CS3056-14

=Chapter 14= 
==Clover Spear - The Story of the '56 War==
Prologue, Book 2, The Hammer Falls
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Offices of the First Prince Emeritus
Royal Palace, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
September 8th, 3056
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I hate what I have to do, but for the good of the realm, I have to do it. Hanse grimaced as he thought over the words that he had rehearsed mentally for weeks before this day. It was a beautiful early fall day on New Avalon, clear blue skies, bit of a clean breeze that wafted through the palace. But all Hanse could think about was the horrible things he was going to have to say to an old friend, one whom had rendered innumerable services to the Commonwealth, and one whom had given his only brother to save his then-fiancé.
This is so much worse than when I found out the truth about Michael. Hanse mused. He felt a slight twinge in his chest, and though he was tempted to reach for his heart pills, he soon shut the thought out of his mind. He knew his body, and he knew he was going to get through this. I am of sterner stuff than this. Victor had offered to do this, so had Melissa, but the fact was, politically, he could not see any other alternative to himself. And he wouldn’t accept it from anyone else but me and Katrina. And Katrina’s gone, so it’s just me.
There was a knock at the door. “Your highness, Duke Kell has arrived for his one pm audience. Shall I admit him?”
Hanse bellowed “Yes, and see we aren’t disturbed afterwards.” Hanse shook himself mentally as he said that a bit harsher than he had intended. That young man did not deserve your anger, Hanse, and you know it. The voice in his head that said it sounded suspiciously like his father, Andrew. Dad’s been gone a long time. I suppose he’d approve of what we’ve built here.
The door opened and a man of imposing height entered. His physique told of a man who had still put himself through a brutal exercise regimen, and remained ready for battle, even though he hadn’t been in a ‘Mech in two years. His ducal clothes spoke of a simple finery, as he was not a man of ceremony, but a man who had made his reputation on the battlefield. As a mercenary, fighting the enemies of the Commonwealth for longer than there HAD been a Federated Commonwealth. His ‘Mechwarrior’s spur’s jangled, and his faded blue school rag fluttered in the breeze as he entered the room and his long mane of grey hair framed his face, currently an expressionless mask. But Hanse noted his eyes. His eyes said sorrow, and determination, and intelligence, and experience, all rolled up into something that made Morgan Kell unique, and by the reports of some, unkillable.
Not so sure I believe that last part, but I think we’re both a bit old to be hopping into simulators to prove it, eh? Then again, with what I have to tell him, he might want to do it for real once I am done. God, he is a loyal soldier who we have counted on time and again. I inducted him into the Order of Davion. Victor and Katherine gave him those spurs.. and the right to wear them as thanks for decades of loyal service, and now, this is how we thank him.
“Hello Morgan.” Hanse smiled thinly, “Please, sit down. Can I have the palace staff get you anything?”
Morgan did as he was asked, shaking his head no as he sat. “I am on my way to a reunion of some of the gang from Mallory’s World. Not many of us left. But, I got your message, Hanse. I cannot imagine why it is so important for you to send for me to come incommunicado.”
Hanse nodded. “I am sorry, Morgan, for the bit of skullduggery, but it’s important. Sadly, it affects your family. Namely, your son.”
Morgan grimaced knowingly. His brows deepened as he frowned, and the light in his eyes danced with both shame, and anger.
“I think you know why we are here, Morgan.”
Morgan nodded. “I do, Hanse, and I think it very astute for them to ask you to be the one to have this conversation with me.”
Hanse nodded, and handed over a series of still pictures taken from what appeared to be a BattleROM recording. The timestamp was November 11th, 3051, Tamar, Federated Commonwealth. It was from a Quickdraw of the 26th Lyran Guards, and had a Thor in its gunsights, but to the left of the reticule was a Wolfhound, in a very distinctive scheme. Phelan. It could not be anyone else. Subsequent stills showed the Wolfhound firing on the Quickdraw.
Hanse let Morgan take the photos in for a few moments. “Morgan, these photos came to light two years ago. We’d always been willing to overlook Phelan’s activities with Clan Wolf, because he was a mercenary. Rather than a sworn member of the AFFC, but these photos are going to make the lead story tomorrow on DBC. We just found out last night. We’ve asked them to delay for 48 hours for us to have this talk with you.”
“Why, Hanse, you’re just going to try him for treason in absentia, and then have him shot if you ever get his hands on him? You’re asking me to publicly support this, no?”
Hanse shook his head. “No, Morgan, we aren’t. I had a long chat with Victor, my wife, Katherine, Quintus, and Ardan on what the hell to do about this. Fact is, DBC is forcing us to do something. Right now, with us doing well against the clans, thus far…”
“The people want blood?” Morgan asked
“Precisely, I have people outside the palace every day here on both New Avalon and on Tharkad with placards of their missing children demanding we start putting the screws to Falcon and Viper bondsmen till we get the whereabouts of their kids. For us not to do anything about Phelan? It would be political dynamite, especially in Tamar.”
“So Hanse, you’re going to ask me to sacrifice my son for the sake of the Commonwealth?” asked Morgan
Hanse nodded yes. “But I won’t have him killed or kidnapped, so long as he stays in the Wolf OZ.  I furthermore promise you that, so long as he refrains from setting foot in the Commonwealth ever again, he has nothing to fear, unless he takes up arms against us. If he is taken alive, he will be arrested for treason, and aid and comfort to an enemy in time of war. If that happens, I do at least promise he will get the best representation in the Commonwealth, and a fair trial in the Davion half. He couldn’t get one in the Steiner half.”
“What do you expect me to tell him that?”' he asked
“Yes, Morgan, I do. I expect you to tell him because otherwise, Victor’s hand will be forced, and it could cause a crisis in the Lyran half of the Commonwealth. I don’t want that, and I don’t think you do either.”
Morgan swore softly, Dammit Hanse, you are right and sadly, this is the best deal Phelan can probably expect. At least he won’t be kidnapped by Loki or MI-6 and dragged back here in chains. Who knows, maybe we can go visit him? This is of course, assuming that the Wolves are allowed to stay in the Inner Sphere?
“Damn you, Hanse. I agree. But know this, you’re asking me to participate in the exile of my own son. A son I named after the brother I lost saving the life of your wife. You must acknowledge that much.” Morgan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, tears he was too proud to shed in front of Hanse Davion.
Hanse nodded “I know, Morgan. If Victor and I had another choice, we would. But there isn’t any and you know it, Morgan. We cannot protect him, especially when these BattleROM stills come out.”
“May I have a moment, Hanse, alone? I’d like to think about what to say to my son?”
Hanse nodded, and made to step out into the hall. He stopped for a moment, and turned to Morgan. “Morgan, for what it’s worth. I am sorry. I wish there were another way, but there isn’t.” He then opened the door and stepped out into the hall, the door closing with a quiet click that sounded like the most mournful sound imaginable to Morgan. It was like losing Patrick all over again.
The tears and sobs came on suddenly, Morgan bit his hand to prevent his moans of sorrow from escaping. My son, the traitor? What did I do wrong? What the hell did Salome and I do wrong? Where did we fail you, Phelan? Morgan collapsed on the leather couch, soon he was not caring who heard his sorrow.
Hanse overheard the cries from the hall, and stopped the senior guard who made for the door. “No, Captain Alstead. Give him whatever time he needs and please make sure the staff fulfills his every wish. He is a patriot, and he didn’t deserve this, but a man like Morgan Kell deserves his private pain. We owe it to him to let him mourn, and we shall do so, clear?”
The entire guard force came to attention and semi-shouted “Clear, Your Highness!” as one.
“Now, to find my wife. I could so use a ****** drink right now.”
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