TBntG-3 Chpt 14

=The Bull and the Genie=
==Chapter 14 - Book III - The Clan Invasion==
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==Looking to an Uncertain Future==
===Border Crossings===
Private Suite of Hanse Davion - Terra, Sol Star System - Comstar Space
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"Illegal border crossings are up 20 percent, Hanse," Ardan said. He gestured at the graphs. "Dracs, crossing into places where getting lynched was a concern."
 
Hanse Davion leaned forward. His body hurt. Even with all the technology of Terra it hurt, and he would never pilot a mech again.
 
And right now Melissa is fighting—fighting!—on Tharkad. She had spent a little too long issuing a broadcast and a Clan unit had managed to land. They'd almost gotten her, but…
 
Well, the image of Melissa driving a truck and smashing an Elemental across the street was playing all over the Federated Commonwealth. 
 
Just not here. The doctors said his blood pressure went up. 
 
You're damned right it does. The only reason she survived is they clearly wanted her alive. At least now she was, according to the reports they'd gotten, agreed to no more live speeches. 
 
And now this. 
 
"Who are they?" 
 
"Unproductives, mostly political class. Religious minorities. And…" Ardan Sortek held out a paper. Hanse read it and hissed. 
 
"These are the families of people benefiting from Theodore's and Takashi's reforms."
 
"Yes. And that means that they either don't think this will stick, or they're worried enough to send their loved ones to worlds where "drac" is something you say when you want a fight."
 
"Theodore says he has control." 
 
"So does everyone until it blows up. Subhash died with Takashi, and Theodore is distracted with the war."
 
"Not distracted enough to keep his sons and daughter in harms way." Hanse frowned, staring at the readouts. "We can't afford a collapse in the Combine."
 
"We can afford a new Jinjiro even less." Ardan said. "Hanse, if they can't beat the Clans, if Theodore is overthrown…"
 
"They might go for us." 
 
If I move units, even Theodore might wonder if I'm about to stab him in the back.
 
"Keep watch, but no action… No. That's not right. I want plans drawn up that if there's a mass movement in refugees into the Federated Commonwealth, we can quickly move them through the border. We don't need to add the risk of lynch mobs to everything else."
 
There may be more than fleeing the clans. The Clans, for all their fearful reputation and claims of inevitable victory, had never butchered a planet by hand, the hard way.
 
The Kuritans had.
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===Thoughts of Today and Tomorrow's Nightmares===
"...And tomorrow you have a meeting with the Daughters of the SLDF. They want a statement that the Clans are not the SLDF." Will's newest assistant, an entirely too perky young man continued reading out his itinerary. "That will take twenty minutes. I've budgeted five minutes for questions and ten minutes for rest while we're driving to Westminster Cathedral for a service. That will take one hour, but no more. I've impressed the need for a short sermon on the Archbishop of Canterbury."
 
"Better add at least ten minutes. His definition of short is not ours."
 
"Yes, Primus. After that, we have a luncheon with the Lord Mayor, and then an address to Parliament. I sent the speech to your mail, so if you need any changes."
 
"It will be fine." Pretending that Parliament is a body with power instead of a tourist hold over. On the other hand, we pretended that Blake was an ascended saint and see where that got us.
 
"After that, you have a few hours, but we need you to virtually attend the christening of the TCN Victorious…"
 
"A Davion design, well, I suppose the Bulls will recover from the dishonor since it looks like they'll get the first commissioned ship out of the docks." Will shook his head. "Jerry, have you seen the films of the streets when war was declared? The First Succession War?"
 
"Ah… yes, why?"
 
"All those people cheering. The Davion Heavy Guards marching to war with soldiers sitting on the shoulders of their Battlemechs, tossing candy and stuffed toys to the kids. A glorious lark. Why not? Everyone had seen Amaris. How could anything be worse than that?"
 
"Sir?"
 
"When we beat the Clans, and make no mistake, we'll beat 'em, there will be celebrations. I'll probably give a speech talking about the noble dead, and depending on how cynical I'm feeling I might have some orphans by me… But the day after that, people are going to wake up to an Inner Sphere that has the most powerful military since the days of the Star League. And all those soldiers and generals… Won't have anything to do."
 
"Sir?"
 
"The Devil makes work for idle hands. We managed to have a meeting of the High Council without everyone getting into a brawl because we needed to do something about Myndo Watery and nobody really could grab the shiny seat."
 
"Do you think they would, sir?"
 
"Well, If I could tell you that, I'd be a prophet, not a Primus." Will shook his head. "Just an old man's musings, Jerry. Never get old, it gives you strange thoughts."
 
"Yes, sir." 
 
Will stood in the window, looking down at London, the old city small under the great spires of the Star League era buildings. He remembered a song his mother had sung a few times, when she wasn't sleeping.
"Where have all the soldiers gone…" Will murmured. A song his mother had sung, before she'd died. She'd claimed that their family had come from great singers on Earth. Five year old Will had believed it. Primus Will knew that nearly every poverty stricken family, people without anything, would always find some famous person they were related to, a link to Terra and a point of pride nobody could disprove. 
 
"Gone to graveyards, every one." Will shook his head. "Still gotta beat the Clans. Hanse doesn't need the big chair and Theodore is smart enough to see how that fight would go." And with that, he turned. It was time for bed, even if it was very early morning, not night, but Will needed some rest. It was hard enough staying awake during a sermon if you weren't giving it when you were rested, after all.
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