One man with courage makes a majority.

-Andrew Jackson

 

Majority ain’t always right.

-Frank Meronac

 

Samantha, Taurus,

Taurian Concordat, Periphery,

28^th August 3068

 

“You will not do anything that might anger Ian Calderon.” Word of Blake Precentor Roger Mills said tiredly for the umpteenth time as he stared at Protector Grover Shraplen sitting behind his desk, trying to impress onto the other man the necessity of patience.

“How can I not?” Grover shot back. “You saw what happened, is happening to the Draconis Combine! Civil war! Insurrection! I will not let it happen here in the Concordat! And Ian Calderon will be dealt with!” He pounded one fist on his desk for emphasis.

“And it won’t happen, not if you just leave him alone!” Roger’s own patience was fraying, and he knew he was close to just drawing his own pistol from its holster and shooting that idiot through the head.

Things had been fine until news had arrived a few days ago over the HPG net of the civil war exploding in the Draconis Combine. Luthien was under heavy attack, while at least 4 prefecture capitals were likewise embroiled in conflict, with the rebels grabbing a slight edge by dint of good preparation and the surprise factor.

Roger knew the Word of Blake had been involved in there somewhere, but only on the most general of terms. The specifics were on a need to know basis for the top ranked officers of the Council, and he was not one of them.

Grover had almost ordered the immediate arrest of Janice and Ian Calderon on New Vandenburg when he got the news. His orders had reached the local HPG station under the control of the Word of Blake, and Roger had pulled rank to halt its transmission until he had hashed out the issue with Grover.

Grover was saying, “And how would you know that he won’t be plotting treason with Brenda Calderon? That woman has 1^st Corps under her thumbs, for God’s sake!”

“Blake’s sake.” Roger corrected coldly. “And since she has 1^st Corps on or near New Vandenburg, all the more reason to hold back and not provoke them. You want to start a civil war with the enemy in their very stronghold?”

For all his words, Roger was not certain if Ian was indeed planning rebellion. Ian had said he was not, and Roger was inclined to believe him. But one can never tell, not in these unsettled age. Ian might very well change his tune once he had a closer feel of the Taurian people’s sentiment.

And by invoking the words ‘civil war’, Roger was trying to warn Grover off. Nobody wanted one, not after witnessing at first hand the devastation just coreward of the Concordat. Unfortunately, Grover seemed intent on believing that civil war was imminent anyway.

“And what of the Davion agents on New Vandenburg?” Grover persisted.

Roger shook his head exasperatedly. “Those are not Davion agents! They are just free traders negotiating with Milton Hawkings for raw materials and goods to import into the Federated Suns.” At least, that was what his ROM analysts had told him, and they had no reason to lie, not when the situation was in danger of spiraling out of control if they gave him wrong intel.

“Milton Hawkings.” Grover hissed. “Another traitor.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to.” Grover stared at him. “His actions since his father died were all directed towards undermining my authority.”

Roger sighed. “If he had really wanted to do that, he could have very well taken the blueprints and production lines for the new Troll class battle armor and produced them under private license for 1^st Corps and 6^th Corps, since it was his company that designed them in the first place. Why would he allow their distribution to the entire Taurian Defense Force at all?”

“It’s all part of his plan to make me feel secure. He cannot be trusted.”

“Let’s get back to Ian.” No point arguing with Grover about the actions of Hawkings right now. “He’s on New Vandenburg simply to see for himself what Hawkings Consortium can do. Stop seeing shadows in every corner.”

“And if he’s planning rebellion?”

“If he is, there’s nothing you can do about it right now.” Roger stated flatly. “Wait and see, for a time when you might better halt this nonsense without pissing off too many people.”

“Why are you helping him, shielding him at every turn?” Grover remarked suspiciously, his eyes scanning Roger carefully. “I thought your order wished me to lead the Taurian people to security and peace. Why are you going against that?”

“I am not. I’m trying to help you preserve your rule, and by extension, helping the Taurian Concordat. The Word of Blake wishes for it to be a strong nation, so that we can grow together in peace.” Roger was beginning to regret his Order’s role in helping Shraplen ascend to the Protectorship, courtesy of a ‘stray’ shot. Couldn’t they have found someone more… stable?

“Preserving my rule? Hah! Then get your ROM to remove Calderon and get this over with just like with Richard.”

“No. You overestimate their abilities.” Roger seethed, his face dark. ROM was good, but so was Ian Calderon and that Benny Greaves. It was too risky. Any more loss of important personages after the jumpship accident of Richard Calderon and Lorelei Centrella would be too fresh in the minds of the Taurians, making Ian a convenient martyr. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Never mind if it was an accident or not.

Roger continued angrily, “More importantly, I am not at your beck and call. You are at mine. Do not, do not ever, tell a member of the Word of Blake what they can or cannot do!” He threw down his final trump card. “We can replace you easily, and hand the Taurian Concordat to somebody else more amenable to the welfare of its people.” And to us, he added in his mind, though he suspected Ian wouldn’t fit the bill. “Would you like us to reveal to the people how you were complicit in buttering up Sherman Maltin and encouraged his ambitions?”

ROM knew very well what Grover had done, had plotted, to remove or convince Jeffrey Calderon so that the Concordat would stop dealing with the hated Davions. What Grover did not know was that ROM had an even greater say in convincing Sherman, and that they had killed Jeffrey to pave the way for his ascension. Which suited Roger just fine. The Word of Blake’s image had to remain clean, untainted. They could handily place all the blame on Grover if he ever fouled up. A convenient blackmail.

Grover paled. “You wouldn’t…”

“You can lie to your people. You can lie to your daughter. You can even lie to yourself. But you. Cannot. Lie. To. Us.” Roger drew out his final sentence slowly, punctuating each word. He took satisfaction from the way Grover blanched.

He started to walk for the door, not bothering to face Grover any more. “Do not take any action against Ian Calderon. If you wish to preserve your rule, then sit tight. Until the rebels make their first move, you are not to do anything.” He opened the door, and walked out

Roger Mills walked down the corridor leading from the Protector’s office, not looking back even once. He wondered to himself, Ian Calderon, what are you thinking of now?

 

Liberation, New Vandenburg,

Taurian Concordat, Periphery

 

Ian Calderon tried not to look too impressed as he looked at the rows of assembly lines manufacturing component after component for various mech class weapons, as well as for the new Taurian Troll class battlearmor, designed by a Hawkings Consortium team headed by an engineer by the name of Mike Miller.

They were being led on a tour of Hawkings Consortium’s spanking new factory complex near New Vandenburg’s capital city Liberation. A beaming Milton Hawkings had introduced them to Miller, who proceeded to show them around the place.

Even halfway through the tour, Ian already had no doubt they would be able to accomplish miracles with the Einstein facilities. The speed and efficiency with which the workers assembled the various weapons and machines was simply breathtaking.

“By having a sectionalized molding process, we could establish assembly line techniques for the rapid production of components for both mechs and vehicles. There is no reason to use hand craft methods to build each suit of battle armor or battlemech when their components could be built separately and assembled on site, with each worker specializing in a particular task. This also allows us to push down the cost for each machine to just about 60% of the price using previous techniques.”

That was something Ian had never quite figured out. Why did every other mech production line use what was akin to hand craft methods to build mechs, which slowed down their production speed? And he decided to ask.

“So why didn’t the other companies do it the same way?”

Mike snorted derisively. “The old excuse of instability on moving racks got old when we had cranes capable of holding and moving 300 tons of material. It was a holdover from the time when the production of battlemechs and their components were big secrets. The usual techniques were slow, sure, but they also relied heavily on a few supervisors who had to know everything. That meant less people to kill or shut up if they should ever defect to some other firm, and less chance of a defection because the important techs would know about the possible punishment. Then I think it was bureaucratic weight and red tape that made it sort of a tradition. No sense in it nowadays though.”

“For a production line methods like ours, there’s no way we’re gonna keep our component blueprints a secret, because even the lowest assembler knows a lot of what he’s doing, and knows it well. Grab enough of our people, and they’ll learn enough. Hell, getting a whole mech might be a bit tough, but at least they’ll know the basics a lot easier.”

“And you’re not worried?” This question was directed at Milton.

Hawkings grinned slightly. “No. It’s quite simple. We’re out-producing everybody else. To compete with us, they’ll have to abandon their old ways of doing things, which is going to be rather difficult considering the profits they’re making by limiting the number of mechs on the market. This is something Mike didn’t mention. The demand for mechs is such that the houses didn’t really care how expensive mechs were; they’d pay through the nose for them anyway. So the companies were free to jack up prices by limiting the supply, just like with any other luxury good. Basic 101 economics.”

“Why didn’t the House governments force them to produce more?”

“Many of the industrialists were nobles themselves. With the clout they had, the House governments had no chance. I know, it seems like cutting off your nose to spite your own face, but there’ve been cases where they did go on accelerated production in times of crisis, like during the clan invasion. But once the crisis was over, they reverted back to type.”

Ian nodded, accepting Hawkings’ explanation. “You’re earning less with your method. For somebody who seems obsessed with the bottom line, I find it rather out of character.”

“Consider it a civic duty.” Hawkings’ grin grew wider. Ian was slowly coming to the realization that Milton Hawkings was first and foremost a Taurian at heart. “Most of the new production line battlesuits are being routed to the Taurian Guard and 1^st Corps. In addition, the first run of Concrete Rats have been sent to the Taurian Guard. The Concordat will be well prepared should another incident like the Fighting Urukhai one occur again. And the incidences on New Avalon and Luthien have shown us the usefulness of machines geared specially towards close quarters combat.”

Ian nodded in agreement, as his small party consisting of Daniela Mattlov and Benny Greaves walked past several half finished Concrete Rats on a moving platform, supported by huge appendages to hold them in place, obviously in various states of completion, factory workers swarming over them like Lilliputians over various metal Gullivers. On one mech, the myomer bundles on the arms were still visible through the half finished armor carapace, and Ian’s practiced eye could see that the mech was close to being finished.

The mention of Luthien and New Avalon worried him, but a HPG message from Frank had assured him, though the blackout from Luthien since the HPG station there had fallen did not. Even more surprising was that Frank was awarded the Silver Sunburst for his actions during the battle. A full report of events was still on its way, but at least Ian knew his friend was safe.

Ian turned his thoughts back to the visit. The factory could crank out two new mechs every day. Ian, who had once managed to visit the Victor facility on Styk in the Chaos March, which produced at a rate of only 12 mechs per month, had been astounded. His mind toted up the numbers from the Hawkings facility. 6 regiments per year! He wondered if he should be glad the mech production line had started working barely a few days before he arrived, after two jumps from Taurus on an hand-off jumpship express arranged by Milton.

“So, what do you think, Commander Calderon?” Hawkings asked as he led them into an office. Miller left them, probably to get back to his real work.

“Very impressive.” Ian admitted easily. “Your production techniques and economic know how would be a massive asset in the event of a joint venture with my mercenary unit. There’s still the fine print to go over, but I would say right now that you have what my unit needs, and I don’t have to look any further.”

Hawkings smiled. “So you agree to this joint venture?”

“It’s a deal,” Ian walked up and offered his hand to Hawkings, who shook it firmly. “My lawyer from Outreach will be on his way here, and he should be here about 4 months later. Meanwhile, I may roam around the Concordat for a while. We’ll finalize the deal and hammer out the details when he gets here.”

“I think,” Hawkings said hesitantly, before plunging on, “that you should pay Brenda Calderon a visit at her estates.”

Not this again! Ian groaned inwardly. “And risk setting off Grover Shraplen? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I don’t want trouble. Just let me finish my business, and I’m off, dammit.

Hawkings seemed to have dug his heels in. “In fact, your sister Lady Janice is staying there for the moment. I’m sure she’ll enjoy your company.”

“I don’t see why not.” Benny added, rather unhelpfully. Ian shot Benny an angry glare, but the short mechwarrior simply ignored him.

“Ian, why should you be so concerned with what this Grover thinks?” Daniela asked seriously. “You have a clear conscience; what others think is their problem.”

Ian stared at her for some long moments, noting the concern for him on her beautiful face. She has no idea of the politics of illusion and reality in the Inner Sphere. All too often, illusion would become reality, and that was what Ian was most afraid of. Because if I feed into the illusion, it might very well become real.

He sighed in exasperation. “Okay, a visit to her estate wouldn’t hurt.” Much, I hope. “Benny, make the call.”

As Benny flipped out a mobile phone to call Janice Calderon’s security people so that they could arrange for the retired Marshal’s own household retinue, Ian was shown on a wall display the specifications for the various machines Hawkings was producing. First up was the Troll.

The Troll class battlearmor was designed specifically for the Taurians’ need to bolster their space defenses. Somehow, Hawkings’ engineers had managed to create an analog of the Harjel substance used by the clans, and incorporated it into the battlearmor.

The result was a surprisingly tough battle armor design well suited for the rigors of space combat, while packing a sizable punch with its laser and various mounted weapons. The presence of a cutting torch on one arm was a mystery at first, but Ian quickly recalled cases of boarding assaults being halted by security bulkheads and even being trapped by crafty defenders. The cutting torch would be invaluable for these operations, and also for hasty repairs on space vessels.

“Impressive, quiaff?” Daniela commented as she looked over the Troll with an experienced eye. “I have heard of similar efforts made by the Snow Ravens to develop similar suits for use in space. Doubtless those will be far superior to this.”

“That’s clan technology for you,” said Ian amicably. Even in the Taurian Concordat, after a few months with them dirty Spheroids, she still couldn’t let go of her own clan prejudices. Not that he expected her to do that quickly. The simple fact that she hadn’t denounced the Troll outright as ‘shoddy workmanship’ was already a positive sign of the changes she was accepting in her life. Ian knew he couldn’t have done half as well if their roles had been reversed.

He added, “And all the more impressive because this is coming from the Periphery, right?”

“I do not like to admit this, but I am surprised by the state of affairs here. I had thought of…” Her voice trailed off, apparently unwilling to continue.

“Barbarians in chainmail wielding swords?” Ian finished for her, grinning. “I’d like to see them myself!”

She scowled at him for a moment, before it turned into a rueful smile. “It seems your people have done a lot with very little since the fall of the Star League.”

“Yeah, but we’ve still a long way to go.” Ian noted Milton typing quickly into a computer console, while Benny observed the features of the new Concrete Rat with interest.

“That is new.” Daniela commented.

Ian was puzzled, “What is new?”

“You used the word ‘we’. Does that mean you already view yourself as one with the Taurian Concordat?” She looked at him appraisingly.

Ian wanted to kick himself for that Freudian slip. He could not quite figure out if it came from his subconscious, or if he was only fooling himself when he kept insisting that he had no designs on the Protectorship.

I don’t, so deal! If there was any way he could have eliminated that tiny sliver of doubt on his current decision to stay out of the Taurian Concordat’s problems, he would have done so.

He turned to Daniela, grimacing. “No, I don’t think so. Just used to thinking of myself being a Taurian, I guess, even after so long. Bad habit. I intend to change that.” He smiled weakly.

Daniela did not seem too convinced, folding her arms across her chest, while arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Really? I think you are just trying to lie to yourself.”

“I don’t know,” muttered Ian, keeping his voice low to prevent Hawkings from hearing him. “It’ll be best for everybody if I wasn’t.”

 

To Benedict Greaves, Marquess Brenda Calderon’s estate was a typical setup for a retired military officer granted a noble title. A quasi-military fort guarded the front entrance to her holdings, while several bunkers tucked away in certain strategic corners indicated heavy defensive weapons mounts.

The guards at the entrance fort were crisp and professional, while the weapons they bore were clearly well taken care of. All in all, it seemed like Brenda Calderon took her security very seriously. Benny had imagined mechs to appear from under the ground for even the slightest identification discrepancy.

After a short check, they were waved through, the vehicle passing under the arches of the fort, past the gates. As usual, Benny drove the hovercar, while Ian and Daniela sat in the back. Benny observed that Ian’s face was expressionless, as though he did not want anybody to know what was on his mind.

Benny was clearer than most of what Ian was grappling with. But he personally did not quite understand what all the fuss was about. The Taurian people wanted Grover out. That was evident from the many stinging opinion editorials flooding the media over the past few weeks. Strangely enough, most of those articles were calling for Brenda Calderon or even Cham Kithrong to be Protector, with Kithrong being regent for Erik Calderon if his ward really was Jeffrey’s son.

There was no mention at all of Ian.

Benny wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. It seemed like they were operating in stealth mode since the incident at the Protector’s mansion. There were a few possible reasons, and Benny knew all their names. Grover Shraplen, the Wobblie Precentor, and Milton Hawkings himself. Janice Calderon had also been circumspect when asking around the noble families that comprised the elite of Taurian society. And if Ian was being kept from the eyes of the public, there had to be some sort of plan Janice and Hawkings were cooking up. Obviously, Grover also had every reason to keep Ian away from the media.

As he turned the hovercar around a corner, Benny thought about the many twists and turns he had endured to even find the lost Calderon. Slogging through the morass of the Chaos March in battle after treacherous battle with Rasouf’s Rangers, and then stepping into the most vicious campaign he had ever witnessed on Einstein.

And his instincts as a warrior told him more battles, possibly even worse than what he had seen so far, laid ahead.

Since he had sworn his allegiance to the MIB when Ian had insisted on it, by extension he was also loyal to Ian. And if it had been his place to do so, he would have told Ian outright to challenge for the Protectorship, and to hell with everything else. The odds would never be better, but Ian seemed adamant that a civil war be avoided at all costs.

Despite all official claims to the contrary, Benny had seen enough of the Fed Com Civil War to know this sort of outcome wasn’t possible any more. He guessed Ian knew it as well, but simply refused to accept the reality.

It was just too bad. Perhaps Brenda Calderon as a retired officer with firsthand experience of Grover’s missteps could convince him. She was a far removed cousin of the ruling line, but that did not stop many Taurians from touting her as a possible replacement for Grover.

The GPS display next to his steering wheel beeped once, indicating that they were nearing the Marquess’ castle proper. The castle Brenda Calderon stayed in was sited on top of a sizable hill, and Benny could glimpse further defensive emplacements on the slopes, positioned amongst the thickly forested area, evidence of New Vandenburg’s status as one of the most heavily defended worlds in known space. The hovercar strained at times to on the slopes, forcing Benny to shift down to a lower gear to get enough power.

The castle was an old structure, a holdover from the days when the Taurian Concordat was fighting for its very independence against Aleksandr Kerensky’s thugs from the Star League during the last days of the Camerons. As heavily armed and armored as a Castle Brian, it was built as a sign of resistance against the Star League Defense Force, a place for the Taurians to rest and recuperate during their war. Since then, it had been the home of nobles governing New Vandenburg, itself a world granted not as an inheritance, but as a reward for retired military officers who had served the Concordat with honor.

He wondered what Daniela would think if she knew of the castle’s past.

“We’re almost there.” He told his two passengers. Ian nodded, straightening his jacket, while Daniela did the same. The clan mechwarrior even took out a small makeup kit from a small compartment in her handbag, and made a few adjustments to her face, looking critically at the mirror as she would a tactical map. Benny suppressed a grin.

Benny knew Daniela had been taking lessons from Janice Calderon, but the idea of a female clan warrior using makeup still terrified and amused him in equal parts. Terrifying because she might lose her combat edge, amusing because well, she’s a clanner!

There was another security checkpoint waiting for them when they approached the castle gates. There was a very traditional wide moat around it, along with a heavy alloy drawbridge capable of supporting the heaviest assault mechs, controlled by massive servos and motors.

They passed through the checkpoint without any problems, and moments later were led by the household chamberlain to the meeting room. Benny noted that they were not inspected for weapons, and allowed to bring their own sidearms into the presence of the Marquess. It was something which most nobles would never allow, not even in the Taurian Concordat.

Hmm… I didn’t know Brenda Calderon followed the Taurian constitution that closely. It basically guaranteed the right of every Taurian to bear arms, a wise decision considering the ever present threat of piracy and invasion from the Houses. There was also the well-documented side effect of deterring crime. His regard for the retired Marshal rose up a notch.

Marquess Brenda Calderon stood up to greet them as they entered the meeting room, walking past the door while the chamberlain announced them. As usual, Benny was left out of the introductions, which suited him just fine. His modus operandi was to hang back and observe events, not to get involved himself. He took up a position beside the door. There were two stone faced guards in the room as well, standing impassively in various corners. Their eyes roved around the room attentively every few seconds, the only hint of their presence as living beings and not statues.

“Good afternoon, Baron Calderon. Welcome to New Vandenburg.” Brenda said as she shook Ian’s hand. The Marshal was a woman of average height, her white hair cut short around her head, wearing a quasi-military worksuit.

“Thank you Marquess, for hosting us today.” Ian gripped Brenda’s hand firmly, then bend down to Janice in her wheelchair to give his sister a welcome hug. He gestured to Daniela, “This is my aide Major Daniela Mattlov.” She bowed her head slightly.

It was after the reception that Ian had decided that Daniela needed a proper rank. So he simply gave her a Majority and a position as his aide, which was entirely reasonable. The rest of the MIB was still in the process of regrouping and reintegration, but Colonel Feehan had been confident they would be ready for some action in about 3 more months. Ian had designated himself, Daniela, and Benny as his command lance, with one more slot to be filled once they got back to Einstein or when a suitable candidate could be recruited, whichever happened first.

As Ian and Daniela sat down facing the Marquess, Benny leaned back against the wall, relaxed but alert, and watched the discussion silently.

 

“How was your journey here?” Brenda asked. An innocuous question, but Ian was immediately put on the alert. Something in her tone of voice indicated that she had other things waiting to spring on him. “I hope you found it pleasant.”

“Yes, it was. There was no trouble during the jump out to the pirate point. Having certain points designated as jump points throughout the year was an excellent idea that cut down on the system transit times in Taurus and New Vandenburg.”

“I was the one who suggested it in the first place several years back when your brother was in power.” She sighed wistfully. “Those were good times for the Concordat.”

That sent alarm bells ringing in Ian’s mind. He had no doubt where the conversation was going to end up.

Brenda went on, “But things are different now. Grover Shraplen is driving the Concordat into ruin, and I’ll not stand for that any longer. I’ve sat on my ass long enough, and Janice here has given me a lot of information on what we can do to get rid of him.”

She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes piercing into him, “So, what do you think?”

“What do you want me to think?” Ian asked back. “I know what you want me to think. You want me to think that the Concordat is in trouble and that Protector Grover has to be removed from power, one way or another.”

He went on, reclining into his chair, “But that’s not what I really think. I think the Concordat is simply in a state of flux, and that Protector Shraplen will come to his senses soon. I think any other outcome will be too ghastly to contemplate. Furthermore, I think, I know, that I’m the last person you should look to for help.”

“Ian…” Janice started, but he cut her off.

“I’m tired of listening to all of you. You want me to take over. Well, it’s your turn to think of what that means. I left the Concordat years ago to seek my own destiny, in effect abandoning my duty to succeed my father. How well do you think that will play with the public?”

“Next,” Ian did not give them a chance to interrupt, “I have no experience at all in interstellar politics. I have no idea of how a government works. Don’t even ask me to deal with stuffy bureaucrats.”

“Bottom line, I’m not interested and not qualified. Go look for somebody else to serve as a figurehead if you want to rebel. This can only end in tragedy, but apparently you’ll believe otherwise.” Having finished his tirade, Ian grabbed a glass of water off the table to wet his dry throat.

To his surprise, Brenda Calderon did not react with anger. She laughed. Ian blinked in confusion.

“Excellent, Janice! Excellent!” Brenda roared as she spoke at Janice. “I had to see for myself if what you had told me was true. And I am not disappointed!”

Janice nodded sagely. “He is stubborn, but then again, so are we.”

Ian looked from one woman to another, and gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Ian,” Brenda smiled, “If you had come in and started sprouting off about how great you are, how you are going to lead the Concordat back onto the proper path, I’d have thrown you out in an instant. At this moment, the last thing we need is a willing dictator. What we need is an unwilling dictator to unify the various factions against Shraplen.”

Realization dawned on Ian. “You want me to be your Cincinnatus.”

“Who is Cincinnatus?” asked Daniela.

“Just a historical figure,” replied Ian, waving it off. “Ancient history.”

“Ian, trust me when I say that the civil war is inevitable,” said Brenda. “It’s just a matter of time. Baron Kithrong just barely resisted breaking his holdings away from the Concordat several years ago because he believed he could do better for young Erik. But since it didn’t happen, and with all the additional problems cropping up on our borders, the noises against Shraplen are only getting stronger. And trust me when I say Grover Shraplen will never step down willingly.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I have the best interests of the Concordat at heart, and I don’t wish to see our nation sundered permanently by war nor excessive damage when somebody could stop the madness by replacing Grover.”

“Best interests? Do you know how many times I’ve heard that line in the Chaos March?” Ian sneered. “Every trumped-up little despot there claims to have the best interests of their people in mind. Nobody ever goes ahead and do something that could kill a thousand, a million people without justifying it to themselves that by doing so they’ll save a lot more first. It’s always ‘for the good of the people’ or some godforsaken ideal. And then everything goes downhill. Sorry, but you’ll have to do better than that.” He had seen too much, experienced too much, to ever believe that easily.

Janice groaned. “What will it take to convince you?”

“I’m sorry, Janice, but I’ve not seen anything that tells me that the Concordat is in trouble. Unsettled, perhaps, but nothing that time won’t solve. Shraplen now isn’t as bad as Father was back then. If he was, then maybe you’ll have a point. But just not now.”

Brenda let out a long breath. “Alright then. Janice, forget it.” She fixed her eyes on Ian. “You would have made an impressive Protector. You think yourself unqualified, but who isn’t? You have built a mercenary battalion up from nothing, and that is no small achievement. All the things you have gone through have only made you stronger. You are capable of it, if you would only believe.”

Ian smiled slightly. “Maybe so. But an entire star nation?” He shook his head as he stood up from his chair. “Give me the roar of a thousand guns, than the horns of royal court.”

Brenda rose with him, bowing slightly. “Baron Calderon, you’re welcome to stay here for your time on New Vandenburg. You’re also more than welcome to inform me if you ever change your mind.”

Ian shook his head again. “I don’t think so.”

 

Daniela Mattlov looked out the balcony, enjoying the sensation of the wind on her face and hair. The evening sky was an beautiful azure haze, white clouds flecked across its vast expanse. Dinner, as usual,  had been excellent, and she had feared she was losing her edge with such a sedentary and luxurious lifestyle in the past few months.

She sensed somebody behind her, and turned her head around slowly.

“Nice scenery,” Ian Calderon walked up to her, and leaned on the balcony railing with his elbows. “I didn’t know you were interested in looking at the sky.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze on her face. “It was something I just made a habit. I find doing this very calming, especially in the evening.”

“So compared to all the worlds you’ve been to, where does New Vandenburg rank?” Ian asked jokingly.

Daniela pursed her lips, and answered seriously, “Well, it ranks in my top five. The evening scene is certainly spectacular.” The clouds seemed to fly across the sky as she spoke, propelled by the high winds.

“And the rest of the planet?”

She shrugged. “Still a bunch of uncivilized savages,” she smiled inwardly at Ian’s frown, “but I am beginning to understand why the Periphery fought so hard against the Star League in the beginning. I do not savor the thought of my fellow clansmen attacking here.”

“You do know the Taurian Concordat uses nuclear weapons in its defense?”

She shivered as she recalled passages in the Remembrance. “The Not-Named clan used them, and the fallout, no pun intended, was truly severe. I dread the consequences if the clans ever reach this part of space.”

“Are you afraid for the clans, or the Concordat?”

“Both.” She faced him. “I have realized that even if we take Terra, it would mean nothing if we cannot conquer the rest of the Inner Sphere and the Periphery. The Word of Blake holds Terra now, but they are not the rulers of humanity any more than we are.”

She thought back to all the history she had learnt over the last few weeks. The sheer hatred of the Concordat towards the memory of the Star League of the Camerons was very different from the wistful nostalgia of the people of the Lyran Commonwealth. It had been a good thing that Ian did not introduce her as clan to most strangers. From what she had garnered from the news holovids, the attitude of most Taurians towards the clans was only a shade better than their attitude towards pirates.

Ian sighed. “I’m glad you’ve realized that, but what about the rest of the clans?”

“Time should do it, if nothing else.” She leaned with her back against the railing. “By the way, who is Cincinnatus?”

“You heard of the Romans?” Ian asked, and Daniela nodded. “Well, to make a long story short, in their early days, they were led by a council of voting men, and it wasn’t exactly effective when they were trying to wage a war against a neighboring tribe. So they needed somebody to take the reins, a temporary Khan, if you prefer, who would step down when the crisis was over. So Cincinnatus was this retired Senator who got the call, and he got them the victory. He could have declared himself dictator for life, but he went back to his farm instead.”

“And Marquess Calderon believes you’ll do the same for the Concordat.”

“Yes, but with certain differences. The Concordat isn’t a republic. It’s still a feudal nation, and even if I somehow become Protector, which won’t ever happen, I’ll never be able to step down.”

“Why are you so afraid of being a ruler?” She had observed Ian, and she had thought it strange for a man of his abilities. “You can do better than this Shraplen, quiaff?”

“Do better? That’s an opinion, not fact. And I’m afraid not just because I might botch up, but because that road will be a bloody one. I don’t want that. That’s why I want to stay out of this.”

“I think you must regret ever coming back here.”

“Yeah, a bit. But I do miss the Concordat, and this trip hasn’t been a waste. With luck, Dacort will arrive soon, and we can formalize the deal with Hawkings.”

“You still think too much like a merchant at times.”

Ian shrugged, “Well, I am a mercenary, after all, and to us, war is a business. Meanwhile, how’s your memory trip with that Jenna coming along?”

“Not very good.” Daniela shook her head. The amnesiac warrior had made some progress, and was even able to recall all the clan terms in common use, but still had no idea of who she was or where she had served. Jenna had accompanied them to New Vandenburg, along with the rest of her company of Red Chasseurs. In the end, Daniela had given up, and Milton Hawkings had decided to pay for a psychologist trained in hypnotism to treat her instead. At last with her own efforts, they had some information to start with.

Daniela continued, “It would certainly be nice for her if she recovers her memory. But it is not really that important. She is a warrior, and serving with honor. What else is there?”

“Don’t discount the past so readily. It’ll sometimes pop up and bite you at the most unexpected moments,” said Ian dryly. “Oh, after all this talk, I almost forgot about I’m going to tell you.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“Because Grover will panic if we stay here for too long, I’m thinking of going to Illiushin to wait.”

“Why that particular world?”

“If you remember, I’ve a noble title. Because I’m a Baron, I was also granted a piece of land on Illiushin as my personal fiefdom. For the years I’ve been away, Janice had been taking care of it. I think I should at least go there and take a look.” He grinned sheepishly. “Actually, I’ve never been there myself.”

Daniela rolled her eyes. “No wonder I find your people difficult to understand. Giving away land to people who might never see it themselves! At least with our Trials of Possession, we know what we’re fighting over.”

Ian went on, “So tomorrow we’ll be taking a three jump journey to Illiushin, and once there, we’ll just relax and train in our mechs until the lawyer arrives, and we can finalize the deal. Then we’ll leave the Taurian Concordat for Outreach, where we’ll shop around for a contract.”

Daniela did not like the sound of being a mercenary, but she had lost to Ian fairly and squarely on Einstein, and so she had resigned herself to her fate. At least her genes were guaranteed inclusion into the breeding program back in the Jade Falcons, and Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth had reassured her of that.

“You do not seem to care for what might happen in the Concordat.” She observed. “What if war does break out, no matter what you do or did not do?”

His eyes were haunted as he replied in a whisper, “Then I might not have a choice in the matter at all.”

 

“Is it ready?” Brenda Calderon asked Brigadier Andre Pharoh, who was standing in front of her desk.

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, Ma’am. Our operatives are in place and ready to leak the information to the Shen-Se Tian informants here about Landsmark. We’ve pulled my two lances of Chasseurs off the world, leaving it defended only by two lances of militia mechs and a company of armor, just enough to suggest a weak target, but not so obvious as to suggest a trap. I estimate that the pirates will strike about 6 days after the information is leaked. Subaltern Doe’s company is ready to lift and trap the pirate scum and their jumpships once they attack.”

Brenda closed her eyes, calculating the odds and dates. The outbound trip from New Vandenburg to the nearest jump out point would take about 8 days. A jumpship would be jumping out to Landsmark on the 5^th of September. Recharging in Landsmark would take about 7 days. The pirates would have to arrive between the 5^th and the 12^th at the nearest pirate point, taking about 4 days to arrive on the planet.

She nodded to herself. “All right, tell your operatives to leak the data on the 1^st of September.” Which meant the pirates would arrive at or about the 7^th or 8^th of September. “Subaltern Doe’s company will lift on the 31^st of this month. Make sure that everybody knows that her unit is supposed to be heading out for Detroit for refitting. The jumpship her unit is traveling on has lithum fusion batteries, so that’ll be a great help in our subterfuge.”

“Ma’am?” Andre prompted for her explanation.

“Any information from Landsmark to here about the attack will not arrive sooner than the 9^th, which means the pirates will not consider Jenna’s company as possible reinforcements because she’ll have jumped out to an uninhabited system. She’ll double jump, and arrive in Landsmark on the 10th to capture their jumpships at the pirate point with the new Troll battlesuits, as well as to pursue and engage them on the ground. Landsmark doesn’t have much in the way of proximity pirate points, and the pirates are almost certain to use the one with the least transit time. Going by their past raids, the Shen-Se Tian will also commit two companies of mechs. Give Jenna another company from the first battalion, and make sure she understands the importance of this mission. I want the pirates dead, by any means necessary.”

“Understood Ma’am.” Andre saluted smartly, and left the office.

Brenda thought about what she had not told the Brigadier. Ian Calderon would be arriving in Landsmark on that jumpship, just in the right place at the wrong time. She had every confidence that the Baron would deploy himself to the planet to defend against the pirates. The presence of Xie Xun, who was also going to Illiushin on an inspection of the production lines there, virtually guaranteed that they would intervene. After all, the Shen-Se Tian were made up of former Capellan nationals, an affront to the CCAF officer.

So Ian Calderon would have to fight there. If he survived and won, it would be impossible for Grover to suppress the resulting publicity, thus thrusting Ian firmly into the public spotlight, and making it impossible for him to get away, and the Taurians given a good look at a possible candidate for the Protectorship. Grover would likely be driven mad by this, enough to start making some serious mistakes.

Of course, if Ian died or lost in disgrace, then they’ll have to start looking for another option. But Brenda did not think that was likely. Not with Jenna’s two additional companies as backup. Not with Ian’s own assault force of mechs upgraded with clan tech, with Xie’s own Men Shen thrown in.

I don’t need to convince you, Ian. Brenda smiled to herself grimly. I only need to force you onto the path. One way or another, you will accept your duty as a Calderon. The next few weeks were going to be very interesting.

 

Samantha, Taurus,

Taurian Concordat, Periphery

 

Grover Shraplen stared hard at the report from his agent. Ian Calderon would be jumping for Illiushin instead of staying on New Vandenburg. Grover knew he should be feeling relieved that the mercenary was not going to stay and plot treason with Brenda Calderon, but he could not shake the feeling that here was an opportunity to get rid of this particular thorn in his skin before it dug in too deeply.

Recharging in Landsmark takes 7 days, he recalled. He hated doing this, but it had to be done if he was to remain in power and guide the Taurian Concordat. He pressed a button on his intercom.

“This is Protector Shraplen. Get Eric Sunds up here.”

Eric Sunds was one of his most loyal advisors, and had many contacts with the underworld. The idea of hiring pirates for a job was a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was his best option. Once the Concordat was past its present troubles, he could deal with the problem of piracy once and for all.

He could already visualize the plan in his mind. Eric would act through a series of middlemen, ostensibly on his own initiative without Grover’s orders, to get rid of Ian Calderon. He would hire a pirate band, which would jump in and capture Calderon’s jumpship in Landsmark on the 9^th of September, and at the same time remove the mercenary permanently.

And then he would be able to sleep soundly again, without worrying for his position, because if Brenda Calderon, Janice Calderon, and Cham Kithrong had been unable to topple him so far, what more could they do? No, Ian Calderon was the unpredictable factor, and one to be removed from the chessboard before he grew too powerful.

Sure, he would be going against Roger Mill’s specific instructions, but he could hardly care less. If all went well, he would present the Precentor with a fait accompli, and the Precentor would just have to accept it. After all, the Word of Blake had as much riding on his rule as he had relying on their assistance.

There was a knock on his door, and Grover composed himself mentally as he recited in his mind what he was going to say to Eric. The fate of the Concordat depends on me.

 

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