Victor shook his head as he noticed several of his bodyguards nodding ever so slightly. "There is no faulting your logic, Mark, but I wonder if you have all the facts."
"Such as?"
Victor smiled at the younger man's fiery enthusiasm. "Well, for one, ComStar has just released the casualty figures for the worlds the Clans have captured. Of all the Clans, the Wolves have been the easiest on the indig population of the worlds they've taken. And they say Phelan captured the planet Gunzburg without a shot being fired."
Mark nodded curtly. "Sure, he wanted to save his troops from being killed."
"More important, Mark, Phelan saved countless lives among a people who had treated him monstrously while the Kell Hounds were trapped on Gunzburg. He could have insisted that the planet be razed. And I'm sure more than one person in the Inner Sphere would have been happy to see Tor Miraborg get his arrogant head handed to him when the Wolf Clan hit Gunzburg."
"You can put me at the top of that list," Morgan said softly, and Victor felt for the dilemma his uncle was in. The Kell Hound commander obviously loved his son, and respected what he had done on Gunzburg and elsewhere, yet Phelan's membership in the Clans had just as obviously compromised that love and respect. I would not like to find myself in Morgan's position, ever. It must be devastating having to choose between family and nation.
Mark frowned as both Victor and Morgan nibbled away at the corners of his argument. "But Phelan is one of their leaders, a so-called Khan. So is Natasha Kerensky, that other traitor."
Victor shook his head. "No. Natasha was always of the Clans. In spirit that may also have been true of Phelan. You've managed to build him up into a monster, though I admit you're not the only one who thinks that way. Many people believe that what Phelan has done is a crime, an act of treason. But for all we know, Phelan's rise to power among the Clans may only reinforce the fact that the Kell Hounds beat the Clans on Luthien and on Teniente. So did my Revenants. The Clans may produce great warriors, but that doesn't mean they produce the greatestwarriors."
Morgan gently squeezed the back of his grandson's neck. "I have been among the Clans, Mark. I've met with Phelan and ilKhan Ulric. Give your uncle a chance."
Outside the waiting area a silvery shimmer lit the sky like a magnesium flare, lighting up the ferrocrete landing area like white moonlight over a placid lake. Little dust clouds billowed up and away from the center of the DropShip as it slowly descended. The ship's ion jets continued to put out millions of pounds of thrust and Victor felt the heat radiating through the windows.
The spherical K-l Class DropShuttle hovered over the ground as its landing gear descended and locked into place barely seconds before touching down. Victor grudgingly admired the pilot, knowing how much daring and skill it took to pull off such a maneuver. Every Clanner I've ever seen displays phenomenal skills. How we managed to even slow them down astounds me.
When the ship finally landed, the docking gantry was rolled into place. Victor saw the huge docking arm move out to cover the door of the craft, then felt the vibration as the arm set itself firmly against the DropShip. From within the docking corridor one of his bodyguards opened the doorway into the reception lounge, then headed down toward the Clan ship.
Victor frowned to discover that his palms were sweating. He wiped his hands surreptitiously against the sides of his navy blue trousers, then pulled at the gray-trimmed cuffs of his jacket. For half a second he wished for a mirror, then snarled at himself for that momentary spark of vanity.
With the frown still on his face, he caught sight of his cousin, the man once known as Phelan Kell, who was now a Khan of the Wolf Clan.
Almost instantly it hit Victor that he'd always resented Phelan for his height, then dismissed the thought as unworthy. Always tall, Phelan seemed also to have bulked out in his time with the Clans. The gray leather uniform hugged his thickly muscled body, and he wore his black hair long, like his father. He did not sport a beard, however, nor did his green eyes glitter with the devilish light Victor remembered. Now they seemed to burn with a deeper fire.
Phelan took everyone in with a glance, then saluted his father.
"Thank you for your invitation to visit, Colonel."
"Thank you for accepting, Khan." Morgan returned the salute, and then opened his arms to embrace his son. Victor found Morgan's acceptance of his son exactly what—if he'd thought about it—he would have expected from the Khan.
After returning his father's embrace, Phelan turned to Victor. "I thank you for permitting this visit, Prince Davion."
Victor nodded, his wariness returning at the cold formality with which Phelan addressed him. "We are happy to honor Colonel Kell's wishes. The Federated Commonwealth owes him much. Despite recent raids originating in Jade Falcon territory, I could not refuse his request to see you."
"One should not be surprised that bandits come from the Jade Falcon area, quiaff?"Phelan hesitated as if wanting to add something. Victor nodded, knowing they would have a chance to discuss the raids later. A smile tugged at the corners of Phelan's mouth as he extended a hand toward Mark. "You have grown quite a bit, Mark. It is good to see you."
Mark made no attempt to take Phelan's hand. "You look well, Uncle, "he said, managing to infuse the word with so much contempt that it sounded like a curse. Victor looked to Phelan for a reaction, but the Khan had not even flinched.
Phelan slowly withdrew his hand, then gestured to the people in the corridor just beyond the room. "Colonel, Highness, nephew, please allow me to present those who accompanied me here."
Phelan took the hand of a tall, slender woman with very short white hair, and brought her forward. She wore gray leathers similar to Khan Phelan's, which made her not at all hard to look at. Her blue eyes might have struck Victor as cold, but the way she looked at Phelan dispelled that impression. She looks at him the way I imagine Omi looking at me.Victor also found something disturbingly familiar about her, but he could not place it.
"This is Star Captain Ranna. She is of the Kerensky bloodline. She is, in fact, Natasha Kerensky's granddaughter. "
Morgan Kell took her hand and kissed it. "It is good to see you again, Ranna."
"And you, Colonel Kell."
Victor nodded a salute to her and she returned it, along with a smile. Mark held himself ramrod-straight and tried to ignore her.
Following her came two others, also wearing Clan leathers. One, apparently a woman, filled the doorway. Victor immediately assumed that the giant woman was an Elemental. Flinging her long braid of red hair back over one shoulder, she studied Victor's bodyguards for a moment. Apparently confident that she had nothing to fear from them, she entered the room.
The man coming up behind her might have been her opposite. Thick blond hair capped a head two sizes too big for his small, slender body. Victor was short, but this man actually stood a couple of centimeters less, which made him tiny by any standard. His physical size and his large green eyes also made him ideal for an aerospace pilot. The grin on his face suggested he was the commander who had so skillfully brought the DropShip in.
"These are Star Captain Evantha Fetladral and Star Captain Carew. He is of the Nygren bloodline. Evantha is an Elemental and Carew is a pilot."