Chapter 4
Sigfried Glacier Reserve
Environs, Tharkad City
Tharkad, District of Donegal, Lyran Alliance
17 December 2015 S.E.C.
6 October 3058 I.S.C.
Night had long set upon the region around Tharkad City and Victor Steiner-Davion was still hard at work in the lounge room of the chalet he had taken residence in. The chalet that his sister Katherine had arranged for Victor was steeped in recent family history, but not good history. It had been the favorite home of the late Alessandro Steiner, who had in his days as Archon been a cold-hearted tyrant who abused his power for his own gain and had been displaced by his cousin and Victor's maternal grandmother, the original Katrina Steiner. What Katherine did not know was that Victor was no stranger to the chalet and had used it extensively during his study at the Nagelring ten years before; thus his thoughts of the place rested upon his youth, a time long past him.
Ten years is a long time, he mused to himself in the otherwise-empty lounge room. For him ten years had seen him go from a cadet to the ruler of a major interstellar realm of over a hundred worlds. He had seen the Clans come, the internal revolution and schism of ComStar, renewed hostilities with the Capellans, and the dissolution of his parents' grand union. The destruction of the union brought him the most anguish, particularly the reminder that his mother's murder had been the cause for it's dissolution. Many Lyrans, though not all, had chosen him as the "obvious" suspect. It was a terrible feeling to be seen as having committed matricide, especially when one felt such love for his mother as Victor still did for the dearly departed Melissa.
Victor looked down at a report he had just received from ComStar. His people on New Avalon had responded quickly with a preliminary report of how much equipment could be shipped to Arc-Royal and the rift within the next month. His returning JumpShip fleet, most of which had been seized by his diabolical sister when she seceded from the Federated Commonwealth, would make the going easier, but while he held great concern for the situation there he also could not just send mass numbers of JumpShips to ferry the supplies to the rift and back. Recent discussions had called for an organized chain of supply, using the JumpShip fleets of the existing nations plus ComStar to create pseudo-circuits between industrial plants and supply depots and Arc-Royal. Since the Smoke Jaguars were the target Victor was looking at hitting, moving the Inner Sphere's troops to the Combine would further complicate the situation. He found himself doubting that any of the Inner Sphere's powers outside of his sister could get significant amounts of material to the planet in due time. He considered having the 4th Davion Guards depart Fort Loudon and redeploy to the world, but moving an entire RCTof ten regiments took up it's own fair share of JumpShip resources. In addition, his sister Katherine controlled the world and would probably endeavor to tie up the redeployment just to slight him.
In a nutshell, powering the counterinvasion against the Clans and supplying this new Terra, this "Scorched Earth", was going to be a royal pain in the ass.
"Enjoying yourself, Victor?"
The unexpected voice of Phelan prompted Victor to turn his head toward the door. It now stood open slightly and permitted Phelan to stand in the doorway. He was clad in a matching gray parka and trousers. "Mind if I come in?"
"Not at all." Victor picked up a small glass which had ordinary tap water in it. He used it to wet his lips and take a small drink for the benefit of his throat. "Ranna enjoyed the skiing, hopefully?"
"She did. It's one of those lost arts amongst the Clans." Phelan ignored his use of a contraction and pulled the parka jacket off, revealing a brown shirt beneath. He put the parka over the back of one of the drink bar chairs and took a seat in a love seat opposite Victor. "Very comfortable," he noted. "Going over shipping schedules?"
Victor nodded and rubbed his forehead. "Giving priority to the shipments to this 'Scorched Earth' is going to be a pain. Especially when we begin moving troops and supplies into position to make our own attack."
"Then we should deliver what we can now." Phelan pulled his right leg up and set it over his left leg. "They have their own special forces, we will also use those forces to raid against forward Clan bases and seize their 'Mechs."
"So we will have them steal 'Mechs from the Clans," Victor chuckled. "You mentioned as much in the first day's conference."
"I would prefer the term 'pre-emptive salvage', but that also works," Phelan responded. "It will involve training their people in 'Mech piloting and bypassing a 'Mech's security checks, but considering that they're going to need every 'Mech they can get..."
"How many 'Mechs do they have now?", Victor asked.
"By now? If Marco and the Wolf Spiders have finished their raid, they should have a company or so worth of 'Mechs. Add that to whatever my father can scrape up."
"The Clans definitely have the leg up on this." Victor took another sip before setting the glass down. He picked up the noteputer and began going over it again. "A part of me questions putting too much effort into this. They're one world, highly populated yes, but only a percentage of the people in the Federated Commonwealth who are under threat. How can I justify inflicting hardship on my people by diverting JumpShips needed for commerce and the civilian economy for the job of carrying weapons of war to a people we know little of. The strategic location of their planet isn't the answer to my questions. But when I think of it, I begin thinking of Rebecca Harverson and those who suffered like her. And I realize that my humanity is what requires me to do this."
"I've had similar thoughts." Phelan stood up and went to the bar. "Glasses?"
"Upper cabinent," Victor replied while reading over the noteputer. "You know, when you told us that girl's age, I couldn't help but think about Yvonne."
"I knew that would get to you." Phelan pulled the glass out of the cabinent and opened up the icebox. "I take it you don't have any Timbiqui Dark available?"
"No. But I do have some of the finest wine from the vineyards on New Avalon."
"No wine, not in the mood." Phelan found a particularly interesting looking bottle with Japanese kanji characters written on it. "And what is this? A gift from Omi?"
"Hohiro, actually. It's a bottle of sake." Victor jotted down an item on the noteputer. "So far I've only been able to find a partial circuit from some of the worlds in the Addicks and Archenar PDZs to Arc-Royal. It doesn't help that some of the ships the circuit would rely on belong to my loving sister."
"Maybe you can link up your supplies with Theodore's instead?", Phelan said as he fished out another bottle. "Ah, the good and heavy stuff. A Rasalhague PPC."
"Heavy drinking, Phelan?"
"No, just a little night cap before I go wind down." Phelan opened the bottle and emptied a few centiliters of the drink into the cup. He pulled the glass up to his lips and took a quick swig. His face twisted and his neck twitched. After setting the glass back down Phelan said, "Victor, don't we have another meeting session tomorrow at about eight?"
"Yes."
"It's going on midnight, don't you think you should go get some sleep?"
"Not tired."
Phelan rolled his eyes and picked up the glass. He walked back to the love seat he had occupied before. "Victor, there are two things I've noticed about you that have never changed."
"Those would be?"
"For one thing, you are the shortest head of state since Napoleon in Ancient Terra," Phelan said with a mischievous grin. "And I never knew that either the Steiner or Davion bloodlines had dwarfism in their genes."
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Victor's false laugh was purposely dull, both to convey sarcasm and because he was still reading over the list. He tapped another note in before adding, "And the other?"
"The second is that you are the worst workaholic I have ever seen. Even by Clan standards."
"And you think you're delivering fresh news?" Victor laughed harshly. "Everyone says that about me."
"That's because it's true," Phelan retorted. "Sometimes I wish you would just say 'To hell with it' and spend a decent evening with Omi. It might help you get just a tad looser."
Victor's head shot up. His eyes flashed angrily. "Do not joke about that, Phelan. Don't you think I'm under enough temptation as it is?! Every time I see her I feel that urge and I can't do a damned thing about it."
"Dammit, Victor, one of these days you're going to snap! It's not healthy keeping that feeling bottled in!" Phelan took a sip from the glass. "At least in the Clans people don't worry about this kind of..."
"Phelan, if you like the Clans so much, why don't you go back to them?", Victor said wearily. "I think if I hear one more glowing comment about the Clans I will puke."
Phelan rolled his eyes. "Victor, be a little open-minded. Not everything about the Clans is bad."
"A little more open-minded? For the last eight years I'd done nothing but fight the Clans. I had to watch my first command on Trellwan get annihilated by them, I fought the Clans on Twycross and on Alyina, where my Revenants got decimated, and finally, I had to rescue Hohiro from the Nova Cats on Teniente. Then I spent the next six years of my life trying to maintain the peace with the Clans while building up to fight them. This forced me to go through with my father's God-forsaken plan to replace Joshua Marik with a double, and as a result, I had my nation cut in two and my people lost lives in the Marik-Liao assault on the Sarna March. And I couldn't even move back into the Chaos March and stop the fighting because I had to remain focused on the Clan threat! So don't give me the God damned 'open-minded' speech!"
Phelan's nostrils flared during Victor's tirade. With measured breaths he controlled his response. "Are you finished yet?"
"Yes, I am."
A short pause followed with neither willing to continue an argument. "Why does it seem," Phelan continued, "that each time you and I try to get into a meaningful conversation, we end up barking at each other."
"Maybe it's just because, deep down, I really don't like you," Victor responded with a sarcastic grin. "As a person, of course. We are just too different."
Phelan considered his answer for a moment, restraining the chuckling he felt the urge to do in response. "Point taken," he finally answered. "So, we were talking about what again?"
"Scorched Earth." Victor tapped the noteputer again. "And how sick we feel that for all intents they are being used as cannon fodder to buy us time in our own war with the Clans."
Phelan nodded slowly. "Yes. But, I have to say, I think we will be pleasantly surprised by their performance."
"In what way?"
"To put it simply, Victor," Phelan put his left hand on the knee of the same side, "I think the people of this planet are made of a sterner stuff than we give them credit for. And, when you think of all the old military doctrines and disciplines they have that have fallen out of favor in the Inner Sphere or with the Clans over the previous few centuries, I think the Clans are going to be in for a very nasty shock once their armies are even remotely brought up to speed."
"There's more to it than that." Victor sighed and set the noteputer down. "These past couple of months, ever since I got your first message about these rifts, I've been wondering on what effect they'll have on history. On the way we perceive things."
"Just what are you talking about?"
"What I mean is," Victor took a sip of water to wet his throat again before continuing, "Twenty-First Century Earth has a different mindset than we do. The Inner Sphere has spent centuries with nobles in key positions in governments, limited voting powers for the people, it's something that's developed ever since Michael Cameron published his Peer List in the twenty-fourth century. Even the most democratic planets are extensively controlled by the nobles. But these people are mostly without them, very few nations on Earth in that time frame had nobility and royal families. They were republics, not even in the Roman sense like the Lyran Alliance and Free Worlds League sometimes appear, but true republics with no bloodlines to determine political status. Even the son or daughter of the lowest worker could become a head of state."
"History was never my strong suit," Phelan admitted. "And I'm wondering if perhaps you're just saying this because, deep down, you'd love to ride off into the sunset after the war, abdicate the throne, and live a quiet and prosperous life with Omi."
"You'd be surprised how tempting the story of Cincinnatus is for me right now," Victor sighed. "The chance to do my duty for the Federated Commonwealth and my people, then leave the throne to Morgan, or maybe Peter if he ever resurfaces, so I can go off and live free."
"What about Arthur?"
Victor laughed. "Arthur? No, Arthur I think lacks the patience for leadership in that way. Although if Peter doesn't show back up he would get it."
"You forget to mention that he lacks the brains," Phelan chuckled. "He is the dunce of your brood."
"Loyalty to my siblings demands that I disagree with you." Victor leaned back in the chair. "What I am saying is that maybe being exposed to this kind of thing will get people here in the Inner Sphere thinking about it."
"Victor, it's going to take a lot more than contact with a lower-tech version of Earth to rid the Inner Sphere of it's nobility class," Phelan snorted. "Much as I'd like it to happen."
"You're probably right, but I can't help but think about it. What was that phrase in the speech by the American President you showed me? A government 'of the people, by the people, and for the people'? Sometimes I wonder what that would be like here in the Inner Sphere."
"A democratic republic hasn't been successfully attempted on an interstellar scale since the Terran Alliance," Phelan reminded Victor. "The Rasalhaguans came close but we all know what happened to them." He took a last swig and stood from his chair. "By now Ranna has had her shower and is getting in bed, so I think I will join her."
"You sound like she won't be here tomorrow," Victor replied while reading over his noteputer again.
"She will not be," came Phelan's answer. "Ranna has been selected to contest for the Bloodname of Natasha Kerensky, and she must return to Arc-Royal immediately to participate in the Trial of Bloodright. She is leaving tomorrow."
Victor didn't bother to look up. "Well, go enjoy yourself then."
"I intend to. Just, try not to stay up all night doing that." Phelan stepped through the door. "You can do more tomorrow you know."
Victor nodded but did not heed his words. Rebecca Harverson's agonized howls returned to torment his soul whenever he thought of quitting, as if she were speaking from whatever beyond she was in to not rest until her torment could be avenged. About two hours after Phelan left the room, Victor fell asleep on the couch, the noteputer still in his hands, and the horrible images haunting his dreams.