EMCOTS 37

=Emergence (Concertverse) - Chapter 37=
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==The Truth Marches On==
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===Senate Debates Aide to the Commonwealth===
Senate Chambers, Laughlin Capital District
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Arcadia Royal March
Royal Federation
31st January, 3143
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The Senate of the Federation kept its chamber in the east wing of the Palace of Parliament.  Ordinarily this space would be vacant on a Sunday, but today it was not, nor had it been the prior day.  At the behest of the monarch, the Senate was in session to debate a matter of "grave importance"; namely, the enactment of the terms of the treaty High King Nathaniel had just completed with Lady Trillian.
For this reason Trillian, and many of her staff, were seated in the Royal Box, the special observation seats off to the side that, unlike the Visitors' Gallery, had direct access to the Senate floor.  In ascending tiers outward, organized by their corresponding marches, the six hundred Senators of the Federation were in attendance.  It is half-representative, half-appointed, Trillian recalled.  Half are democratically elected by the peoples of their planet and star system.  The other half are directly appointed by the planetary ruler, whether they are elected or inherited, commoner or noble.  She noted the Senate Chamber was not so much smaller than the Federation Assembly Chamber even if their number was over a third, overall, of the Assembly, giving the assembled senators greater room at their desks.
The treaty itself was not the point; treaties, after all, remained the sole purview of the High King.  The monies needed to enact the provisions, that is, to meet the expanded military budget for supplying the troops Nathaniel intended to lead through the Glass, to raise and reactivate units to meet the Federation's defensive needs during the conflict (or to hire mercenaries to supplement said defenses), and to provide the war material that Trillian's earlier loans and grants couldn't afford.  Without this, the alliance was nothing more than proverbial ink on the page.  And while Nathaniel could employ Crown authority to make budget changes "in an emergency", to do so in defiance of Parliament, or without at least consulting them, would be a massive break with tradition, virtually a constitutional crisis for the Federation, as the powers he held for that purpose had never once been used and were controversial to many.
And yet, Trillian wished he could do just that, given how the session was going.
"You have heard the truth, my friends, and nothing but," Zento said, his voice vibrant for all he'd been talking for most of the prior two hours. "Our King, young and eager to prove himself, is not acting in our best interest.  The war across the Glass is not a matter of our security.  Especially not when Azami raiders yet plot to strike at the Isle of Skye, when the Dragon of Luthien's shadow looms over Arcturus, the revolutionaries grow restless on Sudeten, and when the rapacious Capellans remain to threaten our Atrean and Terran worlds.  Indeed, even Tamarind and Bolan might have cause to wonder what the so-called King of Pilpala plots from his perfumed harem, and whether the legions at his disposal can be held back when they yearn for treasure and glory."
He does not accuse Imperatrix Julia of plotting aggression, then?  Trillian wondered at that. I suppose he does not wish to insult her, but he is certainly not adverse to slandering the Federation's other neighbors.
"Time and time again, the King has heard our protests, and yet he persists upon this course.  He even bullied the Privy Council into it with the connivance of his doting grand-uncle." Zento's eyes focused a moment too long on Prince Peter, showing the animosity there.  He's taking Prince Peter backing my treaty a bit too personally?  Did Peter betray some kind of prior connection? Trillian wondered.  "Now we of the Senate are called into special session and harangued with lurid tales of butchery and atrocity, to goad us into spending our worlds' hard-earned wealth on the High King's flight of fantasy!  If the King wishes to prove himself on the battlefield, perhaps he should not be pushing peace with our greatest enemy, or ignoring the Kuritan threat.  Perhaps if he so worried about stopping atrocity, he should lead his armies to New Wessex and save the peoples of that world from their Combine oppressors!  Yet he has talked peace for months, refusing any such measures, and only now supporting them for people not his own!  We cannot stand for this!  We, as a united people, must demand the Crown protect our lives, our worlds, our interests.  Not those of a treacherous Lyran state and their deceitful envoy!"
There were some cheers from the assembled, but only a few.  From what Trillian could tell, most wanted to get on with matters.  But Zento had the floor and he was refusing to give it up.
While Zento took a quick drink, Senator Bujold from Bondurant stood.  He directed his eyes towards the podium, where Dame Tessa Stuart was seated, Nathaniel and Peter behind her in chairs that were kept specifically for the monarch and the head of the Privy Council to observe the Senate proceedings from, though from what Trillian had seen and read, they had no formal power to address the Senate directly unless called upon.  Bujold spoke in careful tones, his accent less refined than that of his ruler, the charming Duke de Fortemps Trillian met on New Year's.  "Madame President, perhaps it is time that we actually voted on the King's proposal?  We have been discussing the matter for two days without any new information, merely platitude and posturing."
Zento lowered the water bottle and barked, "I protest, I have not relinquished the floor!"
"Then I move that we invoke cloture, and end this obstructionism by the Lord Senator of Summer."
Stuart nodded and replied in her Caledonian burr, suitably softened for the purposes of protocol.  "Motion to invoke cloture is registered.  Do any wish to second the motion?"
The first voice to call out was a female senator Trillian didn't immediately recognize, her desk nameplate reading Serfass.  Could she be House Serfass?  Maybe even Alarion's Senator?  The woman spoke in a pitch perfect Star League English accent.  "I second."
"Very well.  A vote to close debate is open."
The clerks quietly and dutifully recorded the incoming votes.  Trillian waited patiently, hoping to hear it would end.  She was certain she had the votes in the Assembly and quite certain here too, but it wasn't just enough to have a majority.  To compel Zento to relinquish the floor and proceed to the vote on the emergency budget allocations Nathaniel submitted, it would need to be a three-fifths majority.  Otherwise Zento would retain the floor.
After a couple minutes the Senate's Clerk, a tan-skinned woman with what Trillian thought of as a slight Leaguer accent, called out the results.  "Three hundred thirty-four in favor, two hundred and sixty-six opposed."  A listing of the votes was reflected on a holographic projection.
A satisfied grin crossed Zento's face.  The majority was short by twenty-six votes.  From what Trillian saw of the results, he'd maintained a strong block of support among his own Isle of Skye as well as the Principality of Atreus and the New Earth, New Dallas, and Stewart Marches, combined with a collection of votes from the other regions sympathetic to his arguments, including a sizable number of the "Concert" block of pro-peace senators.  She felt a weight on her heart at it.  Every day lost is another day the Wolves have to seize Tharkad.  Zento, and whomever is backing him, are killing my people with these tactics.
"I call for adjournment."  The gray-haired visage of Senator Ashenafi spoke; he was seated near the front and of particular prominence as one of Arcadia's senators. "Time spent to discuss matters may yield compromise so that the Senate might move on to a vote."
"I will second," said Zento, still grinning.  "And will be ready to resume my statements upon the Senate reconvening in the morning."
Grumbling came from some of the assembled.  Dame Stuart, with an expression that spoke volumes of what had to be frustration, said, "I acknowledge the Lord Senator will by rights have the floor upon reconvening, but I strongly urge him to consider making his remaining remarks short so the Senate's business may continue."
The grin slipped.  Trillian wondered why Stuart had just said what she said, since it was clearly against Zento's intent to hold up the vote, and thus seemingly put her in support of Nathaniel.  "And I will urge the President of the Senate to remember the rights of Federation Senators," he replied, his voice particularly forceful.  "Especially when the matter concerns war and the overstretching of Crown authority against Parliament's rights."
I would almost think he is trying to goad Nathaniel into acting unilaterally, Trillian thought.  It seems that no matter the history, Skye will always be defiant, selfish, and utterly delusional.
"Do any object to an adjournment for the day?"  When none spoke, she hammered her gavel.  "Then the Senate is adjourned, we will reconvene in regular session at eleven hundred tomorrow."  Trillian recognized the near-lunchtime convening was to permit Senate committees to hold their own sessions, though she wondered if it was also time for wheeling and dealing to break the impasse.
A number of Senators jumped from their seats and went for the doors, presumably those with calls to make.  Trillian buried her head in her hands for a moment, rubbing at her temples and trying to figure out how to help break the deadlock.  Zento's support, while in the apparent minority, was strong enough to keep him talking when the next day came, unless something broke.
One of her aides, a young woman from Arc-Royal she'd picked up on Martin Kell's suggestion, leaned towards her.  "Lady Trillian, the Assembly passed the amended budget earlier." she murmured.
"By how much?" she asked.
The aide — Samantha?  No, Sarah — checked the noteputer again.  "The vote was seven hundred and sixty-two for, six hundred and thirty against, my Lady."
"Thank you, Sarah." Trillian said, and was satisfied to see a small grin and nod.  She'd remembered the name right.  One of the advantages to being raised in the Royal Court, finding ways to keep names straight…  if only I could be satisfied by the outcome.  A substantial block opposed Nathaniel.  His people are not united in this effort at all.  How much is he risking the Federation's stability to aid the Commonwealth?  Am I setting him up to be usurped as well?  Politics here seemed too settled for that, but then again, it might simply be that such sentiments were not so easily found.
She noted Zento was at his desk still, conversing with some of the other senators.  She pursed her lips and, in a moment of impulse, left the Royal Box by its front entrance and approached him.  She didn't go unnoticed either, and his eyes were on her by the time she got to the desk.  "My Lord Zento, what do you want?"
"Hrm, Lady Trillian?"
She tried to keep her voice level.  "You have obstructed me from the first day we met.  You've never met my arguments on why the alliance is in your interest, only continued to insult my character and my people, and I have little idea what you truly want.  You say you are for the defense of Skye, but nothing I am asking for prejudices that defense."
"Your estimation of our needs does not match our own, Lady Trillian." he answered.  "The King can give our militias better 'Mechs and equipment, he can reactivate a regiment of the Skye Rangers, but it doesn't change that his policies have been to reward those threatening us while pursuing a war that does not involve us.  I don't know what hold you have over Nathaniel, but I am impervious to your charms, my Lady, and I consider you an enemy for diverting the King's attention from his people."
"You act like Nathaniel is a child wanting glory, but he's been perfectly understanding of the realities of this situation." Trillian replied.  "He recognizes that the death of the Commonwealth will jeopardize your people too."
"What, with this talk of the Clans?"  Zento laughed.  "They will be busy gorging themselves on the Commonwealth's corpse, or pursuing the Terrans of your Inner Sphere.  They are not so foolish as to pursue a war here, no matter what you may insist about their warmongering.  And even if they did, the Ghastillians and the Communists can deal with them.  My people have other threats to concern themselves with, threats that you only encourage the King to ignore or appease in his eagerness to fight for you."  As his voice hardened towards the end, his eyes focused on her with a fury she found disturbing.  "You ask what I want, Lady Trillian?  I want you gone. I want you off Arcadia and back through that magic portal, dealing with the problems your people made for themselves without begging for our help.  Then maybe we can get our King's mind back on his duty to our people."
Trillian opened her mouth to protest but stopped.  She'd argued the Clans' behavior for months now and could, she now saw, do so until she was blue in the face.  It would not move Zento.  His eyes blazed with hate and obstinate purpose.  No word of hers would reach him.  He was set against her and against her people for whatever reason.  "You would not be the first to underestimate the Clans' desire for battle." she said before giving a courtly bow and walking away.
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At her return to the Palace, Trillian made for her suites.  She'd returned to them only a day ago, after four days of intensive investigation ensured MacCarter left no bombs or other devices and that she was secure.  A pair of Lifeguards now stood outside her door at all times, their power-armored figures ready to deal with any other assassin sent by the usurpers… or, she now wondered, Zento or someone like him. The resentment I saw there was real, and it frightens me.  How many here share it?
Her staff, likewise cleared by both her security personnel and the Arcadian Royal Security Service, already had the day's papers ready for her, including the formal outcome from the House.  The Senate is all that remains.  If Zento could be bypassed… but I do not know how, nor is it my place.  Nathaniel will have to.
While looking over some of the budget items related to her arms purchases, Trillian turned on the trivid and made a soft trawl through news channels.  The Donegal Broadcasting Corporation's news channel, consisting of time-delayed recordings sent by HPG from Donegal, reflected polls showing that support for intervention was now sitting solid at seventy-percent.  When she swapped to the Atrean News Network, however, she was treated to a poll showing a bare forty percent "willing to consider some action" and seventy percent opposed to "alliance and direct intervention".  Skye News Service had even worse numbers, as well as a poll showing that the majority still considered the Azami and the Oriento-Capellans as the main threats to their well-being.  She finally tracked over to the Federation Broadcasting Corporation's all-news channel, which had no report at the moment as it was referencing efforts to deal with flooded townships in the Upper Siur River range on the continent of Munster.  Local news programming then, she thought.  With hundreds of worlds across the Inner Sphere, the sad fact was that someone was suffering some kind of natural calamity or inclement weather somewhere, especially on less-hospitable worlds.
There was a tone at the door.  Sarah looked up from the paperwork she was organizing for Trillian and went to the door.  She opened it and quickly gave a courtly bow, stepping aside as she did.  Trillian was on her feet by the time Sophia Marik stepped into the room.  Her robes were white and purple in coloring and a Marik eagle was stitched on the breast.  In my reality I would have reason to be wary of being around a Marik, Trillian thought. But not here.  "Lady Sophia.  To what do I owe the pleasure?"  She asked the question politely, but could already imagine the answer.
"I wanted to see how you are handling your return to your room." Sophia said. "And to convey King Nathaniel's assurances that today is not the end of the Senate deliberations.  Zento's obstruction will not last much longer." 
"Can't it?" Trillian asked.  She couldn't quite keep the bitterness and frustration from her voice.  "Every effort to force him to relinquish the floor and allow a vote failed.  He still has enough votes to keep his mouth going for days.  I imagine he intends to provoke Nathaniel into imposing the budget alteration by decree?"
"Possibly, though the Assembly's vote will undermine the problems that would raise." Sophia said.  "It's also possible he hopes to provoke the Senate into an outright rejection as the price for resuming regular business. Next year is an election year and many have domestic agendas they seek to promote, of course.  Zento is threatening that by costing them time on this."
"So they would refuse our alliance to resume normal business."
Sophia nodded.  "But Zento may be overplaying his hand.  The requirement for cloture was made to protect senators' right to address, but it was never meant to be used to obstruct, not like this.  If he persists even his supporters may bleed away.  After all, the same precedent might one day apply to their efforts."
Trillian nodded.  "It is the committed who sometimes lose sight of such unofficial restrictions, they are so determined to win they will hold to their course when no others had before."  She glanced at the trivid which was now openly reporting the results of various Federation-wide surveys on Trillian's alliance proposal.  Donegal, Alarion, Arc-Royal, and Porrima Marches all showed hefty supportive polls, and the Arcadia and Dar-es-Salaam Marches polled very strongly for her as well, with Bolan and Hesperus fairly supportive.  But even in those places, and in the Concord Free State, and Silver Eagle Republic, the support for the alliance treaty was below sixty percent.  Elsewhere Alexandria March was barely at fifty percent in favor while in Arcturus, the Isle of Skye, and the Principality of Atreus, over half were opposed to the alliance.  New Dallas March, at thirty-three percent in favor, was the most opposed to her.
"They're frightened of the Empire." Sophia said abruptly.  "Many of our worlds have been invaded by the Oriento-Capellans.  Atreus alone has been struck three times in the last half century.  The last time Atreus City nearly fell."
"How old were you?" Trillian asked softly.  She needn't ask anything else; it was plain to her that Sophia had personal experience on this count.
"Three."  Sophia shook her head.  "I remember pieces, really.  Having my fourth birthday party in a bunker in Atreus City.  My father couldn't be there, he was off with the Navy, so my uncle Jason visited.  My mother was pregnant with my little brother, though I didn't understand at the time.  I remember Jason giving me a gift of treats, dried Bondurant sweetberries, that I always loved.  'The last on the planet,' he told me."
"He was to you what Melissa's father Andrew was to me, I suppose," Trillian said.  "And her grandfather Adam.  He was always kind to me growing up."  She swallowed.  "What happened to him?  Your uncle?"
"He went back to his company in the First Atrean Dragoons and died a week later, killed in his 'Mech while trying to protect the city center," Sophia replied.  "And a week after that, the Navy launched a counter-offensive, broke the blockade, and landed reinforcements.  It was a few months later that the Knight Orders of Oriente finally withdrew.  Nearly half of Atreus' cities had some kind of damage.  Atreus City… I remember the rubble.  It took years to rebuild everything.  They only just finished completing the restoration of all the lost species of the Interstellar Botanical Gardens during my last visit home, two years ago."
Trillian nodded.  She's seen on Atreus, her Atreus, what I worry I'll see on my Tharkad. "Do you think Nathaniel should turn me down, then?  It's clear many of your people think fighting as our allies will weaken your defenses here."
"No."  Sophia shook her head.  "My family still does.  My father and grand-uncle, Archduke Kenneth, aren't in favor of the alliance, well, not officially, though Father is sympathetic.  Nathaniel's had to make a lot of promises to them just to keep their opposition from becoming public, and it may not be enough.  But I think he has the right of it.  We can't concentrate against the Empire or the Combine if the Clans are at our back, we need your Commonwealth watching the Glass.  I've done everything I can to convince my family of that position, and I'm hopeful Uncle Ken will bend in the end and not force Nathaniel to fight for the alliance."
"Thank you, then, for your support, and I'm sorry if it interferes with your nuptials."  Trillian smiled sadly at her.  "I get the feeling you and Nathaniel will make a committed pair."
"I'm not sure it's love, not like you find in courtly romances or holodramas," Sophia said, meeting the sad little smile with one of her own.  "But I do believe in his vision of the future.  Peace for our Inner Sphere.  Never seeing my beautiful city in rubble again.  I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't agree with it."
"I have a feeling there are those who do."  Trillian cleared her throat. "Do you think you'll persuade Nathaniel to leave the war to an appointed general?"
"Well, he'll certainly bring an experienced commander with him.  But he's still going in person, and the only way to stop him, Lady Trillian, would be for you to tear the treaty up."  Sophia shook her head.  "Stubborn Proctors, they always insist on leading from the front, unless they're too broken to do it.  He'll not be persuaded to give that up.  And it's not like the inheritance is in danger.  If he dies before we marry, before we have an heir, his aunt Princess Melissa will inherit.  She already has three children as well.  No, House Proctor will go on, and he won't allow for his troops to fight a war he stays away from.  It's not the family way."
Despite the energy in her words, Trillian could tell they were not the entirety of her views.  When it came down to it, Sophia wanted Nathaniel here, not across the Glass fighting a war.  After all, if he died, their dreams for the future likely died with him, as there was no guarantee his successor would embrace his vision in any way.  Hopefully he will be satisfied by a few visits to the front and consider his duty done.
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===Scenes of Carnage===
Trillian drew in a sigh.  Our salvation will not be easy, we are going to bring pain to these people, and I don't think the Commonwealth can easily repay that debt.  I only hope Melissa and the others appreciate it.
By her side, the vidphone began trilling.  Trillian reached over and tapped the call key.  Lord Marienberg, her Chief of Staff, appeared on it.  He seemed pale, even accounting for the vidphone's display.  "Lady Trillian, there's something on the DBC… it's terrible, but you may wish to see it."
Oh no.  What has happened now?  "Thank you, my Lord."  She took up the trivid remote and set it back to the DBC news feed.
The holographic display created the crisp image of a field of snow and something considerably darker.  Uniformed personnel were milling about, digging through the snow and… ash?  The lower corner of the screen read "AFRF Verigraphed Footage", "Morges", and "Clan-occupied System, Transglass".  At the top of the screen a content advisory warning was written in brilliant red, repeated in both English, German, and Gaelic. Trillian recognized the array of uniforms quickly, a combination of Arcadian, Kell Hound, and Wolf Clan insignia and colors.  One of the Kell Hound personnel, an infantryman, reached through the snow and pulled up a rigid object that was soon identifiable as a human arm.
Within seconds more was brought up from the snow and ash until it was clear that it was, indeed, human; a corpse, covered in bruises, emaciated and weak, frozen stiff in the cold.
"This disturbing footage, bearing a verigraphed AFRF digital signature, was received yesterday by press correspondents on Atocongo from a force of AFRF units that returned past the Clan blockade of the Looking Glass," a female voice in a Donegal brogue explained.  "According to the attached report, it is the site of a mass grave found at a prisoner of war camp on Morges by the Eighth Strikers Brigade, who landed on the planet to liberate Lyran prisoners of war from Jade Falcon forces.  Some of the footage has been deemed not fit for broadcast, though it is believed to already be making the rounds on local planetary net sites on Atocongo and will likely spread from there."
Indeed there were signs of editing cuts as more bodies were fished from the pit, as were the burnt remains of human bones.  The bodies were in various states of mistreatment and malnutrition, some little more than skin and bones.  Some had visible bullet holes or laser burns from being shot, though more traumatic injuries were not among those broadcast.
"According to sources in the Eighth Strikers and the First Kell Hounds, no count of the deceased was feasible in their time on Morges, and the estimates are wildly variant, though intact remains numbered at one hundred and twenty-two when the camp had to be abandoned for military necessity.  An estimated two hundred more were killed during enemy shelling of the camp after its liberation, leaving over one thousand survivors.  Regretfully another hundred and ten died during the high-G transit from Morges made necessary by a Falcon war fleet arriving in-system."  The speaker remained off-screen, and given the growing strain in her voice, it was no surprise.  Trillian could imagine the woman paling as these words came from her throat.  While the loss of life was by scale not as great as other atrocities, the numbers alone could bring anyone to choke, and the appearance of the bodies made clear the sufferings of the deceased before their deaths.
There was a rustling beside her, joined by a wrenching sound.  Trillian turned in time to see Sophia cradling a trash receptacle hurriedly gathered from the table between them, one she was freely vomiting into.  After a few seconds she stopped, though her face remained tremendously pale.  It made Trillian conscious of the gurgling in her own gut at the sight of so many of her fellow Lyrans dead at the Falcons' hands.  We failed them.  Melissa, General Maurer, Vedet Brewer, myself, we all failed them.  We should have been wiser.  We shouldn't have worked with Seth Ward and Alaric Wolf.  We shouldn't have been so greedy as to strike at the Mariks, not when the Falcons remained, not when Malvina was made Khan!  We should have done something!
It frustrated her.  Senator Zento, vicious as he was towards the plight of her people, wasn't wrong about that.  They had made mistakes, and they had caused this.  Now their greatest hope to recover from this war was the result of the miracle of the Glass.  Otherwise… otherwise the Commonwealth would have died, in all likelihood.  We would have only survived if the Clans let us.  Will only survive if they permit, should this alliance fail after all.
And all the while, the footage continued on.
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The DBC was likewise active in Nathaniel's office.  He sat, quiet in his chair, while his uncle Prince Peter, Grand Admiral Stewart, and Lord Arnold watched quietly with him.  The footage of the mass grave was replaced by what looked like a DropShip wardroom. 
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A figure with pale dark skin, emaciated and worn, sat hunched on the chair with a mug of drink and the remnants of a ration pack before him.  He was favoring one wrist as a man might if his watch were removed and he was testing the skin it once covered.  "Hauptmann Peter Hoffman, Seventh Arcturan Guards, correct?" a voice asked from offscreen.
"Ja.  Yes."
"If you want to take a little while, I know the food is still settling…"
"Nein.  No.  I… I would like more, but only once the others are fed," he said.  "They did not feed us, usually.  A piece of bread or a cup of rice pudding a day, or whatever scraps remained from their own rations."
"What can you tell us about conditions?"
The man laughed bitterly, the tears forming in his eyes weighing more than words.  "What can't I?  They abused and tormented us.  We were only alive to be worked to death.  The Falcons, or those that called themselves Mongols, don't believe in taking prisoners.  We were not intended to survive, and we were never offered a chance to prove ourselves in such a way to join the Clan, not like they used to do with prisoners.  No.  We were to die slowly as punishment for resisting, to terrify others into surrendering."
"The Falcons told you this?"
Another harsh laugh.  "They bragged.  They even speculated which of us would die next.  Sometimes they killed us just to do it, or because we said the wrong thing, or had too much spirit in the way our eyes met them.  They… they hated us for fighting back.  It was like nothing I'd seen before from Clansmen, usually they preferred fighters, they wanted glory.  These Falcons, these Mongols, just wanted submission…"
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Nathaniel's finger finally found the mute key, hushing the trivid player.  He drew in a breath before glancing across the room.  They are not taking it well either.  Even Arnold seems to still have a soul… no, that is unfair of me.  "We must put a stop to this," Nathaniel finally managed, even as the fire still burned within him.  "This is wrong."
"It is."  Stewart nodded.  "But it will not sway Zento.  The Kuritans behave like this too, after all, and you are not demanding war with them."
"War with House Kurita would start a new Succession War," Nathaniel reminded him bitterly.  Though I would love to send the Proctor and Royal Guards Corps and have them drag Ballymont back to face trial for his atrocities, to reclaim New Wessex and Vega for the Federation, the Combine would retaliate, and it would spiral.  The Peace of Dieron would be lost.  But I can do something here!  "Nor is the Combine the enemy I know many believe we should face first."
"It is not," Lord Arnold grumbled.  He turned to Nathaniel with his usual glare, but this time the fire wasn't quite there, restrained by the horrors they'd just seen.  "But what's done is done.  I will do my duty and obey your orders while giving you my advice.  And that advice is that your proposed intervention is not feasible under the current military budget.  The Senate must pass the amended budget, and Zento will block it with everything he has."
"He is abusing Senate rules to do so, surely that will sway them."
"Not if they don't want to be.  Not if they feel as deeply as he that this war is a mistake."  Arnold's voice made clear he agreed that it was.  "And others may decide to table the matter to get other business going again, which is certainly what he wants."
"If the Senate ignores this, then I will act."  That prompted the three men to stare at him.  "The Assembly approved the change."
"With a strong opposing minority." Peter reminded him.
"They still did.  I will honor my pledges to the defense of the Federation, but I will sign a Royal Decree altering the budget if the Senate does not stop Zento's petulant obstruction." Nathaniel swore.  "This is not simply honoring our word, not anymore.  This is a moral imperative.  Hazen's followers represent a force that our House was built to fight, that every oath House Proctor has ever sworn requires us to face with whatever might we can muster, and I will follow that oath."
"Zento may provoke revolt in Skye," Arnold said, drawing a ferocious glare from Peter after he did.  "The people there are restless.  They considered your grandmother one of theirs, but you are clearly not.  If you run off to fight in another Inner Sphere while they clamor for more defense…"
"I have given them new defenses, new 'Mechs, and a restored Skye Ranger unit.  If they wish to be ungrateful, then it will be dealt with as needed."  Damn Zento and damn Skye!  He didn't dare say that, not even in private, it was not something he could ever risk getting leaked.  But the feeling was there regardless.  "Princess Melissa's presence should show how much we're concerned with them.  Zento's protests aside, I think even the people of Skye would recognize their defenses are being seen to.  I will not humor his stubborn obstructionism any longer."
"At this point, I advise against anything hasty," said Peter.  "Do not mention a Royal Decree as possible, not until tomorrow.  Let's see how the session goes."
Nathaniel almost asked what he thought would be different.  But the words died before they could reach his throat.  It was evident things were different now, with the atrocities of the Clans being played on trivids for all to see.  Will it sway enough votes?  We will see.  And I will act accordingly.
-----
===Words of a Mad Woman===
Dr. Nancy Corey Memorial Hospital
Roslyn
Among the many trivids and flatscreens showing the new footage coming from beyond the Glass was the one in the secured hospital room of the Nancy Corey Hospital, where their most infamous current patient remained on her hospital bed, a helpless quadriplegic.  Beside the prone form of Malvina Hazen, John Albright was likewise looking at the display.  He was reminded of the footage a few years ago, when prisoners from the Third Proctor Guards were returned in a swap after their failed campaign on New Wessex.  The Kuritans had left them half-starved and abused as well.
The sight was such that he was left transfixed.  His last question to Malvina faded from his mind.  Dear God, look what they did to those poor people.  He glanced towards Malvina, curious as to her reaction.
No, I'm not just curious.  I want to see contrition.
But there was none.  Just a sort of hollow, uncaring look in her eyes, as if the suffering was nothing special, nothing to feel any emotion about.  After several moments she turned her head back towards him.  A bemused glimmer showed in her eyes.  "You are upset with me, Doctor John?"
"How can you look at that and not feel moved by the suffering?"
"It is easy.  Suffering has been my companion since the sibko, as you are well aware," she replied evenly.  "I was as hungry as they were quite often.  They fed us very little too, and if we stole food from the larder or the mess, we were ferociously punished.  I had one sibkin, Sichelgaita I believe… yes.  The Falconers beat her so badly she died from an infection a week later, all for stealing a tomato from their stores. So, we dealt with it, as a warrior must."
John swallowed.  "And you don't care, do you?  You don't appreciate what that suffering is?"
"It is suffering.  You are broken by it, killed by it, or you endure it and survive.  I chose to survive, as did Aleks.  So no, Doctor John, I do not care.  Their suffering means as little to me as any other."  Her eyes tightened and, damn her, a grin formed.  "Why, Doctor, I seem to have angered you.  Never have I seen such passion on your face."
He couldn't help it.  Her mental condition aside, her callousness towards the horror they were seeing, it stoked a fury in him.  In a moment of clarity he understood Lord Cassel and that committee of men and women he'd argued with so intently a month ago.  Malvina was the source of this horror and she was not, in the slightest, repentant of it.  She… she deserves to die.  And her victims deserve justice.
A low, throaty cackle came from Malvina.  "I think you wish to kill me.  Is that true, hunter of mental illness?  Please say it is so.  No, not just that.  Please, do kill me."  Her voice betrayed emotion, not just pleasure but an earnestness for destruction.  "I invoked bondsref, but I cannot carry it out.  Kill me, Doctor John.  Fulfill the rede burning in your breast and end my life."
Could I do it?  Just… just kill her?  No!  No, I am a doctor, not a killer.  He kept his eyes from the screen and focused on his thinking.  It is not my place.  It's not what I am.
"You suffered as well, so why do you care so little?" he asked her. "Why hurt others like you were hurt?"
"Because that is the way of things.  Suffering is everywhere, and everyone will both endure and inflict it.  Those who are weak will die from it, the strong endure.  Such is the rede of life, Doctor John, and there is nothing you or your Arcadian morality can change about that."
Albright nodded stiffly. "And you will never repent?  For the worlds you ruined, the lives you destroyed, the suffering you've wrought?"
"I do not know what 'repentance' even is," was her calm reply. "But if you are asking if I have regrets, my regrets do not include the actions I took to glorify my Clan and crush my enemies."
"Very well."  He jotted that note down and stood.  "I am calling it a day."
"And I will linger here, suffering more." she said bitterly.
He couldn't bring himself to answer her.  She is a monster.  Remember that, John.  No matter how intriguing her mental illness, even if it makes her incapable of being anything but what she is… she is a monster, and you will not change that.  Do you still think she deserves to be spared the trial that her victims cry out for?
It was not a question he could answer at the moment, not with the anger burning inside him.
----
===Vote for the fate of the Alliance===
Royal Palace
Roslyn
1st February, 3143
After an unrestful sleep Trillian rose to begin the day with the usual morning routine.  Washing, dressing, breakfast, and then to get fully dressed for the day's Senate meeting.
She'd barely set down to breakfast when Lord Marienberg appeared.  He seemed partly rested and happier than she expected.  "My Lady, have you heard?"
"Heard of what?"  She tried to keep the worry from her voice.
"That awful footage from Morges has made it through the HPG network to sites on Arcadia, and on other worlds.  More news sources are picking it up." He drew in a breath.  "It pains me to see so many of our people suffer like that, but maybe it will sway hearts and minds here."
"I hope it does, but I dare not rely on that hope.  Breakfast, Lord Marienberg?"
He nodded in acceptance and joined her.  They ate quietly, perhaps afraid of discussing any more the day's events, not wanting to hope things were changing and tempt fate.  When Trillian was done she reached for her noteputer and used it to load up a number of capital news services, particularly the Roslyn Times.  Newspapers, they were once called, I think. She recalled some worlds on her side still had local news items and offworld news printed on paper and stacked for delivery or for purchase at local stores, especially on worlds with more limited net access and enough resources for paper production.  But most such services tended to still be digital delivery affairs.
The main article that came on the Roslyn Times' net site screamed "HORROR FROM BEYOND THE GLASS". The image was a still of a pile of burnt bones from Morges being collected by parka-clad AFRF personnel.  The very sight threatened to make Trillian's breakfast come back, so she quickly slid the image away.
"The Chamberlain forwarded a request from High King Nathaniel this morning." Marienberg began.  "He wishes for you to bring copies of the alliance treaty you finalized to the Senate today."
To show, I assume, though maybe we will get lucky and be able to sign.
"My Lady?"  One of her aides, Gerda, was at the balcony window, along with the younger Sarah. "Outside, in the courtyard…"
Seeing the uncertainty and surprise on their faces, Trillian went to the balcony window and pushed the door open, allowing the cool morning air to flow into her suite.
It wasn't uncommon to see crowds in the courtyard, small ones particularly, given the Palace was a functioning government building as much as it was the King's residence.  But this crowd, while not large yet, was already a mass of people ten stories below, and it was still growing.
A cheer rose up from the ground when she made it to the railing.  She could make out the handful of flags among the crowd, both the red-and-white flag of the Federation bearing the white-and-gold-winged crowned hawk and a few Lyran Commonwealth flags among them as well.  One hastily-made placard depicted a crude green bird impaled by a sword, and another, the same caught fast in an armored fist.  The cheering soon became a babble of different chants, including "Long live the Commonwealth!" and "Alliance now!"
The sight kindled the hope within her heart.  She'd occasionally had letters or messages of support, even marches and political demonstrations, but this was a spontaneous action.  The crowd's shouts and cheers continued.  "God save the Commonwealth!"  "We will fight!"
Still, it may just be those most affected by the images.  I can't be hopeful for a change in the Senate.  Still, she couldn't just remain passive at this display.  How do the likes of Daoshen do these public rallies? she wondered, settling ultimately for raising her hand and crying out, "Long live the Commonwealth!" as loud as she could manage.
She doubted many heard her, but they saw her hand, which she clenched into a fist, and the cheers renewed.
I think I am ready to face the Senate, and Zento, again, she decided, stepping away from the balcony and letting the distant roar follow her back into the suites.
----
Trillian arrived a half hour early, in time with High King Nathaniel, to find the Parliament much changed.  There was a new mood in the air, and the staffers and other workers saluted or bowed their heads as Trillian passed.  The vids spread yet further.
Once in the Senate she barely had time to get to the Royal Box before a number of the members approached her, offering condolences, their personal pledges of support for the war, a few even apologizing for prior opposition.  She accepted their words with thanks, noting that some came from those who voted for Zento's tirade the prior day.  Dare I hope he can be made to stand down? After her months of politicking and arguing and debating, it seemed too much to dare, even if the vids from Morges left her even more determined to see this through and spare her people that horror.
As the time approached, she noted Zento was not yet at his desk, nor among the crowd of Senators in the chamber.  Is he running late?  Or will he make a last minute appearance to delay matters further? She glanced towards Nathaniel, who was having something whispered in his ear by Prince Peter while his eyes were intent on the chamber.  He has seen some of the reports too, I imagine.  I should be fortunate that the ruler of this state is the most sympathetic.
At the stroke of eleven, the doors opened one last time, admitting Zento and an aide who shuffled off to the aide gallery while Zento went to his seat, holding a noteputer.  He checked something on it intently.  He intends to keep speaking.  Trillian frowned.  Even with all this, he will not relent.
Stuart's gavel sounded through the chamber.  "Order.  I call the Senate to order!" she called out.  "The clerk will now hold the roll call."
The roll call was, thankfully, all digital, and with the clerk's supporting staff only took a few minutes, though they were very long minutes.  "All Senators are in attendance, we have a quorum." Stuart announced.  "The Senate is now in session."
Zento rose.  "Then I shall, as is my right, hold the floor." he announced, his voice boosted by the chamber's acoustics and speaker systems.
A roar answered him, surprising him and Trillian in its fury.  "Sit down, damn you!"  "Enough!  Enough!"  "You have spoken enough, Zento!"  "Devil take you, sit down!" A number of voices called out demanding he sit.  Zento's jaw locked and he defied his loudest detractors with a glare while Speaker Stuart's gavel slammed repeatedly on the sound board at her desk.  "Order!" she shouted repeatedly, until the furor died down.  "The Lord Senator held the floor at the adjournment yesterday, the floor is his until he relinquishes it or cloture is invoked."
"I will not relinquish until the Senate hears the pleas of my constituents on Summer, and across the Isle of Skye!" Zento proclaimed.  "This alliance must be stopped!"
The furor was shorter this time.  More than that, Trillian thought even Zento looked a little subdued compared to yesterday. Have the recordings from Morges perhaps stirred his soul to life a little?  Made him reconsider?
Senator Ashenafi rose from his seat.  "My Lord Senator's opinion aside, this obstruction of Senate business cannot continue.  I move for the invocation of cloture."
The fact he got the words out without an interruption from Zento made Trillian furhter wonder if the Summer firebrand was uncertain.  "I protest, I have not even started," Zento said.  "And I have new figures related to Oriento-Capellan naval constructions to provide as justification for my opposition."
"I second the motion!" Senator Bujold cried.  "Vote for cloture!"
Stuart nodded.  "The motion is carried.  The Senate will now vote to close debate on the Royal request for budgetary amendment."
The following minute was agony for Trillian.  What would be the result?  Would Zento lose any of his grip?  She needed three hundred and sixty votes to get the Senate to vote for the actual budget, and she couldn't be sure of that yet either, as some cloture votes might yet also vote against her.
The Senators quickly voted, however, and the Clerk of the Senate swiftly tabulated the results her clerks confirmed.  The holographic projection said everything.
415-185
A cheer came from some sections of the Senate until silenced by Stuart's gavel.  "Four hundred and fifteen force, one hundred and eighty-five against.  Debate is now closed.  Lord Senator Zento, please, be seated."
A huff of disappointment came from Zento, but not the fury Trillian had anticipated at being thwarted.  He slumped into his chair.  That more than anything gave her real hope; if he'd shown more energy she would fear he'd already assured himself of defeating the budget change.
"The Senate will now vote on the proposed budget alteration…"
Trillian held her hands together and prayed.  This would be the clincher.  Nathaniel's readiness to push his authority notwithstanding, the Senate supporting him would eliminate all doubt.  It would give her what she needed, desperately, to save her cousin and to save the Commonwealth.
The vote took a little longer this time, but soon, another set of results showed.
399-201
"Danke Gott." escaped her lips.  Sixteen extra opposing votes aside, this was almost a two-thirds majority, far higher than she'd hoped.  She glanced at the projected results being relayed to her noteputer, including who made which vote.  As cheers came from the Senate, and Nathaniel flashed a smile of triumph, she confirmed the way the outcome fell.  While the vote solidified further her way in Lyran space, she'd also made key gains in the Principality of Atreus and the Arcturus and Alexandria Marches, even a few swayed votes in Skye, New Earth, and New Dallas Marches.  In some points her supporters were minorities of those sections, but they were not small minorities.  No March was still overwhelmingly against the alliance she'd forged, the hope for the Commonwealth.
"The Clerk shall report to the Treasury that the Senate has approved the Royal request, and the appropriate adjustments might be made." Stuart said.  "As President and Speaker of the Senate, I now propose a vote of endorsement for the alliance treaty with the Lyran Commonwealth. To reflect this body's opinion and ensure the prompt ratification once the terms ratification is made."
Trillian was already fighting back the tears of joy.  This time the vote was even more her way, with another thirty Senators endorsing, presumably to show solidarity now that they'd lost the vote against the budget.
She noted Nathaniel lean forward in his chair and speak to Stuart.  Stuart looked back and up at him and nodded.  Her gavel struck the sound board again.  "His Majesty has a request for the attention of the Senate."
Conversation quieted.  No opposition was made, not even by Zento, though he frowned at the High King from his desk.
Nathaniel rose and, after a signal from elsewhere — presumably the sound engineer for the Senate's address system — he began speaking.  "In light of this occasion, I ask the Senate to witness the treaty signing your wisdom has made possible.  Lady Trillian, the treaty copies?"
For a brief moment Trillian, relieved as she was, forgot she had them.  She checked her things and was about to panic at their not being there when Marienberg, smiling, produced the folder from his papers.  She stood and held them up.  "Here, Your Majesty."
''
"Please, let us finish this now.  Your people have suffered enough at the hands of your foes.  No more time will be wasted in bringing them succor."  Nathaniel descended from the platform towards the Senate floor and the table before Stuart's place.  Seeing his intent, the Clerk and her subordinates quickly started clearing space.
A lump formed in Trillian's throat, and she felt the tears come before she could stop them.  Her soul bursting with pride at her success, she left the Royal Box with her staff and approached the table herself.  The Clerk accepted the treaty copies and laid them out, side by side.  Speaker Stuart stepped forward to join them, providing a ceremonial quilled pen to Nathaniel.  As the Senate watched, he sat in one of the open chairs and signed each copy with a steady hand.  Only now did Trillian notice Sophia was with them, wondering if perhaps the King's secretary and bride-to-be arrived late and noting Sophia brought with her a large object in a box.  Nathaniel opened it, reached within for several moments, and brought out a large brass and silver object with one side wet with dark ink.  The Royal Seal, Trillian realized, watching him press it to the side of his signatures, one after the other, leaving the crowned hawk seal of the Royal Federation on both.  "Lady Trillian?" he asked, offering her the quilled pen.
She almost dropped it.  That was the most embarrassing part, but having this moment come had her so affected she almost dropped the pen.  Demanding her hand remain steady, Trillian sat at the table beside Nathaniel and signed her name and Melissa's.  Once the second copy was signed, she handed the pen back to Stuart.
Nathaniel stood, prompting her to do the same, and bowed his head to her, prompting her to bow ever more deeply back.  "It is done." he announced.  "Joined by the hand of God Himself, the Lyran Commonwealth and the Royal Federation are now allies against the monstrous depravity of our enemies."
A cheer came from the alliance supporters in the Senate, and applause soon filled the chamber.  Trillian failed to hold back her tears.  I've done it.  We have the alliance.  I can save Melissa from Vedet, and then we can save the Commonwealth together! After being denied so long it felt like a dam had released in her heart, filling her soul with relief and glee.  The small part of her mind reminding her the deed wasn't done, that a lot of fighting was still ahead, and time was off the essence, it couldn't hold that back.  Everything hinged on the mission that she had just seen to a triumphant conclusion.
"I have to go back now." she murmured.  Nathaniel seemed to be the only one who heard her over the roar of applause.  "I have to bring the treaty to Tharkad, free Melissa, and get the Commonwealth to rally while your troops are brought in."
"There will be other arrangements we must make first," he said to her, grinning, his voice just low enough to carry over the applause. "And there is the matter of my coronation in a week.  It would be best that our alliance start with a formal Lyran delegation, yes?"
"I…"  She considered it.  She did indeed have final matters to wrap up before departing, and it'd ensure the Glass was secured (she hoped, which was very easy to do at the moment) when the Archon's Fist arrived there.  "A week, yes, but no later.  Things must be brought to order on Tharkad.  The LCAF must be made to repudiate Vedet."
"I understand."
By now the applause were only starting to end. "Madame Speaker!"  Ashenafi's voice rang out. "In light of the occasion, may I suggest we adjourn?"
Before she could reply, another voice seconded, and Stuart, without her gavel, merely nodded.  "Yes, the Senate is adjourned!"
Zento and a few others left, but many, even those who'd opposed the alliance, remained.  Trillian didn't see who, but a voice rose from among the Senate, quickly joined by others recognizing the words of a song she now recognized from the historical records she'd reviewed, of the old hymn Sara Proctor introduced to her Liberation Army and known, to these people, as "The Liberator's Hymn."
----
o/~ Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord o/~
o/~ He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored o/~
o/~ He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible, swift sword o/~
o/~ His truth is marching on! o/~
o/~ Glory, Glory, Hallelujah! o/~
o/~ Glory, Glory, Hallelujah! o/~
o/~' 'Glory, Glory, Hallelujah! o/~
o/~ His truth is marching on! o/~
By the end of the chorus Nathaniel was joining in, as were Sophia and Stuart, and Trillian, to her own surprise, found her voice joining the next verse.
o/~ I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps o/~
o/~ They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps o/~
o/~ I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps o/~
o/~ His day is marching on! o/~
o/~ Glory, Glory, Hallelujah…! o/~
----
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