Behind him, it began to quench the greasy fires that raged over Hahn Soom Gui’s funeral pyre.

It was a call Viktor Ruskoff had never thought to make. But then, he’d witnessed events in the last five minutes that he’d never thought to see.

…A beaten cadre that stood strong behind its desperate ideology.

…Students choosing the martyrdom of suicide strikes over rational surrender.

…A Principes Guards Mech Warrior throwing honor to the winds, executing any chance that the Destroyer’s crew might be saved. Those were Liao lives. Liao children. And the MechWarrior hadn’t cared.

“If he was still with us, I’d burn him down myself,” Ruskoff whispered out loud, wanting to hear the words, but careful not to trigger his voice-activated mic. There wasn’t anyone out here to talk to. Not even his aide, Lieutenant Nguyen, who had been in the Phoenix Hawk and had thrown his lot in with the Capellan horde. Where arguments had not persuaded Nguyen, one act of blind hatred had convinced him.

He toggled over to his command frequencies, connecting back to the Reserve and, through relays, into the satellite system that eventually found Lord Governor Hidic.

Ruskoff was not one to mince words. Even when the news was grave. Especially, when the news was grave. Turning his Zeus to stare back through the curtain of rain, he could see not a trace of Conservatory forces. But they were there. He waited for the Lord Governor to identify himself, and then strengthened his own voice with military steel.

His report was simple and damning, as most failures were.

“We just lost Chang-an.”

Yiling (Chang-an)

Qinghai Province, Liao

7 August 3134

In a ceremony prepared over several days, Evan stood among his friends and comrades in arms as the final remains of fourteen cadets were laid to rest at the heart of the Conservatory’s grounds.

The battle-thinned ranks stood at silent rest on the circular drive, out in front of the administration buildings. Gone was the old sculpture celebrating Devlin Stone and The Republic’s coming to Liao, dismantled piece by piece by volunteer hands and cutting torches since the ConstructionMechs had all been pressed into service. The old metal lay in a scrap heap piled next to one wall. Eventually, it would be reclaimed and recast into a new sculpture. One that honored the sacrifice of all Capellans in the struggle to free their world.

Benevolent oppression, however you wanted to couch the name, was still oppression.

Mai Uhn Wa stepped up to the grave site. He wore simple robes and mantle of green and tan. His wispy beard was trimmed and his gray hair worn loose and flowing around his shoulders.

“As we say our farewells to these brave sons and daughters of Liao, we do so in the light of a new morning, which they helped to purchase with their very lives. We do so with the knowledge that they did not sacrifice themselves in vain. The Conservatory still stands. Chang-an and Governor Lu Pohl are with us. We have so much of what we sought. And yet, we have so much left to attain.”

Jenna leaned into Evan, who wrapped one arm around her and to the devil with military protocol. She was a friend. They leaned on each other.

“Even with this heavy cost, Liao still does not enjoy the freedom that Gan Singh has finally come to know. And Styk. We are still held in the grip of The Republic’s hand, and it seems they would rather choke us to death than let us breathe one taste of true Capellan liberty. But we shall continue. We shall fight against the smothering embrace of Exarch Redburn and his dying Republic. We shall remain until Liao celebrates once again the right to choose its own destiny.”

As Mai Wa continued to extol the virtues of a free Liao, Evan tucked himself into Jenna. He couldn’t help thinking about the costs, paid in blood, over so many years.

It reminded him again of the Betrayer, Daniel Peterson. Evan’s grip tightened, remembering how the man had dared to lecture him. What did Peterson know about loss? What had really been his game?

Mai Wa headed into the close of the eulogy, drawing Evan back to the somber event. “The highest and most important ideal in any Warrior’s life,” the House Master said, his gaze finding Evan in the crowd, “is loyalty: to the citizenry he protects, to the state that provides, and to the chief executive of the state, who is the Warrior’s commander-in-chief.” The sixth dictum of the Lorix Order. One of the founding philosophies of the Warrior Houses. “This also provides one other charge. Loyalty to the people among whom you serve.

“I can say nothing finer of these soldiers, these Warriors, than they proved themselves among the most loyal of us all. We salute them.”

Colonel Feldspar called the assembly to attention. Evan felt Jenna stiffen, but he continued to hold her. Seven infantrymen, Mark Lo and David Parks among them, marched up to the fore of the assembly. They held rifles in tight embraces. Jenna turned her face into Evan’s shoulder. Rifles came up, and fired, fired, fired. Three salvoes, echoing lonely around the campus grounds. A whiff of cordite touched the air and Evan swallowed dryly.

Colonel Feldspar took the nod from Mai Uhn Wa and ordered the company dismissed.

Evan led Jenna forward, to inspect the small pedestal, which would be the only grave marker for some time. The planetary crest of Liao graced its head, followed by the inscription Yù Xiān Guò Guān. First Through The Breech.

Hahn Soom Gui’s name was first on the list. Evan had seen to that.

“Good-bye, Hahn,” Jen Lynn Tang whispered as David and Mark joined them. If Evan’s comforting Jenna bothered Mark Lo, the stiff-necked infantryman did not show it.

David, however, was shaken. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and ashen skin. “I’m sorry,” he said to Evan, bringing himself briefly to attention as if reporting to his commanding officer.

Jenna misunderstood. “There was nothing you could have done, David.”

“It’s all right,” Evan said. He heard the good-bye. He left Jenna’s side for a moment and embraced his friend. “You did what you could. And you will always have a place here.”

David nodded. He leaned in to kiss Jenna on the cheek and traded grips with Lo. Jenna’s gaze followed after him, confused. “Did he…”

“He’s done,” Evan said. “Hahn’s death was the last straw for David. He’ll never set foot on a battlefield again.” Had that been a fundamental flaw in the soldier’s makeup from the start? Or could he have served with distinction before being broken under the added weight of rebellion? “How about you?” Evan asked Mark. “Still with us?”

“To the bloody, bitter end,” Mark affirmed. A pledge that had taken on a life of its own in the last few days.

Jenna gave Mark a hug, whispered something to him. He nodded to her when they separated. Evan did not ask. It did not matter. In the end, all that would matter is whether they won their goal, and how many lives were paid in the cost. Hahn’s was one among several. It brought home the very real cost, though. Evan had used Hahn just as Hahn had used Evan from time to time, supporting his politics. Hahn believed he was right in doing so. Just as Evan did.

Just as Mai Uhn Wa must.

Steering through the maze of mourners, Jenna in tow, Evan cast around for Mai Wa. Found him talking with Colonel Feldspar and Gerald Tsung, as well as a few junior officers. The Maskirovka agent Michael Yung-Te was fortunately absent. He steered over toward the small gathering, his thoughts in a tangle regarding his mentor and Master. Like a sculptor, Mai had chipped away at Evan’s rough network to reveal the strength from inside. No denying his success. In the last few days, Mai had also begun to question Evan on the Cult of Liao assets still available to him. Evan had turned over everything, resenting the need to do so, then.