, he'll be with plenty of his own kind." Sortek's next words caused Redburn to smile. "And while he's trying to sate that anger, I imagine he'll be hell on wheels there on the Game World."

"But I know he's innocent, Colonel Sortek, and when I return to Kittery, I'll get the evidence to prove it. His Valwas empty of LRMs after the battle. No UrbanMechcould have survived that barrage. It had to have been a Rifleman"

The smile drained from Sortek's face. "I suppose they've not told you about your new assignment, have they?"

Redburn froze. "I was told that I'd ship back to Kittery and resume command of the training battalion."

Sortek shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and shook his head. "Eventually you'll get there, Leftenant. But first, you and I will be shipping out to the Lyran Commonwealth. I've got inspections and official functions to attend. Now that you're a hero, we'll give a lot of influential people a chance to have their holographs taken with you."

Redburn frowned with puzzlement. "Isn't there someone else, say, from Redfield or from Galtor, who could go?"

Sortek shrugged and led the other man to the elevator. "Nothing more stale than yesterday's heroes. Besides, some people want to know how this training battalion idea is working out. Lots of resistance in House Steiner to MechWarriors trained in anything other than the Academies. Your men, and their performance against the Liao ambush, are hot right now."

Redburn nodded, but barely heard the words. Good luck, Justin. I know that deep in your heart you’re one of us. Somehow, I'll find a way to prove it.

15

Echo V

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

1 January 3027

Jiro Ishiyama bowed deeply out of respect for the wrinkled old monk who had led him through the twisting tunnels of the Zen monastery. Above them, on Echo V's barren, wind-scarred tundra, icy cyclones shrieked as they scourged the planet. Ishiyama fought the shiver provoked by the planet's chill, and respected the old monk even more because of his indifference to the cold.

Indeed, Ishiyama was swathed in the warm folds of a heavy coat, while the monk wore a simple black robe. Though the air was cold enough to show both men's breath, the monk wore only sandals, and had neither gloves to protect his hands nor a hood to protect his shaved pate. In the monk's eyes, however, Ishiyama saw no superiority or disdain for this visitor from far Luthien. Instead, Ishiyama read pity for the man who does not know himself well enough to exist as one with the cold.

The monk looked beyond Jiro Ishiyama and wordlessly directed the two initiates bearing the visitor's lacquered trunks to pass around them. The initiates, bowing only their heads because of the burdens on their backs, passed through the garden to the small hut reserved for the cha-no-yu,the tea ceremony. The two initiates vanished into the hut for a moment, then returned to bow deeply to the monk and his visitor before disappearing into the dark tunnels of the monastery complex.

The monk inclined his head and half-smiled. "Sumimasen,Ishiyama Jiro-sama," he began slowly. "Excuse me if I speak slowly because we use words sparingly here."

Ishiyama bowed. "I am honored by the words you grant me." He looked out over the rock and bonsai garden that filled the underground cavern. The pale white gravel had been raked in long, undulating waves that truly made one feel that he were viewing a frozen ocean. Larger rocks, from the gray of granite to the glassy black-purple of obsidian, thrust up through the stone surf like defiant islands. Nestled in the naturally carven niches, bonsai trees pushed up as though part of the rock, while carefully nurtured mosses clung to the rock, adding the proper verdant touches.

The tea house stood in the center of the garden, and though of obvious human construction, it seemed to be an organic part of the garden. Styled after a pagoda, complete with wood lattice, rice-paper screen walls, and a red-tiled roof, the well-worn granite used to construct the tea house made it look as though the structure were even older than the garden itself. From beneath the tip of the tea house's peaked roof, gray smoke drifted almost imperceptibly.

Ishiyama breathed in and smiled at the familiar, pleasing aroma of burning cedar. Again, he bowed to the monk. "All is perfect. Your faithfulness honors the Dragon." The monk, obviously pleased, bowed his head. Both men knew that, as perfect as the garden might seem, Ishiyama would alter it in some subtle way to make it yet more perfect, and to bind it into the cha-no-yuthat he had travelled more than two hundred light years to perform.