TEXT: BattleCorps
  In Love  
  and War
  by Annie Reed
  
  BattleCorps
  In Love and War • Page 
  Atlanta—North America 
  Terra 
  16 August 3028
  The wedding of the year—the marriage of Melissa Arthur Steiner, 
  Archon-Designate of the Lyran Commonwealth, to Hanse Davion, 
  First Prince of the Federated Suns—would take place in four days 
  and Aureleen Allen couldn’t miss it. Absolutely, positively couldn’t. 
  The readers of Aureleen’s very own, self-published gossip news 
  site, the Terran Tattler, would expect her to feature a story on the 
  wedding in her next update, and Aureleen, star reporter—okay, 
  the only reporter—didn’t want to let them down. 
  She just had to figure out how to get invited to the wedding.
  Daddy had enough clout to wrangle an invitation, what with 
  all those stuffy, rich, business types he and Mom always threw 
  extravagant parties for, but when Aureleen had asked, he’d just 
  said something rude about how in his day people actually mar-
  ried for love, not to consolidate territory or start wars, and he 
  damn well wouldn’t let his sixteen-year-old daughter be a wit-
  ness to that. Aureleen had rolled her eyes. Daddy was always 
  talking about war this or invasion that. He could see a conspiracy 
  in almost anything, and even Mom didn’t take his theories seri-
  ously anymore. 
  What mattered to Aureleen was that Daddy had refused to 
  shmooze or bribe invitations to the wedding. He clearly didn’t un-
  derstand that Aureleen’s reputation was on the line. After all, the 
  wedding was taking place right here on Terra. How could she not 
  go and call herself any kind of a reporter at all?
  Sometimes life was just so unfair. 
  “You could get a job with the caterer,” her friend Walden said 
  one night when Aureleen, Walden, and Aureleen’s best friend PJ 
  had all been at PJ’s house. Walden was fifteen and skinny, and he 
  had dreams of being a MechWarrior someday. Not that he’d ever 
  make it because Walden just didn’t know how to go about turning 
  his dreams into reality. “I bet they’re hiring lots of people just for 
  the wedding.”
  “Why don’t you just go early, get a good place in the spectator ar-
  eas?” This suggestion from PJ. “Then you could at least see who 
  was going to the wedding and who they were with.”
  
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  Aureleen had been best friends with PJ since they were both seven 
  and PJ had shared her favorite desserts when Aureleen’s mom had 
  put the whole family on the newest macrobiotic diet craze. Aureleen 
  didn’t care if she ever saw brown rice again in her entire life. 
  “First of all, I don’t want to actually have to work there,” Aureleen 
  told Walden. “How lame is that? I couldn’t get any good gossip if 
  all I was doing was washing dishes. And besides, washing dishes 
  is just disgusting.”
   “Yeah, and you sure couldn’t be a server,” PJ said. “No one in 
  their right mind is going to let you near a serving tray.”
  PJ was tall and thin and blonde with deep blue eyes and clear 
  skin. She could have been one of the starlets Aureleen featured in 
  the Tattler, except PJ was interested in ’Mechs too. Only she want-
  ed to be a mechanic. Go figure. PJ’s long-fingered hands were 
  constantly dirty around the edges. 
  Aureleen wasn’t tall or thin or blonde. The closest Aureleen 
  would ever be to a starlet was to report the latest gossip on who 
  was dating whom and how wonderful they looked doing it. 
  “Thanks a lot,” Aureleen said. She might be legendarily clumsy 
  with anything breakable but that didn’t mean she wanted to be 
  reminded of it. She swiped a brownie off PJ’s plate in retaliation. 
  “And secondly,” Aureleen said around a mouthful of brownie, 
  “real reporters don’t sit outside in the hot sun in a spectator area. 
  Real reporters have credentials and get inside.”
  Both PJ and Walden knew better than to point out that Aureleen 
  wasn’t a real reporter.
  “Why don’t you just buy credentials?” PJ asked. “With the kind of 
  allowance you get, I’m sure we can pay someone to make some.”
  True. Daddy always said that if you had enough money you could 
  get whatever you wanted, and Daddy certainly had more than 
  enough money. Lucky for Aureleen, Daddy liked to share with his 
  favorite—and only—daughter.
  “We’ll have them put the name of the Tattler on your pass,” PJ 
  said. “You can dress up so you look older, and I bet if you act the 
  part you can get in.”
  “Just like in all those chick ‘vids you two like to watch,” Walden 
  said.
  
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  In Love and War • Page 
  “Yeah!” PJ said, clearly warming to the idea. “You know, like the 
  one with that actress you like—“
  ”Mellie Seavers,” Aureleen said.
  “—who convinces that MechWarrior guy—“ 
  ”Tristan Moore.”
  “—she’s really an independent commodities broker for House 
  Davion on holiday when in fact she’s a Capellan spy, but she falls 
  in love with him and sees the error of her ways—“
  ”And she rats on the Capellans because he’s the most kick-ass 
  MechWarrior for House Davion and she just can’t help herself,” 
  Walden added. 
  “And they live happily ever after,” PJ said. PJ really liked that hap-
  pily ever after part. Aureleen did too, but she was just a little more 
  cynical about it. Happily ever afters were for the ‘vids. It didn’t 
  usually happen in real life.
  “You think I could really do that?” Aureleen asked.
  “Sure. Why not?” Walden shrugged. 
  Easy enough for him to say. He wouldn’t be the one doing it.
  “If anyone can do it, you can,” PJ said. 
  Right. Although the way her friends were looking at her made 
  Aureleen think that maybe she could. After all, she was the star 
  reporter for the Terran Tattler and her readers were depending on 
  her.
  “Mellie Seavers would do it,” PJ said. “That is, if she wasn’t al-
  ready an actress and probably already has an invitation.”
  Details, details.
  She’d do it. She had to. Nothing stood in between a star reporter 
  and a really good story.
  
  BattleCorps
  In Love and War • Page 
  ComStar First Circuit Compound 
  Hilton Head Island, North America 
  Terra 
  20 August 3028
  Aureleen had bought herself a suitably dull, suitably conserva-
  tive business suit like she’d seen the reporters on the holovids 
  wear—purchased on her Daddy’s credit account, of course, just 
  like her transportation to Hilton Head Island. She’d pulled her mud-
  dy-brown hair into a tight bun at the back of her head, trimmed her 
  fingernails to what she thought of as an adult-acceptable length, 
  and painted them an adult-acceptable color. Now she stood out-
  side the press entrance to the cathedral where the wedding would 
  be taking place in less than two hours, sweating and nervous and 
  pretending not to be, while a dour-faced security guard examined 
  her press credentials. 
  “The Terran Tattler’s not on my list of approved media outlets,” 
  the guard said. He was all muscles and square-jawed implacabil-
  ity. Aureleen tried hard not to stare too long at the weapons he 
  had strapped to the belt of his dress uniform.
  “We’re a small, private publication,” Aureleen said. A bead of 
  sweat had started to trickle down the small of her back. She tried 
  not to squirm as she realized she’d never looked up exactly what 
  the penalty was for attempting to crash a state wedding. Would 
  they actually arrest her?
  They wouldn’t—would they?
  Would they... do something worse?
  She tried not to gulp as she considered the possibilities. Telling 
  PJ and Walden she’d get the story or die trying was one thing; fac-
  ing a real guard with a real gun was something else entirely. 
  “Hmm,” the guard said. He seemed to be consulting his data-
  base for far longer than necessary. His silence and scowl made 
  Aureleen more nervous than she already was. 
  “We’re not very big,” she said. “Less than a thousand hits a 
  month.” Way less than a thousand, but the guard didn’t need to 
  know that. “But I have very loyal readers. They seem to like the 
  stories I run about celebrities. You know, all the typical gossip col-
  umn stuff. And I’m sure they’re going to love the piece I plan to run 
  on the bride’s dress. I hear it’s going to be amazing.” 
  
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  In Love and War • Page 
  Aureleen knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to help 
  herself. Isn’t that what Mellie Seavers did in that ‘vid? And didn’t 
  Tristan Moore believe her?  PJ and Walden did say she’d have to 
  act. There were worse people than Mellie Seavers—rich, tan, suc-
  cessful Mellie Seavers—to pattern a performance on.
  “Hmm,” the guard said again, still consulting his list.
  Aureleen felt her cheeks begin to grow warm, and not just from 
  the heat of the hotter than normal August day. As the guard con-
  tinued to make her wait without saying anything else, Aureleen 
  began to hear a buzzing that had nothing to do with the insects fly-
  ing by in the humid air, and a sick feeling settled into the pit of her 
  stomach. Aureleen felt her adult façade slowly melting away. She 
  wasn’t going to get inside. She was going to be arrested. Maybe 
  they’d even think she was a spy. What would they do with her 
  then? Why did she ever let PJ and Walden talk her into this? 
  Why did she ever decide being a reporter was a good thing in 
  the first place? 
  Another reporter stepped up next to her. “Is there a problem 
  here, George?” the man asked.
  The guard looked up and snapped to attention. “Sir! She’s not 
  on my list, sir.”
  Aureleen was amazed. Whoever this white-haired man was, he 
  couldn’t just be another reporter. Could he? His double-breasted gray 
  suit was fashionable yet understated, his face pleasant enough to be 
  on the ‘vids yet with an unmistakable air of authority and... humor?
  “Am I on your list, George?” The white-haired man sounded 
  amused, and his grin turned up the corners of his mouth in a 
  mirthful way.
  “Sir?” 
  The white-haired man looked Aureleen over. He still grinned, but 
  his eyes didn’t seem to miss anything—the suit she wasn’t quite 
  comfortable in, the way she held her own datapad a little too tight-
  ly. She had a ridiculous thought that just by looking at her he could 
  even tell she’d just skated by on her exams last semester. She 
  didn’t feel like an adult. She didn’t even feel sixteen anymore. So 
  much for being a brave, star reporter. 
  She heard him say, “I’ll take responsibility, George,” and the 
  next thing Aureleen knew he had taken her elbow and escorted 
  
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  In Love and War • Page 
  her past the guard and into the cordoned-off press area on one 
  side of the cathedral. The guard made no move to stop them.
  “Okay, young lady,” the man said. “I’ve just staked my consider-
  able reputation on the fact that I don’t believe you’re a spy or a 
  saboteur. Am I right?”
  “No,” Aureleen said in a tiny voice. 
  He frowned at her, a line forming between his bushy white eye-
  brows, and she realized she hadn’t answered the question quite 
  right. 
  “I mean, yes, you’re right. I’m not a spy or a saboteur.” 
  He kept looking at her with eyes that Aureleen just knew saw 
  past every lie anyone might ever try to tell. There really was no 
  reason to act anymore anyway. 
  “I do write for the Terran Tattler, but it’s my own site. I think I have 
  like a dozen people who actually read it on a regular basis.” 
  “So you report gossip.” He made it sound less than honorable.
  “Not malicious gossip,” Aureleen said. “I never report anything 
  that’s going to hurt anyone. Just who’s dating who, what they’re 
  wearing, what new ‘vid they’re going to be in. Stuff like that. I 
  don’t even print links to negative reviews.”
  He raised an eyebrow. “You only report happy news?” He made 
  that sound just as bad.
  “Well, no.” Aureleen was at a loss what to say. “I just try not to 
  repeat lies, especially if I know they’re lies.”
  He nodded, almost to himself it seemed like. 
  “So can I ask you where you work?” Aureleen asked. She offered 
  a nervous smile. “I don’t mean to insult you, but I don’t know who 
  you are.”
  “The first of the questions a good reporter always asks,” he said. 
  “Who. What are the others?”
  Even though she had made it inside the cathedral two hours 
  before an official state wedding, Aureleen suddenly felt like she 
  was back in school.
  “What, when, where, why. And how,” Aureleen replied.
  
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  “Good, good. And those questions all need answers. But that’s 
  just the start.”
  Once inside the cathedral, the press, including Aureleen and 
  her mysterious benefactor, were directed down a narrow hall into 
  what Aureleen could only guess was a media room. Reporters al-
  ready packed the place. When Aureleen and the white-haired man 
  walked inside, the reporters, almost like a solid pack, descended 
  on the two of them. 
  Before any of the reporters could say a word, the white-haired 
  man raised a hand as if to ward them off. “I’m here to attend a 
  wedding just like everyone else,” he said. “Anyone who wants to 
  stay on my good side—and I’m assuming that’s everyone in this 
  room—” He paused and turned that intense stare of his on the 
  reporters. For effect, Aureleen guessed, and it certainly had an 
  effect. Everyone in the room went still. “—will respect my privacy. 
  I hope I make myself clear.”
  The reporters all backed away, but not before they looked 
  Aureleen over like she was some interesting and slightly revolt-
  ing new insect species. Aureleen had never been the focus of so 
  much attention before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
  Just who was this man?
  Now that the reporters had backed away, Aureleen took a look 
  around the media room. Holovid cameras were already set up in-
  side, but instead of focusing on a central podium like with most 
  press conferences Aureleen had watched on the ‘vids, these 
  cameras were focused on what looked like a clear glass wall that 
  separated the media room from the main entrance to the cathe-
  dral.
  “One-way glass,” the white-haired man said, nodding at the wall. 
  “We can see them, but they’re spared from looking at us. Don’t 
  worry, they all know we’re here,” he added before Aureleen had 
  a chance to say that it hardly seemed fair to all the invited guests. 
  “Most of the people on the other side of that wall are here to be 
  seen, for one reason or another.”
  A long, opulent red carpet had been rolled out down the center 
  of the main entrance, and on the other side of the glass a few ce-
  lebrities were filing in and mingling with politicians and royalty. 
  Aureleen recognized some of the actors and actresses among the 
  guests—Mellie Seavers wasn’t among them, at least not yet—but 
  overall it looked like most of the guests were stuffy politicians and 
  
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  business people. All this work, and she might just as well have 
  been reporting on one of Daddy’s boring parties. Aureleen tried 
  not to be disappointed.
  So far she hadn’t seen any of the wedding party either, not that 
  she really expected to. The media room’s one-way glass wall didn’t 
  offer a view beyond the heavy wooden doors that separated the 
  entryway from the church proper where the wedding would take 
  place.
  The white-haired man led Aureleen to an area in the back of the 
  media room where a bar had been set up. He took a fluted glass 
  of champagne off the polished oak counter for himself. He handed 
  Aureleen a similarly-shaped glass, only this one held water. 
  “Don’t think you’re quite old enough to drink,” he said, but he 
  smiled when he said it. “There’s only so much I intend to take 
  responsibility for.”
  The water was cold and it tasted wonderful. Aureleen drank it all 
  and put her empty glass back on the bar.
  The media room was beginning to get more crowded, if that 
  was possible, especially around the bar. The sweet smell of fresh 
  flowers in ornate holders at each end of the bar couldn’t quite 
  mask the odor of sweat and the conflicting smells of perfume 
  and aftershave worn by the reporters. The white-haired man, his 
  champagne barely touched, led them to a less-crowded area at 
  the far end of the room. 
  “Reporters never turn down free drinks,” he said. He hmphed, 
  then chuckled. “Me either, unless it’s scotch.”
  “So where do you work?” Aureleen asked again, remembering 
  that he had never quite answered her question.
  “Tenacious. I like that.” He pointed to an area of the back wall op-
  posite the glass wall. “I think you’re a little disappointed because 
  you think you won’t get to see the actual wedding. Holovids will 
  be projected there. You’ll get to see what everyone else through-
  out the Inner Sphere sees, you just won’t be in the same room as 
  the bride and groom and all their invited guests.” He took another 
  sip of his champagne. “Never forget that you’re important to the 
  process. They need you here to put the human spin on things, fil-
  ter things through your senses. But they still want to manipulate 
  what you see and hear. It’s all about control. They can’t tell you 
  exactly what to report. They just let you see what they want you 
  
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  In Love and War • Page 10
  to see and hope you’ll do your job without asking too many of the 
  wrong questions.”
  He was starting to sound a little too much like Aureleen’s Daddy 
  with his conspiracy theories. Did all adults get paranoid as they 
  got older?
  “Who are ‘they’?” she asked. Who was one of the important 
  questions after all.
  He gestured with one hand in the general direction of the glass. 
  “The people out there. Even those celebrities you’re so interested 
  in, they’ll only feed you just enough information to report what 
  they want you to. It’s all about public perception, and news is part 
  of that. The trick,” he said, leaning in a little closer to her, “is to 
  learn to look beyond the obvious. Tell me what you see that’s not 
  so obvious.”
  Aureleen did her best. At first she didn’t see anything different. 
  More of the same boring politicians, people whose names she 
  didn’t know. Then she looked closer at one of the few celebrity 
  couples beyond the glass. The entertainment news ‘vids were 
  touting the couple as the hottest flavor of the moment. He was set 
  to star in the new Battle of the Behemoths ‘vid due out next year. 
  His actress girlfriend, petite with auburn hair and nearly skeletal 
  thin, was seen on his arm at every celebrity event, both of them 
  young and rich and happy and smiling. Only now, when they ap-
  parently didn’t think anyone was watching them, they appeared 
  bored with each other. Although no one else was near them, they 
  weren’t talking to each other. The actress still had her hand in the 
  crook of his elbow, but her purse, strap over her bony shoulder 
  and hugged close to her body, was on the same side on which he 
  stood. It almost looked like she was holding a shield between the 
  two of them. When the actor did look her way, he gazed over the 
  top of her head. There was almost enough space between the two 
  of them for another person to fit.
  “They’re not really a couple,” Aureleen said, amazed. “It’s all 
  fake.” 
  The white-haired man nodded.  “Very good.”
  “Why would they do that?”
  He put his empty glass on a tray carried by a passing waiter. “I’m 
  sure you’re astute enough to figure that out. You do deal in celeb-
  rity gossip.”
  
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  She looked at the actor and actress. Now that she saw them for 
  what they really were, they made her sad. He was a rising star, the 
  actress’s last ‘vid had tanked. The actress probably just needed to 
  be seen with him at an important event in a last-ditch effort to sal-
  vage her career. Aureleen wondered what was in it for the actor. 
  “I’m going to have to leave you now, as I have things to attend to,” 
  the white-haired man said. “You’ll be able to stay here and watch 
  the wedding; I’ll see to that before I go.”
  “You still haven’t told me who you are. I don’t even know why 
  you helped me.”
  He nodded, a gesture that seemed to encompass the whole 
  room full of reporters. “Everyone here was invited. All carefully 
  screened, you understand. No surprises. You were the only one 
  with enough gumption to try to get in with something as simple 
  as this.” He fingered the counterfeit press pass hung around her 
  neck. “I doubt it would even occur to anyone here to try that kind 
  of trick.”
  Aureleen could feel a blush heating her cheeks. She started to 
  apologize, but he stopped her.
  “Don’t get me wrong. I admire your courage and tenacity,” he 
  said. “This time.” 
  She blinked. For a moment she saw the kind of steel in his 
  eyes, heard the authority in his voice that could make even one of 
  Daddy’s richest business associates blanch. She understood his 
  subtle warning not to try the same trick again. Then he smiled at 
  her and the moment was gone. Just who was he?
  “You’ve got the makings of a good reporter, Ms. Allen. You came 
  here for a story, and you were willing to risk your life for it, wheth-
  er you realized it at the time or not. History lives in the chronicles 
  of the people who report it, and who have the courage to report 
  it accurately. History’s going to change rather quickly after today. 
  Your generation will be the ones who live this history, and your 
  children’s future will depend on how you chronicle it. Ask the right 
  questions, get the right answers. Don’t take things at face value.” 
  He looked pointedly at the fake celebrity couple beyond the glass. 
  “Remember that a story is not always the same thing as the truth.”
  With that he walked to a door in the back of the press room. The 
  security guard stationed there came to attention immediately and 
  ushered him through the door.
  
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  Aureleen tried to let herself relax and enjoy the wedding, but 
  she found herself staring harder than normal at the guests who 
  passed on the other side of the glass. So many high-ranking of-
  ficials and dignitaries. People who might have been merely stuffy 
  and boring to her an hour ago seemed different somehow. She 
  still didn’t know all their names, but now she wondered what se-
  crets they were hiding, why they were with the smiling people 
  who surrounded them. Real affection? Power? Prestige? Wasn’t 
  anyone who they appeared to be? She wondered if that was what 
  growing up was all about—realizing things weren’t really what 
  they seemed. For the first time, Aureleen felt like she might actu-
  ally be grown up enough for her business suit.
  The great wooden doors finally closed behind the last of the 
  guests, and on the back wall of the media room the holovids came 
  to life. Aureleen and the rest of the reporters turned to watch the 
  actual ceremony. Hanse Davion was as handsome on the holovid 
  screen as he’d appeared on Aureleen’s holovid at home. Melissa 
  Steiner looked resplendent in her magnificent bridal gown. The 
  cameras focused on her face as she said her vows, and Aureleen 
  thought she had never seen a woman more in love. This was just 
  like one of the chick ‘vids Walden teased her about, only this was 
  so much better. No matter what Daddy said, this wasn’t a union 
  for political gain. Aureleen just knew it. 
  Aureleen nearly forgot all about the white-haired man and his 
  annoying way of not really answering her questions. Almost any-
  way, until the holovid cut to a quick reaction shot of the wedding 
  guests, and there he was in his smart, gray, double-breasted suit, 
  sitting near the front on the groom’s side of the church. Whoever 
  he really was, he must be someone really, really important to sit 
  that close. She remembered what he said about history changing 
  quickly after today. What had he meant? Was something going to 
  happen here today besides just a wedding?
  Aureleen only half listened to Hanse Davion recite his vows. He 
  was just as much in love with his new bride as she was with him, 
  Aureleen could tell by looking at him, but she was preoccupied 
  with the thought of changing history. 
  The rest of the wedding went by like a normal wedding. Well, if 
  you could call a wedding with two cardinals presiding normal. The 
  assembled guests applauded as the Prince kissed his new Princess, 
  and everyone filed out of the cathedral to make their way to the 
  reception. Aureleen wondered if the press would be leaving, but 
  none of the reporters made for the exits. Instead, the reporters 
  
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  congregated around the bar. Aureleen realized the reporters would 
  cover the reception the same way they’d covered the wedding, with 
  remote cameras broadcast on the screens in the media room, and 
  everyone was just settling in to wait for the reception to start.
  By the time the reception finally started, Aureleen thought she 
  might be the only sober reporter in the room. The noise level in 
  the media room made it hard to hear some of the audio feed from 
  the reception, but the video on the screens was still spectacular. 
  Better than any of her ‘vids, even without the sound.
  When the newly married couple rose to cut their wedding cake, 
  the guard at the door to the media room suddenly changed his 
  stance. Walden called it battle ready when he was playing around 
  pretending to be a MechWarrior. The guard now stood with his 
  feet spread slightly farther apart, his shoulders squared, and his 
  arms straight at his sides but within easy reach of the weapons at 
  his belt. 
  A chill ran down Aureleen’s spine. She wondered if anyone else 
  had noticed the guard.
  On the holovid Hanse Davion had just been fed a piece of cake 
  by his new bride. He smiled at her and raised a piece of cake of his 
  own to feed to her. The noise level in the media room dropped as 
  everyone stopped talking to listen.
  “Wife,” the First Prince of the Federated Suns said, and he paused 
  for a moment as a smile crept over his face. “In honor of our mar-
  riage, in addition to this morsel, I give you a vast prize. I give you 
  the Capellan Confederation.”
   The collective gasp of the assembled guests was heard clearly 
  on the holovid in the media room, where all the reporters had 
  gone deathly quiet. 
  “What did he just say?” a woman near the front of the room 
  asked.
  Someone cleared his throat. “He just declared war.”
  Pandemonium broke out in the media room as all the assem-
  bled reporters used their links to call their respective employers. 
  Aureleen stood by herself, her gaze glued to the holovid where 
  Hanse Davion enthusiastically fed his new bride her piece of cake. 
  She could only guess what the wedding guests from the Capellan 
  Confederation were doing. The holovid cameras hadn’t cut away 
  to them. Deliberately, no doubt.
  
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  Aureleen felt ill. Her daddy was right. The Inner Sphere was at 
  war. 
  How could love lead to something like this? Is that all people in 
  power really cared about, just more territory and more power? 
  Those were questions she would ask, and she would keep right on 
  asking until she got a real answer. 
  She was a reporter. That was her job. To report the truth.
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/Novels/Battlecorps Novels/In Love and War - Annie Reed.pdf