Book 1 - Chapter Three

Chapter 3: Truth to Power

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And then followed the longest 44 hours of my life - to that point anyway. I have to admit I half expected to be brought in that afternoon, then evening, then night and didn't sleep much, waiting for the knock on the door.

Then I was frantic most of the next day even as I slowly grew more tired (although I was careful to lay out the only good suit I owned), not leaving the apartment and just watching vids. After a light dinner I finally decided that if the powers that be wanted to talk to me, I don't think they would let a closed door or fact that I was asleep stop them, so I might as well get some when I could. I managed to finally crash at the end of that day, slightly confused that nothing had happened.

The next morning after a surprisingly decent sleep I seemed to have needed, I tried to force myself to get back into a somewhat normal routine - as much as possible anyway as I was wondering if my ipad and its contents were being dismissed as some joke - or was sitting on someone's desk and winding its way through some vogon esque chain of bureaucrats who had forgotten the password or something. Even if I told myself it was highly unlikely, the thoughts remained.

Still, I managed to mostly convince myself to keep my expectations under control. Even if my little gift had been taken seriously, it could simply mean that Quintus Allard was examining everything with a fine tooth comb because the obvious conclusion was utterly crazy. And that it might be days or even weeks before he even brought it to his liege for review. I mean he was the bloody ruler of a big chunk of the Inner Sphere after all.

So early in the second morning, I decided that things were in motion and all I could do was wait. Which in turn meant finding things to do while I waited. 

To that end, I went downstairs. The apartment complex had a nice little gym on the ground floor for the use of the residents I hadn't checked out yet and now was as good a time as any. I spent a few hours trying to work off the nervous energy there - although I was equally careful to not exhaust myself just in case I needed my wits about me.

And with that edge at least dulled, I returned to my room for a quick shower. And then exited the bathroom (thank God with a towel around my waist) into my living room to find Kym Sorenson casually sprawled on my lounge...

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"If this is revenge for the lake … well done" I finally managed after at least five seconds of standing there clutching at my towel with a death grip to make damn sure it stayed in place as I rather pathetically stood there … dripping on the cheap carpet.

"Well no, it isn't" the MIIO agent smiled before, deliberately, running her gaze from my feet to my face with an look best described as 'considering'. "But I have to admit, the NAIS does quite decent work these days".

I really hoped that the hot shower I had just finished was hiding the flush I felt at her words, not quite sure how to take them. Mostly annoyance I suppose, given the sheer amount of screaming pain my muscles had endured at the hands of a somewhat sadistic military instructor from the College of Military Sciences in between semesters, to get body into the shape it was in during my recovery.

Then again, to be brutally honest, the drugs had probably done more...

"Would you mind if I, you know, get dressed?" I jerked my head towards the bedroom. Her smirk only grew at that question.

"I'm not stopping you" she pointed out, looking entirely at ease (and stunningly professional) in a well cut business suit from her position on the other side of the room.

"Right" I muttered an answer and turned to walk out of the room, trying to regain my composure as I shut the door on her. I gave myself of the luxury of a half second to take a deep breath and remind myself this is what I wanted to happen before drying off and getting dressed, forcing myself to not rush things as I put on the suit that I had painstakingly laid out. Brushing my hair and finishing up quickly by selecting a brand new tie I had brought, I headed back into the living room. Kym was still patiently waiting for me as I came back in, starting to struggle with the new tie that was I noticed a little thicker than the ones I was used to. "So, Agent Sorenson, any particular reason you decided to break in today?"

"Because the key Quintus Allard gave me was the wrong bloody one and I had to pick the lock" she said with a perfectly straight face, making me pause in my struggle for a long moment to regard her.

"Well done" I congratulated her after a few seconds of consideration as I got back to work on my tie. "I genuinely can't tell if that is sarcasm, truth or both at the same time".

She actually looked pleased at that somewhat backwards complement.

"Anyway" Kym said in a more businesslike tone, "I've been sent to extend an invitation to the Davion Palace. There are some people who would really like to have a chat with you".

"Right now I take it?"

"Not hardly" she snorted before she glanced at her watch. "We've got at leastan hour or so before we're expected".

"Stop that" I deadpanned - although the twitch of a smile on my face betrayed my enjoyment of her snarking.

"You were much more fun in the park" she sighed before standing and stretching (in an extremely distracting way that earned her another mental roll of my eyes as I continued to try to struggle with the tie. "What are you doing?"

"Dressing" I grunted as the knot slipped into a horrid mess and I ripped it apart again. "I've done a tie thousands of times, but these bloody cravat-ties you people love…"

After a few seconds silently watching me struggle, the Countessa rolled her own eyes … and stepped way inside my personal space. Then, with quick, efficient motions and an exasperated sigh, she ripped my tie knot open and started to redo it.

"Did MIIO" (I had learned it was pronounced Mee-ohhh by the locals) "teach you how to do this?" I asked after a moment of adjustment for the fact that she was all but pressing up against me as she briskly went to work. Her cool blue eyes met mine for a second before focusing back on the tie with a look of concentration.

"Uh-uh" she shook her head, biting her lip in a rather cute way as her hands moved with great dexterity "My father is equally clueless with ties and I learned how to do it for him after my mother died".

My initial thought to protest her categorization of me as 'clueless' clashed with the revelation of her mother's death, leaving me momentarily without a reply. By the time I had something to say however, it became impossible as she tightened the tie and cheerfully cut off my airflow for precious seconds, before it slackened back again. So I decided to just shut up and leave it at that.

"There. Adequate" she decided as she stepped back, reaching out a finger to sample my suit jackets lapel in curiosity. "Hmm. You actually look quite sharp in this cut of jacket. Simple and plain compared to quite a few of the things men call fashion these days, very much less is more. You might kick off a whole new fashion trend if you're seen around the right people wearing it".

"Wouldn't that be somewhat counterproductive to keeping a low profile? Are you sure you're a spy" I asked her with a slightly arched eyebrow.

"Somehow, given the way my boss and his bosses reacted to whatever the hell was on that iPad of yours, I doubt staying low profile is going to be much of a concern for long" she (almost too cheerfully) told me before she brushed some lint from the jacket and nodded. "You got everything you want to take with you?"

"Uh, yes" I replied. My heart had skipped a beat at her casually dropped warning at the shitstom I had unleashed - before I realized it had clearly been anything but casually dropped.

Was that a warning? Or, perhaps she was just screwing with my head?

Who knew the future Mrs Morgan Hasek-Davion was such a troll?

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I expected the ride to the Davion Palace to seem to be either very slow or very fast but it turned out to be neither. Instead it seemed surprisingly … normal. The unmarked car we were driving in moved steadily with the traffic and without any theatrics of flashing lights, escorts or anything of that sort. The three other agents in the car with me were silent and normal looking men. The world (and Inner Sphere) outside the window continued on normally, entirely unknowing of the changes to fate and destiny I was about to throw at it.

As for me, I was stuck in something of a loop in my thoughts. Suddenly aware of how serious this shit was getting for me and how powerful the people were whose attention I was drawing … only to then note that these were exactly the people whose attention I wanted, weren't they?

Honestly, the enormity of this whole change in my life and change in my very universe was still sinking in - and I had just doubled down. Things were in motion now that I could no more stop than I could win an arm wrestle with an Atlas.

Still. Perhaps that was a good thing, all things considered. If Kym hadn't shown up that day, perhaps I would have just fretted myself into a corner and done absolutely nothing. One way or the other, the die was cast. The rubicon was crossed - and add any number of other analogies from Ancient Rome here.

Well I was probably going to meet a guy named Quintus after all..

Thankfully, no-one in the car tried to engage me in conversation, leaving me to my brooding introspection until Kym noted that we were here. I blinked and refocused outside, seeing indeed that Mount Davion loomed overhead as we turned into one of the entrances. We were briskly waved through the outer gate and directed through a second checkpoint in turn, that diverted us away from what seemed to be 'public parking' outside. In moments we turned past some discreetly placed shrubbery and trees that screened a smaller outside parking area I thought we were going to stop in - no, we turned instead through a massive open blast door in the side of the mountain and into a large tunnel beyond.

We were stopped at an inner checkpoint here and Kym handed over some paperwork. The guards read it, seemed to do a double take and then with a salute, gestured us onwards. I have to admit I was surprised at the somewhat lax security, but didn't have much time to mull on it as the car turned into a one of a number of large rooms set equally around an open circular space, a large mesh grate rattling closed behind us.

I had just enough time to look around and wonder what was going on when with a clunk, the ground under the car shuddered - and suddenly we were falling. Okay we were in a giant elevator. And judging by the scale of both it and the tunnel leading into it above...

My hunch was proven right when the elevator stopped a minute later, opening into a mirror of the circular space above. Except as we drove out of it, we entered a vast, well lit artificial cavern filled with Battlemechs. All in the dress paint of the 1st Davion Guards. 

Wow.

It was a pretty fucking awesome sight - the kind of moment that a good movie soundtrack would fill with something awe inspiring and martial as we passed Battlemech after Battlemech standing tall in various gantries on either side of the 'road' - many with technicians working on - or even in the bigger ones. Hmm, something from Hans Zimmer or Brian Tyler perhaps? Damnit I could have cued up something on my iPhone if I had known this was coming...

We had driven past probably a couple of battalions worth of war machines when we finally turned off down a 'side street' and then quickly off into a much smaller sub-cavern.

In here was what looked like luxury cars, limos and the like. My guess was that this were where the VIP transport fleet for the First Prince was stored - but I didn't have too much time to look around as we stopped and the car doors were opened almost at once and I was prodded to get out.

A welcoming committee was waiting for us here, a half dozen people including a quartet of troopers in the same 'ghost recon' setup I had seen at NAIS, wielding what I recognized now as laser rifles linked to backpack powerpacks. My slightly distracted air this morning thus vanished, as fast a hundred kronor bill floating around the sidewalks of Tharkad City.

Shit just got real.

Kym confidently stepped up to the lead member of the welcoming committee and pulled the same piece of paper out she had shown earlier. This time I could see that as she handed it over, she was pressing her thumb to a golden strip on the bottom of the paper - and when she let go, it caused a part of the paper to seemingly illuminate. I realized that it could only be a verigraph embedded document - like the infamous note Morgan Kell had from Katrina Steiner. An almost impossible to forge biometric verification technique that could be embedded into the paper to confirm someone's identity.

I didn't know what the paper said, but clearly it was correct and/or expected. The man actually saluted Kym after carefully examining and scanning the document, dismissing the troops and Kym in turn gestured me forward as the other agents who had come with me, got back into the car and drove it off back to who knows where.

Never even got their names. Oh well. I'm going to call them agents Jackson, Johnson, and Thompson. They damn well looked like those guys from the Matrix at any rate.

"John - your ID please?" Kym asked as I stopped next to her. Without saying anything, I opened my wallet and handed over the ID I had been issued at NAIS. I found it slightly amusing to think that it was simultaneously both perfectly real and perfectly fake, but I decided pointing that out here and now would be a bad idea as Kym handed it on to the person in charge.

Then I was led to a security screening station. I emptied my pockets into a tray which was taken to be fed through an X-Ray machine (I mentally winced a moment later as I saw the tray pass into the machine, hoping that this wouldn't fry my iPhone, which was probably far more fragile than the electronics they were used to poking with radiation here even when turned off) before I stepped through the gate. There I was patted down very thoroughly and had several portable scanners run over, around and on me.

Well, at least, they were genuinely professional about it. Airport Security they were not.

The head security type returned a short time later while Kym was busying logging us in on some kind of electronic clipboard. I was given a sort of temporary plastic pass on a lanyard, with a current today photo of me I hadn't even noticed had been taken as well as my details and a whole bunch of codes, barcodes and so on that I guessed said where I could go and where I should be shot on sight.

Hanging it on my neck, I recovered my things (the iPhone seemed unaffected and powered back up normally thank God and/or the engineers at Cupertino) and Kym and I were on our way.

An elevator ride was next, one that moved quickly but still took some time to ascend up through the mountain past literally dozens of galleries filled with smaller floors like some kind of Toyko-3 labyrinth from Evangelion. The glorious palace on top was merely the tip of the iceberg as it were, with vast spaces inside filled with thousands or tens of thousands of people serving House Davion.

On reflection, I shouldn't have been surprised given that this was, really, the central hub of an interstellar nation. 

Another security foyer (one fortified with see through but thick glass I suspected was Battlemech cockpit grade) greeted us when the door finally opened but a quick scan of the barcode on my guest pass (and Kyms MIIO ID badge she was now also wearing) and we were escorted through the checkpoint by the guards on duty … into another elevator. This one rising fast enough to force me to pop my ears.

This time when it opened and we were (again) scanned in through a security checkpoint, we exited into the palace proper. Marble floors, wooden paneled walls, plush furniture and antique tables, huge oil paintings of Battlemechs furiously firing and portraits of previous First Princes and Royal Families … everything screamed 'expensive and powerful'.

Not to mention the gaggles of nobles moving with purpose in an eclectic mixture of semi-formal noble dress and the highest quality of business suits mixed with AFFS personnel in the local equivalent of Class-A uniforms.

Kym led me from the elevators, ignoring what seemed to be a large reception and waiting area to instead move past more guards to an empty enclosed balcony that circled the main tower. Apparently we were going to have to wait here for five minutes or so because we were a bit early - but I didn't really mind.

The castle grounds spread along the ridge line in the shadow of the mountain and its terraces of office block like levels looked nice enough but I have to admit to being slightly underwhelmed at first glance. Given that this was the seat of power for House Davion, I had frankly expected a slightly more grandiose scale to things … and that was when I happened to notice that the things walking on patrol on the top of the castle's outer wall were not people ... but Mechs.

Okay. Readjusting my scale from that, I realized what I had taken to be narrow paths between buildings were in fact broad avenues and I was much higher up than I thought. Small guest houses dotting the land quickly turned into self-contained mansions and a well tended 'park' became a well tended mini forest...and what looked like a mini spaceport to boot instead of a large helipad.

Okay. Right. Not half bad digs!

An odd sense of recollection-that-wasn't came over me as I took in the vista, recalling that at the end of the FedCom civil war, Katherine Steiner-Davion (pleaselet me butterfly her) had stood at a window in the Palace Throne room and looked down on this same view. Watching as Victors troops blasted her dwindling loyalists backwards up the slopes to the Castle, her empires span having shrunk from across the Inner Sphere to mere kilometers as her brother implacably pressed forward with his RCTs, leading from the front as always. As she had watched, an entire company of her dwindling troops had suddenly thrown themselves into a desperate one-way suicide run to try and bring her brother down, only for the man I was hoping to see now to shove his Omnimech in front of Victors and sacrifice himself in his place as her doomed troops were shot to pieces. Katherine of course had been utterly indifferent to their sacrifice - as after all, they had failed her. 'Only' managing to kill just one more good man who willingly and without hesitation gave the last thing he could after a lifetime of service, to protect his best friends son one last time.

A good man, who had died - with far far too many others - because The Bitch had let greed, ego and obsession consume her.

THAT was why I was here.

"It's time" Kym suddenly broke into my mussing. I took a final look at the peaceful vista that might or might not be one day turned into a heaving mass of Battlemechs and Tanks, before turning to follow her into the palace itself.

This part of the palace was clearly more of the 'working' part, the core of an Interstellar Empire. Hundreds of people were coming and going through the open areas, including people who appeared to be AFFS Flag officers and a number of people I suspected were senior nobles in senior roles. Kim however led me with unerring precision through the chaos … to yet another guard station. Where I was searched.

Again.

And scanned.

Again.

Okay. I take back everything I had said about them not being diligent.

We were eventually cleared through the door behind it and two turns later I found myself in a richly appointed but empty hallway come waiting room, with a surprising number of heavily armed guards (in full field gear this time) standing around looking surprisingly alert.

Especially the pair in front of a rather nice looking wooden door at the end of the corridor. One that above it had the crest of the Federated Suns mounted in gleaming style. The sword looking like it had been cast out of solid silver and the sunburst in solid gold, with polished red woods around it.

Oh hell. I had a rather good idea whose office this was … and it wasn't Ardan Sorteks or Quintus Allards...

"This is where I leave you" Kym spoke up with an apologetic smile, perhaps taking pity on me for how I was simply standing and staring at the door - clearly realizing I had just comprehended who was behind it. "Just take a seat" she gestured at a number of plush looking seats lining the wall "and they'll call you in when ready".

"They?" I asked, unabashedly fishing for information.

"They" she confirmed. "I have no idea what was on that 'iPad', but you've certainly stirred up a bit of a hornets nest Mister Smith".

"I hope that I didn't get you in any trouble" I replied, it suddenly hitting me that my casual 'outing' of her identity like that had probably caused some rather pointed questions to be asked around her.

"Well my debriefing after our little fun in the park went for eight hours" she replied in a deadpan voice and I winced. "But" she added with a wry look, "I got a commendation logged in my file from Quintus Allard himself for quick thinking and adaptability in a highly unusual situation. So I guess it evens out".

"You're welcome" I smirked - and she rolled her eyes and swatted me somewhat playfully on my arm at that. "I take it you have a new assignment now?" I asked.

"I do. I'm actually headed offworld" she explained with a grin, clearly happy about her new mission. "I can't say where of course".

"Of course" I agreed, my thoughts instantly flashing to the area at Solaris. It was a bit early … but it took time to cross interstellar distances - and probably even more to carefully establish her cover well in advance of the events I knew were coming (unless I was about to butterfly them away).

Solaris … you know, I really wanted to visit there someday. Granted, I wasn't exactly a big fan of the whole blood sport side of things. But as it turned out, fatalities in the arenas were quite rare. As a rule, shooting for the cockpit was considered a cheap shot on the order of going for a nads punch or something in a boxing match and would get you dropped by your sponsors faster than an Stalkercould overheat so it was rare indeed. Deaths generally only occurred because two people who genuinely wanted to kill each other took advantage of the legal way to do so - and as both knew the risks going in, well...

"Good luck on your mission then" I said sincerely, extending my hand to her. "Until we meet again".

"It's certainly been … interesting" she noted, taking my hand and giving it a firm shake. "It's unlikely we'll bump into each other again I'm afraid".

"Oh, I don't know" I offered her my best 'I know something you don't know' smile that had her narrow her eyes slightly. And a part of me smugly delighted in this final victory. "But in the end, come what may … we'll always have the Peace Park".

Her expression softened at that, actually becoming almost … fond?

"Casablanca - one of my mother's favourite old vid-films" she identified the line to my surprise. "And yes, we'll always have the Peace Park. And the near heart attack you gave me when you blew my cover like that".

"I can assure you I was almost having one myself, wondering if you were going to have me dragged off and strapped into some interrogation chair" I admitted.

"Kinky" she noted with a … honestly, I don't know what to make of that smirk. "But I'm not the kind of girl who goes for that on a first date".

"Then I'm very glad we never went on a second" I retorted.

I have the privilege of getting in the last word - because at that point with a loud click, the door at the end of the corridor opened and a middle aged man in an AFFS uniform stepped out.

"Mister Smith?"

"Yes" I said, stepping away from Kym to face him. "I am he".

"If you will please come with me Sir" the other gestured me forward. I nodded and with a final glance at Kym, I turned away to walk through the door, the man closing it behind me.

Inside was what seemed to be an outer office of a sorts, with a half dozen civilian and military personnel were hard at work. None of them acknowledged me so I didn't interrupt them as I was quickly led across to a smaller leather covered door. The aide pressed a buzzer and then, without waiting for a reply, opened it and stepped just inside.

"Highness, Mister John Smith" he announced me.

"Thank you Tony, that will be all" a voice called back. "Please, come in Mister Smith".

That voice had quite a tone of command in it and almost without realizing it I was walking into the room as 'Tony' let me pass, then closed the door behind me.

The 'office' was quite a large size. Not ridiculously so like a Bond Villain's Lair or something, but certainly spacious, carefully divided up into different sections by cunning use of slightly raised or lowered sections and constructed with polished dark woods. There was what was clearly a large working desk; an almost 'office inside an office' to the right. Over on the left was a bunch of video screens and a holo projector and various computers and so on. Beyond it was what looked like a sort of dining area, probably for casual 'working dinners' with staff and so on with a few doors beyond it to other rooms.

Oh and yes, raised up against the far wall directly opposite the door, under the angled windows on the ceiling, was a table that looked like it could have come from a boardroom, two-dozen leather chairs around it. With three people sitting on the far side.

The First Prince of the Federated Suns looked somewhat similar to the various pictures I recalled from Battletech sourcebooks, if only in general terms. He seemed younger and fitter - and perhaps it was just me projecting again, but God he had a presence. Even just sitting casually in what seemed to be a pretty plain 31st century business suit he seemed to dominate the room. Letting everyone know that this was the ruler of hundreds of worlds and perhaps the greatest First Prince in the history (past or known future) of the Federated Suns.

Tearing my gaze off him as I crossed the room, I noted that to his left was a man in an AFFS duty uniform that I identified as Ardan Sortek from some public pictures I had found when doing some research and the man on the right and to his right in a perfectly nondescript looking business suit, was Quintus Allard. Arguably the troika that ran the Federated Suns.

Well, I think it was safe to say that my copy of 'The Sword and the Dagger' had gotten their attention.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice" Hanse Davion greeted me as I climbed the three steps to where they were sitting, feeling like I was ascending Olympus to be judged by the Gods of this setting, as Hanse gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the table from him.

"Thank you, Prince Davion. For the invitation - and your time" I replied as politely as I could as I approached the table with a nod that wasn't quite a bow, pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down - and placing my iPhone carefully on the table in front of him.

Then it hit me.

Holy shit. I'm sitting across from Hanse Motherfucking Davion. 

Damn I wish I could take a selfie and post it on Spacebattles...

"After your little gift to us" he said, gesturing at my iPad that I now noticed was sitting in front of Quintus mixed in with plenty of folders and paperwork, "I thought that it would be useful for us to sit down and have a little chat. As I'm sure you can anticipate, we have quite a few questions we would like to put to you".

"I do understand. Before that though I'd like to thank you for everything you've done for me since I was … well … created I suppose".

"It's certainly the least we could do given the situation" Hanse waved away my thanks.

Ohh, opening. Well, let's get started.

"Actually the least would have been to simply terminate me as a major security risk" I said glancing at Quintus for a moment. "And given that I was created because NAIS was most probably trying to build a HPG, it would have been entirely understandable if you simply had me shot and buried in an unmarked grave to ensure ROM never found out from me". I offered them a slightly wry smile. "Personally, "I'm rather glad you didn't".

Neither Hanse nor Quintus expressions shifted even one micron, remaining friendly and polite - which I have to admit was impressive given that I had just dropped A) The fact that I figured out roughly what they were doing (which could just mean I was observant and made a good guess, except for) B) I knew about ROM who I'm sure MIIO also had a generally good idea about - but ComStars chucklefucks were sure as hell not public knowledge.

Ardan though, good old Ardan, seemed to actually twitch slightly making me hope I was on the right path.

"I have the feeling" Hanse said, leaning forward with that famous smirk I had seen on the vids, "that I am going to be increasingly glad I never genuinely considered it either". Glancing at Sorrek he nodded once. "Ardan however was the person though who insisted on a pension to ensure you were looked after for the rest of your life".

"Then I owe you quite a debt Colonel" I nodded at the other, who offered me a nod in exchange.

"No debt is owed Mister Smith - as his Highness stated, it was the least we could do honestly given the situation.

I got the distinct feeling he was speaking to Quintus when he said that and I wondered just how on the money I might have been about some of the people in the room toying with simply killing me … yeah, better not go down that path. And anyway, as I had said, the man wouldn't have been doing his job if he didn't consider the option.

"At any rate" I continued, pretty certain I had their attention now and deciding to press on, turning my attention to Hanse Davion's head of intelligence. "I take it you've read 'The Sword and the Dagger?'"

"All three of us, yes" Quintus answered. "I agreed with your suggestion of presenting it to Colonel Sortek without any hint of what it was about to gauge his reaction after I did so". Now Quintus turned to offer a slightly wry look at the other. "I have to admit I've never seen him go for a stiff drink like that before".

"It was more than a little shocking" the AFFS officer said quite candidly and quietly. "To put it mildly. Utterly impossible".

"Completely impossible" Hanse put in almost cheerfully. "And yet here we are. And with your rather blunt name dropping, I'm taking it that you know rather more than this single document suggests about things you really should not?"

"That statue on your desk" I hooked a finger over my shoulder back in the general direction of his desk and the distinctive statue I had eyeballed walking across the room, "is of you and Dana Stephenson, based on a picture taken on Christmas day. It's made out of some of the glass salvaged from her cockpit after some Kuritan asshole stepped on it and has the engagement ring you offered to her in its base - and you were looking at it the moment Katrina Steiners peace proposal arrived".

Oooookay. Perhaps that was a little too much showing off - from the way Hanse's face actually tightened with emotion, Ardan's eyes widened and Quintus shifted forward slightly with the changing air of someone going from 'polite interest' to 'absolute attention'.

"I'm sorry" I added after a moment, feeling like a dick and glancing away for a moment before looking back up. "That was probably far too personal an example to use Prince Davion - put rather crudely. My apologies".

"Accepted" Hanse said, recovering his poise in a heartbeat, a new rather focused gleam coming into his eyes. "But … it certainly seems to have cut to the heart of the matter. You know things Mister Smith. Things you should not, could not, possibly know" and God strike me down if I was lying, but the man just assumed the Gendo Pose! "Of course, although we have our theories based on that novel, fantastic as they are, we'd like to hear you lay it all out for us. So please Mister Smith. Take your time and walk us through it".

"This may take some time. But to start at the beginning, in nineteen eighty five, in my reality, a team led by a man named Jordan Weisman developed a tabletop game known as 'Battle Droids