FSML-2 Chpt 9

=Chapter 9=
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==Frederick Steiner and the Man Who Knew Too Little==
Book 2
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===Messages Between Foes===
Iscariot, Ashio
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
9th September, 3019
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Takashi Kurita’s eyes were heavily lidded as he looked down from the dais. Once again, General Koutri and General Toshirov stood before him… but the set of their shoulders betrayed that they knew the extent of their failures.
And - though it would never be spoken - of his own failures.
The Coordinator could never admit such weakness. He would be torn apart and the Combine would fall into civil war between the warlords. But in his heart, Takashi knew he would have to live with this as well. Who was that ancient queen who had said that when she died, the name of a fallen city would be on her heart? Well, Dieron would be his scar.
Ivan Sorenson stood to one side of the two generals. Solid, unimaginative, but also loyal. Very unlike Marcus. Perhaps he would do better.
“Generals,” Takashi said quietly. “You were not witnesses to my cousin’s… defeat?”
Toshirov shook his head sharply. “I had been drawn north, hunting some of the Commonwealth’s Jaegers.”
“Another of Frederick Steiner’s innovations. He is proving a most able foe.” The coordinator glanced at General Koutri.
“Steiner’s Seventh Lyran Regulars were contesting the Rock of Genghis,” the officer replied simply, referring to one of the lesser fortifications that dotted Dieron. That one controlled a major pass through the Spine of the Dragon mountains. “I heard too late.”
“Brion’s Legion, smashed by the Lyran Guards.” Takashi summarized. “My cousin’s counter-stroke - his own regiment and Dexter Kingsley, the majority of our lostech machines, against the Lyran Guards.”
“The Lyrans had not employed their own offensively,” Toshirov reported. “And we knew the Kell Hounds had been detached by Hanse Davion to support Frederick Steiner. The goal was to strike before they could get here. There was no way to know they would arrive so soon.”
“Another impressive victory for them.” Takashi frowned. Mercenaries who failed him, mercenaries that thwarted him… “Though it was daring - not only the use of a proximity point but also a high velocity transit to low orbit. The admiralty found it hard to believe the Overlord that dropped their Third Battalion wasn’t lost.”
“Aerobraking in the upper atmosphere - it had almost certainly expended its full fuel load.” Koutri looked reluctantly impressed. “It hadn’t landed when we departed, most likely orbital refueling was waiting until we were too distant to take advantage.”
The Dragon knew ferocity, and daring. Takashi also understood the trust that must exist between the Kell Hounds leaders and their transport crews to carry out such a desperate drop. “The other two battalions were more moderate, not that it helped the Twelfth Sun Zhang.”
“Cadets,” offered Toshirov. “against proven and deadly warriors. It was well done to see as many of them evacuated.”
“They may be ruined for service.” Sorenson’s voice was distant. Unfeeling.
Both generals looked up, shocked.
The new warlord of Dieron - the district name could not be changed without admitting the extent of the defeat - continued: “We must salvage all we can.” Takashi knew the man and recognized that the tone was one of distraction not dismissal. “Their confidence may be shattered, and other warriors may look poorly upon them.”
The same, of course, was true of two regiments of the Dieron Regulars who had escaped the world from which they took their name. And the handful of the Fifth Sword of Light to join that flight.
Dexter Kingsley and his Third Dieron Regulars had apparently died to the last man, caught between the Fourth Royal Guards and the Eleventh Lyran Guards. There was some consolation that Kingsley had apparently managed to mortally wound the Royals’ commander before he fell.
A Steiner for a Kurita. It was not an equal trade., though Takashi darkly thought that each House would count themselves the more wounded.
“We shall form a new brigade.” he said out loud. “Two regiments: the Dieron Avengers. A statement of purpose, and a home for those veterans of this battle you feel can still be made use of. Those unwilling may, of course, assuage their guilt as they see fit. That is for them to decide, not us.”
And he would need to rebuild the Fifth Sword of Light somehow. That would be an interesting challenge, the number of potential candidates was not all that large. Still, the officer ranks could be filled out by the ambitious in the other four regiments…
He shook his head. “General Koutri. General Toshirov. You understand that you must set an example for your men.” Retreat had been the correct choice, but there had been no orders to do so, and that made the decision their responsibility.
“Sir.” Koutri stepped forwards, causing the Otomo Guards to tense up. “General Toshirov has - until now - been unaware that the sealed orders to retreat were of my invention.”
Takashi raised an eyebrow. He saw the other general’s jaw sag in disbelief.
Sorenson’s hand caught Toshirov before he could speak up. “You deceived your comrade, General?”
“Sir, with the supply bases in the hands of the Kell Hounds and your cousin dead, I judged it my duty to save all that could be saved… To retreat without orders is a crime punishable by death, so I informed Simlin that the Tai-Shu had left me sealed orders to retreat off-world if his gambit at Deber City failed.”
Takashi eyed the two men for a moment and then inclined his head. Simlin Toshirov had children and grandchildren. Fassen Koutri’s wife was dead and his sons had both fallen in battle, years ago. “The punishment for falsifying orders is death,” he reminded them both. “In light of your distinguished previous service, I shall permit you to visit the garden, General Koutri, before a firing squad is assembled.” If Koutri elected to apologize to his ancestors while he was out there, well, that was a samurai’s privilege.
“Thank you, lord.”
Toshirov looked mortified.
“For your gullibility, General Toshirov, I reduce you in rank to Brigadier. You will serve with the First Dieron Avengers until you perish or until Dieron is returned to the Dragon.”
The man swallowed and studied the floor. “I am… rightly chastised.”
Sorenson relaxed his grip on the demoted officer and stepped back slightly.
Koutri knelt. “Before I make my last visit to the gardens, lord. I have one further message to convey.”
“Oh?” Takashi leant forwards. In a bad drama, this would mark some suicidal attack on him. Unlikely, given the Otomo guards and if for some reason they failed… Well, the Coordinator bore his swords and Koutri did not. And even if he had, kendo mastery was not among the man’s accomplishments.
“Frederick Steiner transmitted before we jumped,” the disgraced officer reported. “He has the body of Marcus Kurita and offers to exchange it for the body of a comrade of his now in your possession.”
“A comrade of Steiner?” Tai-Shu Sorenson frowned in irritation. “Who do you mean?”
“Davion.” Takashi deduced. “He wants Ian Davion’s body.” The corpse of a defeated First Prince for that of a fallen failure of House Kurita.
“Yes.”
Damn him. That was cunning. Takashi had planned a mausoleum to hold Ian Davion’s body, an honorable burial to a valiant foe… one that would be a constant goad to the Federated Suns simply by its location. A silent boast to all who saw it.
Would he give that up for the body of a man who had plotted to take Takashi’s throne from him?
Takashi grit his teeth. And yet, Marcus had his blood.
A casket containing a few score kilograms of bones, flesh and ash would help reknit the bonds of alliance between the Lyran Commonwealth and the Federated Suns. But if he declined this offer, Marcus’ brood would remember it every time they grieved.
Unity within House Kurita could be bought only by accepting unity among the dragon’s foes.
And yet, enmity at home was always the most deadly. He thought of his son, soon to be bound in marriage to a suitable lady from Rasalhague. An assurance from House Kurita that Rasalhague remained valued alongside New Samarkand and other key worlds. A commitment of Theodore to the future - something that might inspire him to be more dutiful.
Takashi Kurita thought of his wife, far away on peaceful Luthien. How could our son, someone with so much of her grace, be so feckless? But Theodore was his heir. His duty. His responsibility. The dragon’s foes would do what they would, he could not govern them. Only the dragon’s own choices were his… and Takashi would not splinter House Kurita.
He opened his eyes, only then aware he had closed them in thought. Only Sorenson remained, quietly waiting for him.
“Koutri asked Brigadier Toshirov to join in viewing the gardens.” the officer reported with rare delicacy.
“Ah.” So Koutri had chosen not just to spare his comrade but also asked him to be his second. Well enough. “I have messages to send.” Takashi concluded. To Dieron, to accept Frederick’s terms. To Luthien, to have his trophy brought here for the exchange.
Given the transit times, Sorenson’s staff would have to oversee the matter. Takashi and the warlord would be halfway to Rasalhague by the time Ian Davion’s casket reached Ashio, much less Dieron. It would also distance the two of them from the exchange, which would be for the best.
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===Arguing over Orders===
San Martin, Dieron
Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
12th September, 3019
<<“One of these days, Frederick, you’ll play fast and loose with your orders - or ignore them completely - and it’ll not work out well for the Commonwealth. And on that day you will find me unforgiving.”>> Katrina Steiner’s gaze was icy in the holographic display. Then she sighed. “<<But today is not that day.”>>
A second royal visit to Dieron was out of the question, so this was a recorded message - sent days ago.
<<“Simon Johnson agrees that Takashi Kurita will not expend more resources when there have already been two major failures on Dieron. No doubt the DCMS will return, but not soon. If nothing else, the ISF cells that were rolled up clearly make up the lion’s share of their presence of Dieron. The Coordinator is no fonder than I am of having to operate blind.”>>
Frederick paused the replay and turned to Max. “Better than I expected.”
“She can hardly openly condemn you for defending Dieron. Or the Fourth Royal Guards for their part in that.” The balding man made a face. “If she is planning to remove you, which seems unlikely but not impossible…” He broke off.
“I’d suffer an ‘accident’ like uncle Alessandro?”, Frederick asks.
“No. All evidence would point to an ISF assassin. You’d be a martyr.”, Max said
Frederick paused and considered the likely consequences of that. Besides his own death. “And she’d not warn me if that was her intention.”
“Of course not. Then again, it took more than that before she moved against your uncle.”
The general thought back to his own part in provoking that decision and winced. The Archon’s predecessor was a warning to those who suspected Katrina’s hand, of how ruthless she could be when it was called for. Which was not necessarily a flaw in an Archon. “So I get to live this time, probably.”
“Unless an actual ISF agent gets near you.” Max said with more cheer than was probably wise. He could easily be collateral if an Internal Security Forces assassin took Frederick out in a messy fashion.
That was going to be a security risk on Dieron for a long time. ‘Most’ of the local ISF having been employed against the garrison during the recent invasion didn’t mean all had. Subhash Indrahar was as much of a threat to the Lyran Commonwealth as his master, and he wasn’t one to have bet everything on victory.
Frederick started the message again.
<<“I have no doubt you’ll find your reward to be a punishing one,”>> Katrina’s voice continued. <<“You’re promoted to Kommandant-General and I’m assigning you as Margrave of the new Dieron Theater. Setting up the administration of that Theater - and establishing what it includes will mire you in more bureautrivia than you can imagine, but much less than you’ve made for me.”>>
The Archon’s gaze softened slightly. <<“I wish Pete was still with you to be similarly chastised. Losing his mother’s support on the Commonwealth Council right after Arthur died was a terrible blow, and now another of the Borge-Steiners has fallen in service to the Commonwealth. I had to break the news to Pete’s son personally. He asked me for permission to transfer from the Second Royal Guards to his father’s command and I’ve granted that. He’ll be leading a company of replacements for their casualties, but it’ll be months before they arrive. Soldiers for your other commands will come from closer so the Fourth will likely be last to reach full strength.”>> She paused. <<“I won’t currently accept nominations to join the Fourth from line units - only transfers from the First and Second Guards.”>>
Max frowned and gestured to the remote. Frederick paused the replay and looked at him. “What?”
“Why do you think that she’s specifying that?”
The younger man thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Loyalty screening. She wants the Fourth - and maybe the Third Royal Guards as well - as her own bastion of support. So they’ll only be filled out by those who’ve already proven their loyalty through serving on Tharkad with the two Royal Guards regiments there.”
Max nodded. “It would appear that her concerns about your loyalty are still active, even if she’s not planning to get rid of you. I wonder if she expects you to understand that.”
“She’s within her rights,” Frederick pointed out. “the Archon is the direct commander of the Royal Guards brigade.”
“Just as you’re commanding the rather larger Lyran Regulars.”
“We don’t have the lostech and,” his lips curled into a grimace. “We don’t have the personnel. My soldiers are brave and skilled, but the Royal Guards are highly selective. Besides, the Regulars are scattered across the Commonwealth. We’re no realistic threat to her control of Tharkad.”
Max arched an eyebrow. “And if the Commonwealth Jaegers were counted? They’re intended to be quickly and easily relocated without needing a major transport commitment. That would let you move quite a significant force to join whatever was in range, while the other Regulars stalled Katrina’s loyalists. Then there’s two of the best regiments in the Lyran Guards…”
“I’m not at war with Katrina!” Frederick half-shouted.
They locked gazes and Max smiled slightly. “I know that and you know that, but does she?”
The Steiner lowered his gaze first. “I think so, but I see your point. She can’t afford to fully trust me.”
“Just as her rapid rise fuelled your rivalry, now your own victories are spurring her to take precautions. Neither your rise nor hers was a bad thing, but until you can really trust each other…”
“I’ve taken Dieron for her! And held it! What more can I do?!”, exclaims Frederick
The balding man sat back in his chair. “Good question. She knows you’re an able general, so military victories aren’t going to heal this. Something we’ll need to think about though.”
Frederick scowled at the devil who’d been clinging to his shoulder. “You’re a pain in the ass at times, Max.”
“Better a pain in the ass than a dagger in the back.”, Max shot back.
And at least you’re taking my side, not favoring the ‘greatest Archon of all time’, the duke thought as he thumbed the remote to resume the message.
<<“Morgan tells me that the Kell Hounds took little losses, but I’ve authorized them to replace those they did take from the DCMS supplies they captured. The rest is for you to use - between that and the Suns’ generosity, you shouldn’t be short again for a while.”>> Katrina shook her head. <<“But once the Fourth have replaced their equipment losses, all other lostech salvage is to be shipped back to Tharkad. I trust you to understand why I’m asking that, Frederick. I’d love to equip more units in the same way, but this isn’t the time.”>>
“More distrust?” he asked Max.
The other man hesitated, then shook his head. “With the Fourth still here, you already have a quarter of the LCAF’s lostech-equipped units here. If she was redeploying them as well, it might be…”
“Yes, I thought the same. I guess that production of replacements isn’t going as well as we’d hoped.”
While Katrina was broadly happy with Frederick getting his hands dirty in expanding production of new equipment within the limits of current technology, the reverse-engineering of more advanced systems - even that using the texts Frederick had recovered - was slapped with the highest levels of security and Frederick quite simply had no need to know where those programmes were taking place, or how well they were progressing.
But the proliferation of Battlemech technology, back in the twenty-fifth century, had been mostly the result of Lyran failures in security. Having successfully stolen it from the Terran Hegemony, they’d then been successfully targeted themselves by agents of both of their neighboring realms. And there were carefully covered up hints in some of House Steiner’s most private archives that Max had confirmed, showing that House Davion’s purchase of the data hadn’t been without some degree of espionage in turn. Only House Liao hadn’t obtained the technology from the Steiners.
If that happened again, then the Combine and League would commit everything they had to fielding lostech armies. Sooner or later, that would happen anyway but every year - every day - that they couldn’t do that, was a day that the Lyrans had an advantage.
“Where do you think the Combine got their equipment?” he asked Max. “ComStar?”
“Almost certainly. Not that we can prove it and I suspect that they offloaded some of the less desirable samples in their stores.”
Frederick nodded, amused slightly that for all their vaunted technology the SLDF had been just as vulnerable to being co-opted by ambitious contractors and greedy supply officers as the LCAF. As a case in point, the Fifth Sword of Light’s armor battalion had been equipped with SLDF Magi heavy tanks and Kanga jump tanks - the latter, an ambitious attempt to fit hovertanks with jump-jets. While both designs could keep up with the fast moving ‘mechs of the Golden Dragon, they’d proven severely lacking in other respects.
While Lyran Condor and Drillson hover tanks had dueled the Scimitar, Saracen and Saladins of the DCMS on the flanks, the heavy tank regiment backing the Tenth Lyran Guards had been free to drive home in support of Salome Ward Kell’s battalion and the other Tenth Guards. The outnumbered DCMS tankers had tried to do the same only to find their undergunned Magi and unreliable Kangas badly outmatched by the older but better designed Manticores.
“I can believe it,” he said out loud. “If only Pete had enjoyed a similar advantage.”
The Third Dieron’s armor battalion had been equipped with slower and more sensible examples of lostech combat vehicles, and slower but generally heavier ‘mechs. Like the King Crab that had closed with and brought down Pete Steiner’s Emperor. The two lostech machines had essentially destroyed each other - a brutal cost since reading between the lines of Katrina’s message suggested that replacing or even rebuilding them might prove impossible.
Frederick hadn’t even learned that his cousin was dead until they’d finished off enough of the Sword of Light forces to break their jamming. Of course, by the same virtue, the Sword of Light hadn’t realized that their allies were being crushed until well after Marcus Kurita was dead.
It had been a very satisfying kill, Frederick thought. Not worth losing Pete, but satisfying. Hopefully Kurita’s body would be worth something in diplomatic terms.
And there was one other pleasant death, if not one that was publicly celebrated the way Marcus Kurita’s was.
Among the insurgents killed trying to disrupt the garrisons at the start of the attack had been a University of Dieron student by the name of Myndo Waterly. The future Primus of ComStar from Max’s visions wouldn't be rising to that role now unless the organization turned to necromancy.
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===Fiery ascension of the Coordinator ===
Reykjavik, Rasalhague
Rasalhague District, Draconis Combine
28 November 3019
A fiery sword had been driven into the port control building.
Not literally, but as Theodore Kurita watched the flames rising, his imagination painted the smoke as rippling steel. No doubt the superstitious at court - or those who found the pretense politically valuable - would murmur that this was divine retribution for the shattering of the Fifth Sword of Light.
The young Kurita held himself very still, testing his self-control to the limits. When razor sharp steel hovers at your throat, the undisciplined can kill themselves unless the man holding it has preternatural reflexes and precision.
Let his raging emotions loose, move without thought…
And the glittering arc of steel reflected in the window would open his throat.
The young Kurita had once thought that Sun Zhang Academy was demanding in its discipline. Enough to realize that perhaps his father’s gruff complaints about how much his mother spoiled Theodore weren’t completely in error. Not entirely or mostly, but partly. Now, keeping his grief inside him by sheer will… Now he knew that the academy had only been the beginning. That the additional training arranged for him by the ISF had been a trivial step further.
With every fiber of his soul crying out for the father who had unintentionally - perhaps even unknowingly - ridden the dropship Startreader into the spaceport at supersonic velocity, Theodore Kurita met his own gaze in the windows… and when he was sure there was nothing but darkness beneath his brow, he gestured subtly with the fingers of one hand.
“Tono.” His aide bowed sharply and opened the double doors leading into the grand hall Theodore was standing in.
The advantage of the light of the fires outside and the vast glass wall intended to let onlookers see what happened inside without being able to shoot at those within, was that Theodore got to see the reactions of Jarl Ottar Sjovald and Duke Hassad Ricol to seeing the new Coordinator stood stock still for a barber to shave off his mustache and stubble, a white cloth covering the throat and shoulders of an otherwise immaculate DCMS general’s uniform.
Sjovald didn’t quite hide his bemusement. Ricol had no visible reaction at all.
“Lord Kurita.” the duke greeted him formally, bowing precisely.
The Jarl - governor of Rasalhague military district, second in power only to the warlord and the Coordinator himself - approached Theodore exactly as close as relaxed court protocol allowed and: “Coordinator. I… I regret to inform you that we have found no trace of any survivors from the Startreader. It will be some time before we can enter the wreck to search there for your father.”
“Jarl Sjovald,” Theodore paused intentionally and then lowered his tone slightly. “Ottar, we are to be family from tomorrow. Vasily will advise me if this is the start of a military campaign, but I ask you: what is the mood of the people of Rasalhague?”
The older man blinked at the implicit statement that tomorrow’s wedding ceremony would take place even under these circumstances, then answered: “At the moment there is shock. Your father was not always popular, there are always dissidents unfortunately. But he was respected. There are those who do not know you who may expect… there will be those who will fear that you will retaliate in the manner of your grandfather.”
“I am not Hohiro Kurita. Nor am I Takashi Kurita, or even my great-grandfather Hugai.” Theodore stared at Sjovold for a moment, the older man dropping his gaze first. “But I am the Coordinator. Where I lead, you will follow.” Or die. Father-in-law or not.
“Of course, Tono.” Sjovold backed away, sensing impatience.
Theodore looked back to the window. “See to your family. I realize there are many details to tend to, particularly under these circumstances.”
“It would be possible to rearrange the ceremonies for a later day,” Ricol suggested quietly. “merely until the court has had a few days to adjust. This may seem hasty.”
Shifting his gaze to the ‘Red Duke’, the Coordinator stared down the nobleman. “This wedding has been planned and scheduled for over a year. There is nothing hasty in maintaining that schedule. The Dragon is not deterred by threats. Or accidents. Or even attacks.”
“But it may adjust to new circumstances.”
“The logic of House Kurita wedding back into the Rasalhague nobility, one that my noted ancestor Siriwan McAllister-Sorenson was born from, remains as politically advisable as it was yesterday.” He didn’t feel particularly strongly about Anastasia Sjovold, but that could grow with time.
It took him the same discipline that held him back from falling over in grief and fear to keep from looking over at his aide. Tomoe Sakade was someone he did feel strongly for. Too strongly, to be honest. He was an obedient son, but… there had been the temptation to refuse Sjovold. If only Tomoe’s background would have met his father’s requirements.
If wishes were horses then beggars would ride and the Coordinator had more power but far fewer options than a junior officer. Duty demanded that he tie Rasalhague to him. As did survival. Marcus Kurita was not the only member of his House who might see a suddenly vacated throne as an opportunity. It had happened before.
Ricol nodded in acquiescence to Theodore’s decision. “There is also the matter of Ian Davion’s body. Returning it was not a popular decision by your father. It may have contributed to…”
Something in Theodore’s eyes stilled him. “Perhaps you missed when I said that the dragon is not deterred by threats, Ricol?”
“I did not, lord. But the body is symbolic of a great triumph at a time when there have been reverses. Losing Ian Davion to regain Dieron would be well worth it. For the body of Marcus Kurita…” The duke shrugged slightly.
“Ian Davion was my father’s foe. If he judges that the First Prince’s carcass is worth no more than the remains of a warlord then I see no need to second-guess that decision.” Theodore looked at the flames and smoke. “Bring me Hanse Davion’s body and I may decide otherwise.”
“Sir.” Ricol bowed stiffly.
“Don’t let me detain you.” Theodore gestured again, this time at the hall. “I will see you both here in a few hours.”
Both men backed away, just as the barber finished his work and whipped the clothes away from Theodore’s neck and shoulder. Something about the move drew Ricol’s eyes and this time he didn’t entirely hide his shock.
Subhash Indrahar was not smiling but he did incline his head slightly towards the pair as they departed.
Yes, Ricol. Theodore nodded slightly. I do trust my father’s closest advisor to literally hold a knife to my throat. Even if he failed to secure my father’s life this time.
And of course, the Smiling One was his own mentor as well. Eventually they would disagree - just as his father had. But Theodore wouldn’t consider one failure sufficient grounds to discount decades of successes. And there was an implicit statement: while not all the warlords even knew that his father was dead yet, much less had offered their formal pledges of support, the ISF was (on the whole) behind Theodore’s reign.
Vasily Cherenkof, here on Rasalhague, and Ivan Sorenson, whose dropship had been forced to divert when Startreader began to fall, had pledged themselves to Theodore already and they controlled almost the entire Lyran border - a border much less dangerous now that the Wolf’s Dragoons had accepted terms for their next contract. 
“I cannot yet confirm if your father-in-law or Ricol have any part in your father’s death.” Indrahar warned quietly.
“The difficult, I expect quickly. The impossible, I merely expect as soon as it becomes possible.” Theodore told him. “Once I’m married, all honeymoon plans will go to the wayside. I will trust you to ensure travel arrangements to Benjamin first.”
Rasalhague was inconveniently far from the center of power. Theodore needed to get to Luthien, and the nearby Pesht, before anyone acted on ambitious ideas. But that in itself would be predictable.
Benjamin wasn’t on the way, but it was the most central of the military districts and its resources and industries made it critical. Obtain the support of the most experienced of the warlords, Syovo Yorioshi, and Theodore’s position would be almost as secure as his father’s had been.
He looked at the blazing inferno again and allowed himself a very slight shrug. Security was relative.
“Orders are being issued for JumpShips,” the spymaster confirmed. “precise disposition of dropships will be made later, to allow precautions against a repeat of today’s failure.”
“Failure.” Theodore nodded. “A good word for it.”
“I am reminded of a quote from Chancellor Barbara Liao,” mused Indrahar. “‘It was worse than a crime, it was a mistake’.”
The Coordinator smiled grimly. “Teaching me statecraft, sensei (teacher)?”
“With discretion, sire. But as swiftly as I may. We may have very little time.”
“There is never enough time. War has already taught me that.”
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