Part 697: Political Vote 23
Gun Jam opted for a special vote here for winning the guessing game!Political Vote
“It’s hard to believe it’s over.”
“It isn’t, I suspect,” the rotund young Chandrasekhar Kurita replied. He was flanked on either side by a pair of curvaceous woman-bodyguards who at first seemed present solely so the wealthy electronics baron could show off. To the average Kuritan socialite—and undoubtedly many of the high-ranking officers present—they would simply be dismissed out of hand. “Uncle Chandy” was a known letch who was rarely seen without a woman or two (or six) at his side. To a more attentive eye, the way their sharply-pressed paramilitary uniforms moved around their “curves” suggested their costumes had been fitted over functional body armor rather than natural voluptuousness. Likewise, the Nambu autopistols they wore in plain, functional quick-draw holsters looked both well-serviced and frequently used.
Shakir Jerrar stood at ease, his face an emotionless mask that well hid his surprise. Chandrasekhar Kurita was a dignitary, important to the realm, and perhaps the only Kurita who could regularly claim to speak in Hanse Davion’s ear. Shakir, meanwhile, was nobody. Men would (and probably did) kill to find themselves in earshot of one of the wealthiest men in the Draconis Combine, and Shakir Jerrar had found himself there by accident.
“Isn’t it?” He asked plainly. There was no sense in clamming up, or feigning shyness. He’d spoken and he wouldn’t pretend he’d done otherwise. “The Hell’s Horses have given themselves up en masse with the death of their leader. It’s over save for the executions, if the Warlords have their way.”
“There will be no executions,” Chandrasekhar Kurita laughed. “I’ve not spoken with the Coordinator-Prince, but I doubt I am mistaken. The Hell’s Horses surrender is genuine, most have already sworn personal allegiance to Hanse Davion and his line. Although,” the fat man paused slyly, “I hear some have sworn themselves to ‘the leader of the forces who killed the Khan,’ to the young Robert Korean personally. I suspect he’ll need at least a planet to afford to keep them all. I wonder what he’ll do,” Chandrasekhar made no indication whether ‘he’ referred to Robert Korean or Hanse Davion, “with a force of armed fanatics at his beck and call. No, this isn’t over.”
Chandrasekhar Kurita’s scowl was frightening, his beady eyes looked black as coal in the fading light. “If nothing else, Grier Seidman’s last message made one thing is clear: the Hell’s Horses are joining us for their protection. What does that suggest to you?”
Shakir blanched. “That worse is coming.”
“Worse is already here. Last year, four Clans invaded the Inner Sphere. Serpent, spider, scorpion, and horse.” Chandrasekhar drummed his pudgy fingers together. “Four of twenty. Five, if you count the Falcon who even how has begun to plague us—but with the loss of the Horses the Falcon advance has fallen into complete disarray.”
“It only took one Clan to take Luthien,” Shakir said darkly. The temptation to rub his thin Van Dyke beard was intense, but he held his at-ease posture, and maintained his composure as best he could. “Why tell me this? If this news gets out, it could demoralize the entire DCMS.”
“One Clan took Luthien,” Chandrasekhar agreed, “but could not hold it. This will be public knowledge soon enough. You may consider me curious what the general reaction of the soldiery will be.”
“May,” Shakir picked out after a moment. “Not ‘must?’”
Chandrasekhar’s wide smile never reached his cold, hard eyes. “You’re a sharp one. You’ll go far. Tell me: what do you think about the troops from the Federated Suns?”
“Their officers are braggarts, but the bulk of them work hard. They know their duty and serve, as do we all.”
Chandrasekhar rolled his head back, cocking it to one side—or at least, attempting to. “Is that admiration I hear?”
“No,” Shakir replied. “Simply observation. We are very different, they are under-disciplined and attempt to make up that deficiency with enthusiasm, teamwork, or even just bluster. I work with them because I must, but they are not like us.”
“You are not the only one who believes this,” Chandrasekhar Kurita replied, as though the revelation was a significant one. “Ah, look! The show is starting!”
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PTN’s Note: Activate Clan Reading Enhancement Implant
Hanse Davion was not a large man, although the ten-story holotank at his back certainly made him seem so. His empty hands came to rest on the wood of a marble lectern emblazoned with the sword-and-dragon symbol of the Draconis Suns. Cool blue eyes stared out from ‘classically’ noble features. Hanse kept himself in reasonable shape, but calling him barrel-shaped would only be the slightest exaggeration.
“Soldiers of the Draconis Suns,” he began in measured tones, giving the Japanese, Swedenese, and Sign Language translators on his flanks an opportunity to do their jobs. “We—you—have won a great victory today, albeit not the one any of us expected. I would claim that I have never served among a finer bunch of soldiers, but this is simply not true: I’ve served alongside you—or fought against you—since before I became Prince of the Federated Suns, and I will continue to serve you and serve alongside you until the day I die. And so I say to each and every one of you: thank you. Those responsible for our victory will be honored—and I wish I could thank each and every one of you in person: to show you the honor you all deserve. Instead I must leave that privilege to your commanders, and your commanders’ commanders, and trust that they will see to it that you are all recognized for your courage and dedication.”
“The Draconis Suns is at a perilous crossroads,” Hanse cautioned. “In our victory today, we have deprived ourselves of the source of our unity: a common enemy to fight side by side. How long,” he asked rhetorically, “until we once again fight amongst ourselves as even now the traitor Duke Hasek and his ilk desire? This cannot be.”
“This cannot be,” he reiterated. “But in working alongside you, in seeing the Draconis Combine for myself, I have come to a realization: My Federated Suns and your Draconis Combine are too different, the internal stresses too great, the politics too tangled for any man to navigate. If nothing is done, the Draconis Suns is doomed—”
A cry of ‘no, no!’ rose up from the assembled crowd.
Hanse waited a few moments, then held up his hands to forestall the protest. “It is true, but all is not lost. Many of the paths that lay ahead of us lead to our destruction, but one remains clear and free. With Luthien free from invaders’ hands I would not subject the people of the Draconis Combine to another lengthy occupation by forces who do not understand your ways.”
“I hereby dissolve the Draconis Suns, and relinquish the title of Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. As my last act as Coordinator-Prince, I present the title of Coordinator to the one most deserving: Isoroku Kurita, please step forward.”
Gun Jam Special Vote
A) Voluntarily break up the Draconis Suns, elevate Isoroku Kurita as Coordinator of the Draconis Combine
Resplendent in his dress uniform and with his eyes wide in shock, Isoroku Kurita approached the podium. He shook his head, seeming to say something in protest that the microphones did not pick up. Hanse offered his hand. Isoroku Kurita regarded it in silence, his expression bitter as if he’d just been offered a steaming glass of horse urine. He squeezed his eyes shut and after a moment steeled his face in resignation and shook Hanse Davion’s hand.
“Coordinator Isoroku Kurita, the champion of Luthien, shall lead the Draconis Combine into the future. But the Draconis Combine shall not walk this path alone, the Federated Suns shall walk alongside you—not as rivals, but as friends and allies. With Coordinator Kurita’s blessing, our officer exchanges will continue, and our borders will remain free and open to trade any and all goods save those both nations agree should be contraband. For too long the only thing our relations with the Draconis Combine and the Federated Suns has enriched is our graveyards.”
“It’s high time we thought about enriching our people, and turned the energy we’ve spent fighting one another to more productive use. We have seen what we can accomplish when we work together, and as my first official act as Prince of the Federated Suns, I would like to propose both an alliance and mutual defense pact to my counterpart in the Draconis Combine. Let those who would strike either of our realms beware our combined might!”
“As my second act, I would propose the creation of a neutral corridor between our two nations, in which both the Federated Suns and Draconis Combine may gather resources freely. To manage this picket line, and enforce neutrality from those nobles who would otherwise be more than happy to resume squabbling before we even have the symbols on our BattleMechs repainted, I propose that management of this zone will be the duty a council containing interested parties from both sides of the border, as well as the Hell’s Horses who shall act as neutral arbiters and enforcers. This, alongside cultural and scientific exchanges, and military service shall be the Hell’s Horses penance for participating in the invasion.”
Hanse’s eyes narrowed, “The Hell’s Horses will have a home. They may not be the best worlds in the Inner Sphere, but the Hell’s Horses have proven themselves to be strong and resilient, and if anyone in the Inner Sphere can restore the old factories, it is them. In return the Hell’s Horses shall have a degree of autonomy, although they shall also be sworn to defend their new home, and to serve the Federated Suns and Draconis Combine in equal measure.”
“Over time,” he continued, “it is my hope that the gap between our two nations will close. As trade spreads, ideas and ideals spread with it. The Federated Suns and Draconis Combine can grow together naturally, and perhaps someday centuries from now, we can become the Draconis Suns once more—a stable realm, made up of desperate people who nonetheless understand and respect one another.”
“You have all made me proud,” Hanse finished. “Soldiers and civilians alike. You have all struggled and toiled under the harshest of circumstances, and it is thanks to you that we have persevered. It is because of this, that I do not make this decision alone. Coordinator Kurita, what say you to my proposal?”
After a moment, Isoroku leaned closer to the directional microphone and croaked “Agreed” in accented English. After a moment to clear his throat, he offered Hanse Davion a deep and respectful bow. “There will be hardships. There will be troubles, there will be fighting, but the people of the Draconis S—Combine shall walk into the future alongside our friends in the Federated Suns.”
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“Now only one question remains,” Isoroku Kurita sat heavily on the tatami brought in for that purpose. Strange as it was, Hanse had requested a hole cut in the floor so that he might sit at Isoroku’s level without towering over the man by using a chair. Not seeing the immediate purpose, the once-fine artistwork contained within the Imperial Palace on Luthien had been stripped and looted by the Hell’s Horses. Some, Isoroku believed, would be recoverable—but he knew some of the palace’s majesty would be lost forever.
“Only one?” Hanse asked wearily. “I have more than I can count. Not the least of which: can we convince ComStar to establish a direct HPG circuit between New Avalon and Luthien? That would expedite communications tenfold and help stave off our descendants’ inevitable misunderstandings.”
“Only one immediate question,” Isoroku replied. His brown eyes settled on the only other man in the room.
Dressed in the finest kimono the Draconis Combine could buy, Robert Korean’s splendor was marred only by his nervousness. He was a simple and honorable man, Isoroku thought, who must have felt ill-at-ease sitting as if he was on equal terms with two of the Inner Sphere’s leaders. Isoroku inclined his head in a slight bow.
“The hero of the hour. You are a son of the Draconis Combine, but a hero to the Federated Suns. If you choose to remain here, you shall live out your days in luxury—you will have your pick of brides, of this I am certain, many aspiring noble families would love to adopt you as their own. They would use you, of course, but you would want for nothing the Draconis Combine might offer.”
Isoroku paused, “It would be a selfish choice, but one that none would fault you for. However, there is another path open to you: you may become the Draconis Combine’s goodwill ambassador to the Federated Suns. You are a hero to both sides, and going to live on New Avalon you would exemplify our faithfulness. The Draconis Combine would be reluctant to launch any sort of strike while the Khan Slayer is being entertained by Prince Hanse Davion, the Savior of Luthien. You would continue to serve the Dragon, but you would be in an alien land, in a culture that may be profoundly uncomfortable to you.”
“There is a third option,” Hanse Davion offered after only a moment. “The Draconis Combine needs an immediate representative in the Hell’s Horses reservation. Someone who knows them, and knows the combine. The Hell’s Horses your team did not kill all swore themselves to you, personally. As I recall, one of them bears the name of their Khan: is she not possibly Grier Siedman’s heir? You could serve both nations by keeping the Hell’s Horses in check, and making sure they rule their reservation worlds with justice in mind. They respect you, and you know more about them than any of us.”
Isoroku nodded after a moment, seeing the wisdom in that. “The choice is yours, Korean Robert. Whatever you choose, I am certain great fortune will come to you.”
Does Robert Korean:
A) Remain in the Draconis Combine
B) Become a goodwill ambassador to the Federated Suns
C) Become Warlord of the Hell’s Horses Reservation (Hell’s Corridor)
TheParadigm and Goatface, please send me your choices for ‘Mech names! If you really can’t pick a ‘Mech that needs one, let me know and I can assign you one I’d like to see named.
Raverrn and jng2058 same, I just need the second place winners first!