Phelan nibbled on his lower lip. "How close will it get?"
Cyrilla shrugged. "Close enough that the Crusaders will believe they can replace one or both of our Khans in the next election."
Ah, I think I see now."With the vote ending up closer than they expected, they will believe themselves closer to victory and will not work as hard to gather the votes they need."
"And those Wardens who have consistently underestimated the Crusader threat will be alarmed at the situation." Cyrilla smiled knowingly as she punched the button that registered an affirmative vote. "After the final vote is tallied, one of the Crusaders, an Elemental by the name of Karl Nevski, will issue a preemptory challenge of the vote. Evantha Fetladral will accept the challenge."
Confused again, Phelan furrowed his brow. "Even a fair vote can be challenged through combat?"
"Certainly." Cyrilla laid a hand on Phelan's shoulder. "We are the Clans, we are warriors. Our final court of appeal has always been the battlefield. If Nevski's forces can defeat those gathered by Evantha, and do so convincingly in the eyes of the Loremaster, the vote will be overturned."
Phelan shook his head slowly. "The ultimate in might making right."
"It is tradition among our people," Cyrilla said. The elder Ward smiled as her eyes focused far away. "You see, Phelan, within the Clans, fighting does not end when you leave the cockpit of a 'Mech. There is always conflict everywhere. He who is not ready for it will be destroyed by it."
8
ComStar First Circuit Compound, Hilton Head Island
North America, Terra
5 March 3051
Precentor Martial Focht bowed deeply to Primus Myndo Waterly as he entered the room. Standing in the midst of her personal chamber, he felt uncomfortable and more than a little intimidated. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I came as soon as I received word you wanted to see me." He was about to apologize for the sweat-stained fatigues he wore when the Primus signalled him to be silent.
She turned slowly from the large window overlooking the courtyard below, obviously fighting back the urge to unleash her fury. "I am not pleased that you were 'out of radio contact.' Were I of a suspicious nature, I might think it was an attempt to somehow evade me." She still wore the formal robe of her office, but her mane of long white hair was loose rather than bound.
Anastasius Focht closed his one good eye and shook his head. "Far from it, Primus. I was engaged in an exercise that demanded total radio silence. We have been simulating the effects of long-term operation in Clan-occupied areas. In this way, we can better determine the abilities of our troops in a long campaign against the Clans."
The Primus raised an eyebrow. "That is foolishness. Ourforces will not be fighting the Clans."
"Apologies, Primus. I meant the term 'our' to refer to troops from the various Houses of the Inner Sphere. I did not mean to imply we would be engaging the Clans in the near future."
The Primus smiled with the condescension of a parent correcting an errant child. "We will never fight the Clans as long as there is a chance of taking them over from within. They are the hammer for reforging mankind, and ComStar is the anvil on which the New Man is being beaten into shape."
"Primus, I acknowledge the truth of what you say. Blessed be the will of Blake. These exercises, however, are necessary so that we can calculate what resistance the Successor States are likely to offer our allies when battle is joined again. The successes of the Davion forces on Twycross and the Kurita forces on Wolcott were a surprise."
Myndo nodded and turned away. She touched a hidden panel beside the round pane, and a shade slowly descended over it. As the light from the window died, the computer equalized the room's illumination by bringing up the interior lights. Their glow burnished the oak-panelled walls and floor with rich highlights.
"I appreciate, Precentor Martial, your desire to maintain our troops as an ace-in-the-hole if the Clans do become unruly, but I think your time is better spent assessing the strengths and weaknesses of potential targets for Clan conquest."
Focht's grim expression pulled his lips into a taut line. "At this point in time, Primus, the Clans have the ability to take any world they choose. Because of the ilKhan's death, most of their front-line troops have withdrawn to a position somewhere beyond the Periphery. This withdrawal comes because many of these elite troops have Bloodnames—a kind of hereditary order among them, as near as I can tell. These Bloodnamed individuals will elect a new ilKhan.
"Though the troops they have left behind to garrison their conquests are not normally seen as offensively capable, they could easily start adding to the Clans' holdings."
Myndo gestured casually toward the desk and data terminal in a corner of the chamber. "This I know, Precentor. I have read your reports and have found them, as always, to be informative and concise. I have noted, however, that you and I disagree on the worlds best suited to Clan conquest."
"I am not certain I follow your meaning, Primus." Focht was beginning to feel uneasy. "Worlds are selected based on their garrison strength, the value of their resources and industry, and the overall size of their populations. We choose those with high resources or industries, but weak defenses and low populations, as the primary targets. They are easier to take and hold."
"Perhaps for the military this is true." The Primus' blue eyes glittered like ice. "ComStar, on the other hand, has other interests. Because the Clans see fit to let us administer their conquered worlds and to reeducate the populations, your criteria are flawed. By advising the conquest of worlds with larger populations first, we gain a larger audience for the Sacred Word of Blake."
The Precentor Martial forced himself to count silently to ten. With equal deliberation, he clasped his hands behind his back. "Primus, I understand your desire to gain access to as many people as possible within the conquered territories. However, to advocate the conquest of high-density population worlds increases the chance of civilian casualties."
"And you see a problem with that?" Myndo's eyes flared wide. "Bloodshed is just what people need to shake them from their complacency. If civilians die, it only builds resentment against the Clans, making it all the easier for us to play the role of savior when we come as intermediary between the populace and the Clans. The passion of the people becomes our passion, and through it, we can enlighten them."
"Surely, Primus, you would not advocate the commission of atrocities against civilians?"
Myndo vetoed that idea with the wave of a hand. "Never, Precentor Martial, would I issue such orders. But you know as well as I that the people of worlds where civilians have suffered are more quickly transformed into a docile citizenry."
"I see." Focht looked down at the golden ComStar insignia inlaid into the floor of the chamber. "Then I take it the re-education programs are going well?"
"Not as well as I hoped, but the withdrawal of the Clan leadership has lifted some of the pressure from the people. Some of them dare believe the Clans will not continue the invasion, though our agents assure them the Clans intend to fight on. Yet, in just over a year, the people of many a conquered world see ComStar as the only means to getting things done. If we can continue as advocates for the people against their conquerors for another two or three years, we will be able to engineer a mass uprising to overthrow the Clans when the time is right."