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Though the ale had relaxed him, Ardan felt himself bristle with irritation. "I havethought about it!" he snapped.

"For two years! Would you have me mull it over for two more?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes to make you see the light. Ardan, you aren't a politician. Thank the Holy Roarer for that! But politicians are necessary. Have you thought any more about what I said to you the other day?"

"Sep, I understood perfectly well what you said. I just didn't agree with it." He found himself becoming angry. Why did she insist on bringing this up again, just when he had been so full of the pleasure of the evening?

"You can't see Hanse as he is, simply because he's your friend. You want him to be perfect. But are you perfect? Am I? Then why should he have to be? Hanse is a good ruler, who's doing a good job of keeping the Federated Suns together." She glared at him.

"Can you imagine what would happen if Maximilian Liao achieved his goals—took out Davion and assimilated the Federated Suns into his Capellan Confederation? Now there'sa schemer...a user...a manipulator. And worse. You've seen worlds he's conquered before we retook them. Whatever he touches, Liao squeezes until it's dry."

Because he couldn't deny what Sep was saying, it made Ardan even angrier. He hadseen those devastated planets, their people starved and degraded, left homeless, cropless, powerless.

"I'm trying to keep Hanse from becoming just likeLiao," he insisted. "Power corrupts, woman. Don't you know that?"

"Hanse was born to power. His family has wielded it for generations without becoming corrupted. Why do you trust him so little?"

Sep had to yell those last words after him, for Ardan had turned on his heel, and was walking away quickly toward his quarters. Her voice rang in his ears, even after he had closed the door behind him and was standing inside, staring at the wall. He even felt a little ill.

"That's just the drink," he said aloud, and went to splash his face with cold water. It didn't help, though. The more he thought about Sep's words, the angrier he became.

Returning to his room, a touch to the light-button brightened the dim glow in the room to normal intensity. Only now did Ardan notice that on his bed, along with the small pack of personal items readied for his trip, was another bundle. It appeared to have been hastily wrapped, but was tied with a big scarlet bow. Lifting off the note attached, he read: "From C.S., J., D., and F. We hope this will be useful."

He tore off the tissue impatiently. Rolled in a light environment suit, he found a new knife, together with the sheath that would strap it to his calf. The knife was beautiful, its edge razor-keen, its haft leather-wrapped. The sheath was also a fine piece of work, soft and form-fitting, so as not to bind on the leg.

There was something else, too, a canister made to fit into the cockpit compartment where a MechWarrior kept personal and survival equipment. In it was a new set of collapsible field and camping gear.

Ardan stared down at the gifts. His friends knew that he would be issued fresh gear when he got to his destination. But this was the best obtainable, far better than government-issue. The knife would keep its edge for years, and would neither oxidize nor break. The other equipment was of the finest quality and would probably wear far longer than he would.

Though his old knife had been with him in so many battles, he had been lucky enough never to need it. No 'Mech he had piloted had ever been destroyed to the point where Ardan was forced to abandon it. But the time came to every warrior—if he lived long enough—when he had to take to the battlefield on his own, unshielded by his gigantic machine.

Ardan packed quickly, almost mechanically. Having done it so often, before so many battles, habit took over, leaving his mind free. His thoughts drifted in a mild haze.

Not drunken—he hadn't consumed that much—but somehow disconnected from the familiar concerns that had so preoccupied and upset him recently.

His mind moved backward in time to the last war, the last battle in which he had been engaged. It had been no major conflict The Draconis Combine had edged into Lyran territory. Under an existing treaty, House Davion had sent troops to aid Katrina Steiner in holding the group of worlds under attack. Ardan had been in command of a 'Mech unit assigned to root out an emplacement of enemy troops.

In memory, he felt beneath him the lumbering motion of his ‘Mech. He heard the thunder of his own weapons, the impact of laser beams and explosives against the armor of his Victor.A dedicated group, his men had plunged into the fray with gusto, intoxicated with battle.

The thud of his 'Mech's huge feet against the ground had not impinged upon him at the time. The effects of his weapons on the surrounding territory hadn't been noted. Only the effects that took out or disabled enemy troops and 'Mechs had caught his attention.

Not until his unit had stomped the Kurita forces flat and the battle was over had Ardan paused to look about him. That had been the most terrible moment in all his years as a professional warrior. It was the first time he had allowed himself to really see what toll the battle had taken on the land across which it raged. Where a forest had stood, shading a broad lake, he now saw a field of stubble. Even worse, the greenish-yellow waters of the lake were stained black and red, where both machines and men had died horribly. The surrounding croplands were trampled into dust and straw. Dead animals lay swelling in the sun...along with dead men, both his own and the enemy's.

Where a stone house surrounded by orchards had stood, only a few stones remained, and the fruit trees might never have existed. In the lane before the broken walls, there had been a child, crying...Though he shrank from the memory, Ardan could not forget how the child's entrails hung from a gaping wound in its belly. The shrieks of the toddler had carried even into the shielded space of his 'Mech. Even as he had moved to unlock his entry-port and go to the little boy's aid, laser fire had spurted, blasting the child into the dust

Ardan would never forget that blackened bit of flesh, lying in the crumbled stone and dirt. And that was exactly where he was headed once more.

He turned blindly and set the neat pack beside the door, knowing he would never again go blithely into battle, filled only with dreams of glory and adventure, as he had once. No...behind his alert warrior's eyes, his busy mind, he would always see that blasted child, that ruined valley.

Was he, then, so much better than Hanse? Hanse might be subtle and devious to get his way. But Ardan knew himself to be a destroyer.

7

Maximilian Liao stood at the wide window, gazing across the tropical garden shielded by the walls of his palace on Sian. Water mingled with trailing plants, exotic blossoms, and unusual birds to create an enthralling scene. Liao, however, barely noticed it

He was thinking hard, mentally organizing the sequence of events he was now committed to carrying out Hearing a step behind him, he turned to see Colonel Pavel Ridzik enter the room. A gruff and grizzled veteran of more than thirty years of 'Mech wars, Ridzik had served as de facto supreme commander ever since Liao's rise to power.

"Well, Pavel, what word from the front?"

"It is no longer a battlefront, my Lord," the red-bearded Ridzik replied. "We hold Stein's Folly. Not securely, but it is now pacified, except for a few scattered mopping-up operations."