InaG Chpt 19

==It's not a Gundam - Chapter 19 -Dance with the Widow- Book 2 -==
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===Bargaining with Dragoons===
Central Courtyard, FWL Parliament - Atreus City
Atreus, Free Worlds League
February 3027
Two years ago their mission was to prepare the Inner Sphere against the threat of a Clan Invasion.
 
Today the question was whether it should be the other way around.
 
They weren't blind to the events going on in the Marian Hegemony. Far from it. Wolfnet had it's eyes and ears across the Inner Sphere and in the Periphery. What they saw concerned them.
 
And while Natasha didn't voice it ... she felt the gnawing, crawling sensation of fear creeping up her back. It had only grown worse when Jaime returned with bad news: The Exarch knew who they were.
 
And if he knew, then so were the people who were his backers, and she didn't mean the Guild.
 
She ignored the stares of men eyeing her like a piece of meat. She wore what she wanted and the leers of brats and old perverts didn't concern her. They were cowards of the worse sort, hiding behind a wall of metal whenever the worse came to worse.
 
The moment Jaime gave her the signal she stepped out and away from the sea of would-be suitors. She joined her leader, following him as they turned around a corner and behind a hedge.
 
There, standing in the middle of the grass was the Exarch ... as well as the Captain-General and his Secretary.
 
She tensed. Did he tell them?
 
"Captain-General." Jaime greeted.
 
"Colonel." Janos spoke back, "Can you tell me why he brought both us here?"
 
"I have a guess." Jaime stared at the Exarch, "You didn't tell him?"
 
"Not yet." He admitted, "Also that was a Contraction."
 
Natasha's lips thinned. If there was anything that proved what Exarch was saying it was him knowing The Clans' brand of Star League English.
 
"The Inner Sphere rubbed off on me." Wolf explained simply.
 
Janos raised his brow, "Something special about that?"
 
"It's part of the culture the Dragoons are from." Exarch explained.
 
"Ah." Marik nodded, "I guess this means he knows your secret Colonel. When you were still under my employ you were tight-lipped."
 
"And we are thankful you respect our privacy."
 
"Are we going to stand here all night or are you going to spill it Ex?" Dote spoke.
 
"To be clear the Dragoons' people aren't fully unified. They are a warrior culture who ritualize conflict and fight combat by champion."
 
"So more Dracs?" Janos snorted, "I can see how you and the Snakes get along."
 
"There's a nuance." Natasha finally spoke, "The only snakes are a few Cloud Cobras."
 
"That's supposed to mean anything?" Secelia questioned.
 
"Colonel Wolf. Commander Kerensky." the Exarch looked at them in the eyes, "I am not from any Clan. But if I was then I would be a Warden. My work proves itself. Either we help each other or the Sphere tears itself apart. Again."
 
"Not even the Minnesota Tribe?" Jaime questioned.
 
"Call them Wolverines, Colonel." The Exarch spoke, "There's taboos and then there's just being upset over naming schemes."
 
The Minnesota Tribe. It gave them away. All the pieces were there and the dawning realization crept across Marik and Dote's faces.
 
"You're THAT Kerensky's granddaughter!" Janos accused Natasha, "Aren't you!?"
 
"In a way." she conceded, "But we all think we are the children of The Great Father."
 
"So you're still alive." Secelia frowned, "So what stopped you from coming back then?"
 
"...Each other." Jaime finally replied, "The Exarch is correct that we are not all one Clan."
 
"Putting it lightly." Natasha grumbled.
 
The Captain-General gave a long suffering groan, "Perfect. Just what I need. MORE war hungry maniacs. Dote remind me to send a message to Takashi. His people are going to be in for some fun times sooner or later."
 
"Blunt or Passive-Aggressive, sir?" Secelia asked.
 
"Yes."
 
"I ask that you don't." Jaime spoke, "not yet at least."
 
The Captain-General was not as bitter as she remembered it. She and many others had thought that his brother's betrayal had broken him. Apparently not.
 
"Then what are you?" Secelia questioned, "If you aren't here to bring back the Star League."
 
"We're Wardens, Princess." Natasha retorted, "We want to protect The Inner Sphere. Not flatten it. You all were already halfway there before we even arrived."
 
Secelia and The Exarch were a couple. Neither hid that fact. It was clear to Natasha that Dote was more than just a pretty secretary who lucked out on her paper. The Dragoons needed to have eyes on her. Looking back at Jaime she knew that he was of the same mind.
 
"Nothing lasts." The Exarch spoke, "But we can make things for the better for everyone after us. I mean what I say, Colonel. If I was a Clanner I'd have been a Warden."
 
"But you aren't." Natasha frowned, "You know who WE are. But no one knows who YOU are Exarch."
 
"Natasha-"
 
She brushed Jaime off, storming toward the man who was more a mystery to the world than they could ever be.
 
Two years. Only two years to turn the world upside down.
 
Two years for some unknown to rise to a level of power that even the Great Houses could not simply ignore.
 
Two years since she saw the ROMs of a man carve his way through armies on the ground, in the air, and in space. With technology never seen before and tactics as alien as they were developed.
 
"I am Natasha Kerensky of Clan Wolf. The Wolves of Kerensky have claimed the Ptolemaios for their own." She declared, "I and my Warhammer shall fight in the name of The Clans. What tame dogs defend it?"
 
A Batchall was a hail mary. If The Exarch had even a shred of integrity, or at least knew their customs then he would not ignore it.
thumb|250px|Natasha Kerensky's Warhammer Heavy 'Mech
The Exarch looked toward the starport, and his ship. He frowned and sighed. Under his breath he growled: "So be it..."
 
"I am Exarch of the Junker Guild." He answered, "I will use a Tieren. Your contract with the Draconis Combine will end next year ...Your next contract will be with the Guild."
 
Jaime's eyes bored into the back of her head. He looked at her like she had grown a second one.
 
She knew what she was doing. She hoped so.
 
"You can't be serious..." Secelia scowled, "Exarch you don't have to-"
 
"Secelia." The Captain-General spoke, "I have no fucking clue what their customs are. But I know an honor duel when I see one."
 
"It is a Trial of Possession." Jaime explained, "Instead of invasions, sieges, and bloody urban warfare the Clans fight over things like land and resources in a prepared and negotiated battlefield."
 
"Its to limit loss of life and collateral." The Exarch explained, "I have ... critiques ... on how they do things. But if I have to knock some sense into you Kerensky then I will."
 
When Warriors start the bargain many go for the maximum. Natasha knew neither of their demands would work. She found the words and began her response.
 
"You have shown to be able to have surprises at every turn." she replied, "You say you have a Tieren but you won't fool me. It is not just a stock Tieren if there ever is one."
 
"And I suspect the same for your own mech." he answered back.
 
"My Warhammer has been upgraded with Clan-grade equipment and OZ-tech."
She started her career in a Marauder but for much of her life her ride of choice was The Warhammer. 'Black Lady' had served her well over the years and had gone through as much change as she had. Today? Lady was less upgraded and more rebuilt from the ground up.
 
"My Tieren is a Tieren 'Taozi' All-Region Type. Optimized controls and general performance increase. Unlike it's predecessors it does not need refit to be usable in any environment."
 
"Then we fight with our Mechs as-is. The best of the Dragoons against the best of the Guild. I cannot speak for all the Dragoons so I reject the contract."
 
"Then you will disclose to the Houses who you are. And you will PROPERLY prepare the whole of the Inner Sphere against the Clans instead of hoping the Combine will fend them off alone."
 
She turned to Jaime who nodded back, "And you will reveal who you are. And the source of your equipment."
 
The Exarch exhaled, "Agreed. Captain-General is there a Mech Combat grounds we can borrow?"
 
While Solaris was THE center of Mech gladiators as a Bloodsport it showed up anywhere there were two MechWarriors.
 
Their fight could not be held privately. Both of them were too high profile and Janos put his foot down not wanting any collateral damage to his planet.
 
"Atreus City Stadium." Marik spoke, "and the both of you better not try any funny business."
 
"No. That would be dezgra." Jaime spoke.
 
"Dishonorable." Exarch explained.
 
"This is completely unnecessary." Secelia frowned, "Why don't you two Meatheads just tell the truth?"
 
At heart It was political posturing. Both desired to save the Inner Sphere but they both disagreed on how. Win or lose this had turned from a Trial of Possession to a Trial of Grievance. Only when they met each other with blows could they resolve things.
 
Janos as a veteran of bitter politics narrowed his eyes in understanding, "Let the meatheads figure it out themselves. Kerensky. Exarch. Don't disappoint me."
 
"You aren't the Janos I remember." Natasha commented.
 
"The only constant is change Kerensky. Now finish this ritual." Marik demanded, "It's getting late."
 
"To surrender or disablement." She demanded Exarch.
 
"Surrender or disablement." Exarch agreed.
 
She was going to get an earful from Jaime. If it was any consolation she knew that the Exarch would get the same from Secelia.
 
"...Bargained well and done."
I never voiced it. Though Secelia Dote 
 
The w:c:gundam:Zako:Zako saluted again before he turned and left.
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===Witnesses of a Duel===
Atreus City Stadium, Atreus City
Atreus, Free Worlds League
February 3027
The press filed into the stadium, joining Atrean elite and many military men and mercenary women to see a fight for the history books. In the backrooms and many bars bookies were taking bets. The Atrean HPG already had transmission time set aside for the many recordings of the duel to be sent across the Inner Sphere.
 
Her Warhammer sat in front of one entrance, the Tieren sat on the other end.
 
Black Lady looked more like her Warhammer IIC successor than anything else as the Mechtechs allowed her to dip into their limited pool of Clan-grade parts ... as well as lessons learned from the Junkers.
Over the radio, her friend and mission control was less than pleased over the events.
 
"I hope you know what you are doing." Jaime warned.
 
"Don't tell me you don't want to fight him too."
 
"Many MechWarriors would jump for the chance." He retorted, "But I have our people and our mission to think about."
 
"I am also. And he's the key."
 
"If you say so. Win Natasha. For all our sakes."
 
"Aff." She answered. She wouldn't let him down. Him, the Dragoons, ... Joshua.
 
The doors groaned open and with a nudge of her control sticks her Warhammer stepped forward.
 
The arena was a flat expanse of sterile sand. Surrounding it was a ringed wall of combat-grade reinforced glass and the disc-shaped energy shield emitters used by the Guild now apparently hooked up into the Atrean power grid.
 
She looked across at the Tieren facing her. It's outline was smoother with more rounded edges to accentuate the blocky frame and plenty of additional jumpjets covered it's body, but two things stood out to her:
 
One was that it was distinctly colored Purple. MARIK Purple.
 
And that it's only weapons were two guns clamped to the mech's hips. Her computers said they were PPCs of some sort but the Black Widow knew well there was more to them than meets the eye.
"...Before we begin." Exarch spoke on loudspeaker, "I want to tell you something from my people."
 
"And what would that be?" She answered back.
 
"Victory is never decided by mobile suit performance alone..." He chanted.
 
The Tieren tensed and on her dashboard Natasha could see the Super-Heavy come alive with life. It was no Fusion Engine, but the monster was now fully online.
 
"...Nor by the skill of the pilot, alone..."
 
The Tieren's hands grabbed it's weapons. One in each hand. She tensed, expecting a cheap shot but instead they remained lowered to the ground. The surprise it turned out, was the dual-wielding mech wasn't as undergunned as it looked. Two brilliant red blades of light shot out from under the barrels of each PPC. Natasha knew them for what they were: Beam Sabers.
 
Apparently the Gundam wasn't the only one armed with them.
 
"...The result itself is only the truth."
 
She gripped her controls. Somewhere, somehow, she knew Black Lady was hungry for a fight and the blood of a Trueborn Warrior ran hot. Those were words she could live by.
 
"Agreed." she answered, "When you are ready."
 
The Tieren leaned forward in an ever-so slight nod, "...begin."
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===Combatants Clash===
Two giants charged forward. On heavy legs and roaring Jump jets they clashed for all the Inner Sphere to see. She fired her Lasers and PPCs. The Exarch fired in turn. 'Black Lady' shrugged off the beams as Electromagnetic Armor pilfered from raids against the FedSun did their work. The Tieren twisted with a burst of it's thrusters with the lasers doing nothing but blackening the E-Carbon armor.
 
They continued to circle and strafe.
 
Their speed was equal; her Warhammer's legs had been fully integrated with parts from a Tragos.
 
Their armor was matched. She had fully forgone an SRM for the heatsinks and XL Engine to keep the EM Armor fully powered.
 
Their weaponry? In the end it may have not mattered. Again and again her Clan-spec ER PPC and ER Medium Lasers cut through the air between them. The Tieren's armor was already thick and it's new mobility was proven.
 
Nothing but skill, sheer will, and dumb luck would decide things.
 
On the ground and in the air two titans clashed at speeds never seen two years ago at a pace that would have caused the heads of anyone below a Mechwarrior Ace to spin. This was an age where Lights and Mediums could be LAMs, Medium and Assaults were as fast as Lights, where Superheavies walked the battlefield, and the role of Aerojock and Mechwarrior blurred.
 
It was also an age where military technology became so advanced that it looped right around because in the end Kerensky and the Exarch resulted in fists. As the Tieren swung to cleave through her arms she swung back, carving a gash into the Super-Heavy's wrist.
 
Melee was dezgra among the clans. But she was not in Clan Space. And she wasn't fighting a fellow Clanner. The Tieren wasn't the only machine that had bayonets. Twin Retractable Blades slid out and gave her PPC Barrels a serrated biting edge. More than one time she was forced to use it, when her enemies could now so easily close the distance and their numbers swelled with OZ-mechs and those Petite-Mobile pseudo-Battle Armors she could no longer be sure her weapons didn't run empty or melt on a raid.
 
The deadliest dance in the Inner Sphere continued. Neither side gave pause or quarter. Despite all her preparations she could feel herself sweat. Half from exertion, half as even with a Clan XL Engine and every Clan Double Heatsink she could get her hands on 'Black Lady' taxed under the strain.
 
The Exarch was no better. For a lack of a better word the Tieren's Jumpjets coughed and sputtered time to time and where he once fired beam after beam each and every shot was now timed and aimed.
 
They wore each other down. Probing each other's defenses, maneuvering under a hail of glowing death as the two pilots searched a means to end the stalemate.
 
She saw her opening as the Exarch tossed aside one of his guns. Either it had broken or what stood for it's ammunition had been deleted. The Warhammer surged forward with a full Alpha Strike aimed right at the Mech's joints where the armor was thin and worn from constant damage. Something vital had been hit. Something that caused hydraulic fluid to burst from hoses and electrical cables to snap and violently spark with lightning. The offending mech's arm went limp, now nothing more than dead weight.
 
The Tieren stumbled and Natasha continued to push. Laser and PPC slashed into the Superheavy, carving dark deep lines into the machine.
 
It was now or never.
 
...it turned out to be never.
 
Suddenly Exarch reoriented himself and his mech found it's balance. The Jumpjets blasted at an intensity not seen at the start. So much blinding dust and smoke was kicked up that she couldn't see a damn thing.
 
But he did.
 
Natasha buckled in her seat as something heavy slammed into her mech. She hit the ground hard and kicked up even more dust in the meantime. Despite her struggle 'Black Lady' didn't move. Something heavy weighed the mech down. As the dust cleared she finally saw why: Her eyes looked straight at the barrel of the Tieren's gun.
There were many things she had grown accustomed to as a MechWarrior.
 
Unfortunately she still relied on her own two eyes rather than an enclosed cockpit and display.
 
Unfortunately an armored cockpit could theoretically take a point blank direct hit. Cockpit Glass didn't.
 
"...hegira..." The Exarch spoke through a private channel.
 
Natasha gave a long deep breath and powered down her machine.
 
"...Hegira."
 
If it was any consolation it was her greatest fight to date. The silent crowd erupted into roars and shouts of approval. It was over. But all good things did.
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===Attacks and Revelations===
Eventually, they both climbed out of their machines. Over a cheering crowd the cleanup crew went to work, with Dragoon support staff tending to 'Black Lady' and the Junkers for the Tieren.
 
"Hegira? You're not going to take any Isorla? Do you have a cord?" she asked the Exarch.
 
He shook his head, "If I did I would have already freed you. I'm not interested in Bondsmen."
 
"Really?" she asked warily, "Afraid of taking me as Abtakha? If it was the other way around any Clan would have been glad to have you."
 
"As I said I am not one of the Clans. Not even a Dark Caste exile. Please don't Bondsref."
 
"I'm not as much a meathead as Dote thinks." she scoffs, "We'll keep to our word. On my honor."
 
The Exarch nodded, "I'll make sure the Guild will be ready. For whatever comes next."
 
"Will you ever say who you are?"
 
"I just don't feel it's the right time." he shook his head, "Eventually I will."
 
"Damn straight you are!"
 
The shout came from the Captain-General, followed in tow by his secretary and an entourage of guards clearly SAFE's Eagle Commandos in plain clothes.
 
"You wouldn't believe the odds on this fight." he huffed, "At least there was SOME worth gotten out of this pointless mess!"
 
"You bet on both of them." Secelia rolled her eyes, "You had two different bookies for some reason."
 
"I'm playing both sides." Marik explained, "So that I always come out on top."
 
Around the field the press tried to reach them both. FWL and Junker guards held them back but even so they shouted over the din of the crowd asking for comment and flooding their ears with questions.
 
Janos frowned, "What the hell is security doing!? Someone get those idiots back and off the field!"
 
The guards tried and the guards failed. The crowd of spectators jumped over the railings as Janos' guards moved to impose themselves between them and their charge. Dozens of cameras flashed in their eyes. It was almost blinding, even for people who had stared at the business end of lasers for a living.
 
"We need to get out of here." Exarch spoke.
 
"Aff." Natasha answered.
 
The crowd increasingly became unruly, but the guards worked to clear a path toward the exit.
 
It was at this moment that Natasha's instincts acted up. Her genetically-engineered senses and reflexes screamed at her that something was wrong. She could just feel it. The Black Widow's eyes swept through a sea of faces ... and locked eyes on a non-descript man slowly but surely moving forward.
 
Kerensky's blood chilled.
 
Reflexively she reached for her sidearm and the guards turned as one as they saw the direction she raised it.
 
But it was too late.
 
A gun cracked; and it was not hers.
 
Shouts became screams as the panic swept the stadium. Half of Janos' guards were already dragging the Captain-General and Secelia out against their protests. The other half had drawn their weapons trying to locate the shooter as innocent bystanders in every direction.
 
Another gun cracked; hers. Natasha's aim was true and she saw the man crumple. Atrean Police and Guild Security rushed to the scene moments later but the damage was done. An assailant lay dead on the ground. And The Exarch was on his knees, clutching a bleeding wound on his face.
 
The mask saved his life.
 
But not his identity.
 
In high-fidelity 4K live footage was a face no man or woman wouldn't fail to recognize. Whether in the Inner Sphere or in Clan Space for that matter. Secelia pushed grown-men, hardened killers aside and rushed to the aide of the man she loved.
 
"Secelia..." he answered weakly.
 
"Shhh..." Secelia whispered, "It's alright. I'm here. Nothing changes."
 
Dote held the Exarch in her arms as Janos' men shouted for a medic.
 
Secelia was wrong. Natasha knew that for a fact.
 
How could it not when the mirror-likeness of a young Ian Cameron, Founder and First First Lord of the Star League was caught on camera?
----
===The New Luther===
Atreus HPG Station
Atreus, Free Worlds League
February 3027
The Atreus City Metro hospital parking lot was crowded with the press and plenty more well-wishers.
 
The Exarch was a celebrity. A Cameron was practically messianic. Even hooked up to lostech medical equipment and in a hospital gown the Exarch looked as dignified as a First Lord should be.
 
It was a shame then, that he was in a coma.
 
The bullet may have struck his mask, but the head injury was not something anyone could walk away from.
 
To no one's surprise there was a stream of condolences for the Exarch and condemnations for the attempted assassination. And plenty of denials as well.
 
The near entirety of the Guild's security presence on Atreus and the neighboring systems had convened around the hospital.
 
It was a formidable force. It was an incensed force. Wells had thought the AIs would be sworn loyal to the man, but the Guild? Frankly he was terrified what they would unleash upon the perpetrators. Ares Convention be damned. Sanctity of the Holy HPG be damned.
 
The normal critics of the Guild were quiet or grumbled half-heartedly. No one wanted to know exactly how many Dainsleifs the Junkers actually had. Or how lynch-happy the public was becoming. The Cult of St. Cameron and the One Star Faith had taken impromptu pilgrimage to Atreus. Joining them were many more non-denominated Cameronist and Star League revivalists. Word had it that even a few personnel from many SLDF legacy units like the Northwind Highlanders and Eridani Light Horse had gone on leave to see things for themselves.
 
It was an unenviable mess. A mess that was the doing of one idiotic Precentor.
 
He could hear the shouts from behind the door. Pedrigor had taken the live call from Terra itself in his office. The First Circuit screamed their collective lungs out on what to do.
 
Quietly he waited. Listening as the argument went back and forth and went in circles.
 
The Exarch was a Cameron. Even with genetic drift what samples ROM absconded from the Hospital said so. Exactly how close to the main Cameron line he was remained up in the air. There were plenty of Cadet Houses as well as plenty of descendants as a product of affairs and such. That didn't take into account the possibility of genetic engineering or someone who had their own DOPPELGANGER project.
 
What Pedrigor did was brash. Even before the revelation that he was a Cameron. Everyone save Waterly agreed on that.
 
Precentor Dieron simply sneered, mocking the Atrean ROM Cell for not finishing the job and boasting how their brethren in the Combine did better.
 
Pedrigor countered with her branch's debacle with Nik's Cavaliers. So many faithful dead, so many assets wasted as well.
Wells frowned, even those committed to Blake's vision would not shed their factionalism. One vision, one purpose. Though it seemed many were willing to blind themselves.
 
As the talk continued he busied himself reaching into a nearby desk and scribbled ink on paper. The things he had to do for Comstar.
 
"...Come in Demi-Precentor." Aliz said from within his office.
 
Wells entered, seeing the bags under the man's eyes and the open bottle of Atrean Wine, "I was waiting for you to finish."
 
"Yet you invited yourself into MY Station." The Precentor grumbled.
 
"All Stations are Blake's stations." Wells replied, putting his gloves on.
 
"Semantics Wells." the First Circuit member brushed off, "I already had an earful from the Primus."
 
There was a Gridlock. Some sought to eliminate the Exarch. Others to subvert the Guild, partly so that Comstar could benefit with a First Lord in their pocket... and partly because a Cameron needed a guiding hand. That was if he survived. That was if he didn't know who had tried to kill him.
 
"It is a request for funding."
 
"...Funding."
"Yes, The Director of the Niops Association has the technology, but not the resources." Wells explained, "Naturally he cannot source it from his neighbors."
 
Niops had closed itself off from the Guild while the rest of the Periphery states in the area were falling over each other to join the Cooperative. Their desire to maintain power and their culturally insular nature had kept them out of it despite the peer pressure. To open themselves up to the Junkers would likely seem them deposed ... and likely jailed or executed for their crimes against their neighbors and their people.
 
Pedrigor typed into his computer, "Done."
 
"That's it?"
 
"I'm not the fool that that shrew Waterly claims me to be." the Precentor scowled, "We may suppress technology in the Inner Sphere, but even the Blessed Order must adapt."
 
"For once we agree."
 
"For once." he grumbled, "Tell Director Bilmon he'll have his shipments. He'll have them even if I keel over dead."
 
"Tubarov will be pleased."
 
"Hmph." the Precentor snorted, "As if that joyless brute could ever be happy. Where did you find him?"
 
"The Niops Robotics Division. His talent was overlooked by jealous superiors and he proved ... welcoming to shared interests."
 
 "Then take it from me, Demi-Precentor. To be of the First Circuit, let alone Primus is not a blessing."
 
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown."
 
"Indeed. Even this Blake-cursed mess with this possible Cameron. Everything I do I do for the Order-"
 
The crack of the handgun was loud. Enough that Wells could already hear sounds of shouts and footsteps from the rest of the HPG station.
 
"...So do I."
 
He wiped away the smoke before he slipped the gun between Pedrigor's lifeless fingers and a piece of paper on the desk. Wells stood back as the rest of the Adepts barged in they saw the Precentor of Atreus slumped over with a hole to the side of his head.
 
"Blessed Blake...." An Adept gasped.
 
Wells shook his head, "Bastard took his life."
 
"Don't speak ill of Precentor Aliz." Another snapped, "Suicide is no laughing matter!"
 
"I am far from a clown." The Demi-Precentor spoke, "You all saw him. He was practically panicking for the past few days."
 
It wasn't soon before they noticed the paper soaked red. It was still readable and written with Aliz's copied handwriting. It had taken some time but he had copied his superior's writing years ago; for the Adepts who worked in logistics they never checked how valid all those requisition forms he had handed to them.
 
Wells looked at the paling and horrified expressions of his fellow brothers and sisters in the order. It fooled them to this day.
 
"Clear a path!" a voice shouted, "Out of the way!"
 
He expected many people to scrambled into the Precentor's office. But not the heir-apparent to Captain-General.
 
"What in Blake's name happened here!?" Thomas growled.
Shaking hands held the letter out to Thomas Marik. Thomas' hands gripped the paper as he read the doctored confession line-by-line. The sheer outrage was audible and the air grew heavy and heated.
 
"Brothers." Thomas spoke to the crowd, "Sisters. You all know the level of rot that has seeped into our Order. You have all confided in me and with each other of the wrongs done in HIS name every single day."
 
He held out the paper. Nearly crumbled by the hand of a newborn firebrand.
 
"THIS." he emphasized, "Is proof enough! Blake would be ashamed of what Pedrigor has done. What so many others have done. I will not let this stand. Neither should any good faithful servant of His Word!"
 
Thomas locked eyes with every single on of their gazes, "The time has come. The Blessed Order must be set back on it's rightful path. Blake is with us. ...But are you with me?!"
 
Silence filled the air. For those few seconds not a single sound could be heard. But then the dam broke and one brave child of Blake stepped forward.
 
"I am with you Marik!" An Adept shouted.
 
"So am I!" a second roared.
 
"In his name!"
 
"For Blessed Blake!"
 
What started as a trickle turned into a tidal wave. From the clerks to the janitorial staff, from the security guards to plenty who was involved in the inner secrets of The Order.
 
It was not a revolution.
 
It was not a rebellion.
 
It was a reformation.
 
"Precentor Alphard." Thomas spoke to him.
 
"I am only a Demi-Precentor." Wells corrected.
 
Marik shook his head, "Not with me you are. You have seen how much we have failed the Prophet here and on Alphard. Will you join me?"
 
Whether it was under a Primus named Marik or not it mattered little. Comstar would stand in the end, stronger and purer. Just as Blake intended.
 
"...Of course. Everything I do I do for The Order."
-----
==Chapter Notes==
*; Note from the Author - Part 1: I would have used 'Fix Release' as the battle theme but I felt it could be used for another chapter I am planning for. As for Mobile Suits I decided to stick with the Tieren as reference to the early beginnings of the story. The Dagger-series I want to include at a later date while I felt the time was not right to reveal something as regal as Tallgeese. It's a machine fit for a First Lord after all.
*; Note from the Author - Part 2: The New Luther is a Mini-chapter/interlude. Not the full reactions chapter will appear in Chapter 20. 
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Chapter 19