Aaron became as much a father figure to Erik as his own sire, pushing him to develop himself as a scholar and a warrior. The title “Uncle,” first offered as a sign of respect, became one of admiration and affection—though that affection was rarely returned. Instead, Aaron treated Erik like a weapon or tool, to be honed and sharpened to a razor’s edge, then to be used. As soon as he was old enough, Erik’s abilities were put to use, acting as Aaron’s surrogate eyes, ears, and hands in dealings across the Inner Sphere.
As Aaron’s star ascended, so had Erik’s. Erik had been the Duke’s aide, military advisor, courier, diplomat, and general. He’d visited dozens of worlds, conferred with leaders at the highest level, and traversed the halls of power countless times. And yet, Duke Aaron Sandoval’s approval always seemed to escape Erik’s grasp.
Erik sensed that this day wasn’t going to be any different.
The Duke’s left eyebrow rose quizzically. “I understand you nearly lost another ’Mech today.”
Erik tried to hide his reaction, but he could feel his face redden. Months earlier, as the result of an act of family treachery, Erik had lost a war, most of the forces under his command, his personal ’Mech, and the planet of Mara. Forgiveness had been a long time coming, and annoyingly, though Aaron seemed to be over the rest of it, he never let Erik forget the loss of his ’Mech.
He’d once told Erik of some ancients—the Romans, or the Greeks perhaps—who had a saying: “Return with your shield, or upon it.” He’d had to explain to Erik that during that time, a man’s shield would be used as a stretcher on which to carry his dead body home from battle. It struck Erik as a foolish—as well as inappropriate—comparison, as his ’Mech had been hijacked rather than taken in combat. Still, the memory of the incident filled Erik with shame.
“There was a capture attempt, yes. We repelled it quite easily. My ’Mech was never in any real danger.”
“There were losses,” said the Duke. “You let yourself be led into a trap.”
Erik wondered how Aaron already knew the details of the encounter. Had the battle been observed by a scout, or did he have a spy in Erik’s patrol, reporting back on some secret communications channel? It would be typical of “Uncle,” who, though he trusted Erik more than almost anyone, didn’t trust him very much at all.
“I would have thought,” Erik replied dryly, “that you’d have better things to do than keep tabs on my every move, Uncle. I’ve heard there’s a war on.”
The corner of Aaron’s mouth twitched upward for just a moment, a tiny flinch that anyone else would likely have missed. Even Erik couldn’t be sure if the suppressed smile was one of amusement or annoyance.
“Walk with me,” Aaron said, spinning on the ball of his foot and heading back toward the elevator to the crew decks. Erik double-timed until he was walking at his uncle’s side. “Yours wasn’t the only ’Mech they tried to take today, or the only guerilla-style ambush set. There were half a dozen similar incidents.”
Erik’s eyebrows rose. Damn you, Aaron—why didn’t you say that to start with? “That’s not good,” he finally said aloud.
Aaron stopped in front of the lift doors and pushed the call button. He turned to look at Erik. “On the contrary, it’s encouraging news. I believe that if House Liao were sending reinforcements for a counteroffensive, they wouldn’t be taking such reckless chances to shore up their forces. I hate to be an optimist about such things, but I think we finally have them. New Aragon will be ours, with most of her military and production assets intact.”
Despite his mood, Erik smiled. The lift opened and they stepped in. “That’s excellent, then. We were due for a victory.”
But Aaron’s face remained grim. “It’s too late. Our entire offensive at this point is mainly bluff and bluster. While the Prefecture’s forces won’t hinder us, we can’t count on them for assistance, either. The Lord Governor has pulled them all back to Liao and a few nearby worlds, effectively ceding control of the rest of Prefecture V to anyone who can take it. I’d prefer it to be the SwordSworn rather than House Liao, but right now our position is tenuous.
“We have no reinforcements. Parts, fuel, and supplies are low and our troops are exhausted. If the damned Cappies managed to push back at all, we wouldn’t last a week. Fortunately, they don’t seem to know that.” He pushed the button that would take them to officers’ country. The elevator started up with a gentle whoosh of air.
The Duke turned back to Erik. “That’s why I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? When? To where?”
“Immediately. The flagship is in orbit, and a shuttle is arriving within the hour to take me there. There’s a waiting JumpShip charging its drive right now, so I’ll be able to jump almost as soon as we link up. I’m going to New Canton, to talk with that fool Jose Sebhat. He’s convinced his Lord Governor that they can avoid conflict with House Liao by ceding territory. It’s idiocy. You don’t hold a wild dog at bay by feeding it your fingers. If I could convince him of that, and make a mutual-defense pact with Prefecture VI, it could change everything.”
Erik had met Sebhat, Prefect of Prefecture VI, several years before at a Republic summit. At the time, Erik had thought him a fainthearted man to hold a post of such military importance. Now his instincts were being verified.
“Frankly,” continued Aaron, “New Canton’s control over their Prefecture’s worlds isn’t much better than here. I’m not even entirely sure they’re worth the bother. But if I can at least bring in the Prefect’s personal forces to our cause, and stop them from handing Liao gifts on a platter, that will be something.”
The doors of the lift opened, and they stepped out into officers’ country, where Aaron and Erik were both quartered. In the hallway beyond, a steward was cleaning a bulkhead, the smell of disinfectant strong in the air. Aaron flashed him a silent look that told him he wasn’t wanted here. The steward saluted, even as he scurried for the lift, slipping through the doors just before they closed.
“Worse,” continued Aaron, “every world House Liao takes without a fight frees up more forces to continue their offensive into Republic space. They’ve been allowed to take far too many worlds, to win too many battles already. They have momentum on their side, and that’s a difficult thing to resist, not only militarily, but in terms of public perception. Battles can be won and lost in the hearts of the people. If a planet believes that capture by the Cappies is inevitable, then that planet is already lost to us.
“We can’t win alone, and we wouldn’t want to if we could. Both as a condition of victory, and as part of my long-term goals, I need to build a coalition of worlds fighting under our banner. I’m starting with New Canton in hopes that we can bring many worlds into our fold with one agreement—but if that fails, there are many worlds here in Prefecture V that might answer our call.”
They entered Aaron’s quarters. His valet, Deena Onan, greeted them at the door, taking Aaron’s officer’s jacket and handing him the tailored civilian tunic that he preferred.
Erik watched as she disappeared into the adjacent bedroom with the jacket. The quarters were tiny and rather plain by the Duke’s usual standards, even though they were considered large for a military DropShip. The fortunate part about their relatively small size was that Deena would have to either work very hard to stay out of sight, leave outright, or simply go about her business where Erik could watch her. He sighed inwardly. Deena was a lovely woman: tall, athletic yet shapely, with waves of auburn hair that cascaded loosely over her shoulders. Despite his long-standing interest, she seemed oblivious to all Erik’s overtures toward her. Still, he could look and dream.
Aaron settled into the combination easy chair/acceleration couch bolted into the corner of the little sitting room. There were two other chairs just like it in the room, and a small folding chair in front of a writing desk; Erik wasn’t invited to sit down, and therefore remained standing.