FSML-3 Chpt 4

=Chapter 4=
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==Frederick Steiner and the Man Who Knew Too LittleBook 3==
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===Talks of conspiracy===
Nagelring, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
January 20th, 3024
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Sitting in a coffee shop, hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, Max was staring into the middle-distance when he was greeted. He hadn’t been this stressed since Frederick recruited him in 3007. Dieron hadn’t been this bad. Helm hadn’t been this bad, even when Donna was pointing a gun at him!
“Uncle Max.” The face of the young man who dropped into the chair facing him reminded him very much of Donna Steiner. “What’s wrong?”
“A whole heaping lot of everything,” Max responded. “It shows?”
“You look like hell,” Ryan Steiner told him bluntly. The young man poured some sweetener into his coffee. “Not that I’m not glad to see you.”
Ryan was Frederick’s nephew, not Max’s, but they’d known each other off and on since the young Steiner was a toddler. Max still had a sneaking suspicion that Donna had coached her young son to call Max his uncle as part of her long-running claim that Max and Frederick were the next best thing to a married couple.
“How’s the Nagelring treating you?” he asked. Ryan wasn’t wearing his cadet uniform, since he was on one of his few breaks from the intensive training as an aerospace training, but he was wearing academy branded sportsgear. There were a fair number of other young people in the coffee shop wearing the same sort of thing - some with the physique of people who were being put through the wringer by academy DIs and some that were obviously hoping for the same mystique without putting in the work.
The young man shrugged. “I preferred Sanglamore. The classes weren’t any easier, but there were fewer people wanting to latch onto the Steiner name.”
“Really?”
Ryan held his thumb and forefinger a few millimeters apart. “About this much difference. Plus I’ve a friend there I can only talk to by HPG now. It’s kind of mean to expect her to pay the ComStar bills for regular contact.” A trivial expense for a duke-in-waiting, but Skye to Tharkad costs would stack up, even for plain text messages, if the young lady in question didn’t have the same deep pockets. “What brings you to Tharkad? I thought you’d pretty much settled down on Duran. On your way to join Uncle Frederick?”
“No, I’m busy beating my head against the stone walls of the Triad.” Max rubbed his eyes. “I’m looking into something for him, but no one is willing to talk to me. Most of my clearances got yanked when I stopped following Frederick into combat zones.”
“That sucks.” The younger blond sipped from his coffee. “I wish I could help, but I can’t even put you in touch with Mom - she’s off touring border worlds shilling aerospace fighters to their militias. A favor for Aunt Katrina.”
“...well that explains why she wasn’t answering my calls.” Max grumbled. “I didn’t know that and her house staff wouldn’t tell me.”
Ryan snorted. “You’re kidding? Who did you speak to?”
“Ge-something. I want to say Jeeves but I know that’s not it…”
“Gerrold,” the cadet concluded. “He’s new and he’s kind of stuck up. I’ll have a word with him. He’s probably never heard of you.”
“My low profile coming back to bite me.” Max sighed and sipped on his chocolate. “I didn’t just set up meeting you for the pleasure of your company, Ryan. Or to try contacting your mother.”
“Don’t worry.” Ryan looked him up and down. “You’re not my ideal date either.”
Catching sight of himself in one of the mirrors on the wall, Max smirked. At Ryan’s age, a balding man in a rumpled suit wouldn’t have been his first choice either. “Would that be the lady friend at Sanglamore?”
“Shut up,” Ryan hissed, but the tips of his ears were red. “Jeana’s a good friend.”
“I’m glad you have one. Unfortunately, I’m going to try leaning on you for inside information.”
“Ah, a Class C threat. You’re not out to kill me and you’re not out to become duchess of Porrima. I feel so much safer.”
“In this case,” Max admitted, “You’re pretty much the only Nagelring cadet I know since Caesar graduated.”
“Yeah, he’s got a lance with the Donegal Guards.” Ryan leant forwards. “Seriously, I know you wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t serious. What can I do for you?”
“You were at Caesar’s graduation dinner, right?”, Max asked
“Yeah, I was just back from Skye. Why?”
Max put his mug down and folded his fingers. “I’m trying to find out what the hell happened with Ardan Sortek.”
Ryan winced. “Oh yeah. I don’t know what Aunt Katrina is thinking.”
“But you were at the Nagelring when it happened. I can’t get any details, can you tell me anything?”
“Well, I was there but I wasn’t there exactly… I mean, I was at the dinner but I wasn’t anywhere near the vaults.” The young pilot shook his head. “I… Okay, what I saw for myself was that Sortek was her escort for the dinner. You know, the way she usually has some in-favor dignitary escort her since uncle Arthur died. So he was sitting with her and the commandant. She’d welcomed me back from Skye the day before so I wasn’t getting pulled up close. You know she is about appearances.”
He nodded. “You were sat with continuing cadets, not the graduating class.”
“Exactly. Down the far end of the hall.” Ryan scratched his chin. “Anyway, they seemed to get on pretty well. I don’t know Sortek, but he’d just crushed the Seventeenth Skye. He wasn’t gloating or anything, very respectful. He made a toast to the graduates… made a little joke about how he wished them better luck if they wound up facing whoever Hanse Davion sends to the fourth games.”
“And afterwards?”
“I didn’t see any of it. There was a lockdown called part way through the after dinner reception.” Ryan told him. “Alarms had gone off at the vaults, but I didn’t know that. Everything else I know is second-hand.”
“That would still be more information than I’ve managed to get so far.”
“...you’re really out of the loop.”, Ryan commented
“I had noticed.” Max said, trying not to sound bitter.
“Am I going to be in trouble for talking to you? I know Mom trusts you. Uncle Frederick obviously does and Aunt Katrina made you a baron, but there was a sort of low key directive not to talk about this.”
“And yet here we are.” Max gave him a sympathetic look.
The teenager took a swallow of coffee. “Mom always said she didn’t care for politics, but it’s kind of like following a radar contact when you don’t know if it’s friendly or not.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“What I heard,” Ryan said in a low voice, “Is that the alarm was from the biolocks. Sortek had the codes and when they caught him, he had an accomplice dressed up as the Archon. She was good enough to fool the guards, but the DNA scanner tripped her up. They were actually trying to argue that the lock must be broken when Aunt Katrina arrived and everything went pear-shaped… Are you okay?”
Max stared at him. “There were two of them?!”
“Uncle Max!”
He was about to ask what and then his mind alerted him to the sting of hot chocolate on his left hand. He swore and grabbed a napkin, having knocked his mug over and spilled the thankfully only lukewarm contents over his fingers. “Sorry, but there were two Katrinas?”
“Yes.” Ryan looked around guiltily, but no LIC agents sprang out to detain him for telling Max this. “What I heard was that Davion surgeons had created an imposter who could stand up to close scrutiny. For Aunt Katrina, that is. Sortek had a briefcase sized data-core with him, if they’d managed to get in then he could have walked away with ridiculous amounts of classified data.”
Doppelganger, Max thought numbly. It had been decades but he remembered something of the scenario. There it had been Davion scientists captured by the Capellans and used to create an imposter who replaced Hanse Davion. Was this why the Capellans were now making such progress in negotiations with Katrina? Or was this a Davion agent, having retained the technology and willing to risk the entire alliance with the Lyran Commonwealth for access to their lostech data?
As much as he wanted to assume the former, which would be a disaster, Max couldn’t rule the latter out. Hanse Davion was called ‘the Fox’ with good reason, and obtaining the data to rebuild his realm’s losses was a core goal of his. For years the Lyran court had essentially paid for Davion support with a regulated flow of data, it wasn’t inconceivable that someone might have suggested taking the whole pie.
Sortek wouldn’t have stood for that, but if the biolocks hadn’t triggered, he’d have had little reason to doubt Katrina making him a gift of more data than expected. He was too honest to doubt it. On the other hand, if it was the real Katrina captured, the locks changed to match the imposter…
Ryan reached over and shook his shoulder. “Uncle?”
Max focused on the younger man. “You’re sure about this?”
“It’s gossip,” Frederick’s nephew told him with a helpless shrug. “It’s what I heard, but I didn’t see it myself. I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.”
He nodded, still shaken. “You’ve been a huge help. If this is… if this is any of what I think it is, then things are pretty bad.”
“Is there anything more I can do? I can ask Aunt Katrina to meet you - family channels.”
Max considered it… dismissed it. If it was the real Archon then it would do little good and if it wasn’t, he’d be putting himself in her hands. “No offense, Ryan, but I think this is going to need someone more high power than either of us.”
Ryan made a face. “Aunt Nondi isn’t around, or Mom or Uncle Frederick. Are you thinking of Uncle Hermann.”
“No. Someone Katrina trusts even more than anyone you just mentioned.” Max pulled out his wallet and dropped some kroner on the plate that had held a serving of cake for while he waited for Ryan. Something to compensate the shop staff for the spill. “Keep your head down, Ryan. And good luck with your girl at Sanglamore.”
A protest of “It’s not like that!” followed him out of the coffee shop as he headed for his rented groundcar.
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===Military Thrust to Tamar===
Mount Ripchuk, Sevren
Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
February 3rd, 3024
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The ground shook as hundreds of Battlemechs fought each other for control of Mount Ripchuck. Theodore Kurita could feel the vibrations even through the legs of his Hatamoto-Chi.
The Coordinator had considered going to war in the Orion he’d been given on his graduation, the same ‘mech that had carried him through his short military career… the ‘mech of Aleksandr Kerensky. But after Jaime Wolf had suggested - in jest, he hoped - trading Natasha Kerensky for the Orion, Theodore had decided the historical value outweighed the military use of the ‘mech. Besides, leading the operation in it would invite comparisons between himself and the SLDF’s greatest general… and he hadn’t quite the hubris to think he would match up to the legend.
He hadn’t taken Wolf’s offer either. If nothing else, he already had one lethally competent woman in his household and Natasha lacked Tomoe’s discretion. He’d left the Orion on Luthien, in trust for his son Martin when the boy grew up and instead taken another Hatamoto from the same production run that had yielded his gifts to the Warlords. It made him distinctive among the Otomo ‘mechs, but three other officers had been assigned Hatamoto-Chi so that he was less of a target.
Ahead of him, the First Drakons were heavily engaged with the Third Regiment of the Twelfth Star Guards. The mercenaries had little choice but to stand and fight against Aldus Bergen’s command - their base of operations was the LCAF base at the foot of the mountain. For all the traditional disdain for mercenaries, they were fighting fiercely against the former militia Theodore had assigned to learn from the Wolf's Dragoons.
“I feared you would win no glory here, Tono.” General Yodetobo offered from his Dragon, the general’s command company marching alongside Theodore’s Otomo escort. “But the Star Guards are managing well against the Drakons. It seems Bergen’s command has much to learn.”
Theodore’s eyes narrowed at the criticism. “He who ceases to learn has begun to die.” he observed, falling back on aphorisms. His father had done that with great effect, but he wasn’t confident of having the same impact.
Yotetobo hesitated at his response. “I see, Tono. And the Drakons do not lack discipline or courage.”
In fact, Theodore thought that morale among the Drakons was high. They were drawn largely from Rasalhague natives, so returning to their home district with all expectations that they would be given the respect and opportunities long denied to the Rasalhague Regulars was fine motivation.
“All victories are to the glory of the Dragon,” he added as they closed to the weapons range of the melee between the other two regiments. “If I joined the deployment to Tamar, Warlord Samsonov might see that as a lack of confidence in him.”
The general was politically astute enough to see the logic of that… and not to comment on the fact that landing on Tamar might leave Theodore needing to take the blame for a failure there. He was untested as a commander, and would be up against the formidable Nondi Steiner. As glorious as defeating her would be, a loss would be problematic. Sevren was a good compromise: a chance for Theodore to gain some credit as a commander, without taking undue risks with the prospects of the Kurita dynasty.
And then there was no more time for conversation as the four battalions of the Seventh Sword of Light and Theodore’s own Otomo battalion crashed into the battle.
The Twelfth Star Guards had seen them coming, of course, but with the Drakons engaging them closely, it was impossible for most of them to withdraw without exposing their rear armor to punishing fire.
Theodore centered his cross-hairs on a battered looking Rifleman and fired off one PPC and then the second an instant later.
Both shots hit home and blasted away panels of armor on the chest of the lighter ‘mech. Before he could finish it, a pair of Drakon Jenners saw the opportunity and closed in on the Rifleman, lasers and SRMs exploiting the battle damage.
There was a burst of cursing the Sword of Light radio channels, and Theodore saw a crimson Quickdraw moving as if to drive the Jenner’s away.
Idiot! He bit back the curse. This wasn’t the time for screaming at his own officer. Swinging one arm around he fired a PPC across the field, the shot passing in front of the Quickdraw to score a hit on an Archer that was at the extreme end of the weapon’s range - most likely doing little more than burning paint off it.
The Quickdraw stutter stepped and he could almost see the occupant prepare to deliver a diatribe at the source of the shot, only to cut off at the realization it was from one of the Otomo’s black ranks.
“General Yodetobo, have your warriors focus on the enemy, not on their fellow samurai.” Theodore snapped on the private channel. “We are here to take this world, not to bicker over scoring kills.”
“Yes, Tono.”
The Rifleman fell before Theodore could take another shot at it, but a Thunderbolt peppered him with LRMs as it backed away. He sidestepped an obviously telegraphed shot from the mercenary’s large laser and triggered both PPCs. Unlike his previous staggered shots, this built up heat enough to leave him sweating.
It did more to the Thunderbolt though. The heavy ‘mech had already been battered by the Drakons and the PPCs hit the left chest hard enough to visibly smash one of the lasers mounted there.
Closing in, Theodore took hits from the remaining lasers but in exchange he landed another PPC hit on the damaged side of the Thunderbolt’s target and followed it up with salvos from both his SRM launchers. The Thunderbolt fell and while it wasn’t out of action, Theodore was comfortable leaving it to be finished off by lighter ‘mechs, staying at the forefront of the advance, where his heavy armor could soak up the fire from the retreating mercenaries.
There was no chance that three battalions was going to hold back eight and the Star Guards knew it. Within minutes the leading elements of the Seventh Sword of Light had broken through the rear ranks and Theodore was about to do the same when the mercenaries abruptly split and retreated, all but a scattering of those too damaged, bravely dying to buy time for their comrades to try to escape.
General Bergen cut into the command channel. “Tono, the Star Guards are making for their dropships.”
“Hunt them down!” demanded Yodetobo.
“Indeed, General Yodetobo,” Theodore inserted his instructions. “Take command of the pursuit while General Bergen’s Drakons secure the base.”
“...hai,” Yodetobo agreed stiffly.
The Coordinator hid a sigh. “The Teak Dragon fought well, general. But the dragon has both fangs and claws. In this case the Drakons served as the claws holding the enemy in place so that you could devour them. Each of you deserves credit for this victory.”
“Indeed,” Bergen added. “The Drakons are honored that the guardians of the Combine’s culture share in our first battle honor.”
Yobetobo brought his Dragon to a halt and Theodore saw him turn the ‘mech to face the Goliath that Bergen commanded the Drakons from - distinctive since quadrupedal ‘mechs were very rare in the DCMS. The commander of the Seventh Sword of Light bent his ‘mech’s torso forward in a bow.
“No, General Bergen,” the Sword of Light officer declared. “It is we who are honored to fight alongside the Dragon’s newest heroes.”
He was either entirely sincere, or he was one hell of a liar, Theodore thought. Either way, he had spoken on the general channel and the Drakons spontaneously cheered the Seventh Sword of Light as the red-painted ‘mechs broke off to pursue the retreating Lyran mercenaries.
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===Meeting with a Higher Power===
Wytheville, Donegal
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
February 14th, 3024
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Even with access to military codes, Max didn’t think this was something he could trust to a comm call, but it would be rude to arrive unannounced, so he’d called ahead to request a meeting.
As he entered the drop-port concourse he was going to look for a taxi but someone was holding up a sign saying ‘Mustermann’. Paranoia told him that it could be a trap, but the man holding it when he gave it a second look was evidence to the contrary.
“Colonel Kell,” he greeted him, offering his hand.
Patrick Kell, little changed from when they’d met on Helm, shook his hand briskly. “Good to see you, Baron Mustermann. My brother’s eager to speak to you, so I thought I’d save you the trouble of arranging your own transport and quarters.”
“It’s appreciated.”
Max followed him to the car park, talking only of inconsequential matters until they reached a repainted military-grade staff-car - complete with a driver with a discreet Kell Hounds badge on his collar. They were taking this seriously, he realized. Good.
Patrick opened the door and climbed into the back with him. “No problems, Jones?”
“No sir, we should still be secure.”
The younger of the Kell brothers turned to Max. “You just came from Tharkad. I’m guessing that you or Duke Frederick think there’s something off there.”
“He asked me to look into the Sortek business. I think that might be just the tip of the iceberg.”
Patrick nodded. “I don’t know Katrina as well as Morgan does, but the way she’s handled that isn’t like her. And then there’s Aldo Lestrade’s bid to claim Skye… I’ve met the man. Katrina wouldn’t even consider him unless there was something going on.”
“I’m not rushing to disagree with you.” Max looked out of the window and saw they were driving to the edge of the city. “The sudden alliance with Liao puzzles me as well.”
“I’m not an admirer of House Liao, but I can’t deny that Maximilian Liao is effective,” the Kell Hounds’ second-in-command admitted. “And there’s a certain amount of realpolitik in working with him against Marik the way we’ve co-operated against Kurita with the Davions.”
“They say that when a Liao is born the gods toss a coin - if it lands on one side they get a genius, on the other it’s a madman. I think with Maximilian it must have landed on the edge.”
Patrick snorted. “I could believe it. He’s reigned the longest out of the current Successor Lords though. Genius or madman, he’s not incompetent.”
Max grunted. “I heard that Theodore Kurita is hitting Tamar, is that true?”
“I don’t think he’s on Tamar himself, but the DCMS has landed three regiments, and they’re hitting the worlds around it as well. Sevren fell in less than a week and if we lose Laurent as well, just reaching Tamar will mean running a gauntlet of hostile systems.”
“Are you being sent there?” he asked. Donegal was an important world, but it was deep inside the Commonwealth and could be covered by less elite units. The Kell Hounds were stationed here for six months of rebuilding after a series of raids on the bandit kingdoms along the coreward edge of the Commonwealth, but such deployments were also a matter of keeping a few crack regiments available to respond to situations like this one.
Patrick shook his head. “No. Trellshire and Ryde Theater are taking enough hits that they can’t really spare reinforcements, but Katrina’s last comment before she left Tharkad was that she had every confidence Nondi had enough regiments in Tamar Theater to deal with this.”
“Wait…” The incongruity of that statement was enough that Max needed a moment to process every part of it. “She’s left Tharkad? And she’s not reinforcing her sister?”
“Yes to the first, no to the second.”
“Nondi must be peeling paint.” Max muttered. “Where is Katrina going? What could be more important than potentially losing the capital of the Tamar Domains?”
The Lyran Commonwealth had been founded by three trading federations, the Federation of Skye, the Protectorate of Donegal and the Tamar Domains. Never as large as Donegal (which now formed four distinct provinces) or as wealthy as Skye, Tamar had been shrinking for generations under pressure from the Draconis Combine, but it was still important politically and industrially. Losing control of Tamar itself would be a military disaster and a serious blow to Katrina’s credibility. The acquisition of Dieron and the impact it had had on the Draconis Combine had only recently demonstrated how serious such a loss could be to a Successor State.
Patrick ran one hand through his hair. “You’re not saying anything Morgan and I haven’t said. She’s decided to relocate to Skye to settle the succession personally. If Tamar wasn’t being assaulted, I could almost see the logic. Whatever’s stopping her from dismissing Lestrade’s claims with prejudice, if going to Skye solidifies Aten’s position then it would make sense. But Selwin Kelswa will never forgive her for not sending him reinforcements and you’re not wrong about Nondi’s likely reaction.”
Selwin Kelswa was the Duke of Tamar and not the brightest spark in Max’s opinion, but he also loathed the Draconis Combine on a visceral level after seeing firsthand how they dealt with conquered populations. “Did she say anything to justify not sending more troops?”
“Third party analysis says she’s worried about deep raids like the ones that followed from Alessandro stripping the interior worlds to launch his offensives.” Patrick shook his head. “But it makes no sense. The periphery border is tying up more regiments than it really needs to at the moment. She could pull a couple of second or third rate units back and cut us loose - or send the Third or Fourth Royal Guards out. After the losses on Dieron, I doubt the DCMS has any units with equipment like that.”
The car slowed as they reached a checkpoint and Max looked out at the signs, realizing they were entering the Kell Hounds’ current base of operations.
“Do you have any ideas what’s going on?” Patrick asked him.
“I do. It’s not such a happy one that I want to go through it more than once though.”
The groundcar stopped outside a utilitarian looking building and they exited. In the distance, Max could see the Kell Hounds’ own dropships, and beyond them the same outline of dropships he’d seen at the commercial port. The Hounds must be based next to the drop-port, sharing the support facilities he supposed.
Patrick ushered him inside and through a series of bustling offices where the familiar paperwork of managing the hundreds of soldiers and thousands of support staff that made up a military regiment was handled.
Morgan Kell was waiting in an office that had been personalized with a wall of pictures. Some were of Morgan in the company of various notables - Katrina herself, Frederick Steiner and Cranston Snord in another, but some were simple groups of Kell Hounds or of LCAF personnel. A few were discreetly edged in black.
The colonel himself was as dynamic as ever, leaping up from behind his desk to walk over and shake Max’s hand. Salome Ward Kell was quieter with her own greeting, the redhead visibly pregnant, with the result that her uniform jacket visibly couldn’t be closed up over the bump.
“Congratulations,” Max greeted her. “You’re expanding the family of one of the finest men in the Commonwealth.” He paused. “Granted, you’re married to his brother, but I guess they’re a package deal…”
Salome laughed and grabbed Morgan’s arm while the Colonel tried to look offended. “Hey…” the elder Kell said at last.
“Sorry, but Patrick covered my escape from the Stewart Home Guards on Helm. You were just kind of there.”
“Thank you, Max,” Patrick managed to choke out around his laughter. “But I’m afraid I’m strictly butter-side up.”
Max shrugged. “It’s a platonic admiration.”
“More seriously, you said in the car that you had some idea what was going on with Katrina.”
“I’ve got a theory. It’s kind of out there though.”
Morgan leant against his desk, one arm around Salome’s shoulders. “Go on.”
“When Ardan Sortek was arrested at the Nagelring it was because he was trying to enter the vaults, with a woman who claimed to be the Archon.”
The Kells nodded. “The biological security didn’t match her though.”
“I have to wonder if a biological check of the woman against Melissa would have confirmed a maternal relationship.”
Morgan frowned. “You think that was really Katrina?”
“I don’t know what checks were done,” Max admitted. “But if I wanted to insert an imposter in the place of the real Archon. I’d want her to pass every possible check - and if the data stored for the Nagelring’s bio-locks and other such checks was swapped out for an imposter’s, then it would automatically reject the real Katrina.”
“Is that even possible?” the elder Kell asked his brother.
Patrick shrugged. “The security is supposed to be airtight, but nothing made by human hands is beyond being altered if someone knows how. It has to be possible to update the data so if someone knew exactly what they were doing and had the right security. Simon Johnson’s very good though, it’d be incredibly difficult to get something like that past him.”
“I find it hard to believe that she could fool the people around her for months.” Morgan said thoughtfully. “Hermann’s known her his entire life and she’d have to fool Melissa! No one knows her better than Melissa, since Arthur died.”
“I really hope I’m wrong,” Max admitted. “But if she’s been replaced, it would explain why some of her decisions have been uncharacteristic.”
“Who would be behind this?” asked Patrick. “There would have to be a reason. And I refuse to believe that anyone could pull off an act like that without slipping. There are too many people around Katrina who know her.”
“As to the first, there are two people who have profited directly from her decisions.” Salome observed.
“Aldo Lestrade and Maximilian Liao,” her husband agreed, pulling a face. “I could believe either of them thinking something like this up. As for the execution, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how such an imposter could be created, but I imagine Liao has the resources. And Lestrade’s not exactly poor.”
“Or there’s ComStar.”, Max commented
All three of the other people in the room gave Max a look. “ComStar?” asked Salome.
“They have their own factions and some of them are seriously upset that the Commonwealth is making progress in recovering lostech. They see that as their own Blake-given right. I’m not saying the Primus himself would try this, but if one of their radical factions got involved, they’d certainly have the computer and medical expertise.”
The three all looked skeptical and Max shrugged. “There were some suspicious intel leaks about both New Dallas and Helm,” he added. “But I’m speculating.”
“If - and I do mean if - you’re right, that leaves one other question...”' Patrick said quietly. “Where is the real Katrina Steiner?”
Salome winced and rested one hand on her belly. “And someone has to get the answers. Someone named Kell, or am I wrong?”
Morgan looked down at her, conflicted. “Patrick can go back to Tharkad, Melissa would talk to him. And Hermann…”
“I hate to say it, but I don’t have the same level of respect there that you do.” his brother admitted reluctantly. “I know that you don’t want to leave Salome but you can cut through the bureaucracy and I can’t.”
“And if this isn’t Katrina then the Tamar situation is probably being neglected intentionally,” Salome added. “It could be an ISF plot as well. That being the case, can we really wait for orders?”
Morgan groaned. “I can’t go both ways. And we do have a contractual obligation to stay here. Even Katrina can’t cover for us playing fast and loose on that.”
“Our exact orders require at least one battalion to be here in Wytheville.” Salome corrected him. “The rest of the Kell Hounds can deploy for training anywhere we need to.”
“On Donegal.” Morgan pointed out.
“It doesn’t say that,” his wife corrected him. “Presumably in case we wanted to go handle Zero-G training, but as long as we keep three companies here, the rest of the Kell Hounds can deploy to Tamar. Live fire training against real Draconians.”
Patrick blinked. “I think you’re right. It’s not in line with the spirit of the contract, but it's the letter that matters.”
“You’re not going.” Morgan told Salome flatly.
“I know.” She rubbed her belly again. “Scott Bradley can take your battalion with Patrick to Tamar. And maybe a company from my battalion as well. I’ll stay here with two companies of ‘mechs and one of our jump infantry companies - that ticks the legal boxes. And you can go to Tharkad with Baron Mustermann and another infantry company.”
“...why do you want me to take an infantry company to Tharkad?”, asked Morgan
“Because this might not end on Tharkad.” Salome warned him. “I’d rather you have armed guards around you and not need them, than the other way around.”
Max nodded. “It’s sound reasoning. If there really is an imposter on the throne then Katrina is either dead -”
Both Kells tensed and Salome flinched as her husband’s hand gripped her tightly.
“- or she’s guarded somewhere. And in the latter case, Morgan and I probably won’t be enough to rescue her. This isn’t an Immortal Warrior holdvid.”
Morgan looked down at Salome. “One reason for taking this post was so I could be here for the happy day we become three.”
“I know. And if this wraps up on Tharkad, you might be back in a month or two.” She set her jaw. “But if it needs more, make sure that you fix this. I want our child to grow up in a Commonwealth we can believe in.”
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