Grave Covenant

  The titanic 'Mech came crashing down hard on its right side, then flopped over backward to lay staring up at the dusky sky.

  Renny slowed his Penetrator a bit so he and Victor could crest the ridge at the same time. Victor came up on Renny's right, using the bulk of his OmniMech to shield the hole in the Penetrator's right flank and likewise using Renny's 'Mech to cover his holed left flank armor. Twin giants with backward-bending legs and forward-thrusting bodies, they looked odd and deadly—machines built for only one lethal purpose.

  A small Hankyu popped up on the left and opened fire on the Penetrator. Of the small humanoid 'Mech's six medium lasers, the ones mounted in the right and left arms dissolved armor from the Penetrator's left arm and left leg. The chest-mounted pulse lasers stippled the armor on the 'Mech's right arm and left breast. The Penetrator shed smoking scales of armor, but none of the shots got through to damage the 'Mech's working parts.

  The Penetrator's return fire devastated the Hankyu. Two pulse lasers scoured armor off each breast, while another picked away at the armor over the 'Mech's right arm. The last two produced a flight of energy darts that burned through the armor on the 'Mech's right leg and bit into the muscles and synthetic bones beneath. The Hankyu still managed to remain upright—a tribute to the pilot's skill and misplaced sense of courage.

  On Victor's right a Peregrine began to fire at him. The humanoid 'Mech had gently rounded armor, including the pods on each forearm that housed a medium pulse laser. They spat out coruscating ruby daggers that stabbed into the armor on the 'Mech's right flank and arm. The 'Mech's larger pulse laser added its verdant fire to the assault on the OmniMech's right arm, but all the attacks failed to do more than pare off armor.

  The Prince flicked the Daishi's right arm to the right almost casually and hit his trigger. The green beams skittered over the 'Mech, with two of them carving all but the last bit of armor from the Peregrine's legs. That hardly mattered because the third beam slagged most of the armor over the Peregrine's chest, then the silver ball from the Gauss rifle streaked in and blasted through the final thin veneer. It carried on and crumpled the 'Mech's internal support structure. The Peregrine folded in around the shot and flew back, crashing down through an awkward somersault that flicked broken armored sheets in every direction.

  The Penetrator and the Hankyu repeated their exchange of fire. The smaller 'Mech again hit with every shot it took. Molten armor poured in rivulets off the Penetrator's mid-chest and right arm, leaving it without protection. Two of the lasers boiled off the remaining sheets of armor on the 'Mech's left leg and began scorching the internal structures. Worse yet, the last two lasers bored into the Penetrator's right chest, destroying the last two lasers there and reducing most of the internal structures to scrap.

  Renny's shots ripped the Hankyu to pieces. While two of the pulse lasers impotently blew armor from the 'Mech's left arm and leg, the other three created a firestorm that consumed the 'Mech's right arm, leg, and all the armor over its right breast. The fury of the assault spun the small 'Mech around, smashed it into a small hummock, and left it lying in a small rain-eroded gully.

  "Renny, are you all right?"

  "Mech's in need of repair. Jammer's going to have my head, but techs were born to suffer. I'm fine, though."

  "I've got the same to report." Victor sighed and realized the sweat pouring off him came from more than the heat that had built up in his cockpit. "Keep your eyes open."

  "No need, I think, Victor."

  "What do you mean?"

  The Penetrator pointed an arm toward the horizon. "Those look like DropShips to me, and 'Mechs running toward them is what has raised that cloud of dust."

  Victor punched an order to increase the magnification on his holographic display into his computer. What Renny had reported was accurate, but Victor still couldn't believe it. "But these are Smoke Jaguars—Clanners. They don't run."

  A hint of amusement played through his friend's voice. "They didn't run, Victor, not till today."

  Victor shook his head and looked at the two smoking 'Mechs lying on either side of them. "Then these were just an Omega Star, left here to delay us enough for the others to get away?"

  "That would appear to be the case." The Penetrator's arm came up in a salute as other members of the Guards reached the top of the ridge and began to spread out in a perimeter. "You should be smiling, Victor, smiling real wide. We broke them. We won."

  * * *

  Victor looked from Precentor Martial Anastasius Focht to Phelan Kell and back again as the last of the reports relayed through ComStar scrolled up through the air in the middle of the briefing room. Many hours had passed since the battle on Mitsuhama Ridge, and they had taken over the Fourth Jaguar Regulars HQ in Tsurara City as their own. He felt cold and giddy—either of which, he knew could be the aftereffects of the day's combat and victory—but he blamed his feelings entirely on information he'd just read. "Precentor Martial, how much trust do you put into these reports?"

  Focht turned away from the table for a moment, then rubbed a hand over his mouth. "The agents reporting in have always been reliable in the past. Over half the reports are coming from ComStar units that participated in attacks, so I assume their data is as good as ours. Just like here on Schuyler, it appears the Smoke Jaguars on Schwartz, Rockland, Coudoux, and Garstedt put up only token resistance, then fled. The reports about the Smoke Jaguars leaving Idlewind and Richmond seem accurate, and the fact that they destroyed their headquarters buildings and the major industries on those worlds suggest that they mean to deny them to us. I also take that as a sign that they're not returning."

  Victor nodded slowly. "That's what it seems like to me. Phelan, what do you make of it."

  For the first time ever, Victor saw his cousin appear to be flummoxed. "This is utterly and completely without precedent in my experience. When you forced Marthe Pryde to withdraw her troops from Coventry, it was through an offer of hegira. That only applies to enemies that you have engaged and defeated. Letting the DropShips leave the system unmolested was de facto hegira. Withdrawal before a challenge or attack is, ah, is something I've never heard of."

  "Any idea why they would do it?"

  Phelan shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "I have to imagine that the Smoke Jaguars see a greater threat somewhere else. It could be that they have started fighting with the Nova Cats back on the homeworlds, or that another Clan is threatening them with Absorption. That could make the Jags pull their troops back to Huntress to regroup, retool, and come out fighting. And let there be no doubt about it: we may have hurt them and cost them some good units, but we've not destroyed everything they have or could have."

  Victor knew Phelan was right. "What you're saying is that our taskforce could arrive at Huntress and instead of finding a thinly defended world because the Jags are here attacking us, Morgan could run into everything the Jags have left."

  "That is about the size of it." Phelan frowned. "We also have to consider the possibility that the retreat is faked."

  The Precentor Martial nodded in Phelan's direction. "That's a good point. They could be pulling back to concentrate their strength on a limited number of worlds and hope to engage us there. That would let them choose their battlegrounds—and choose them to their own advantage."

  "But is that likely?" Victor got up from his chair and began to pace at the narrow end of the briefing room. "For them to use that tactic would mean they anticipated our assault and had willingly sacrificed dozens of units to lull us into a false sense of superiority. Since we were conducting warfare their way, issuing batchalls and announcing what we were bringing in, they could have retreated in the face of our assaults and accomplished the same thing without the loss of equipment or personnel. Moreover, if they were that organized I think they'd have done on more worlds what they did on Richmond and Idlewind—they'd have destroyed the industry that can give us vital supplies for continuing our campaign.

  "After all, in salvage alon
e we've been able to add three regiments of Clan 'Mechs—not counting the Jaguar Cluster you've made into your Third Wolf Legion, Phelan."

  Phelan nodded in agreement. "I had to offer the possibility, no matter how slender I think the chances are of its being true."

  "Which leaves us contemplating the unthinkable—the premature collapse of the Smoke Jaguars." Victor shook his head. "We've done in four months what we thought would take four years, and we've done it with a fraction of the projected casualties. This is, of course, wonderful, except it saddles us with another problem." The Precentor Martial looked over at him. "And that is?"

  "Staging an expedition to Huntress." Focht arched an eyebrow. "One is already on the way."

  "I know." Victor knitted his fingers together, then pointed with both hands toward the Precentor Martial. "If this is a total retreat, then all of these Jaguar troops are heading to Huntress. They'll surely get there before Morgan, which means he and his people will be slaughtered. We can't broadcast a warning to them because we won't know whether or not they get it, and the Jags might intercept it, which would just compound the difficulties."

  Victor freed his hands from one another and knotted them into fists. "We can say we're extending our operations into the Periphery to continue the action against the Jaguars. The Combine can control the distribution of information, and that will be vital because we can't afford for public information to flow into Clan channels and make it back to the Clan homeworlds before we reach Huntress."

  The Precentor Martial frowned. "You realize you're proposing to absent yourself and this force from the Inner Sphere for a minimum of a year and a half?" Victor nodded. "Do I have a choice?"

  "I think you do." The Precentor Martial opened his hands. "You have a responsibility to your people. With you gone, there's no predicting what your sister will do in your absence. Going to Huntress was never part of our plan for dealing with the Clans and to do so now will seriously upset the balance of power in the Inner Sphere."

  "But if we don't go, Morgan and the other others will die."

  "You don't know that, Victor."

  "But I have to assume it, Precentor." Focht shook his head adamantly. "Morgan Hasek-Davion is a smart man. If he comes in and sees the odds are against him, he will do the prudent thing."

  "I'd like to think that, but Morgan's also just as capable of whipping his people into a frenzy that will make them believe they can accomplish the impossible. If he were to attack anyway and die in the attempt, I'd..." Victor's hands snapped open and closed. "I don't want him to die out there, not if I can prevent it."

  The Precentor Martial's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "There are some things you can do nothing to prevent, Victor. You're heading down a dangerous path, making decisions you may have cause to regret. Do not make them lightly."

  "I'm not."

  "I think you are. I hear in your words echoes of choices I made myself, a long time ago." Focht glanced at the room's closed door, then raised his chin. "The Steiner line seems to breed two types of individual. One is a warrior without equal. You represent that aspect of the family. The other is a political operator, and that is your sister Katherine. In some the traits mix, and both were strong in your grandmother, but rare is that individual. What I am trying to tell you, Victor, is that you are making a military decision while minimizing the political consequences of it."

  "That's all well and good, Precentor. Your insight into my family is fascinating, but it isn't germane to this discussion."

  "But it is, Victor. You know the famous Santayana quote?"

  "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to fulfill it."

  "Exactly." Focht nodded solemnly. "I am that past, Victor. I cannot, the Inner Sphere cannot, afford to let you repeat the folly I committed three decades ago."

  "I don't understand."

  "No, I suppose you don't." Focht smiled carefully, then extended his hand toward Victor. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Prince Victor Steiner-Davion. I am your cousin, two generations removed. I am Frederick Steiner."

  Victor's mouth shot open as he fell back and leaned heavily against the wall. "That's—that's impossible. You died in the Draconis Combine on Dromini VI. You were a hero, even though you were sent with the Tenth Lyran Guards on a suicide mission because of your plotting treason with Aldo Lestrade. You had left the Commonwealth open to attack from the Combine. You can't be Frederick."

  "I assure you that I am, Victor, and a DNA test would prove that very quickly. The blood that links us is purely matrilineal, from our great-great grandmother down to you, so our mitochondrial DNA would be identical. You can draw the blood yourself and oversee the tests if you want to prove it."

  Victor shook his head, already too well acquainted with the accuracy of DNA evidence. It was DNA comparisons that told us that Thomas Marik is an impostor. He looked over at Phelan. "You don't seem surprised by this admission."

  The Wolf shook his head. "One of the missions I performed for the ilKhan was to crack the secret of the Precentor Martial's identity. I wish it had been as easy as drawing blood."

  "Who else knows?"

  Focht shrugged his shoulders. "Theodore Kurita, Primus Mori of ComStar, and perhaps a few others. I no longer consider who I once was to be a part of me anymore. I chose my new name because it translates roughly into 'warrior reborn,' and that is precisely how I see myself. I have used my gifts to make the Inner Sphere safe. Dabbling in politics is what brought me to where I am now—out of power, cut off from my family and my traditions. I learned to adapt to this life, Victor, but I do not think you could."

  Victor remembered thinking that he could have abandoned everything in exchange for a life of freedom with Omi, so he shook his head. "You're wrong, just like I think you're wrong about the traits we Steiners inherit."

  "Oh?"

  Phelan smiled and sat back in his chair. "This should be good."

  Victor pushed himself away from the wall and came back to standing straight and as tall as he could. "You were no more disposed to being a good warrior at birth than my sister was to being a murderous bitch. Those aren't inherited traits, they're learned behaviors. Now, learning, there's something we inherit. Your skill as a warrior, your ability to adapt to your new life in ComStar, your ability to figure out how to defeat the Clans; that's all learning, and learning is the one thing I do well.

  "One thing I've learned well is this: I cannot betray the trust of those who depend on me. And Morgan and his people will be depending on me. Katherine will have plenty to do with Thomas Marik and Sun-Tzu Liao around, so her antics be damned. We've accomplished our half of the anti-Clan operation and now we have a chance to help our friends finish their half. That's what we're going to do."

  Focht nodded. "Spoken like a warrior."

  Victor smiled slowly. "Katherine, I think, will be inclined to cause trouble if left idle. On the slim chance that Thomas and Sun-Tzu don't keep her occupied, I have set some other little things in motion that ought to give her plenty to think about. I might be out of her sight, but I certainly won't be out of mind."

  The Precentor Martial hazarded a smile. "Spoken like a Davion."

  "It has to be because the Steiner half of me needs to learn all it can in the next nine months about training a coalition force to pound a Clan into submission." Victor's eyes narrowed. "We have to organize training, supplies, repairs, shipping schedules, security, media relations ..."

  Phelan laughed lightly. "I'll let you take care of those things yourself, Victor. Just let me know when we're leaving."

  Victor glanced down at his boots, then back up into Phelan's green eyes. "You and your people can't go, Phelan."

  "What?" Phelan uncoiled himself from the chair. "I said before that we would not lead you back to Huntress or Strana Mechty, but I never said we wouldn't accompany you there."

  "I know, and I wish I could let you come with us. I can't. We can't." Victor frowned heavily. "The focus of this operation has been to show the
Clans that the Inner Sphere will kick them out. Your participation in that effort has been vital because you're part of the Inner Sphere now. The Nova Cats who have come over to the SLDF are also part of the Inner Sphere, but I won't be taking any of them either. Nor will we take Smoke Jaguar bondsmen. What we do in Clan space has to be done by Inner Sphere troops. We may fight with their equipment, but we'll fight without their breeding. It's the only way we can prove that their superiority is an illusion, and that a future plotted together is going to be better than one fashioned by conflict."

  Victor softened his voice. "There's another reason, a more important reason, I need you to remain behind. Despite what I've just said to the Precentor Martial, I know Katherine won't be able to resist the temptation to cause trouble while we're gone. With you here, using the troops we leave behind to mop up the last of the Smoke Jaguars, a force will be in place to prevent her from becoming too adventurous. I need to know there's someone Yvonne can turn to if things get out of hand. I can't think of anyone I can count on to protect her more than you."

  "Damn you, Victor Davion." Phelan slammed his fist against his open palm. "I was prepared to argue past any of your reasons to prevent me from going, then you ask me to take care of Yvonne. Dammit. You know, I think, she was my favorite among your brood."

  "Yeah, well, I always liked your sister Caitlin better, too." Victor met Phelan's stern stare, then the both of them began to laugh. "You're the anchor here, Phelan. Keep the peace until we return."

  "Just make sure you return quickly, Victor." Phelan waggled a finger at the Prince and the Precentor Martial. "If the two of you decide to head off like Kerensky and never come back, you won't get away with it. I'll hunt you down and drag you back to this asylum so you can deal with the inmates you're leaving behind."

  Epilogue

  Royal Palace, The Triad

  Tharkad City, Tharkad

  District of Donegal, Draconis Combine

  1 September 3059