BattleTech, page 6
Adamina rolled her eyes. “The war will be over long before these committees and investigations they’re proposing would even get off the ground.”
Nikol scoffed quietly. “We should be imposing economic sanctions on Regulus alongside our military strikes. We should be sending diplomats to treat with the Magestrix, to determine why her forces had invaded the Rim Commonality in the first place. Why aren’t we doing that? My mother would openly back those plans, were she here.”
Had Jessica made an executive order temporarily vesting the Warden-General position with actual authority in this legislative assembly, Nikol would’ve been able to accomplish something on her behalf, but no such order was drafted, despite Nikol’s unanswered requests. Her mother would not relinquish power so easily, even for a short time.
Sitting in that uncomfortable wooden seat next to the empty Captain-General’s throne, and watching the League devolve into argument while its enemies tore away small pieces from all sides—never had Nikol felt so powerless.
Mother…where are you?
A quick study of the many rows of seats showed Nikol that many of their occupants regarded her during the proceedings, all of them asking her the same silent question.
Once the tedium finally finished for the day, Nikol and Adamina left the assembly hall and discussed some unimportant matters on their way through the departing sea of MPs. In the middle of this mass exodus, a familiar person flagged Nikol down.
“Warden-General, a moment of your time?” The middle-aged man, resplendent in his formal robes of office, had possessed ruddy hair in his youth, but a creeping gray chased most of it away save for a touch at his temples and threaded throughout his beard. Nikol could claim pressing duties to disentangle herself from most people, but Speaker of Parliament Fletcher Grandin, MP of Augustine, was not one of them. Many found him a self-aggrandizing and insufferable politician, but Nikol had taught herself to tolerate the man in small doses. With her mother absent, these doses had grown more and more frequent of late.
Nikol bit the inside of her cheek before turning to greet him with a practiced politician’s smile as they walked along the corridor together. “Certainly, Speaker Grandin. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Grandin fell in step between her and Adamina. “Yes, well, as I need not remind you, this nation is on a war footing. This time we are not fighting mere raids, no. We are faced with brutal aggression from three separate enemies.”
Nikol already knew where this was leading, but overt rudeness did not factor into her political vocabulary. She let the discourse play out in case her read of Grandin proved wrong.
“After today’s inaction, it is clear to me—and to the other MPs—that this nation is positively starved for leadership. When can we expect to see your honorable mother grace the house of Parliament again?”
When can we expect to see Parliament do something useful again? Nikol wanted to reply, but bit her tongue. Propriety and decorum were called for here.
“I am not certain,” she answered honestly, while not voicing the full truth. Jessica had not summoned her for an audience since their return from the funeral on Oriente. “But I will pass on your inquiry when next I see her.”
“Please do, Warden-General. We have a legislature, but no executive present. Our government is foundering—you’ve seen it firsthand, and on several occasions since we convened this emergency session, the Captain-General’s seat remains empty.” Grandin heaved a sigh, and his face drew into lines of worried disappointment. Crocodile tears, perhaps? “If there is anything you can do, anything at all…”
He was right about the lack of leadership, but that wasn’t the point. Nikol waved off the remainder of his thought. “Unfortunately, the duties of my office extend solely to military influence, not politics. I attend sessions of Parliament merely as my mother’s representative. Unless she officially vests me with some of her political authority, I cannot provide you what you seek.”
Grandin pursed his lips. He took careful steps, which Nikol slowed to match. “Then if your mother will not govern directly or appoint you as her official proxy, perhaps we should discuss what our options are.” He cleared his throat. “For the best interest of the nation, of course.”
Had they not been in public, Nikol would’ve glared at him, but instead she simply raised an eyebrow. “What are you trying to imply?”
The Speaker stopped and waited for a gaggle of other conversing MPs to pass before leaning in closer, concern glistening in his eyes. “There is a…a pernicious rumor that your mother plans to abdicate. That she will soon nominate you to succeed her in the Captain-Generalcy.”
Nikol blinked. While true that her mother had been grooming her more toward politics than her other siblings, no such rumor about abdication had reached her ears. Even if true, she couldn’t bear the thought of completely assuming her mother’s role in League politics, at least not now. Jessica still had so much more to teach her, and she was still in remarkably good health for an octogenarian. Why would she abdicate? Jessica Marik, with her steel-trap mind, could easily lead the Free Worlds League for another forty-plus years before even considering abdicating to one of her children.
“For the continuance of the League,” Grandin continued, “consider asking her to step down, even temporarily. If she refuses to lead this nation that she helped forge, then the best she can do is appoint a temporary successor until she regains the strength to return to Parliament. And if she will not pursue any of those options…then perhaps alternative measures are in order?”
Had Nikol not reined in her facial expressions, her eyes would’ve widened in shock. Was the Speaker of Parliament advocating treason against the Captain-General?
Rather than lay her Four-Card Drax hand faceup on the table, she said, “Speaker Grandin, the Captain-General is fully aware of the trials the League is now facing, despite her absence in these chambers, and she does not owe you or the rest of Parliament an explanation for her whereabouts. That said, I will endeavor to speak with my mother at my earliest convenience and pass along your regards for her well-being.”
The corners of the Speaker’s eyes crinkled over his amicable smile. “That is more than enough, Warden-General, thank you.” He breathed in deeply and nodded in deference. “Now, I have some fires to put out, and others to douse with kerosene. Good day to you both.”
Nikol waited until Grandin left her sight before turning to Adamina. “What do you think of that?”
The young woman paused before replying. “It isn’t my place to offer political advice, but I think you must do what you believe is right.”
Nikol nodded. But what was right in this situation? Any misstep could plunge the League over into the abyss, and all of their enemies would rejoice.
What terrified her even more was the possibility that perhaps Grandin was right. A ship without a hand on the tiller, headed off into the heart of a maelstrom…
How long could the League survive with no captain at the helm, with the storm brewing all around them?
9
CHATEAU MARIK
PALTOS, ATREUS
FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
13 DECEMBER 3146
The picturesque estate at the end of the winding mountain path had belonged to the Marik dynasty for centuries, likely since the official founding of the Free Worlds League. Though Nikol had grown up in the lap of luxury, she always marveled at the awesome sight as her limo approached. The Neo-Gothic architecture that prevailed on Atreus presented itself here like something out of an illustrated storybook. The alpine chateau hugged the mountaintop—a greedy dragon coiled atop its hoard. Countless gray turrets pierced the overcast sky. Sunlight broke through clouds across the mountaintop. Water from a nearby river cascaded down into a wide valley, a sight Nikol loved taking in from the chateau’s overlook every time she visited.
This awe-inspiring vista caused her to lower her noteputer as she took in the lay of the land. No wonder her mother had retreated to this remote palace. If anything could alleviate a deep-seated grief, it would be here.
But left alone for too long, grief could easily spiral into despair, no matter how inspiring a view one possessed.
The messages on Nikol’s noteputer went unaddressed for the time being, but they could wait. Another missive from Danai told how she had been instrumental in brokering a ceasefire with the Federated Suns on Marlette. Their roles in their respective nations meant neither expected timely responses, which lent an air of pleasant surprise to each communication. Nikol would certainly write back when next she was able.
The second message came from the LCCC, an update on known progress in the conflict with Regulus, Andurien, and the Magistracy—according to SAFE’s intel, the enemy’s coordinated military campaign was code-named Operation Triumvir. The raids against the Regulans’ production capability, despite not quite being the boot-on-the-neck Nikol had hoped for, had executed themselves well.
The third message, however, disheartened her the most. General Kirkland’s communication was succinct: “Nothing new to report.” She was glad to learn his investigation into the communications anomalies had turned up nothing, but she had really wanted a lead in the case of her father’s death, some ray of hope she could bring her grieving mother. However, the deeper Kirkland dug, the more her father’s death truly seemed accidental. Having someone to blame might motivate her mother into action, but an accident? No one could arraign a cliff.
The Ducal Guardsmen at the chateau’s front gate tried to turn Nikol away. Tried.
“I’m afraid the duchess is not accepting visitors today, Lady Nikol,” the uniformed staff sergeant informed her. Like most of the Ducal Guard, he had called Jessica by her Oriente title, regardless of her loftier League title of Captain-General.
“I come bearing official state matters and correspondence, Sergeant,” Nikol replied through her open window. “My mother will see me. She must.”
The sergeant held up his hand, stepped away from the car, and made a call on his radio. He nodded a few times, then stepped back to the window. “You are permitted on the premises, of course, Lady Nikol,” he relented. “But I have been told there is no guarantee the duchess will see you.”
Nikol nodded. The only guarantees in life were those she made herself.
Apart from the staff, the chateau sat next to empty. Silence and a sense of foreboding filled the vast hallways, the ballroom, the grand dining room. Every corner of the estate grounds was bathed in shadow, as though the maintenance staff had simply left more than half the lights off.
On the two occasions she encountered another human being—the butler and one of the maids—each asked her if she needed anything. Nikol declined their assistance; she already suspected a few places where she might find her mother in this dreary manse.
Few of the doors leading to places she thought she might find her mother were locked; darkened rooms with long shadows lay beyond each doorknob she tried. Even Jessica’s boudoir had remained accessible without the need for an old-fashioned key or a more modern passcode or biometric lock. But the one door she’d expected to find unlocked—leading into her father’s study—refused to budge.
Nikol rapped on the elegant Atrean-oak door three times. “Mother?” The empty hallway magnified her volume to an uncomfortable level. “Mother, are you in there?”
A stirring came from within—the scrape of a chair, a soft grumbling. “I said no visitors!” a dry and scratchy reply slithered out from under the door, a voice Nikol could barely recognize.
“Mother, it’s me.”
“I said no. Just leave me be!”
Nikol sighed and pressed her palm flat against the textured door. Her mother, the most powerful figure in the Free Worlds League, was on the other side. Jessica alone had the power to effect meaningful change in this nation, yet she was abdicating her duty to the nation.
And in a more personal way, Nikol needed to know her mother would be all right. Grief was a tricky beast. Nikol had already wrestled with it when her eldest brother, Janos, had died on that assassin’s knife. She’d faced it again when Julietta had nearly suffered the same fate.
“I…” Nikol’s throat constricted with the reality of everything weighing down on her. “I cannot keep doing this, Mother. I cannot keep pretending that you are giving me direction. No one has seen you in months.” Her fingers trailed down the wooden surface. “I’m…I’m hanging by a thread here.”
More stirring from beyond the door.
The metallic snick of the lock disengaging echoed throughout the entire wing of the chateau.
Nikol had spent little time in her father’s study since the family had inherited this estate from the Mariks, but enough aspects of the poorly lit room marked it as his. The placement of the bulky, ornate mahogany desk before the sweeping, picturesque window; the neat stack of books; the brandy snifters; even the subtle, earthy scent of her father’s favorite cigars…
A shadow—Nikol could conjure no other word for it—settled back into the oversized chair behind the desk and resumed staring out at the deep valley outside. Not until Nikol reached the desk did the form resolve into the unmoving silhouette of her mother.
Jessica did not turn to acknowledge her. A plate of untouched food rested within her reach—cold, forgotten, spoiled. Her unblinking eyes regarded the landscape beyond the window; there was a grim line where her determined and confident lips had been. The tangled rat’s nest of her unwashed hair was in dire need of brushing, and Nikol did not want to contemplate how long her mother had worn the same mussed outfit that seemed barely more than a nightgown.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Mother, what happened to you?
“Why have you come here?” Jessica spoke so suddenly in the darkened, quiet room that Nikol flinched.
“Why am I here?” Nikol tried to mask the exasperation from her voice but failed. “I already told you—”
“No.” Jessica held up a hand to forestall protest. “Why are you really here? You didn’t come here just to have me sign things or share Parliament gossip. You could have sent all that via courier, saved yourself the trouble of coming all the way out here. This place is remote for a reason.”
Nikol’s shoulders deflated. The façade of strength she’d fought to maintain since her father’s passing shattered. Here with her mother, she could let such weakness and honesty show. Her mother would never judge her. “I…I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Jessica resumed her gaze onto the valley. “Everyone deals with grief in their own way,” she said. “Let me grieve the only way I know how.”
Nikol inhaled her frustrations and held her breath to keep from exploding. “Mother,” she said, just above a whisper. “We are at war. Our nation needs a leader—a visible one. The people need you. Parliament needs you. I need you. I mourn father’s passing, too, but I cannot let it paralyze me so.”
“My darling daughter, until you have a partner like Philip, you cannot even begin to fathom what I am going through. On most days, I can barely muster the drive to get out of bed.”
Swallowing down a lump in her throat, Nikol knelt beside her mother’s chair so she could better look her in the eyes.
“Mother,” she said in the kindest timbre she could muster, “I’m not saying to forget Father and what you shared. I could inspire whole generations of young people just by sharing your story. It is okay to grieve. It is expected. But will you grieve this hard for the League when it is inevitably torn apart all around us?”
Jessica looked away and steadied her cheek against a balled fist. Her white-knuckled hand gripped the arm of the chair. Fresh tears filled her eyes.
Nikol rested a hand on top of her mother’s, felt the straining sinew of raging conflict just beneath the surface. “I cannot force you to leave here, but you must do something. If not for the League, then do it for me. All right? You’ve already taught me so much, and with your authority, I will do what I can for this nation. But I cannot do anything without your blessing. It’s time for you to come down from the mountain, even if only for a little while.”
As though Nikol were watching a sunset, that fire diminished from Jessica’s eyes until it winked out completely, until the leader of the Free Worlds League became a mere shadow of herself once more. Her demeanor changed, and she stared out at nothing in a daze.
“Niki, dearest,” she said in an almost dreamlike cadence, “I’m touched that you stopped by to check on me. But it is late, and you have school tomorrow. And tell your father to go easy on the brandy tonight. He snores like a ForestryMech when he’s drunk.”
Nikol’s rib cage shook with a sudden chill. She stood up and took a step back. Had her mother truly died in the same breath as her father?
Mother, is there anything of you left?
Perhaps Fletcher Grandin was right. With Jessica this far gone, the Speaker’s alternative measures might indeed be necessary for the future of the nation.
Back in the limo, once the chateau was no longer in sight behind her, she activated her perscomm and sent Grandin a message to arrange a meeting.
10
THE CHAMBERS OF PARLIAMENT
ATREUS CITY, ATREUS
FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
4 JANUARY 3147
Nikol arrived at the Chambers of Parliament earlier than necessary, for she felt the stirring of monumental change on the air. She’d told Adamina nothing about her meeting with Jessica, or about what would happen today. If Fletcher Grandin had put Nikol’s plan into motion like they had discussed, Adamina—and everyone else—would learn soon enough.
Dressed in his purple robes of office, the Speaker of Parliament accosted her in the marble hall while other MPs milled about or filed into the central chamber to await commencement of the assembly. “Today is the day,” Grandin said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. But it was a righteous kind of mischief, an effort to strain against the status quo.
