“I believe Liao is always a threat. Only a fool turns his back on a junkyard dog. Even when it is quiet.”

“If that is true, then you should cancel your state visit to Terra. Send an ambassador to attend Victor’s funeral and treat with the new exarch.” Julian frowned at the red-flashing worlds. “Do not put yourself into their hands.”

Harrison laughed, unable to hold it back any longer. It was strong and commanding, like a drill instructor’s voice on the training grounds. “Good to see there are some things left to teach you, Julian. This is precisely why I must go. Why we will both attend the funeral of my uncle, your cousin. For Exarch Levin, we remind him that we are, and have always been, his willing ally in peace.”

“And for Chancellor Daoshen?” Julian asked, sensing an unspoken caveat.

“That the Federated Suns does not run from a fight.” Harrison’s face tightened down. “Ever.”

For a moment, Julian felt a thrill of fear for the power his prince wielded. Let Daoshen—or any leader—make the mistake of coming after the Federated Suns throne. It would be Harrison himself who met the charge, shoving it back down their throats.

With Julian fighting right alongside him!

“That’s your final answer?” Julian asked, knowing it was, but his military training forcing him to ask. A commander’s orders had to be clear. Always.

Harrison never took affront at this. He had been the one to sponsor Julian into the best academy in the Inner Sphere, after all, and requested instructors from the New Avalon Institute of Science to tutor his nephew in history and political sciences after academy officers admitted they had little more to teach him. If anything, Harrison enjoyed it when Julian put his education to use.

And, of course, he had already forgiven Julian much more in the young man’s life than simple clarification of orders.

“It is my final answer, Julian. Victor was family. We take care of our own. You and I—and Amanda as well—will be there to see him off.”

“And Caleb,” Julian reminded the prince.

“Yes. And Caleb.”

Why that caused the leader of the Federated Suns to sound sorrowful, Julian wasn’t certain. Wasn’t certain he hadn’t mistaken the tone, in fact. Regret? Harrison’s decisions weren’t always popular with the nobility, but Julian had never known him to waste time on regret for any one of them. It wasn’t his nature to worry over such decisions once made.

“I wonder if she’ll be there,” Julian asked then, staring down into the swirl of suns as they floated in a blue-black mist, and hardly seeing it.

Harrison grunted. “If Melissa Steiner deigns to show up, you might see Callandre in the entourage. But you know better than to dig at that old wound.”

“Hardly an old wound, Uncle. Just an old friend.” It sounded weak, even to his ears, and Harrison wasn’t buying.

“I’m speaking about the Archon, Julian. She expelled you from Lyran space after the two of you caused half a million kroner in damages and stumped the Nagelring’s honor board system. It took three years to restart the student exchange program. Stay away from her.”

“She probably won’t be there anyway,” Julian said, properly abashed.

The prince shook his head, not letting it go so easy. “I’d rather come down on the safe side,” he said, “especially since Amanda will likely bring Sandra Fenlon with her. And you would do better keeping your mind on the trouble along our border. I want Daoshen stop-punched before he so much as looks in our direction.”

Nodding, Julian steered his attention back on track. “Then it’s New Hessen we want to throw him off, since it’s the world most likely to attract Daoshen’s attention as a possible prize of conquest.”

“Why?”

To supplement the map in front of him, Julian dug into his memory for what he knew about the world. “It sits on the border. It has stronger industry than the other two worlds.” In fact, didn’t it have an armor-rolling plant? He thought it did. But the big thing… “It was a Confederation holdfast as recent as seventy… eighty years ago. Daoshen’s father ruled New Hessen for a time. He won’t have forgotten that.”

Harrison smiled and nodded, obviously pleased. “Excellent analysis, Julian. Yes, that should send just the kind of message we’re looking to deliver. New Hessen…” He considered it, and nodded. “You will push ahead of my departure and quash any disturbance there. Then it is on to Terra.”

“Then it is the long way around,” Julian said, correcting his prince and uncle. “At least for you. I do not want you anywhere near those worlds.”

The first prince considered that. “If we travel via Marlette and then Tikonov,” he said, using the star chart floating in front of them to plan a course, “we could rendezvous at Yangtze. Does that keep me far enough out of danger?”

Now Harrison mocked him, but in good humor. Julian, though, was very serious. “I would prefer Tigress, but I know better than to argue. Yangtze it is.”

“Do not let it worry you, nephew. Victor’s services aren’t until June. I’ll want to arrive before May, so you should have… oh… at least a week to put things right on New Hessen before I am anywhere close by. And that’s if you leave tomorrow.”

“You don’t make my job easy, do you, Uncle?”

“Builds character, my boy. Best get yourself ready and moving. And remember, I’ll be chasing along behind you every step of the way. So keep your head in your duties.”

Julian knew exactly what he owed Harrison, which was everything. He’d not disappoint. He’d make every effort to stay focused on the problems of New Hessen and not the coming summit and service on Terra. But it was hard. If Harrison’s predictions were right, this would be the kind of grand gathering of political leaders that came once… maybe twice in a lifetime. That would be hard for anyone to ignore.

And he still wondered who else would be there.

Tamar

Clan Wolf Occupation Zone

8 February 3135

Alaric walked into the ’Mech hangar at the side of Loremaster Liam Ward, matching the other man stride for stride. The hangar smelled of hot metal and grease, a stench that permeated every pore in the ferrocrete and wedged itself into even the slightest flaw of stanchion or beam. It never dissipated, no matter how often cadets scrubbed at floors or washed down the steel gantries.

Alaric remembered nights after such work, lying in a barracks rack or on a field cot. The smell clinging to his hair even after a scalding-hot shower. That, he did not miss.

There were only a few techs on duty and little work to be done as yet. That would come later. Empty bays opened to either side of them all along the quarter-kilometer hike. All but the final two, in which a pair of seventy-ton Blood Reapers waited for the fortunate cadets testing out as Clan Wolf warriors this day. Reverse-canted legs and heavy lasers bulking up each massive forearm of the ’Mechs. One of those would be his.

The Clan’s loremaster wore a spotless jumpsuit with military creases so sharp they could shave metal. His hair was light brown with a low widow’s peak shorn tight against the scalp. His dark eyes had a deep frown line permanently wrinkled between them.