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Chapter 7 – The Best of Enemies[]
“War is merely the continuation of politics by other means” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)
Part 1[]
CCS Míng Liàng, Outbound to Zenith Point, Liao, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
3rd January, 2798 (Seventeen Months Since the Kentares Massacre Began)
“Tea, Celestial Wisdom?” The short asian man with the refined features of the Han Chinese predominant among the Sheng great nobility of the Capellan Confederation looked at the Chinese woman strapped into her seat opposite to him.
Ilsa Liao spoke absently. “Please, Lord Teng.” She then caught the zero-gee drinking bulb of tea as it floated across the cabin of the Leopard-class Dropship while apparent microgravity shifted during their turnover to start the deceleration burn to the nadir jump point of Liao Prime.
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Leopard Class 'Mech Carrier DropShip, CCS Míng Liàng
“I confess that I was hoping for better and more refined fare than spacecraft rations and more comfortable quarters than sleeping cocoons for our time together, Celestial Wisdom.” Shonso Elias Teng, second son of Duke Xiao Teng of St. Ives spoke idly.
Ilsa pulled the drinking nipple from her mouth to respond. “I confess that I would find the Soaring Dragon Waterfall Resort on Sian to be more comfortable for my promised time spent with you, Lord Teng. But the State and my duties come first and foremost, and we are at war. Sacrifices must be made for the good of us all.”
“That is true, Celestial Wisdom. But we who make the decisions that guide the Confederation must sometimes retreat from the harsh demands of our duties to enjoy the fruits of our wise stewardship of our lessers. That keeps our minds harmonious and our decisions enlightened.`` He blinked as he noticed Ilsa’s brow wrinkle minutely as she drank the tea. “Is the tea not to your liking, Celestial Wisdom?”
Ilsa nodded, wisps of her hair escaping the tight bun and hairnet restraining it to float around her head like a Medusa’s snakes. “I fear that the so-called tea that went into this bulb is of poor quality and watered down considerably.” She observed smoothly, her considering eyes lingering on the noble opposite her. “Have you tried it?” She asked. It was CCAF-standard ‘ration tea’, not the best, certainly, but not undrinkable. It had a kick like a mule to keep the soldier awake, which was what was important.
Elias shuddered. “Of course not! I brought my own supply aboard, Celestial Wisdom. Jade Dragon Oolong in fact. It was freshly harvested from my family's plantations on Warlock. I shall have some sent up for us to enjoy rather than that pot swill from the supplies aboard. I suggest that you investigate and have the corrupt supply officer responsible for that abomination flogged to teach him his duties. Still, what can one expect, after all? ‘You shouldn’t waste good iron on nails or good men for soldiers’, as the ancestors observed. With the exception of the Mechwarrior elite, naturally.”
Ilsa finished off the tea bulb. “Go ahead and have that tea sent up, Lord Teng. You should be aware that the attack plan will be using Jump Infantry to strike certain objectives. Battlemechs are the Kings of the Battlefield, but they cannot easily enter buildings to hit specific targets, no? If you cannot work with the Fifth and Seventh Bulun Jump Infantry I must regretfully find a different commander who can accomplish the mission. They have their parts to play as well in our strike, and all must succeed or all shall fail.”
“Of course I shall inform the Coiled Serpent to work alongside the infantry to accomplish our objectives. Especially with you observing as I lead them, victory is assured, Celestial Wisdom.” Elias Teng confidently spoke. “Then we can celebrate our victory over the Marik dogs as we return together to Sian. The resort will still be there, after all.”
...remember, Ilsa, even the Celestial Wisdom cannot command Yen-Lo-Wang…. Her grandmother’s voice spoke to her.
Ilsa’s happy smile never reached her calculating eyes when an aide opened the hatch. “So let us drink tea while we rendezvous with the rest of the strike force and I brief you in on the plan that the Strategios have developed for our victory…”
Part 2[]
Royal Court, Davion Palace, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns
9th January, 2798 (Eleven Months Since the Kentares Massacre Ended)
First Prince Paul Davion collapsed into an armchair in the conference room that he had taken over as part of his preparations for the High Council meeting.
His hands shook as he stared at them numbly.
The antique clock in the corner ticked off the seconds until the High Council would reconvene to discuss his policy suggestions.
While they were no longer the power that they had been before Simon Davion established the Principality, they did have influence and he needed to work with them. Not least because he had plans to reform the Suns to clean out the sloth and rot that had nearly doomed them when the Snakes attacked. He’d need the nobility and the people to follow where he would lead them, and stepping on toes unnecessarily would not help.
He blinked as someone’s hand put down a glass of water on the table in front of him and a very familiar voice spoke in his ear.
“You look like death warmed over, Big Bro.”
Paul turned his head and focused on the smirking teenager in cadet uniform standing next to him. “P-Peter? What the hell are you doing here!? Don’t you have classes?”
Peter’s grin widened. “Nope! Yesterday was Grain Rebellion Day and so we get the Monday following off when the First Prince permits the traditional waiver. Remember?”
Paul blinked blankly, vaguely remembering that he had signed some paperwork about releasing AFFS Military Education personnel on a pass for the planetary holiday -- Yesterday? The day before? Last week? It was all flowing together now for him…. -- well sometime in the recent past. He did know that he certainly hadn’t gotten a break from his duties and responsibilities anytime recently, though.
“I… guess?” He finally replied to Peter as he focused on his insufferably energetic little brother.
“Anyway, thanks for that, Big Bro! I made Cadet-Corporal Below the Zone too! See?” Peter tapped the double dark green rectangular ‘Scars’ with white borders newly sewn to his uniform sleeve as his new rank.
Paul smiled and clasped his brother’s forearm to forearm like they had done as boys. Peter levered him out of the chair with a grunt and made it a back-slapping hug.
Paul felt something inside him unclench a bit at the familiar solidity of his brother’s unconditional support.
“Anyway, good job making the cut early like I did, Peter. Now don’t lose them in one of your pranks!” Paul gave a happy smile as he chided his brother. ”Don’t make me turn that into an order!”
Peter laughed. “No need, Paul. I’ll be good. Besides,” Peter sobered and spoke in a serious tone, “I’m the Heir-Presumptive now. I have to set a good example for the dynasty now. Especially since after Dad…died. I could have it land on me at any moment.”
“Yeah,” Paul said in a matching tone. “I’ll do my best to keep that from happening to you, Peter. I’ll do my best to at least let you get used to the responsibility of leading men as a cadet, and as a junior officer before using you for political and dynastic roles. But it’s my duty to lead my people and the nation. I don’t have the luxury of shirking this now. If I ever could….” Paul broke off and sighed deeply as he visibly shoved that line of thought aside.
Peter embraced Paul again as his big brother wept.
Peter then grinned as he spoke to try to lighten his brother’s mood. “So what’s with the sword and the monkey suit, Bro? I don’t remember you being a clotheshorse before.”
Paul laughed faintly. “You know how I love history, Pete?”
“Sure. You introduced me to the great generals and their books when we were kids, after all. So?” Peter gave his brother a flat ‘get on with it’ stare
“Well a large part of power is symbolism. There’s two fundamental types of leaders when you get down to it. The first guy out of the trench yelling ‘Keep Up! Follow Me!’ and the last guy out of the trench with a SMG to shoot stragglers yelling ‘Charge!’. Both can work to get the job done. Amaris was an utter evil bastard, but he also nearly took over the Inner Sphere using the second type. I want to be the first type. Higher risk to me and the nation, but higher reward since my men see me doing my duty so they are inspired by my example as not to disappoint me.” Paul explained between sips of ice water.
“So you plan to be a warrior-Prince like your Capellan girlfriend then.” Peter finished for him with a devilish grin. “Damn shame she’s a Liao, she should have been a Davion with the big brass balls she has swinging.”
Paul blushed red to the roots of his hair as the sibling teasing hit home.
“Ilsa’s not my girlfriend!” He protested, then mumbled. “Not that I would mind if it wasn’t for the politics….” He visibly controlled himself, took a long drink of water and then spoke in a normal tone. “Anyway… Pete! How’d you know?”
“My bodyguard detachment talks to your bodyguard detachment and then they talk to me.” Peter shrugged. “RUMINT around campus is that you are pen-paling her every other day to keep ComStar in business.”
Peter sighed. “I send video messages just once a week. Generally. Got too much else to do, just like she does. So… the cat’s out of the bag… how much heat am I getting?”
“Less than you may think, Bro. She’s not a Snake. Couple grumbles because of the slanted eyes from the Marcher students but yeah, that’s their problem. The footage of her hitting Mirach and stomping the Snakes flat… well that played real well in the dorms. She’s hotter than an overheating Flashman too, so yeah. 10/10 on the girlfriend scale among my squad and the other folks in the platoon. Hot and crazy both.” Peter chuckled. “Anyone who charges two Hunchies and a S-Hawk in a Thud’s not all there upstairs. Even to save her downed pilot and that little kid. As I said, she’s got big brass ones and is a hell of a Mechwarrior.”
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Shadow Hawk Medium 'Mech
Paul grinned goofily. “Yeah, Ilsa’s a hell of a Mechwarrior, hot as an Alamo nuke detonating.”
Peter nodded in agreement, then Paul looked into Peter’s eyes.
“But it’s not that about Ilsa that gets me. She gets it, Pete. She understands that we serve our people; she knows what it’s like to have all this dropped on her unprepared; she knows what it’s like to lose Dad unexpectedly and have to carry on. Carry on right, I mean, not like when that Snake took it out on Kentares.”
Peter grinned. “So, have you picked out baby names yet, Paul?”
“Peter!” Paul blushed again and spluttered. “It’s not like.… I mean if it wasn’t for the goddamn war, and what the Snakes tried with Mary Davion, then maybe possibly for us. I don’t know if we can make it work. St. George’s Spear, Peter, I haven’t even met her face to face yet! The cease-fire signing will be the first time that I’ll lay eyes on her. I have a war to win and a government to reform to make that happen.” He glanced at the clock. “And I need to get back to the High Council. Don’t want them to get any ideas about my gambit just yet.”
“Gambit, Paul?” Peter asked as Paul began to walk to the door.
“Yeah, gambit. As First Lord of the Star League, I can claim the title of Duke of New Avalon, which I just did. Which gives me not just feudal control of New Avalon, but also the thirty-seven additional systems that DoME terraformed for us as per Alexander’s conditions to join the Star League. That means I will be bestowing new titles and handing out landholdings there to reward people and families to bind me to them. I’ll need that power base to gather support for the other things I need to do to win this damn war.”
Peter nodded along with the analysis with a growing smile.
Then the Davion brothers got matching shark-like smiles at Paul’s final iron-hard words as he reached the door.
“Ilsa’s price for our alliance was the head of Jinjiro Kurita on a silver platter. Her knight will never disappoint his fair Lady Liao when it comes to slaying the Dragon.”
Author's Note[]
- Author’s Note
- To clarify the reference, Mary Davion was the eldest daughter of First Prince Roger Davion during the Star league era. She fell in love with and married Soto Kurita, the younger brother of then-Coordinator Takiro Kurita. As part of the wedding arrangements, she relinquished her claim on the Suns. Unfortunately, the Kuritas pressed the claim of her son Vincent Kurita after Mary's death in 2715 using falsified documents to try to overthrow Mary's brother Joseph Davion I, who had been on the throne for over a decade. Even more unfortunately, the then First Lord Johnathon Cameron was a paranoid asshole who dithered, and didn't slap down the Kuritas when they invaded the Draconis March to start the War of Davion Succession. Needless to say, this raises some problems with a Liao/Davion wedding, since once bitten....