Book 1 - Chapter Ten.1

Chapter 10: Tweedledee and Tweedledum - or just dumb and dumber? 

I had never put on a Tux in my life … and now I had been given a deadline to get into one and wear it walking into a fucking Neo-Feudal Royal Court-

No, no no! Bad word. 

Mental note, NEVER use 'deadline' in a sentence in anything related to a command from Katrina Steiner.

Still, I was able to put on the unfamiliar suit quicker than I anticipated, taking a moment to admire myself in the full length mirror built into the walk-in closets door. The white shirt was excellent quality if relatively plain, but a Steiner-Blue cummerbund added a neat little splash of color, as did the polished brass buttons on the jacket. 

Of course, if the specific shade of blue identified me in some fashion with House Steiner… 

Well in either case … I decided I looked awesome if I did say so myself, as I slipped on the jacket after fussing the bow-tie into place.

"Bond … James Bond" I tried in my best faux Connery, before my reflection gave me a 'seriously?' look at how bad that was. 

Very glad no-one had seen that, I turned away and headed for the door. A second after closing the door behind me, I realized I didn't have the first clue how I would get to the Throne Room, let alone get admission to it without an invitation - or Morgan Kell's note.

Shrugging after a moment, I made for the nearby elevators that would take me down to the lower floor entrances, reasoning that if the powers that be were expecting me…

My assumption proved accurate when I found a man waiting by said elevator who clicked his heels together, greeted me as 'Herr Smith' and informed me he would be delighted to escort me to the Yule Festival.

Seriously, my skepticism and misgivings around these neo-feudal systems aside, I have to admit that having hot and cold running servants desperate to throw themselves over the smallest puddles in the road rather than let your feet get wet … well, it was kinda addictive.

We entered the elevator and said servant took out a key on a chain attached to his belt, inserted and twisted it … and that caused a small recess to pop out above the level buttons. He promptly leaned in to it and - oh, it was a retinal scanner? Pretty high-tech for 3026 Battletech, but then this was The Triad. A quick scan latter several additional buttons on the control panel lit up and he hit the one labeled 'B7'. The elevator car dropped swiftly past ground, heading towards what I presumed was a vehicle bay for a quick drive over through the winter air. But instead of opening on a garage, the doors opened on - holy shit, I just walked into Versailles.

I mean, I had never actually been to Versailles, back on Earth. It had been one of those 'bucket list' things I always wanted to do in life when I finally got over to Europe. The grandeur and glory of the French nobility at its height maintained carefully through the French Revolution and two World Wars to the present day. 

Come to think of it, I suppose that the vast majority of my 'bucket list' would forever be denied to me now, I rather doubted Disneyland still stood after all. But after this?

Yeah, I could probably defacto tick 'Versailles Hall of Mirrors' off that list now. And then some.

This, according to my guide who ushered me out and started walking me along the gently curving passage at a quite brisk pace, was the Private Corridor for the Steiner family to make their way to and from the Throne Room or Royal Court, a giant ring under the Triad. 

And if this was a simple private service tunnel, I didn't know what it said about the Steiner family … well, except perhaps 'We have the money. ALL the money!!!'

The floor was a white marble threaded with veins of crimson, the centerline of which was covered in a Steiner Blue carpet. White too was the color of the walls, but it was offset with generous broad amounts of gold leaf paint. The vaulted ceiling above was painted with a continuous work of art that wouldn't have looked out of place on the roof of the Sistine Chapel by my reckoning and perhaps most strikingly, the outer wall was one giant and continuous strip of a flawless mirror, interrupted only by the occasional door.

Just … wow.

My escort was also perfectly happy to play tour guide as we moved briskly along, pointing out some of the incredible treasures of the Steiner family, set in small alcoves or mounted on the inner side of the passage. Items of such value and historical significance that I had to stop my jaw dropping open as they were pointed out one after the other.

I mean, I just walked past the framed handwritten letters sent back and forth between Tracial Steiner and Ian Cameron, negotiating the joining of the Lyran Commonwealth with the Star League! Hanging in a glorified private tunnel and simply waved away as if it was nothing by my guide!

Was it that after so many centuries, the Steiners had picked up so much stuff that even something like that wasn't worthy of 'front row' seats upstairs? Or was this a message from the Steiners of the past to the Steiners of the present? Reminding them of their families position and pride and accomplishments or some bullshit like that as they walked to the 'business' part of The Triad?

Whatever the case, I can say without a doubt that the purpose of the passage was to overawe me, it gave it a very good shot. 

But it wasn't the last time tonight I would be left stunned.

***

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***​

I of course had a general sort of idea about what the Lyran Throne room looked like. My memories of Battletech didn't include any canon illustrations, but I had seen it on the Vid today, even if the focus had been pretty tightly on the Throne and area around it.

A little chatting with my guide explained to me that the Throne Room where this 'invitational' was taking place as opposed to the Ball Rooms in the Royal Court, was a large floor space flanked by two extended wings. The top of said wings were tiered seating, like a stadium, providing public seating for major court events to view the going ons on the floor of the Royal Court where the nobles and VIPs fussed. And under the raised seating were two lowered levels of comparable floor space, with gentle flights of stairs linking them to the main floor. Generally closed off day to day, but fully opened up tonight to provide maximum floor space and it was into the Eastern one of those I entered.

My entrance was unheralded through a service door into the wing, slipped in with a bunch of servants carrying drinks whose casual screening of me and dispersion into the crowd suggested quietly slipping people into the Royal Court without notice was a major part of their job. And thus finally alone and left to my own devices, I casually sort of started to look around, taking the measure of tonight' dignitaries as I did.

…

Seriously, did I just walk onto the set ofThe Hunger Games? 

Not kidding; the guests around me looked like they could have just walked out of one of President Snow's Capital parties, with a riot of outlandish and exotic outfits and colors and hairstyles and makeup which I think were supposed to represent regional fashions? It was like the MTV music awards meets Tribeca Film Festival in its own way and it in a moment made me extremely aware how out of place I was.

Not because of my clothes per se - there were plenty of men wearing very similar styles mind you so I fit right in in that sense. Rather, it was the fact that I was brutally reminded I was a 21st century middle class professional walking into the Throne Room of a 31st century feudal power filled with nobles, one encompassing hundreds of star systems and hundreds of billions of people.

For all my knowledge about this universe, knowledge that included things that had driven Ardan Sortek (for about five minutes) to drink, stunned Quintus Allard and actually left Hanse Davion speechless … I was a complete and utter noob in this space. The million and one social cues and royal protocols the people around me were taught from day one, no-one had ever seemed to see the need to tell me. Even on New Avalon I had actually been pretty isolated in the palace, working with professional intelligence and military personnel with next to no exposure to the Royal Court itself.

But this?

Dealing with Hanse and Katrina (despite the fact that they were kind of the ultimate expression of this entire system) was actually straight forward enough. They were professionals, I was professional. They knew exactly who and what I was, we all wanted the same thing and we were working towards the same goal.

But dealing with the nobility at court? Was this really something I could do?

…

As a matter of fact, yes. Yes it was.

I surprised myself by quashing my first instinct to freeze or find a very dark corner to hide in and try not to be noticed, chiding myself for the self-pity as I thought back to Melissa's brief conversation with me. About how my actions had impacted her.

It was one thing to dump my load of knowledge and reality on Katrina and Hanse. Hanse, Katrina, Ardan, Quintus; they were all titans of Battletech in 3025. Experienced elites in their fields of expertise, confident in themselves, skilled and hardened by war and politics for a long time. My revelations and presence had cleared shocked them all, but they had adapted, taking my disruptions in stride and shaping them to their advantage. But while I was bouncing my way through Hyperspace from Helm, Melissa - a sixteen year old – had lost any privacy over and confronted directly about the doubts and second guessing going on in her head that had hounded her through the 'Warrior Trilogy'.

Directly and bluntly.

Not to mention all the future actions. The people killed in the Silver Eagle incident alone due to her choices must have been one hell of a thing to confront for a teenager over. So while it seemed that she, her mother and Hanse had been forced to sit down and talk through all their issues in the open ... I felt that behind that enthusiastic kicking and fake glowering there was still an uncertain person coming to grips with the weight of the future I had placed onto her shoulders.

Sure, there was clearly a genuine desire and will to blaze a trail through history hand in hand with Hanse. Any idiot could see that. But there was also a growing understanding of the sheer mass of the expectations and consequences being thrust upon her.

And yet, despite all of that. Despite everything I had -unapologetically- dumped onto her through sheer necessity … Melissa Steiner had nonetheless taken time out to engage with me. The 'Princess', her Mother and the others 'in the know' of me had clearly decided it was unacceptable that I was lurking in my room and despite everything else they had to worry about; they had taken the time to send in the shock troops and beat me up until I came downstairs to join them.

Simply put; they had refused to let me spend Christmas Eve alone in my room.

So yes, I would put my best foot forward and not find a corner to hide in. If a sixteen year old kid could deal with everything I had thrusted onto her shoulders, then I could surely fumble my way through this.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, I might even enjoy myself!

This wing of the Throne Room seemed tonight to have been given over to where the food was served, a near continuous sort of table running along the length of it covered in food and attended by an army of servants constantly in motion. Countless stand up tables were scattered across the rest of this wings floor space with groups were clustered around the tables by the dozen, standing together and enjoying themselves with good food, good drink and good company. Large holovids mounted on the walls and from the ceiling were switching between various shots of the main floor and the mood was definitely festive. An almost unwilling smile came across my face as I picked out a brassy, upbeat instrumental of 'Good King Wenceslas' coming clearly through over the buzz of the conversation as I threaded my way through the crowds mulling around, exchanging nods with a surprisingly large number of people as I walked past -and even a couple of 'Merry Christmas!' greetings that made me increasingly suspicious that the Tux Melissa had picked out for me did somehow mark me as someone Katrina Steiner designated a personal guest.

Well either that or some of the people here had had a little too much to drink.

Or both.

Well, no point worrying about that now I thought as I approached the other side of the wing, which bordered the Throne Rooms main court. The main floor was about two meters above this one and dozens of sets of steps down the rooms length allowed easy access to and from it. Gaily (in the classical Christmas sense) decorated columns lined the boundary where the gap between floor and ceiling of this wing narrowed and, gloriously, it seemed each of said columns a servant posted there with a drinks tray. So I wound my way across and up the steps, returning polite nods and smiles from people before I swiped a flute of sparkling wine as I stepped out onto the floor of the Throne Room 'proper', glancing up idly as I came out from under the wings roof-

Holy. Shit.

I had never suffered from vertigo. But as my gaze locked with the massive ceiling above me, well, I couldn't help but feel I was in immediate danger of 'falling up'...

The roof of the Throne room was dominated by a massive dome in the center of it, one so large it took up perhaps half of the total roof area. Huge and impossible single panes of a transparent material letting in the night sky were held in an almost delicate looking web of …

No.

Seriously, no.

That couldn't possibly be … solid gold?!

...

Could it?!

…

No, impossible I dismissed the thought as I forced my jaw to un-drop with a distinct click. It had to be a real structural material just … covered with a solid Gold layer on top.

On reflection, that still sounded ludicrous.

I broke my attention away from the roof to take in the wider room and found it just as stunning. The entire room was done up in an arctic theme. The great columns that lined the long room were draped with silvery cloth and everywhere I turned it looked like ice was artfully clinging to the walls and columns. I reached out to brush my hand against what by all means looked like ice and found it felt like glass or crystal, just shaped exquisitely to look like real pure ice. The floodlights in the vast hall had also seemingly been tuned to give a slightly blue tint to everything and directly under the dome in the middle of the floor was a frigen gigantic Christmas tree. I was sure that had not been there at the press conference, reaching easily five or six stories up and decorated in an artic theme of silver, blue and gold on top of its green leafs with what I hoped was fake snow lightly dusted over it.

I'd bet it was a real tree though, not a plastic fake or anything common like that!

Although I had to roll my eyes at the fucking Cameron Star on the top of it. Now there was an idea for chaos, have someone ask Hanse and Katrina together which of them was First Lord again?

No John. That's a bad John! 

"Bloody hell" I muttered out loud as I deliberately redirected my gaze up from the tree to the dome, once again reeling and shaking my head slowly, probably talking a bit too loudly given my exasperation, "are the Steiners geneticallyincapable of doing anything small?!"

A bark of laughter behind me at that comment told me I had been overheard and I winced for a moment as I planted my foot in my mouth.

I schooled my expression back though and turned to meet whoever it was … and was pleasantly surprised - and relieved - by the revelation of who it was.

The man behind me was wearing a Kell Hounds dress uniform. Red and black it was rather clever in its design; cut so that when the jacket was closed as it was now, it formed the distinctive head of the rather vicious looking canine that was the symbol of their unit, its ears reaching up onto his shoulders. The silver rank insignia of a captain - or Hauptmann in Lyran parlance - sat at his throat and far below his I could see he wore the Davion style spurs of a MechWarrior.

It was a very different idea of a formal uniform compared with my expectations of formal military dress from back home - or the classic style of the Great House militaries for that matter, but in the riot of colors and styles tonight in the Court tonight, seemed to fit right in - as did the man wearing it.

"Hauptmann Allard" I greeted the man with some surprise and pleasure - even as the inner cynic in me rejected the idea that Quintus Allards son had just so happened to meet me by accident as I walked out. Not that I objected mind you; having a wingman (or perhaps a Lancemate was the correct terminology) with me tonight would be very welcome. "A Merry Christmas to you" I extended my hand which he took firmly.

"And to you Mister Smith" he smiled back as he shook my hand. "And yes" he added, glancing around, "I think it's something of a point of pride that the Throne Room of the Archon is by far the biggest in the Inner Sphere. Personally though, I think it might be a tad over the top".

"It's impressive none the less" I admitted, taking a sip of my Champaign. "Plenty of places for Katrina to pile up her paperwork" I noted with a glance around, recalling idly that The Bitch back in the lead up to splitting the Lyran side of the Commonwealth had sat in a chair next to Victors throne as his regent … and used it to store paperwork on, in a calculated insult of how little she thought of him.

"I suppose that's true" Allard smiled amiably. "Although she's rarely here. According to Colonel Kell, the Archon doesn't use the Throne Room even a fraction as much as Alessandro Steiner used to".

"That doesn't surprise me" I agreed with a snort and I gestured at the distant chair off the questioning look. "Alessandro - especially towards the end - was probably so uncertain of his shrinking powerbase that he would feel the need to reinforce it quite blatantly by sitting on his Throne. Katrina on the other hand probably has far better things to do than waste time sitting on a chair for the cameras" I said and Allard grunted in agreement at that. "Of course" I allowed looking past the throne to the two titans protecting it, "this room does have some advantages. There are probably days in politics when it's good to have a pair of Donal PPCs at your back".

"True" Dan laughed. "Although why they've persisted in keeping long range fire support machines in the position of close bodyguards inside a building ..." Allard shook his head, an air of professional exasperation coming over him that I thought was a rather valid point.

"Tradition I suppose?" I shrugged, trying to remember when the two massive war machines had been introduced. I think it was after one of the Archons got spooked by an assassination attempt – but even so it was a bit silly. I mean, in one sense it didn't really matter; squishy humans vaporized just as easily inside the minimal focusing range of the PPC, but the LRM rack was hardly useful indoors. And God help them if a bored pilot accidently stretched out and kicked the jump jet pedals …

Although I'd admit that the image of a Griffin hanging stuck in ceiling with its head and shoulders sticking out of the roof and its legs wildly kicking in the air above Katrina, with her face palming far below as her courtiers ran around screaming in a panic…

Presently the not half bad rendition of 'Good King Wenceslas' came to an end and a polite rolling wave of applause washed through the crowd as I joined in automatically. Glancing around I finally noticed that up in the otherwise empty 'stadium' seating above us towards the front of the room, there was something of a compact orchestra worth of musicians with a choir in support (no pre-recorded music for the Archons party, no Sir!) who, after a moment, started a new song. The vocalists singing about something involving Jumpships and Christmas tidings?

Yeah, no idea about that one … but it had a catchy, jazzy sort of beat you could click your fingers to, so … not half bad?

"There are some very impressive Christmas displays setup at the front of the other wing that I think you might enjoy if you wanted to have a look?" Allard suggested and I gestured for him to lead the way as I fell into step with him, making small talk as we went that had absolutely nothing to do with Helm, noting the artwork on display along the midline of this half of the room the room as we approached and then rounded the massive Christmas tree, triggering an odd sense of dejavu…

One of my favorite missions back in the MechWarrior 2 games had to be 'Warning Shot'. An exceptional example of level design and setting the atmosphere, it was one of the few missions in which the soundtrack was completely silent (if that was a bug it was truly the 'art by accident' principle in action) and set in a late dusk sort of light. Pirate hunting coreward of the FRR as reports of a mysterious silence spreading over the region started to come out...

I remembered my play through. Perfectly simple sweep and destroy it seemed, even with the scant intel. Insert, scout the region for the enemy airbase, blow it to bits and meet up with our dropship that would be landing to set up a temporary field base for the rest of the campaign.

The entire mission took place in the shadow of a massive mountain called the 'devils peak' as we slowly wound our way around it to find the enemy airbase on the far side. An enemy Catapult and Orion would power up along with a patrolling Panther if we hadn't killed him yet. Without slowing down, my Lance had swept through them like a hot knife through butter, turning torsos to blast the buildings in passing. Objective; completed! And with that, it was time to walk to our dropships LZ … three klicks away. And so, naturally, my unease had built on my first playthrough as I continued to stomp forward in the harsh orange of thermal optics, the flank speed of Assault Mechs genuinely annoying because a sixth sense was telling me I needed to go faster! Correctly as it turned out because before I'd covered even a third of the distance to the LZ, two 'UNKNOWN DROPSHIP' contacts sweept across my path far ahead and a voice come over the radio.

'Inner Sphere barbarians! Call your name, family and unit designation!'

That line prefaced the Clan Invasion crashing into the game and Inner Sphere; the entire game universe changing in that moment as a star of Omnimechs dropped and started blasting me from obscene weapons ranges, leaving me in the fight of my life.

That I won, naturally. AI aint no match for MW2 jump jet abuse even with Clantech!

Of course, in much later playthroughs it became much less a case of 'skin crawling sensation as I feel that I'm in way over my head' and more 'glee as my Min-Maxing in the best traditions of Battletech resulted in a quartet of Arrow-IV missiles streaking past my Atlas to blow the lead Nova and Summoner into salvage, with gleeful taunts of 'YOU GET AN ARROW! AND YOU GET AN ARROW! EVERYONE GETS ARROWS!' delivered to their pixelated Trashborn faces.

And right here, right now, as I rounded the massive Christmas Tree looming like a green 'Devils Peak' above me, that exact same original skin-crawling sensation came back to me as two hostile contacts emerged from its shadow and cut with casual ease across and into our path. And for the first time since I had emerged into this universe I felt a stab of anxiety cut into me as I came face to face with people I would undeniably count as enemies of what I stood for - and who I stood by.

Well, one enemy and one … to be decided.

"Ah Captain Allard - a pleasure to see you this evening" Aldo Lestrade smiled broadly as he came to a precise halt in our path, forcing us to halt in turn - all very natural looking of course. "I must extend to you my complements at your unit's remarkable success".

"Thank you your Grace" Dan said politely - if he was on edge I didn't know him enough to see it. "It was a team effort".

"Of course" the leader of the official -and unofficial- parts of Free Skye continued as if the Captain hadn't spoken, "I have to admit I was quite put out when I heard the Kell Hounds were being pulled off Chara from my people there, with no-one bothering to send me so much as a HPG message about it through channels. One of the best units in Skye simply vanishing without a trace was, I must admit, quite a worrying report to receive. Especially after" he added, with the briefest of glances at me, "we were lead to believe that the vaunted Davion Heavy Guard would be 'lurking' in the region to either attack into the Combine or stand ready to crush any raids made, which could have provoked Kuritan probes in turn" he frowned petulantly.

"The 6th Donegal had a reinforced Battalion on the ground of Chara within a fortnight of our departure" Allard pointed out tactfully, clearly used to these verbal games with nobles. "And as the Kell Hounds are actually under contract directly to the Archon" the MechWarrior added, "we were operating well within our chain of command. And I'm sure you do not doubt the value of what we accomplished My Lord?"

"As given that the Archon and First Prince are playing a very cagey game on exactly what we brought back it's hard to say" the older man smiled thinly. "But certainly it does seem that for minimal losses we have enriched our realm … both our realms" he conceded after a moment's pause and glance at me -was he was expecting me to interject? - "a great deal. Of course, how the Dragon and Eagle will react to this...?" he shrugged enigmatically. "Well, we will see I suppose. Still I truly hope that in future, Captain, the Archon will at least consult with the people on the front line that are impacted by her decisions and the Hounds will pass on such information. It's disappointing in light of her constant promises to work with the people of Skye, then showing she doesn't trust us by going behind our backs like this..."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes (self-control roll successful!) at his carefully prepared bitching but luckily Dan was unsurprisingly his Father's son in more than one respect as he remained calm in turn and simply smiled back at the Duke, clearly able to fight a verbal battle on these grounds.

"I've found, Your Grace, that secrecy and security are rarely about trust per se" Dan countered, "but about having a need to know. Given the time critical nature of this race for the Lostech on Helm and the danger that any leak in the message chain could have triggered a two or even three way race for the cache? Well, I'm sure you can appreciate that using a unit that would bypass most of the LCAF command to minimize the risk of interception of orders makes a great deal of sense".

"You're suggesting that the Archon doesn't trust her own chain of command?" Lestrade tutted with a shake of his head and an 'alarmed' smirk. "What a terrible thing to contemplate, Captain"

"In my experience, the Archon actually extends great trust towards those who wear the uniform and have proven themselves in the service of the Commonwealth Duke Lestrade" Dan noted, the unsaid -and socially deniable- implication that as Lestrade had completely avoided military service he was thus excluded from that list … but it clearly hit home in the way Aldo's smile became much thinner. "But I have found in my experience that 'trust' has little to nothing to do with 'need to know'. My Father" Dan nodded off towards the front of the Throne Room "always says that the percentage chance of a secret being exposed, in the long run, is equal to the square of the number of people who know about it. No matter how much we may trust people, none of us underestimate the skill of the ISF" he noted, turning slightly to the stone faced man flanking the Duke of Summer. "I'm sure, Colonel, that you are in full agreement that information security is absolutely vital to maintaining operational security?"

"Of course" Frederick Steiner nodded stiffly in full agreement before suddenly he blinked and didn't quite turn to look at the Duke of Summer as he realized he had just thrown shade at his patron. "The Duke Lestrade's loyalty is beyond question, of course" he added, not quite hastily.

"Of course" Dan agreed with a nod. "His loyalty to Skye and its people is legendary, so I've seen on the ground on Pacifica" Dan said, not twisting the knife so much as flicking him on the nose with the hyper-specific reference to Skye rather than the Commonwealth at a whole.

"And we look forward to welcoming you back there of course" Lestrade smiled, having seemingly instantly recovered from the back and forth … but there was a gleam in his eye I didn't like. "And in this time of such grim news for them, I hope - no, I know - the people of Skye extend their best wishes for you and your family".

Dan frowned at that and my mind wondered at - oh shit I thought as it hit me what the man was talking about, feeling a surge of contempt as I turned back to face the Duke.

You petty hatfucker I fumed silently.

"I'm sorry your Grace, I'm not sure what you mean?" Dan asked carefully and the look on Lestrade's face immediately switched from sincere to shocked to sympathetic (all three utterly fake I knew but full credit for how real they looked) in a matter of seconds.

"Oh..." he muttered as if genuinely shocked before taking a deep breath I'm sure he didn't need to steady himself. "I'm … I just assumed your Father would have told you when he saw you…" he continued drawing it out as I worked my jaw to keep silent - a reaction I cursed myself for giving away as I saw Lestrade note it and turned to face me. "That MIIO would have let you know?"

I kept my mouth shut but tried my best to glare with my eyes through my otherwise bland expression to the point of missing the pointed MIIO label for a few seconds before I dismissed it as something to worry about later.

Dan shot me a look for a second before turning back to Lestrade. "Pray tell, what would he have told me?" he said directly in a calm voice but with the slightest edge to it.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you" he lied, "but your half-brother, Justin, was badly injured in a battle late November on Kittery and Medivaced to NAIS" the Duke twisted the knife in behind his expression of solemn regret. "The news arrived to Pacifica after the Kell Hounds had been pulled out and without forwarding information, it was diverted back to theater command on Summer for us to try and track you down. If we had had known where the Hounds were going..." he apologetically shrugged and sighed in an excellent imitation of regret.

I'd give Dan Allard credit - the man was clearly shocked but rallied quickly, his eyes flashing in a way that told the Duke to not press his luck. It was quite remarkable composure really, probably as much as anything about not wanting to give the hatfucker the satisfaction.

"I thank you for your concern - and my thanks for bringing this to my attention Duke Lestrade" Dan offered him a cool nod that the Duke returned, Allard seeming to straighten slightly as he recovered. "Given this news, I should probably go and speak with my Father".

"But of course" the Duke agreed, clearly happy he had won his little petty parting shot. "My best wishes to your Brother of course".

"My best wishes as well Hauptmann" Frederick added suddenly from the side with a slight uncertainty in his stance, drawing attention back to him from everyone. "Your brother is by all accounts a superior MechWarrior, it would be a great loss to the AFFS if he were not able to get back into the cockpit".

Say what you will about Future Focht, at least you can tell he is being absolutely sincere I thought silently.

"Thank you, Duke Steiner" Justin extended a hand that the man took and shook firmly. "From a MechWarrior of your reputation that means a great deal".

If that last was a final backhand at Lestrade or just a polite response I didn't know but it seemed to greatly please the man who one day might smile and kick the Clans in the crotch repeatedly. Before 'capping a bitch' back on Terra.

"By your leave, I believe I should go find my Father" Dan said to Aldo before, without waiting for approval, he offered a nod and gave me a 'let's go' look.

"Gentlemen" I nodded at each of the two men, expecting nothing more than to be ignored. And was shocked when Lestrade smiled.

"Another time Agent Smith" he nodded at me with a rather chilling smile before turning away placidly, his elegant cape swirling like a supervillains as Frederick fell into place like a loyal retainer, leaving me biting the inside of my cheek painfully for a moment at his casual use of my name before I quick stepped it to catch up to Justin.

Nope, not touching that! I'd drop it into Quintus's lap at some point tonight or tomorrow to deal with.

"Did you know?" Dan asked me out of the side of his mouth as I fell into place next to him and I decided to thread the truth despite the clear emotion swirling in the man's eyes. The fact that Dan didn't know about Justin's injury was clear evidence he was not read into my compartment although that didn't surprise me. As Dan had just pointed out to Lestrade, he didn't have a need to know about me no matter how much his Father trusted him.

"Neither your Father or anyone else told me about this" I shook my head slightly with my mouth a thin line and Allard seemed to accept my response at face value, probably again presuming 'need to know' around me. And/or that if I did know, he knew I was under classification orders to not tell him from his Father.

Mostly though I was just a bit stunned by the fact that Justin had, seemingly right on time and target, again been injured on Kittery, exactly like happened in Warrior En-Garde.

And I wasn't sure what the hell to make of that.

Quintus Allard, Justin's Father, knew everything that would happen thanks to my sources. Knew what his Son would go through, be put through against what it accomplished … and he had seemingly not taken any action to prevent it - perhaps had even actively worked to nullify any butterflies to ensure events played out. Despite the incredible risks, the odds that something would change and he might lose his son or have him crippled for life or who knows what; he had refused to find a safer way to kick his son out of the Federated Suns in disgrace to setup the mother of all backstabs.

That was … uh …

I'd be sure to remember this for the future when dealing with him. Ruthlessness I guess was part of the job description - and even if the original Justin plan was a quick 'hey lets flip Michaels attempt to force us to exile Justin!' done to/with a willing patriot - now with a good idea of how incredibly it would solve so many problems … it was still a hell of a thing to put his son through.