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Time Enough For A Cat (Chapter Cover Art)

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Chapter 20 - Time Enough For A Cat -

- Filling out the Wedding Registry -
[]


Mother's Arrives[]

New Avalon City Spaceport
New Avalon, Federated Suns
November 22nd, 3027

"I would trade my left tit to be able to do this mounted," I muttered at Morgan, who was flanking me. It was a blatant breach of protocol, since he was Hanse's current heir and should be flanking him instead, but Hanse was in a Mood apparently and wanted to make sure there was zero- absolutely zero- doubt in Kyalla's mind that apparently if she didn't want me, then the Suns did. Either way, we were in the Royal Terminal, and the Princess-class that was burning in was definitely the Magestrix's personnel dropper. I personally was waiting on the retrofitted Mule that was coming in behind it by a few hours, though: that one held Kamea, her retinue, and the officers of Black Horse and Red Horse who'd been invited for the Wedding by dint of being related to re-crewing the Argo when it got out of drydock come February.

Princess Class DropShip (Underway - Deep Space Transit)

Princess Class Luxary Passenger DropShip

"Dear, it's unseemly to meet foreign dignitaries while mounted, unless they're also mounted."

Mule Cargo Dropship (In Flight - Dana Knutson version)

Mule class cargo DropShip in flight

"Kyalla can notionally drive that beater of a Vulcan that whatsherface five Magestrixes back bought, and her current husband drives a Stinger. I can take 'em."

"Please don't commit regicide," Morgan said lightly. "Imagine how much work it'll be to get it out of the carpets."

"This terminal is tiled."

"Children, please. It's showtime," Hanse Davion said lightly, as the groundcar containing the Magestrix pulled into the terminal proper. Then my abominable mother rolled out, with full pomp and circumstance. The turquoise gown she was wearing wasn't too risque, even by my standards, and her tiara was bespectacled by sapphires and a pair of rubies. Then she saw me, and I could feel her gaze sharpen, before a crowdwinning smile went on.

"Magestrix Kyalla Centrella," Hanse said, smiling. "I welcome you to the Federated Suns."

"First Prince Hanse Davion," Kyalla said in return, doing her best angelic impersonation. "I thank you for your hospitality, both in allowing me to stay until your wedding, and in taking care of my beloved daughter."

Mask on, Emma. Mask on.

"It is always a pleasure to accept trade and guests from such a prestigious principality," Hanse replied with a vulpine smile. I was taking notes, though- 'prestigious principality' was a hell of a burn on a touchy Magestrix who disliked the Inner Sphere on general principle. "I eagerly await your presence at my court, Magestrix. However, I understand long interstellar travel can be exhausting. Your daughter, ever-dutiful that she is, has secured quarters for you."

"I thank you for your forbearance," Kyalla said simply. "Emma, let us be off- I'm afraid I'll need a few days to recover from this trip."

"Of course, Magestrix."

That earned a smile- fake, number seven, 'paternal adoration'. "Please, Emma, not so formal! I am your beloved mother, after all."

"Mother, then. May I introduce my good friend, Major Morgan Hasek-Davion?"

That got Morgan to subtly move in behind me more, taking cover from Kyalla's piercing stare. Academically, I couldn't blame him, but academics didn't matter much when it was my boyfriend trying to hide from my mother.

"You may, Emma- although if he's frightened of me, I'm not sure how good a fit he is. A young man like him should be well aware of what he's getting into by this point."

"He's aware," I protested, "but you can be a bit startling. Canopian formality doesn't mesh well with our host's sense of propriety."

That was putting it mildly- courtwear in the summer in the Crimson Palace was frequently best described as 'light', with gauzy cloth and fine-beaten metal as the heavier formalwear, and more than once when things got particularly slow the average dress devolved down to whatever people needed to feel comfortable below the waist and to hold their breasts up with, using assorted paints and tapes to provide decoration.

I'm not sure what it says about Canopus versus the Suns that most of the photo albums of my youth would be legally regarded as child pornography, but that's what I had diplomatic bags and a good lawyer on call for. God knows I'd had to be very careful going over the albums with Morgan, though- he'd choked at a lot of what Young Emma had thought was good palace-wear when it was over forty-five centigrade out.

"A bit startling?" Kyalla snorted, giving her head enough of a shake to do things to her chest and mane of perfectly-coifed curls, before cocking her hips to push a leg from the slit in her dress and shooting Hanse a come-hither smile. "I'm presenting nothing he should be unfamiliar with."

Were it not for getting bodily rammed into Hanse for every social event since I graduated and the fact I'd been dating Morgan for literal years, I'd never have noticed that very Gallic glint he took on as my mother clipped him with her professional seductive wiles. Fortunately for me, he didn't decide to cause trouble yet, instead putting on a sardonic look (number four, 'this joke is funny but monarchs can't laugh in public', which came up about twice a social event) and looking at me. "Unfortunately, I'll have to depart- Emma, Morgan, I trust you can support and entertain the Magestrix until the next court on Friday."

"I have no other major obligations until then," Morgan said, lying as easily as he breathed.

"I would be overjoyed to show my mother her new home for the stay," I lied, slightly less fluently than Morgan.

"Then I believe it best you have the opportunity to get to it, then," Hanse said, moving to Smile Three (the "good job kids" expression) and nodding. "I will depart- keep us informed, though, if there are any issues."

"Of course, your Majesty."

With that, Hanse departed, and the tension in the room ratcheted itself down a notch as Kyalla smiled at me (number nine, 'give the courtier a cookie') and advanced into a Royal Embrace. The court on Crimson was physically affectionate like this as a rule, and it was easy enough to kick myself back over to Canopian Standards for this, even landing the little cheek-kiss ritual.

"Ah, Emma, I missed you so much!" Kyalla said, smiling at me (number two; 'welcome home from the war/foreign service posting' with a side of parental indulgence) as she looked me over. "I was afraid if I left you too long, you'd go native! Oh, I hope you'll forgive me for that affair in the Reach."

"I'll admit, it was a little dicey at points," I said, trying to figure out how to play this. "If our enemy there had any strategic sense, we'd have been defeated twice over- the Taurians entering the field was a devastating surprise."

"And the fact they dared use nuclear weapons! When we've the chance, I'll have to hire that band of mercenaries of yours, we'll need to pay them back for that." Kyalla stated in a stern voice.

"I think," I said, trying to focus on moving things away from this concourse, "that we should save that conversation for when I get you to our delegation's new home."

"Ah yes, Hanse did mention you had secured lodgings," Kyalla said lightly. "Well, while we get walking on that and your people let my stevedores where to unload, would you care to explain who the wonderful gentleman with us is?"

"Ah," I said, marshaling my thoughts. "This is Morgan Hasek-Davion. My, well, boyfriend."

That drew an arched eyebrow. "I see. I'll admit, Emma, I didn't see romance in the cards for you here; color me pleasantly surprised!"

Yeah, that was my mother: a house of polite lies. "We met during my second course of classes in NAIS," I explained, "after the War in the Reach. I'll admit I only figured out I had feelings for him relatively recently, though."

"I'll admit it was a rocky start," Morgan admitted, walking slowly with me as we started meandering the conversation towards the doors. "I've always been an Assault-weight pilot, and I've clashed repeatedly with Emma over matters of tactics since she has a notable monofocus on cavalry tactics."

"I'm wedded to my Phoenix Hawk first and foremost," I replied, an ear flicking in annoyance. "Unlike you, Morgan, with that hundred-ton compensation machine that Keresnsky cooked up to play babysitter you call a mech."

Morgan, by now having realized that I could, would, and have thrown down all day when it comes to Star League Interference in the Periphery, decided wisely to shut up.

"I'll admit I'm not much of a mech pilot," Kyalla admitted demurely, letting us steer her towards the cars. "I have some stick time in the Centrella family's Vulcan, but that was before I became the Magestrix."

"Really?" Morgan said, surprised.

"I'll admit, I was hardly the best pilot on Canopus, but I could hold my own…"


The wisdom of a Fox[]

Davion Royal Palace
November 23rd, 3027

Six hours. It had taken six god-damn hours to get Kyalla ensconced in that damn mansion I'd had to buy off the foreclosures market. There had been traffic. There had been storytime. There had been family pictures, all carefully sanitized and photoshopped so that everyone was wearing exactly enough clothing to not be indecent. There had been tea, and cakes, and a round of port even. Then we'd had to drive back, and oh I couldn't sleep enough in the car, and fuck-!

Breathe, Emma. Breathe. Looking over at Morgan, who was still a little pale from the ride back, I sighed dramatically and flicked my hair back, the waves rustling happily. "And now, you know why I despise my mother," I said, deadpan.

"Quite," he said with a quiet sort of venom that passed for subtlety with him. "That was- did you have to put up with her forever?"

"Oh no, I've been free of the bitch for, hell, five years now," I said, counting on my fingers. "Yeah, I was fourteen when I left, nineteen now… so yeah, five years."

"If it were just the plastic affection, she wouldn't be worse than my father sometimes," Morgan said, shaking his head, "but I could see her pulling levers, trying to sound me out. That's why you mentioned my Atlas, wasn't it?"

I gave him a sardonic grin. "One of a few, yes. Not many people assume an Atlas pilot to be subtle, and you've been known to phone it in enough that I could trust you to get the messaging there."

"You know I despise playing to type."

"Wait until she finds out Hanse drives a Beemer," I joked. "We get a lot of Dracs through the Free Worlds League, and they like to think of 'em as mechs for the Righteous and Proper Rulers of States."

Morgan's eyes started to bug out, and it took a minute before he started laughing. As much as I liked my boyfriend, though, I couldn't deny his honest laughs were a bit ugly- a half-choked wheeze from the top of the lungs. As he got over the comedic thought of Hanse Davion being anything like Coordinators of the Draconis Combine, though, a familiar voice sang out.

"Good grief, Lucifer! You should tell a girl she needs to bring a first-aid kit to a little meeting!"

Jumping up from where I had settled down next to Morgan, my eyes started flicking about. "Kamea?"

"In the coatroom, but bloody hell is it hard to figure out where the door is!"

Running over to open the door, I was pleasantly surprised when my old friend and lancemate wrapped me up in a giant hug, practically twirling me into the room. Once she let me down, I grinned- even if I was taller than her by a few centimeters, her form had settled out from that semi-willowy look she liked to take when being regal into a more sturdy one: well-shaped and more than a little attractive to a Mechwarrior like me.

"It's been years, and you haven't changed a bit!" Kamea said, smiling up at me. I just reached out and flicked her in the center of the forehead, a cocky smirk welded onto my face.

"And neither have you, little miss punchy!" I shot back. "How'd you even get into that coatroom, anyway?"

"I assure you I tried to stick to the path, but some old guy who looked like the staff said it was a shortcut," Kamea replied, grumbling. "It was something like 'just go straight through there, second left, and mind the couch' and he just gave me a pat on the back when the rest of the group wasn't looking!" Wait a minute- "Did he have any distinguishing features?"

"Aside from a face halfway between an old book and an older brick, not really."

I shrugged. "Probably not Hanse having a funny at our expense, then."

"Probably," Morgan muttered, "but never a certainty. I suppose introductions are in order?"

"Of course, of course!" I said, a smile coming back to me. "Kamea Arano, High Lady of the Auregian Reach, meet Morgan Hasek-Davion, heir to the Capellan March and first in line for the throne of the Federated Suns. More importantly, Atlas pilot, meet Atlas pilot."

At that point, I just stepped back as a glint came into Morgan's eye, and Kamea had the same look. Stepping up to each other, they slammed their hands together into what I had to assume was some burly, musclebound handshake that was taught to every Atlas pilot along with such basics as 'punch good' and 'autocannon thump'. Holding it for a second, they let go with a smirk.

"So, what sort of Atlas did you dig out of Artu?" Morgan asked with a smirk. "Since I'm still on a base model."

"A7S-D-HT," Kamea answered. "A Royal Atlas with freezers, two ER Large Lasers, a Command Console, pair of Medium Pulses, and good old class-twenty autocannon with the short and long range battery. More importantly, it also has a command console in it so I can drag my XO around."

"Nice."

As Kamea and Morgan descended into Same Mech Discussion, I thought I heard something coming from one of the hallways. It was easy enough to disengage from them as I slipped up to the door on catlike tread, before yanking it open. On the other side, as innocent as the cat with canary in hand, was the First Prince himself. Naturally, I gave him a hostile stare. Stooping around the eaves, really? Really?

Holding his finger up to his lips in the universal 'shush' gesture, Hanse slowly reached forward, taking the door handle and pulling it closed. Unfortunately, my tolerance for petty jokes was about shot still, and it didn't help that my boyfriend and best friend had descended into arguing about what color spall liner was best and why SLDF OD Green was worst. Shaking my head at him, my ear flicked in annoyance again. Attempting to back away from the door wasn't going to work for Hanse either- I just reached through to grab his wrist in a display of lese-majesty that would normally cause the Royal Bodyguard Dogpile to start popping out of closets and shrubberies to go after me. Instead, I just got one ducking out from under a table, taking one look at me, and shaking his head at Hanse.

Looks like even the First Prince's bodyguard detail could get tired of his humor.

"Why, your majesty, I didn't expect to see you here!" I said loudly, in my most theatrical circus voice. The fact it had enough ham in it to make the nearest mosque manifest a Wasp to remove the harem was just proof I had learned plenty from Kyalla's performers back when I lived in Crimson City. "I'm so glad you decided to grace us with your presence!"

Hanse just shot me a dirty look, before speaking sotto vocce: "I was trying to give you a moment."

"And I'm trying to go to sleep and these idiots are about to start discussing whether unitary round or multiple shot autocannons are better-"

Twisting an ear back, I heard the death spiral of the discussion with "The Pontiac 100 is fine, it's just the Victor is a trash can with delusions of grandeur-"

"-correction, they're already up to that point," I said with a harumph. "It's two in the morning."

"Well, heaven forbid I keep a princess from her beauty sleep," Hanse said dryly, "but we're going to be busy tomorrow. I've got some information that's going to be hot to trot until we send the balloon up on the invasion of the Capellans, and we need to get Task Force South's general plan set up so you can beat it into something cohesive. Does Kyalla have any general staff?"

"None worth the name, and not even the ones with the name came here."

"Wonderful, so I'll just write off her entire contribution," Hanse groaned. "I'll have to remind one of my diplomats that your new demesne should border the Capellan March, in case you ever need to throw a coup or just leave like a sensible person."

My laughter was not deranged, no matter how fast it got Kamea and Morgan to look at me. "That's an excellent joke," I said, but Hanse just gave me Smile 4 (the classic "yes I agree this is very funny" one) and my laughter started to dry up.

"Yes, an excellent joke," he murmured. "Go to bed, Emma. We'll go over this in the war meeting tomorrow, and again when we get the Argo here."

"Sir?"

For a second, Hanse let his mask fall, and I blinked. For one second, I wasn't looking at the Fox, but rather a forty-year-old man who had taken a nation on his shoulders. It was a short moment, but for it he looked so much more human than his regal persona. It was humbling, for a second to see what it wasn't like when he wasn't acting. A tinge of melancholy, a dash of sadness, and a pinch of mirth and whimsy on top a foundation of nothing but pure determination.

"An old Prince might not learn new tricks, but I don't need any for tonight," Hanse said, patting me on the head as he moved in. "You've got plenty of learning left to do, Lucifinette. Go get some rest."

"Alright."


Invasion Plans Meeting[]

Dropship Argo, in orbit around New Avalon
December 12th, 3027

Argo DropShip (In Orbit with Leopard DropShip)

Argo Class DropShip in orbit

Looking around the Argo's War Room, I breathed deeply. No high fashion, no bullshit: just plain and simple piloting-wear. The officers of the Restoration Army standing with Kamea; the men, women, and cats of the Harvest Blades behind Nyan and Mersies, and my personal guard with, well, me.

Then, in strode the First Prince.

It was like a breath of light had entered the room, and then the rest of his delegation came in. Ran Felsner, Yvonne Davion, Quintus Allard, Morgan Hanse-Davion, and a young woman my own age I didn't recognise until I combined her odd uniform with the blonde hair: Melissa Steiner, Hanse's bride-to-be. We had the full house here: a massive concentration of authority and skill here, plus force assets that would be terrifying in any other case.

"Alright, everyone: Welcome to the Argo," Nyan said with his best presentation voice. "Today, we're going to be meeting and deciding the plan of operations for Task Force South, including coordination with the operations of the AFFS."

"For this meeting, we're going to be subdividing a little," Mersies added. "All questions to AFFS general positioning will be directed to Marshal Yvonne Davion. All questions relative to Task Force South general organization will go to myself, Major Anne Gallowglass. All questions related to strategic spacelift and basing will go to Captain Haozhen Argenti-" Sokoloy, in other names "-and all questions relating to specific action in the Sian Commonality will be directed to Major General Ran Felsner. All questions on the actions of the Andurien forces should be directed to Lieutenant Colonel Abdul Sommers."

Breathing in, I tried not to clutch my metaphorical pearls. My contributions to this were going to be the Ducal Guard of Luxen 1st Regiment (a short mech battalion, an armor battalion, and a BA battalion), the Harvest Blades themselves, and the Centrella 4th Regiment: an infantry regiment that was a House asset and not tied to the position of the Magestrix.

"Currently, the plan is as follows," Nyan began, so I cleared my thoughts and started getting ready to take notes. I'd taken notes on this ten thousand times, but one more wouldn't hurt.

First: Andurien, working as Task Force North, would press from Shiro III to Palladaine, then Latice, then Wright, then Grand Base, then Holloway. This would form the Task Force North border, delineating where we'd focus on fighting the Capellan Confederation versus where Hanse would be fighting the Capellans. In addition, Andurien would also attempt to disrupt and stall operations on Betelgeuse, although they weren't confident they'd be able to take the planet.

Second: Task Force Duo was a complete wild card. We knew their jump-off point was Calseraigne, so they'd start by pushing in to Sax, but everything after that was a fucking mystery.

Third: that we'd technically deploy as Wave Three of the invasion, after the Tikhonov Offensive started. I could feel a slight bit of tension in Nyan's face from that, but it was easy to ignore: his sentimentality for that world was only that.

Fourth: Task Force South was going to be jumping off from Ichlangis, moving to Pojos, then Quimberton, then Victoria.

Fifth: AFFS Group Menke would be deploying coterminally with us in Task Force South, jumping off from Verlo, to engage McCarron's Armored Cavalry on Menke.

Sixth: Once Task Force South secured Victoria and AFFS Group Menke secured Menke, we were to unify forces, and push north to Grand Base, at which point we would re-unify with Task Force North. Once Grand Base was taken and pacified, AFFS Group Menke would detach and jump to Manapire, at which point they'd reinforce another AFFS Army Group. From there, we were on our own.

Seventh: AFFS goals were the complete and total destruction of the McCarron's Armored Cavalry via Task Force Menke. Andurien goals were the capture of Grand Base and Betelgeuse, as well as enforcing old territorial claims. Canopian goals were the capture of as many systems as possible. Auregian goals were the capture of Victoria and anything between Ichanglis and Victoria, with the secondary goal of not loosing any territory to the Bulls during their shadow war.

"With that all said," Nyan finished up, "We've got some open time planned so that we can address emergent issues."

At that point, I just folded onto Kamea like a leech. "So, what are you bringing to the party?" I asked, trying to keep my breath steady. This was it. This was the High Command I wished I had so many times, and now I didn't know what the fuck to do with it! Falling back to ghost an old role might help, and Kamea looked as lost as I did.

"First through Third Auregian Mechanized Infantry, Second and Third Hussars, and the Royal Guard's Battalion," Kamea said, sighing. "I'd bring more, but we've got to try and hold the border versus the Bulls."

"I've got my Ducal Guard and uh, well, some other stuff scratched up," I admitted. "Most of my throw weight is in the Harvest Blades."

"So that's, call it six mech battalions from me, four from you?"

"Two from me, but two armored as well."

"Then we're at eight mech battalions from us, the Blades bring us to ten; five armored battalion, four BA battalions, and uh, a shitload of infantry."

"Sounds about right."

"If we're counting contributions," Morgan said, sliding up in on us, "I'm notionally bringing a full RCT. That's four mech battalions, nine armor battalions, an artillery battalion, and twenty-ish foot battalions. No battle armor, though; but I do have air support."

"We'll see how much of that you have left over Menke," I joked. "What's your backup for that?"

"The Screaming Eagles, Team Banzai, and Wylie's Coyotes. We might get more if Hanse can scrounge up more droppers and jumpers."

"Don't look at me, I'm tapped," Kamea joked. "Getting Task Force South moving is going to take everything I have."

"Drat. Can I at least beg rides for the disabled units we'll have to ship back?"

Kamea laughed at that. "Yeah, I can spring you that as long as you've got civil cargo to bring to the Reach. If my people aren't bringing stuff back, then we're going to go broke though."

"Don't worry, we'll have a trade lane ready to roll at some point," Morgan soothed, while I thought about some of the secondary factors.

"Our jump-off date is December 21st, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. Task Force South is technically December 18th, Task Force Menke is the 21st, and- when is Task Force North?"

"TF North is the 16th," a new voice added, moving in gently. A large man, with artfully swept hair and a proud monocle complimented by a cane, entered our little group. "Major General Ran Felsner, at your service- although I feel we're leaving the titles at home for now."

"Major General Felsner," I said, bowing slightly. "It's good to have you. Any thoughts or insights on Task Force Menke?"

"Hanse is up to shenanigans," Felsner said calmly. "I don't think we're going to be facing the entire Big Mac, but it wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong. If there's a few battalions or even a whole regiment they've shook loose, then they'll be in a position to give you hell."

"Excellent point," Kamea said, pinching her lips together. "Do you have any advice, then?"

"It's the Big Mac. Their mechs are heavier than yours, their officers are better than yours, and their mechanics are faster than yours. That doesn't mean you can't beat them, though," Felsner said carefully. "Miss Kamea, your mech regiments are fairly light, yes?"

"Average is about forty to forty-five tons, yes," Kamea replied, "fifty if you count their armor battalions."

"Don't count them, then. Your units are light, fast, and your artillery assets and airstrikes can shape the battlefield to slow the enemy further. Skirmish, skirmish, skirmish: if they can't sleep, they can't fight."

"Any advice for me, then?" I asked lightly.

"Are you a Marksmen, a mech ace, yet?"

I tried not to sigh. "Yes."

"Good. Then stay out of the cockpit."

"Excuse me?"

Felsner shook his head. "You're a natural staff officer, and people listen to you. I'd trade a lance mech aces for one good battalion staffer, and company for one who can also ride herd on a regiment. Your mercenaries are better than they've any right to be, but you're riding herd on an entire brigade here. That means you need staffers, and while I like a certain major of mine- well, staff officers don't grow on trees."

"Thanks, sir," Morgan muttered archly.

"You'll grow into a perfectly fine staff officer, Morgan," Felsner chuckled. "Eventually. Unlike you, though, I have very little time to impart generational wisdom into these fine ladies' heads, and they're absolutely going to need it for this."

I had my own sensible giggle at that. "Finally, to not be treated like the youngest in the room."

"Technically, that would be me," a voice with a hint of a riverine German accent said, syllabant enough to make the Lyran source unmistakable.

"Archon-Designate Steiner," Kamea said, with a slight bow.

"In the flesh, as it were," she said with a smile. "I know it's bad taste to peak at the wedding gifts, but I do need to learn this higher-order stuff at some point. Pretend I'm not here."

Kamea just shot me a look that said 'and they think I'm a stereotypical Atlas pilot!' to which I just nodded sagely. Morgan just raised an eyebrow, but I called it and waited to see if he'd fold. Fortunately, he knew when he was flanked, and decided to fall back three and get his lines dressed.

"There shouldn't be any sort of substantial forces on any of the worlds between us and Victoria," Kamea said, thinking aloud. "Do you think we could blitz it like we did Artru?"

"Call it two battalions of armor and two regiments of foot per planet?" I asked. "That should keep them tied down."

"I'd advise you up that to two regiments of mechanized, or one of mechanized and two of foot with those two battalions of armor," Felsner cautioned. "Capellan infantry are tenacious as hell, and they might break fast, but they'll reform faster."

"It'll give the BA something to do at least," I joked. "We're not fighting in the domes of Victoria if I can help it."

"Good plan- and if you'll excuse me, I think I need to bail Yvonne out," Felsner said lightly. "The Captain Argenti is grilling her on relative throughput, and it looks like if he has his way there'll be a pre-positioned supply point so it'll be a jump in and out of Grand Base before we're resupplied for that particular knockdown fight."

"Well then," I muttered. "Good luck, Felsner."

"And you, Centrella."


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