She clenched her teeth and said nothing.
“More important, our recent intelligence operatives in Victor’s camp indicate that he has placed a high degree of emphasis on General Christifori and his Avengers.” He tapped the remote control for the holographic display and the image of Archer Christifori appeared in the middle of the table, a giant floating holographic head.
“Christifori?” Katrina asked, half-spitting his name. “Him again? You’d think that Victor would be tired of sharing the spotlight with this man. Isn’t it enough that he lured away that traitorous cousin of mine into keeping his units out of the fighting?” The reference to Adam Steiner’s ordering a portion of the Alliance to stand down from the civil war was not lost on the small gathering. Katrina’s ranting about the incident was legendary in the palace corridors. “You told me he was on Graceland.”
“As we thought he was. It was a ploy, just as is Victor’s failed attempt to hide him right in front of us as part of the Outland Legion. Once again we have penetrated his veil.”
“Hopefully not too late,” she added.
“Indeed, Highness,” Simon replied. “We are wise to not underestimate him. He was responsible for luring Snord’s Irregulars from their contract with the Alliance. He has been a thorn in our side for some time. And he has been meeting three times a day with Prince Victor and his staff. These may be indications that he is the leader of the first wave of troops. What few assets we have in place show him to be conferring on strategic issues—things we’d expect to see from an invasion leader. We’re confident that Victor will be with the landing forces, but our intel points to Christifori leading the assault.”
“Why him?” Jackson Davion asked.
“He has a grudge against the Archon-Princess,” Simon said carefully, knowing he was on thin ice. “He claims she is responsible for the death of his sister.”
“I’d never even heard of him until the last two years, let alone his tramp-sister. What he thinks means nothing to me. He is simply a tool, a pawn in Victor’s hands. What would I care about someone like him, a junior officer at best?” Her voice rang with contempt as she waved aside the allegation.
“I understand, Highness,” Gallagher replied. “Nevertheless, the accusations have been made and they have played well with the media. Adding to this, one of our operatives has learned that the holotable in his command tent has been used recently to go over terrain in and around Portsmouth. This only adds fuel to our belief that it is the target area.”
“A ruse perhaps?” Jackson added. “Victor has proven himself a formidable military leader. He could be fooling us, fooling your people, Simon.” Unlike Katrina, there was no venom in his tone.
“I can’t rule that out,” he replied. “But you asked me my thoughts and I have provided them as best I can. Our experts believe that General Christifori will lead the assault in the Portsmith area. Victor will use him as a tool to show that this is a war, in his eyes, for justice. He’s become quite media savvy and will play that against us to take the hearts and minds of the citizens here on Avalon Island.”
Katrina rose from her seat and all eyes fixed on her in the dimly lit room. She stared at the holographic image in front of her. As she rose and closed with the image, Simon could see her the anger in her face. “Very well, Simon. Portsmouth is the assumed target. We shall send in additional troops there—not many, but enough. If you’re right, they’ll buy us time. If you’re wrong, I want to be prepared for defense elsewhere. For your sake however, I would not be wrong…
“And as for this General Christifori,” she said waving her hand at the hologram. “I want him dead. When his broken body is shown on the newscasts, it will shatter the morale of Victor and his people. Let him see what happens to those icons that are held against me. In fact, Jackson,” she said turning to her General, “I want you to assemble a team to do just that. When they come ashore, kill this Christifori…no matter what the cost.”
Chapter Three
Portsmouth, Avalon Island
New Avalon, Crucis March
Federated Suns
24 March 3067
As the DropShip Little Sorrell swung wide of the landing zone, Archer double-checked the tension on the five-point security strap of his cockpit. His BattleMech, a Penetrator, had been rebuilt so many times that he wondered just how many of its components were original. Do I really want to know? It didn’t matter really. It didn’t matter that it was built by the lowest bidder either. What did matter was that he was armed with replacement Clan weaponry, captured in a previous lifetime when he had been in the Revenants, serving with the Prince.
His urban paint scheme of grays and blacks covered up the temporary insignia of the Outland Legion, replacing it with his own regiment’s markings again. If they fought, it was going to be under their own names.
There was a comfort in fighting under his own colors. It was like being in a familiar chair.
Back then he had been a young wide-eyed officer, hell-bent for leather. He had fought the Clans, won, and then retired. War was gone to him. Then the loss of his sister. Her killer, pardoned by Katherine Steiner-Davion, had killed his only remaining family member and then paroled the man that had committed the crime. Since then all he had lived for was wrapped up in the events that were to follow this day.
The downfall of Katherine Steiner-Davion.
“Katya,” he said on the command channel. “I show us closing in on the LZ. Are you set and clear?” In their efforts to confuse the enemy even more, Katya Chaffee had drawn a critical role. She was
