However, no matter the whys or the what-happeneds since his last visit to Robinson; Päl was excited to see his parents. They had been in the room earlier, when Tancred arrived to accept the mantle of dynasty leadership, but not for the military planning session that followed. Päl had so far managed only a handful of words with them.
Turning a corner in the spacious Sandoval Castle, he found them waiting just inside the foyer doors. His father, a roundish man of medium height and receding hairline, had once served with the Rangers. Päl had grown up on his father’s stories of ’Mech battles, and considered it destiny that had stepped in to make of the Baron’s son a MechWarrior and an officer.
The Baron Exeter took a few steps toward Päl, his expression dark and his mouth open to speak, but the Baroness stayed him with a hand on his left arm and a calm smile to her son.
Baroness Margarette Wyndham-Sandoval was a proud woman, rich in the heritage of the Sandoval family. Päl had always seen his mother as one of the braces of the family, the one whom others looked to for guidance. As her son, he had always done as she wished, and she had never guided him wrong. The Baroness was a strong and silent partner beside his father, and he loved them both. He only wished, at times, his mother’s stolid and stoic appearance in court had not carried over into her duties as mother.
Päl pulled the dress-white gloves from his hands as his mother directed them with a nod to the doors, and beyond to the waiting Avanti stretch hover sedan. He opened the car’s door for his mother and gave her his hand as she gracefully stepped in. His father gave him a tight smile, placed a hand on his son’s arm, then bent down to enter as well.
After the doors were closed and the car was underway, the Baron could contain his curiosity no longer.
“Well?” He raised a graying eyebrow at his son.
Päl shrugged. Tancred’s loyalties were no secret, although the particulars discussed behind closed doors might be. But Päl had never kept information from his father. In only a few sentences, he relayed the meeting’s proceedings—including Tancred’s plan to ease relations with Theodore Kurita.
His words garnered exactly the reaction he’d expected from his father.
“What?” the Baron’s voice boomed inside the sedan’s doors. “Is the man mad? How can he give up those worlds to the Dragon? This is outrageous.” He traded a glance with his wife, who nodded. “Unacceptable!”
Päl was no longer so certain. He turned his attention to the passing scenery, considering.
It was early autumn on Robinson, and the display of browns, oranges, yellows and reds reminded him of fall evenings at home, spent with Khim. He missed her terribly after almost three years apart, and felt guilty for abandoning his son at such an early age. After the unit’s disastrous retreat from Ashio, Päl had remained on Mallory’s World with the rest of the regiment. He’d sent word to his mother, asking if he should request leave to return home until the First received new orders.
His mother advised him to remain on Mallory’s World. She had taken a lead in his son’s education, and Päl shouldn’t worry himself with such details. According to the Baroness, Päl was where he needed to be, in support of the Duke’s orders. And so he’d remained with his regiment, wrote letters to his wife Khim every day, and practiced with his knives.
Until Mai tapped him to accompany her here to Robinson for a meeting with the new Duke.
He sighed as he finally looked back at his father. “That’s the way it is, father. And truthfully, I see no flaw in what Tancred proposes.”
The Baron’s eyes widened. “You support Tancred in this nonsense? Turning the loyalties of Robinson toward Victor.”
“I support the decisions of my commander and Duke, sir, as any good soldier would. You taught me that.” Päl clasped his hands in his lap. The filtered sun glinted off the gold of his Battle Academy ring. “Tancred feels our attentions are wasted attacking the Combine.” He paused for a beat. “I agree.”
“You can’t be serious…” the Baron began. “James would never have allowed such a thing.”
Päl kept silent. The young Wyndham-Sandoval knew not all decisions were the right decisions—and sometimes one had to make a choice on his own. That much he’d learned during the battle on Ashio, when choices in battle saved or destroyed lives. Where officers played their soldiers and their regiments like pieces on a chess board. After the retreat, he had begun to see himself and his fellow soldiers as the pawns—those pushed out in front—expendable to protect those with the power.
And there might come a time when Päl would need to make a choice with his loyalties, but now wasn’t it.
“Päl, answer me. Are you serious?”
Päl leaned forward. “Yes. I am. Father, I’m a MechWarrior, and a son of the Sandoval dynasty. I supported the former Duke in his decisions, and I will support Tancred’s orders as well.” He wanted to add how he knew that his cousin had warned Mai not to lead the Rangers into Combine territory. Tancred’s reasons had been sound, and proven right in the end.
“In support of Victor? Päl, have you not been paying attention? He’s in league with the Draconis Combine. Everyone knows he’s sleeping with a snake. How can you trust a man who’s in bed with the enemy? How can Tancred know Kurita will accept concessions and not wait until our forces are drawn elsewhere on foolish attacks against our own people then attack our worlds, murder our children and rape our worlds for their own—”
The Baroness calmly reached out and put a firm hand on her husband’s knee. She gave no other sign, her gaze drawn out at the passing scenery as the Avanti stretch-sedan began
