Ulric turned and narrowed his eyes. "No, we have to assume they are delaying until they can organize a military response to the threat we pose. What are ComStar's chances of forging an alliance between the various Houses of the Successor States?"

Phelan fought to choke off a laugh. "Ah, I think they are very slim."

Ulric let a low chuckle rumble from his chest. "That answer is the same given by Natasha and her archivist. In this, all three of my advisors who know the Inner Sphere agree. This means, then, that ComStar will attempt to oppose us themselves. What do you know of their military?"

Phelan looked down at his boots and concentrated. He remembered bits and pieces of conversations overheard as a child, but could dredge up nothing definitive. "ComStar has its Com Guards. I think I have seen estimates that put their strength at somewhere between forty and fifty 'Mech regiments, but those estimates are highly unreliable. Most of their troops are stationed in lance- or company-sized units protecting various facilities. ComStar has, in the past, used mercenaries heavily to protect their centers, adopting them and fixing up their 'Mechs for them. Of course, the Com Guards have infantry, aerospace, and vehicular support."

The ilKhan rubbed his left hand over his goatee. "Their military strength is actually not so great a concern of mine. We will, after all, learn what they are using to defend or attack during the bidding process, quiaff?No, I should have stated my question more clearly. Assuming they are going to seek a military solution to our invasion of Terra, I want you to tell me what you know of the Precentor Martial."

Phelan's heart leaped in his chest. Does Ulric know that I once agreed to help the Precentor Martial discover the true goal of the Invasion?"I don't believe I know that much about him."

"Oh?" The ilKhan arched a snowy eyebrow. "You spent a great deal of time with him, at my request, so you must have gained some impressions of the man. Tell me what you know."

Phelan concentrated, trying to remember every detail possible about the leader of ComStar's military. "He comes from the Lyran Commonwealth—his name and his German are enough to tell me that. He also mentioned having stayed at the Lestrade estate on Summer at one point. That would suggest to me he was a noble or was assigned to a military unit stationed on Summer." Phelan frowned. "He also went to the Nagelring, which pegs him solidly as being from the Commonwealth."

"I see." A predatory smile spread across Ulric's face. "Would it surprise you if I said no one named Anastasius Focht ever attended, much less graduated from, the Nagelring?"

Phelan thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Neg. It has only been in the last ten years or so that ComStar has even had a Precentor Martial. You think Anastasius Focht is an alias, quiaff?"

"I have no doubt of it at all. You see, Phelan, the name Anastasius means 'one who will rise again,' or resurrection. Focht is an old German name meaning 'one who fights.' " The ilKhan smiled grimly. "I can see the man who is the Precentor Martial adopting that name in triumph at his return, or as a constant reminder to avoid that which caused his downfall before. A man who is capable of choosing that name is most dangerous."

"Then I take it you want me to work on discovering who he is?"

The ilKhan nodded. "Natasha's archivist has lain the groundwork for the study, but I have reassigned him to another investigation. I need you to crack Focht's identity, but I also need you to provide me the insights I will need to outbargain and defeat him."

"I will do this, my Khan."

"Understand, Phelan, that your mission is more important than anything else you have been asked to do as a member of the Wolf Clan. If we are not the ones to take Terra, if another Clan does it, there will be no way to stop them."

Phelan looked up, confused. "Stop them?"

"The Clan that takes Terra will appoint a new ilKhan. If a Crusader is chosen, the war will not end at Terra. It will continue until every world acknowledges the Clans their masters, or has been burnt to a cinder."

* * *

Phelan let the shower's hot water drum numbness into his brain. Hours and hours of sitting in front of a computer console reviewing thousands of files had made his eyes burn and his shoulders ache. When he realized he'd placed a cup of soup in a microwave, then forgot to turn it on, he decided to call it a day. As Ranna was working to reconfigure her Lupusbefore their next assault, he decided to relax by taking a shower.

The gymnasium shower room was empty when he arrived, but the hiss of a second shower spray brought Phelan around. He smiled until he could clear the water from his eyes, then he spat at the floor. "Taking a shower, Vlad? I thought you had to be degreased."

The other naked MechWarrior returned Phelan's venomous stare. Though Vlad was not a bad-looking man, the scar that ran down the left side of his face from eyebrow to jaw was neither exotic nor attractive. Phelan felt that was because it mirrored the man's cruel streak. "Degreased? I think not. I spend no time with you, therefore I remain unsoiled."

Vlad looked at Phelan and his lip curled up in a sneer. "It appears the bruises Dean inflicted on you have healed. How fortunate. Seldom are those who tangle with Elementals allowed to learn from their mistakes."

"At least I met my foe on equal footing."

"Such is the defense of those who are hunted." Vlad stepped into the stream of water, then smoothed down the hair from his black widow's-peak. "I obtained my kill in near record time. Your fight looked like those staged combats we have seen broadcast from Solaris. It was a joke."

"Tell that to Dean. At least he is still alive." Phelan's hands itched to close around Vlad's throat.

"You are too delicate to win the Bloodname, Phelan. Cyrilla made a poor choice in you." Vlad shook his head contemptuously. "Not killing your foes is a weakness you must overcome, freebirth."

"You can bet I will, Vlad." Phelan laughed. "Just in time for our battle in the finals."

14

ComStar First Circuit Compound, Hilton Head Island

North America , Terra

25 February 3052

 

Primus Myndo Waterly reveled in the Precentor Martial's obvious discomfort at having been summoned to her presence. "It is so good to have you back here on Hilton Head, Anastasius." No more of your little "virtual-reality" games when we speak.

"As always, Primus, I am pleased to be in your presence." The taut lines around his mouth betrayed his true feelings to her, but Myndo was absolutely certain he had no clue he had given himself away. "You said you had reached a decision on my plan concerning the Clans and battling with them."

She left him standing in the center of her circular chamber while she moved toward the demi-lune window overlooking the courtyard below. She knew that the sunlight streaming through the window would wreath her in a fiery nimbus. She sought that effect, pleased as the light glancing off her golden silk robe hurt even her eyes. Her ploy forced the Precentor Martial to avert his eye and denied him the ability to see more than a silhouette of her face.

"I have reviewed your plans and I believe you have chosen correctly in selecting Tukayyid. Your plans for safeguarding the population were well-conceived, but I believe we will have to evacuate the world."