OPREF-4 Chpt 2

=Book 4, Chapter 2 - Full House=
==Opalescent Reflections==
----
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
----
===Juggling Troops and Allies===
Camora, Twycross
Clan Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
11 August 3056
----
The holo display sprang to life precisely on time and it was as if the two Khans of Clan Snow Raven were seated across the circular table from Aidan Pryde. It was possible, even probable that they weren’t even in the same star system as each other, but he couldn’t tell - there was no clue from the details such as their lighting to suggest evidence one way or another.
No surprise really, the Snow Ravens were notoriously politically astute. They wouldn’t give up any advantage if they didn’t have to.
“Khan McKenna,” Aidan said with a bow of his head. Then he turned incrementally and greeted the other junior Khan: “Khan Cooper.”
The ivory-haired Lynn McKenna’s eyes flicked left and right. “We are not to be graced by Elias, quineg?” she inquired.
“Our administration of the occupied worlds has yet to catch up with the scale demanded,” he answered with what he hoped was smoothness. “Khan Crichell has delegated me all authority to speak for our Clan on this matter.”
“A considerable degree of trust,” the Khan said with scorn.
Aidan continued to smile welcomingly. “Well, he did make me promise not to give up Ironhold.”
There was a slight snort from Bryn Cooper and Aidan wondered if the other saKhan was remembering similar slights or assumed slights from his senior. The man hadn’t been McKenna’s first choice as junior Khan and it wasn’t clear if he’d hold the position if Klaus Harper hadn’t declined nomination in favor of retaining his current post as Loremaster. Crichell had actually provided a dossier on the Snow Raven leadership and Aidan wondered if he was being graded on how he used the information.
“I would have hoped that Elias would have weighed our concerns slightly higher,” noted McKenna. “However, it gives us a chance to take your measure, Khan Pryde. Your rise has been impressive.”
“That could be said of any Khan. Few warriors rise to our rank.” he said dismissively.
“Aff, but even fewer do so after their own Clan judged them unfit to be warriors in their Trial of Position.”
Aidan hid a grimace. What was she trying to… oh, if he said the Jade Falcon’s internal workings were not a concern it would put him at a disadvantage over the cause of this meeting. “The precedent for a second trial of position is little used in my own Clan,” he admitted instead. “Still, a Trial of Refusal was fought and won.”
McKenna nodded grudgingly. “One cannot reasonably argue with that.” Then she glared at him. “We can, however, argue over your interference in our internal affairs.”
“If you wish.” Aidan agreed genially.
This didn’t seem to be what they expected and Cooper gave him a suspicious look. “You have been briefed on this matter, quiaff?”
“Aff,” he confirmed and steepled his fingers. “This is about the request that Nerran McKenna be sent back to the homeworlds, quiaff?”
“Aff,” Cooper agreed. “The election of a bloodhouse leader is serious business, Khan Pryde.”
Aidan nodded. “There are a few details that I am a little uncertain about. Perhaps you could clarify them for me, Khan Cooper?”
Once the other man nodded, Aidan continued: “It seems to me that requesting that one of our serving officers be reassigned for sixteen months would be interfering in our internal affairs. Unless,” he held up his hand before Cooper could speak up, “Either your Clan has some means of traveling back to the homeworlds in some more convenient timeframe or the message has at some point been misconstrued and it was a request for realtime HPG communication back to Lum, something that would be far more practical.”
McKenna’s face twisted. “You are trying to tell me that a member of my own bloodhouse is to be made unavailable for his bloodhouse’s affairs at the whim of Clan Jade Falcon, quineg?”
He hid a chuckle, remembering how Horse had dealt with a similarly provocative challenge. “I was asking Khan Cooper some questions,” he told her. “I imagine that Star Captain McKenna would be upset about being sent back to the homeworlds right as the Inner Sphere starts using warships and he at last has a chance at that level of glory.”
Cooper nodded without thinking and Aidan saw McKenna frown. The Snow Raven saKhan was commanding a naval star of warships that had been contracted to support Clan Jade Falcon. If they withdrew now then it would remove some of their ability to withstand future attacks by FCS Invincible… and also deny Cooper the chance of honorable combat against the battlecruiser.
“It is possible that the message was corrupted somehow,” the junior Snow Raven offered. “It was communicated via ComStar after all and I do not consider them entirely reliable.”
Both men looked at McKenna, who gave her saKhan a sour look.
Aidan spread his hands slightly. “If you do have a means to transport Nerran McKenna to the homeworlds swiftly, that would be immensely valuable for our logistics. I imagine all the Clans would bid enthusiastically for the technology.”
“Given your military circumstances,” she replied with as much grace as she could muster, “It would have been unreasonable to dispatch Nerran to Lum immediately. If you were not denying him contact with the rest of our bloodhouse then this matter is a regrettable miscommunication.”
“Something that would be best avoided in the future,” Aidan agreed mildly. “Khan Cooper, I believe that your Stars of warships will be best deployed along the frontlines in the future rather than covering our supply lines. As such, it would only be appropriate for you to participate in our strategic councils, which would let us avoid such mistakes in the future. I can assure you, Khan McKenna, that we have no objection whatsoever to any of our warriors using the HPG channels to communicate with the homeworlds.”
The Snow Raven Khan gave Aidan a suspicious look. “I will leave you to discuss this further, Bryn. You are the commander on the scene.” She reached out and tapped a control, vanishing from the room as she cut her signal.
Cooper gave her empty seat a thoughtful look and then turned back to Aidan. “Where were you hoping to deploy our warships?”
Time to cater to his ego, Aidan thought. He had had some practice with this, soliciting votes for his election to saKhan. “I would appreciate your advice,” he told them. “There is a truce but we can hardly count on the Inner Sphere to keep their word. My first thought is that they will try to push us back from the worlds around Tharkad, but how to best use your warships to defend against that is outside of my experience…”
----
===Managing a troubling bureaucracy===
Fortress Dieron, Dieron
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
19 August 3056
----
Fortress Dieron had once been a major SLDF base, not quite a Castle Brian for technical distinctions that Minoru Kurita could not call to mind offhand. Possibly it just wasn’t large enough, ‘merely’ accommodating four or five regiments of soldiers.
Although most of the base was buried under Mount Shanyu, it had exits on several levels and one of them opened onto a pleasant little garden wedged between two outcrops of the mountain’s heights. Here, screened by the wind, the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine and the Warlord of Dieron sat across from each other and were served tea.
Their conversation as the tea pot was washed, heated, filled and eventually poured out with exquisite grace by a servant who had made the ceremony of this process his life’s work had been polite and touched on such important topics as poetry, flowers and the results of a kenjutsu tournament which Minoru had arrived just a little too late to attend, although the winner would have the honor of being presented to him the next day.
“Your name has been brought up before me by ministers and bureaucrats outside the Ministry of War.” Minoru observed gently, once the servant had departed.
Almost old enough to be his grandfather, Sorenson swallowed his tea smoothly. “Perhaps they are complimenting my efficiency, Lord Kurita?” he suggested after his throat was clear.
“Your efficiency has not been criticized in my hearing.”
“Ah,” the warlord replied with a nod. “Wealth and Wellbeing want my hands off their business?”
The Ministry of Wealth and the Disbursing of Assets and the Ministry of the Well-Being of the Land and the Peoples - usually rendered more succinctly as the Treasury and the Ministry of the Interior - were two of the five ministries that made up the government of the Draconis Combine. The Ministry of War had always been the most powerful as they could subordinate all other concerns to the needs of the military, but that wasn’t to say they could ignore the rest of the government entirely.
“Those ministers, but officials of the others.” Minoru placed his cup down on the table without any audible sound. “How might you have offended them?”
The warlord met his eyes and then lowered his own tea cup. “The loss of Luthien,” he said quietly, “and then of New Samarkand has left the district and prefectural offices of the ministries without direction as court was out of contact at times. In addition, district officials have been called on to serve at court.”
The young ruler watched and listened, saying nothing. Silence invited others to fill it, often revealing more than was intended.
He saw Sorenson smile slightly, perhaps seeing through the ploy. “The result has been increased responsibility placed upon prefectural offices. Some responded by doing nothing without instruction, paralyzing the bureaucracy. Others rose to the occasion and took initiative.”
That matched Minoru’s understanding from the reports he’d received. Allowing for interpretation, of course. “And you became involved,” he observed, not making it a question.
“When it impacted upon military readiness,” the older man agreed. “I approve of initiative.” His lips quirked. “Sometimes that has been a problem in my career.” Such as leaving him in command of a company for decades, passed over for promotion repeatedly.
Minoru lifted his cup and deliberately sipped once more. Only when he placed it back on the table, eyes now looking out over the mountains, did he hear Sorenson continue.
“I do not claim to understand all of the details of the other ministries, but I understand results - and that paralysis is as deadly in government as it is in war. Officials who were allowing their duties to go undone for lack of direction were dismissed in various fashions - sometimes sent to serve at court where they would have the supervision they needed, sometimes demoted…” Sorenson made a sweeping gesture with his free hand. “I made it clear that in the absence of instructions from above, the prefectural officials must accept responsibility.”
Minoru finished his cup of tea and set it aside, rising to his feet. Walking out on the patio until he could feel the wind ruffle his hair, he looked out across the vista of Dieron, grand and often inhospitable up here in its mountains. One of Terra’s first colonies, but never one of its most welcoming. Most cities clung to the valleys or the coast of the one sea, not here. “And the results?”
“Efficiency,” the warlord told him. “Costs are down, productivity is up. Supplies for the military flow smoothly, and to the extent I have seen them, my understanding is that trade and judicial matters are in a better state than they were before the Clans came. Certainly tax revenue is up. It worked.” His tone slipped slightly towards the end, emphasizing the last word.
It had. That was perhaps what offended the ministries the most.
“You have never encouraged the officials to ignore the dictates of their superiors.” Minoru stated it as a fact. The ISF had been watching for that, which would have spoken of rebellion.
Sorenson moved to stand at his side, perhaps a half-step behind. Close enough that he could push and -
Well, it wasn’t so steep that Minoru would call it a fall. A tumble, and one that he might not survive because the stone would be hard and unforgiving. Mentally he rehearsed how to counter such an attack, both to send Sorenson over the end and how to avoid that.
“I have served House Kurita all my life,” the old man murmured. “I will continue to serve, even if it must be in my death.”
Minrou considered inviting the man to take two steps forwards into the void and rejected the notion almost immediately. The temptation was to exercise his power, not to use it productively. There would be repercussions, not least the loss of an able officer. “Counsel me,” he said instead.
“There may be repercussions for those who have followed my example in the district,” Sorenson conceded. “Now that your capital is secure on Irurzun, the ministers wish to have the same degree of control they once had and to punish those who exceeded their instructions.”
“Instructions or authority?”
“Their authority is vested in their responsibilities.”
Minoru shook his head. “That can be used as an excuse for much. If this is merely an extraordinary situation and extraordinary measures were needed and can now be set aside, then official repercussions may be avoided.”
Sorenson rocked back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet. “And, were it not an extraordinary measure? There have been benefits to the arrangements made. Is the Combine in a position where we can afford to pass up any advantage.”
The Coordinator exhaled, hearing his breath over the wind. “This conversation deserves more tea.”
Sorenson stepped back deferentially and followed Minoru back to the table, raising a small bell that summoned the servant again.
The man kindled the fire beneath the kettle and produced fresh cups for them, preparing the tea with no less grace than he had shown previously. As he departed again, Minoru lifted the cup and sniffed gently at the aroma. “Let us speak of hypotheticals, setting aside any protests of the district governor and the ministries. What would you wish to do?”
Sorenson sighed. “Dieron has always been… fractious. Worlds that look back to the days of the Terran Hegemony. Worlds settled by the Arkab. And, of course, worlds raided and fought over more often than any others within the Combine. But there is power here, if we can harness it.”
“Such a harness is the work of the ministries,” Minoru observed. But he was thinking of the numbers brought to him by the ISF. The hard numbers of productivity, dissidence and other factors. By those merits, Sorenson had been doing a good job - not just as a soldier but also in steering the district. His civilian counterpart had floundered, promoted above his ability when the original was called to Irurzun to take up a new post. Sorenson, raised from low rank, had excelled.
“They do not harness it,” the warlord said flatly. “They crush it. They fear it. But to a warrior, that seems wrong. One should respect power, but never fear it.”
The coordinator nodded. “Your plan?”
“Currently the prefectures struggle with regulations that are being standardized across worlds with different needs. I would redraw the boundaries to form just three prefectures: one built around the Azami worlds, one around former Hegemony core worlds here and another closer covering the rest of the border, named for Vega.”
“Vega?”
“Yes.” Sorenson squared his shoulders. “Base the Arkab Legions out of the Azami worlds, and the Legion of Vega out of the other prefecture. Use them as rallying points for recruitment and training.”
Minoru lifted his cup and drained it slowly, not lowering it until drunk it all the way to the dregs. “You may be familiar with another state that ties troops to provinces.”
Sorenson looked as if he was tempted to laugh in chagrin. “The Free Worlds League assuredly takes the matter too far, but it must be remembered that they are wealthy and currently successful. Thomas Marik is raising regiments steadily to expand his military. Strong, capable prefectural governments may let us build up those two brigades to or beyond their previous strength.”
“And if they prove faithless?” he asked.
“Then there are the Dieron Regulars,” Sorenson said flatly. “And a warlord would have much to make up for.”
Stronger prefectures would draw power away from the district government and also from court. Minoru could already imagine how the ministers would respond. It might also draw power away from him, which would be destabilizing. History was full of examples of rulers who loosened their control slightly only to see their realm tear free of them. His grandfather had always been very careful in rolling back previous Coordinator’s excessive measures to never lower his guard.
And yet… could he give up the chance for more supplies and soldiers to fight the Clans? What did a rebellion among the Arkab matter if he wound up unable to hold Dieron in the first place? The Star League’s planned offensives would shatter the truceline so if they failed, the Sharks, Bears and Jaguars would carve their way through Dieron District and all the way to Terra.
“I do not think I should apply such principles outside of Dieron,” he said slowly. “Nor to adopt it here without more thought. But,” he held up his hand. “I do not wish to deter those who showed initiative when we needed it.”
----
===Seeking Solutions to Problems===
Dali, Tamar
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
2 October 3056
----
BANG! The punching bag swung away from Ulric Kerensky, propelled by his right fist.
BANG! His left lashed out, catching it on the backswing and pushing it away again.
BANG! Right fist again.
The Khan of Clan Wolf was sweating as he worked the bag, venting the frustrations that had harried him for a year now.
If he imagined the faces of Marialle Radick and Vladimir Ward on the bag, that was something that just made him strike harder, shifting his feet to brace each blow. He’d made a rod for his own back by breaking the Zeerga off, and at times he was beginning to think it would have been better to abjure them entirely.
Of course that would have required a vote, which might have been lost.
BANG! 
This time the bag didn’t swing back towards him, caught in two familiar hands. “Did the bag do something to offend you, my Khan?”
Ulric’s chest heaved as he glared at the new arrival in the gym. “Erik,” he greeted his loremaster once his breathing steadier.
His sibkin gestured towards a bench alongside the small gym. “The bag wasn’t giving up but I think your gloves might be about to. When did you last replace them?”
The khan frowned. “A month ago, perhaps?”
“Hmm. You have been giving them a workout, I suppose.”
“Unfortunately, Radick and Ward are not here to take the beating.” Ulric studied the gloves and saw the surface was cracking already. He should have noticed sooner but his mind had been on other things when he entered the gym.
Erik shook his head. “What have they done now? More of the same?”
“The same,” he growled. “Challenging for anything that is not nailed down, and hiding behind our warriors whenever there is an attempt at retaliation.”
“Quite the turn of phrase. Something you learned from Phelan?”
“Natasha.”
Erik helped him peel off the gloves and then passed him a bottled sports drink, rich in electrolytes (if not taste). “She can be eloquent at times, I have found.”
Ulric growled again and slumped onto the bench. “I should have killed them.”
“I am not quite sure we could have pulled that off.” Erik patted him on the shoulder as he cracked the lid on the bottle. “But on the bright side: the pact to defend them does not last forever. A few months and they will be standing on their own. A few months after that…”
The khan took a long drink from the bottle and swallowed it. “A few months after that…?”
His sibkin shook his head, sweat-damp hair marking that he have also been exercising. “There is a pool on how long the Zeerga will survive without our protection. I am wagering on nine weeks.”
“What are the odds of them surviving?” Ulric asked him.
“Enough that Evantha - the young Fetladral?”
Ulric nodded to confirm he knew her, then drank again from the bottle.
“If they last a year, she will be rich in favors and the respect of her peers.”
“Perhaps I should make her the khan then,” Ulric grumbled. “All I am doing is bleeding away warriors, equipment and favors for ingrate idiots.”
Erik opened a bag and pulled out a towel, rubbing his hair. “She was told it was a… sucker bet was Phelan’s phrase. But as she said, she loses very little if she is wrong and can win much. And she does know Vlad Ward better than I do.”
Swallowing the last of the sports drink, Ulric took a deep breath and felt the ache of his workout for the first time. He threw the bottle towards the garbage can and was pleased to see it bounce off the rim and drop neatly into the interior. “More than I do. He was always one of Conal’s favorites. So what brings you here? Besides rescuing that weight bag from me?”
“You sent for me, not the other way around. About the civilians, I assume?”
“Ah.” It had escaped his mind for a moment. “No, but since you mention it, how is that going?”
Bringing in civilians from the Clan homeworlds had been Erik’s personal project, creating enclaves across the occupation zone that would live under Clan law and custom, an example to those they had conquered.
“There is friction,” his sibkin admitted. “I’d envisaged starting afresh but Phelan was right that taking over settlements ravaged by infighting among the locals would save us a fortune in construction, and it is no worse than taking over another Clan’s territory really.”
Ulric nodded. “The boy is clever. Removing the leaders of those enclaves serves as a warning to their peers that we have limited patience with their squabbling. And those that they ravaged are eager for peace and order. So long as we provide that, they will be open to our ways.”
“Twenty thousand have settled in so far and we have four times as many on their way. Enough that some of the enclave leaders back in the homeworlds are complaining about it. The absence was not planned for,” Erik pointed out. “And many of them are young and might have been relied on for decades if they had not volunteered for this.”
“I will speak to them,” Ulric allowed. “We may have to consolidate our territory anyway, so moving workers before that happens could offset the impact.” Tens of thousand workers was not as bad as it seemed, spread across the full extent of Clan Wolf’s holdings back in the homeworlds, but it was exacerbating the problems caused by losing the large and wealthy enclaves on Eden. “We will need their support with the project I want to talk to you about.”
“And what would that be? Rasalhague?”
He shook his head and then leant back against the coolness of the wall behind him. “That is Natasha’s problem and she is waiting for the cached equipment we need for the garrison clusters.”
“It is in the same convoys as my workers and their families,” Erik said. “We would not have them that fast if we were not pulling warships out of mothballs. Founder help us if anyone attacks those ships.”
Now there was a dreadful possibility. All that was being done with the warships was to restore life support, augmented for thousands of passengers, and ensure the jump drives were fit for action. It would be months of work on each of the vessels to make them fit for battle. And crewing them would be quite the problem as well.
“That does relate to what I wanted to talk to you about,” Ulric admitted. “There is a shipyard at Star’s End, or something approaching one at any rate. With the prospect of Inner Sphere warships I think we need to try to get that to a state that it can maintain our fleet. Expand it if possible.”
“Ulric, I saw that yard. I do not think it is fit for more than jumpships. It might be able to service the hulks carrying our people here as far as their current capabilities go, but I would not wager on even that much.”
“Then we need to correct that,” he told his sibkin uncompromisingly. “Find out what workers and tooling is needed and get that in the next convoy. The Inner Sphere is talking about mass producing corvettes - nothing that can stand up to our warships but they would be a nightmare to handle with less. That means we need numbers: restoring our mothballed ships to full function and building more.”
“Are you thinking Fredasas?” The smallest warships used by any Clan, the tiny corvettes were little more than patrol boats but they were also small enough that a JumpShip yard might be able to construct them without building entirely new assembly yards.
Ulric reached blindly for his own bag, unzipping it to get at the towel inside. “Unless you have another idea. I do not believe we can afford to wait to develop a new design.”
“Giving the Zeerga five of our warships was unfortunate timing then.”
“I know, but since we could not kill them I had to give them something.” Three of the warships given up had borne the names of Clan Wolf’s ilKhans (no other Clan could boast as many), which might have served as a mark of solidarity if the new Clan hadn’t made it so blindingly obvious that they had no respect at all for their former brethren.
Erik made a disapproving noise as Ulric started drying his face and hair. “If you are running in circles second-guessing yourself then punching a bag is not going to get you anywhere.”
“You have a better idea, quiaff?”
He saw his sibkin turn the question over in his head for a moment before the man nodded. “Aff. Do you have anything scheduled for the rest of the day?”
Ulric picked his comm-unit out of his bag. “I am meeting Jared Ch’in about training more bondsmen for our garrison clusters. We are reaching the limits of -”
Erik cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Delegate it to ‘Tasha. You know he will just fill your ears with complaints about how hard it is to be training warriors rather than leading them into battle. If he has to try to convince her of that, he may think twice about bothering you in future.”
“I think he is more concerned about the lack of reserve in our caches. We are really bringing out the dregs now for garrison work.” Ulric shook his head again. “Aff, aff. I will not belabor the point. What do you suggest we do instead?”
“What we will do,” Erik said grandly, “is dress in clothes that do not give away our status as Clansmen and go to a bar where the staff and guests will pretend to ignore our accents so that they can overcharge us for alcohol.”
“That is your master plan for raising my spirits?”
“It always worked in Katyusha!”
That was inarguably true and Ulric wasn’t going to try to defend the indefensible. “Alright, but we both need a shower first.”
“That goes without saying!” Erik told him, pretending to sniff disgustedly at the sweat-stained Khan of Clan Wolf.
----
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
Chapter 4-2