Natural Selection Page 11

  Evantha leaped up from the floor and at the gunman. The table rolled on past just in time for Chris to watch an overhand right fist crush the shotgunner's face. He went down immediately and Evantha snapped his fowling gun across her knee.

  Chris kicked the pistol away from the downed woman's left hand and saw Ragnar standing over an unconscious woman. He sucked at his bruised knuckles, then stabbed the bloody knife into the floor between him and Evantha. "One escaped, Star Captain. I will pursue him, if you wish."

  Evantha shook her head as Olaf came out of the back. "I have called the constabulary. My Prince, are you hurt?"

  Ragnar withheld his right hand from Olaf. "No, it is nothing."

  "Easy, Ragnar. Olaf didn't bring these people here. The one with the shotgun was one of the two who were in here earlier." Chris nodded to Olaf. "I have no doubt Olaf s word was good despite his desire to let others know you were here. He's a responsible man, a keystone here in the refugee community."

  Ragnar nodded slowly, his stern expression softening only slightly. He knelt and picked up his severed bond-cord. "Is what he says true, Olaf?"

  "Yes, my Prince."

  "Then I believe it." His blue eyes became like chips of ice as he narrowed them. "I charge you with a duty, then, Goodman Olaf. I am hurt, and I require you to aid me."

  "Anything, Highness."

  "My hurt is not physical, Olaf, but it cuts deep and goes to the heart. To my heart and to the heart of the Rasalhagian people. Carry this message for me to everyone." Ragnar toed the dead leader's body. "Let it be known that I am hurt to think we believe freedom can be bought with the blood of friends."

  12

  Arc-Royal

  Federated Commonwealth

  17 April 3055

  Victor grinned unconsciously as he watched Morgan Kell walk across the dais to the podium. The warrior took his place without revealing the weaknesses one would expect of a man who had lived more than two-thirds of a century. Except for the increasing proportion of white in the mercenary leader's hair and beard, Victor would have said Morgan had not aged at all.

  The Prince set his fork down beside his half-eaten cake and smiled at Omi, seated across from him at the round table. She returned the smile, then respectfully turned in her chair to face the speaker. Katherine—Victor refused to think of her as Katrina for reasons he could not nail down—whispered a comment to her dinner companion that elicited a polite chuckle, then they both fell silent as Morgan adjusted the microphone up toward his mouth.

  "I would like to thank you all for coming here. I know, of course, that the Kell Hounds have been in existence for forty-five years, but it was not until I saw everyone gathered here—Hounds past, present, and future—that the enormity of that time fully struck me. And I am certain all our hearts carry memories of many others we wish could be here tonight. But I think ... I know . . . they are here in spirit."

  Looking around the large banquet hall, Victor was impressed at the number of people who had come to witness Morgan's retirement. Most of the guests were former or current Kell Hounds and their friends and families, but that was not all. Omi Kurita and Shin Yodama were representative of former enemies or employers who had come to honor Morgan. Even Thomas Marik of the Free Worlds League and the Precentor Martial of ComStar had sent envoys, and a number of Brothers from St. Marinus House had left their monastery to attend.

  Morgan smiled at his audience and looked a little embarrassed. "As some of you know, this is the third time I have retired from the Kell Hounds. The first time was without this sort of fanfare. My leaving became known as "the Defection" among those who remained with the unit. During that time my brother Patrick took over leadership of the Kell Hounds and further improved on what was already an ace unit. To my eternal regret he died to preserve the Kell Hounds during my time of self-imposed exile."

  The white-haired man paused for a moment and Victor felt a sympathetic lump in his throat. Though Patrick Kell had died several years before his own birth, Victor had always hoped in some magical, mystical way that the courage and compassion his mother described in Patrick had somehow been reincarnated in him. As he grew older, he realized the idea was pure fantasy, but it had still driven him to push himself hard.

  "Being ever the master of timing, I returned to the Hounds and recalled many of you to us just in time for the Fourth Succession War. The Seventh Sword of Light dulled itself on us and the Genyosha learned they were very good, but so were we. The Third Dieron Regulars paid a price for arrogance that I had hoped, once and for all, would act as a beacon to warn others about the futility of war.

  "To my regret it did not. In 3039 we answered yet another call to war, and again acquitted ourselves admirably. Throughout the next ten years, we did the same again and again, which has made me proud that my family's name is linked with the Hounds. However, you accomplished those great things without me because, in 3042, I retired for the second time and took my nephew, Christian, to Outreach for training."

  Morgan looked over to where Chris sat at the head table, and sketched a salute to him. Chris returned it, and mild laughter rippled through the group. "I even managed to stay away when the Clans first invaded. Colonel Allard and his staff were more than adept in plotting the course of the Kell Hounds. In concert with the Tenth Lyran Guards and the Ninth FedCom RCT, we handed the Jade Falcons their first clear defeat—and that gave them something to think about as they wandered off to choose their new ilKhan.

  "Then I came out of retirement at the urging of Jaime Wolf, who persuaded me that the Clans had to be stopped at all costs. I was there, with you, as we stood side by side with the Genyosha and the Dragon's Claws, fighting to preserve the capital of the realm that has been our long-time enemy. I remember well the loud and long bitch sessions about how our old comrades would be spinning in their graves when we touched down on Luthien. Perhaps they would have been surprised, but I believe those warriors would have given all to help us win rather than be angry at our accepting that assignment."

  A number of warriors nodded in agreement. "Why do I believe that? Because I know how warriors think. I know what we hold dear, what we desire, and what we fear. I know our goals and I know what we are willing to surrender to reach them. This is something that each of us who is heart, soul, and body a warrior shares.

  "In the popular mind each warrior lives only for combat, like some rabid beast lying in wait for a kill. He is vassal to death, one tooth in the razor-kissed jaws of destruction. Like a vampire, who grows stronger and more savage by sucking up the lives of others."

  Morgan took a sip of wine from a glass. "This is what people believe because they never know what it is to live through a battle. They hear us talk about blasting away the head of an Atlas with a lucky shot. They hear about flanking maneuvers that rout the enemy, or an air-strike that obliterates a portion of his defense. They hear stirring tales of midair dogfights, of heroic efforts to get friends out of the field of fire, and of sacrifices made so others may live. And they hear those stories because those are the stories we choose to share with them.

  "All of us know that cold, clutching feeling that rips through you when the enemy is sighted. All of us know the thick, sour taste of fear when our 'Mech is hit or our wingman tells us we have an enemy in our six. In nightmares we relive the terror of an unanswered support call and the grief of seeing a friend fallen where once he stood.

  "What we should let everyone know is the truth of the paradox each warrior represents. Though trained in the ways of death, schooled in tactics, and steeped in strategies, the last thing any of us wants is war. We accept our responsibility and willingly do our duty, but we truly wish it would pass us by. Not because we are cowards, but because no one else so fully and deeply understands the consequences of our actions as we do."

  More heads nodded around the room. Morgan's words echoed in Victor's heart and found a home there. It is not an easy thing to kill anyone, nor should it ever be so.

  "Of all the things I
have done with the Kell Hounds there is one act that, were a history of this unit ever written, would only comprise a footnote. On Lyons, in the spring of 3029, we helped to build a small community for refugees from the war. In that action we used our BattleMechs to actually create something. Destruction is easy, but creation is difficult. That community was called New Freedom and the reason it will never be more than a footnote is because within six weeks of its creation it became collateral damage."

  Morgan let that thought sink in for a moment, then continued. "As I said, creation is hard work. In 3010 I created this unit. In 3027 I recreated it, and over the past three years, after the toll Luthien took on us, I have labored to rebuild the Kell Hounds. Several weeks ago Dan Allard and I agreed the job was done. And so am I— after the third try, I think I got it right.

  "So, now with Chris and Caitlin readying themselves to one day assume command, and with Dan and his children coming up to ensure continuity, I leave the Kell Hounds in capable hands."

  Morgan hesitated and looked over to where his son and the other visitors from the Clans were seated. "I hope that if the Clans someday decide they have had enough of him, Phelan might find a home here—more so if a Galaxy of his Wolves want to come with him. Surely if we can go to Luthien—the home of an age-old enemy— to defend it against the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats, then we can accept a Wolf into our company."

  Victor sensed tension build as Morgan spoke about Phelan. No one in the room would have doubted the Kell Hounds' commitment to opposing the Clans were the war to heat up again, yet Morgan's hope that Phelan might be welcomed on Arc-Royal made his audience uneasy. Morgan obviously loved his son and had somehow resolved the conflict between his heart and his duty. Victor also felt a new kinship with Phelan after their talk. I think I would welcome him home were he to come back.

  The mercenary leader smiled. "My job here is done, so now my wife and I can retire to the rigors of planetary government and pestering our children to produce children of their own so we can hopelessly spoil some grandchildren."

  The elder Kell let the laughter from his remark die down before he concluded his speech. "Let me leave you with one last thought. There are those who would interpret these comments as bolstering their case for utter and total disarmament. They would say that without weapons of mass destruction men would be forced to work with each other to get along. They would urge us to beat our swords into plowshares to give us tools to reverse the destruction/creation problem I have cited.

  "As much as I would like to agree with them, this cannot be. Man managed to hurt others before we had swords. In the absence of weapons, fists do damage. In the absence of fists, words do damage, and taking away words would also take away the means for communication we seek as the cure for all mankind's ills.

  "In this they are correct: communication, meaningful and respectful communication among equals, is the key to living prosperously and well with one another. This mutual respect can only come when each side knows that it cannot just turn around and take what it wants if it does not get its way in negotiation. When war is the final option that neither side wishes to embrace, communication becomes the only other logical possibility."

  Morgan smiled at his audience. "So, thank you all for being friends in the good times and bad. What we have shared, the history we have created, is not ended with my departure. It becomes the foundation for what I know will be a viable and vital future."

  Without a thought Victor sprang to his feet applauding, and he was not the first person to do so. The ovation thundered through the hall, and for the first time in all the years he had known Morgan, the mercenary seemed truly at a loss. The applause continued after he sat down and only stopped when Morgan raised a glass in thanks to his guests and shared a wordless toast with them.

  The banquet then began to break up. Katherine was doing fine entertaining those at their table without any help from Victor, so he excused himself and left. He debated whether to wade through the crowd of well-wishers surrounding Morgan and his wife Salome, or perhaps head over to the First Regiment's Assembly Hall for dancing, but could decide on neither.

  Glancing back at his table, he saw Omi preparing to leave. She pressed Shin back down into his chair as she walked away. Victor caught her eye and headed over in her direction when she smiled at him. "Komban-wa. "

  "And to you, Prince Victor." Omi, wearing a black velvet gown trimmed with white lace, had her hair gathered at the back of her head and held in place with a silver comb. "Colonel Kell is a good speaker."

  "Why is it that the good ones finish before I am ready to stop listening?" Victor noticed his sister watching him out the corner of her eye, but he chose to ignore her. "Had you thought of going to the dance?"

  "I thought it would be correct to do so, but I dread it because I am not well-versed in your styles of dance." Omi clasped her hands together shyly. "Which is greater, the embarrassment of dancing poorly or the rudeness of not attending a function?"

  "I can sympathize, for I am not terribly graceful on the dance floor, yet I share the same obligations. It strikes me that if we went together, no one would dare to ask you to dance—given protocol and the like. And, if you are not dancing, I certainly could not inflict myself on some unsuspecting woman."

  "That, Victor, is a wonderful plan." Omi smiled and slipped her right hand through the crook of his left arm. "And if it looked as if we might be asked to dance, we could slip onto the dance floor ourselves."

  Victor smiled as he picked a path between tables. "Ah, minimize the damage to others by dancing together. Splendid planning."

  They left the banquet hall and retraced their steps from the other evening through the garden. Turning south they walked past the small forest of bonsai trees the Hounds had brought from Luthien. "I have heard that the Hounds brought one bonsai for each pilot they lost on Luthien."

  Omi gave his arm a light squeeze. "That is true. We have bonsai masters who created a tree for each of the Kell Hounds who fought in that battle. When one of them dies, another tree is sent here."

  "I am certain there was a time, back when Morgan and Patrick started the Hounds, when they would never have believed they'd one day be fighting on Luthien in defense of the Combine. Times have changed incredibly, and so quickly, too."

  Omi stopped and kissed Victor. "But they change very slowly as well, too slowly."

  "Still they do change." He reached up and cupped her face in his hands. "Right now we cannot be together, but that does not mean that someday we will not."

  Omi smiled and kissed the palms of his hands. "I know that, and I will work toward that day. It is just that it seems like forever until it will happen."

  Victor again settled her hand onto his arm. "Well, for now we can dance together, which for certain Christian sects within my realm is the equivalent of far greater lusts being sated."

  "I will dance with you, Victor, but only on one condition."

  "And that is?"

  The reflections of stars glittered in her dark eyes. "That our dancing is a promise of what we shall share when the times have changed enough."

  13

  Arc-Royal

  Federated Commonwealth

  18 April 3055

  Phelan gave his mother a hug. "Yes, I know it's been less than a week, mother, but we must head back." He held her out at arm's-length and gave her a grand smile. "You always told me that the Wards who stayed behind when General Kerensky took the Star League army away from the Inner Sphere wondered if Jal Ward had made a difference. He did, a big one, which has given me the opportunity to do what I have done. Now maybe I can make a difference as well."

  Salome hugged her son again. "I know you will, Phelan."

  He moved from his mother's arms to his father's, enfolding the older man in a back-slapping bear hug. "There will be great rejoicing among the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats when they learn you have retired, father."

  "Plenty of Inner Sphere leaders will lose sleep over my not persuading you
to stay here, Phelan." Morgan stepped back and took a long look at his son, then shook his head. "I have to say that when I heard the Nagelring had expelled you, I never imagined this."

  "Nor did any of us." Phelan swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Thank you for accepting me then and accepting me now."

  "No matter what, Phelan, you and your sister will always be our children. We are proud of you both." The older man smiled happily. "No matter what, you have us behind you. If need be, you alwayshave a home here."

  Phelan watched his father closely. "Does it hurt you that I choose to stay with the Clans?"

  Morgan thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Inasmuch as we miss you, yes."

  "But you are not hurt that I am not here to help with the Hounds?"

  "I had hoped for that, once, but I realize you must find your own way. If you decide that your place is with the Hounds, they will be here. If not, then as long as you are happy, so am I."

  Phelan wanted to say, "Thank you," but the words stuck in his throat. He embraced his father again.

  Then he looked around at the others in the departure lounge. Carew, in his flight suit, was exchanging a final farewell with Caitlin, while Chris, Ragnar, and Evantha were sharing some joke that made them all laugh. Ranna and his mother were whispering in tones that he found far too hushed and conspiratorial to make him feel at all at ease.

  Then, from the back, Victor entered the room and walked toward him. "I didn't want to miss seeing you off, but I had a dinner engagement." Victor didn't elaborate, but Katrina had told Phelan where her brother was when she said goodbye earlier. "I am glad we had our chance to talk."

  "So am I, Victor. I know our peoples are enemies, but the Federated Commonwealth and the Wolf Clan have more goals in common than differences to set us apart." Phelan half-smiled. "In fact, I got confirmation that the ilKhan has deployed a solahma unit to hunt down the bandit group that hit Pasig."