Текст книги "Main Event"

Автор книги: Джеймс Лонг

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"How many?" Rose tried to remain calm.

"Five, counting Morgain. I met them when they returned, but since then they've stayed at the estate exclusively." Rose was somewhat relieved. At least they wouldn't be in the way.

"Any chance they'd participate in planning the defense, if that becomes necessary?" he wondered aloud.

"I'm sure they would, but I doubt that Morgain would fight except in the face of a Clan attack." That sounded good to Rose.

"Morgain and his men returned to Borghese while Wilkins and Hoffbrowse were still on Outreach. The Council immediately approached them about the position you were hired for, but he turned it down."

"Any reason?"

Cooke shrugged, a gesture that was becoming all too common. "He hinted at some kind of lasting damage he'd suffered at the hands of the Clans, but he wasn't specific. I didn't press the point."

"But he's still a major force in the politics of the Council," countered Rose, his voice slightly strained. Salander Morgain's presence bothered him.

"A legacy of his father, I'm afraid." If Cooke took offense at Rose's comment, he didn't show it. "Renaldo Morgain was quite a man and the people still remember him, even though he's been dead for almost fifteen years. Salander is a firm part of that memory. He's the only surviving member of Renaldo's family, and made quite an impression on the media at his father's graveside service."

"I take it that his father was a cut above your standard Council member."

"You could say that. He was a junior member during the Fourth Succession War and the Chairman during the War of 3039. Somehow Renaldo came to national prominence during the first conflict and then became Chairman during the second."

"He sounds like quite a man." Rose was sincere. Although he didn't like the younger Morgain's too-smooth style, he respected anyone who'd been able to help pull the people of Borghese through the madness of two wars.

"He was," said Cooke, his voice suddenly distant. "I'm not sure his son quite measures up, but then few people could."

Rose nodded and tried to lighten the suddenly darkened mood. Glancing out the window he saw that the limo had just passed the same landmark for the third time. Evidently Cooke thought the luxury car was the safest place to talk. "I don't suppose it would do any harm trying to enlist Morgain's help, but I think it's probably a waste of time."

"Leave no stone unturned, that's my motto. At least that's one of my mottoes," Rose said.

"Suit yourself."

Rose planned to do just that, despite what anyone else said or did. "There is something you can help me with, however."

"Just ask," Cooke said. "I'll see what I can do."

"I need the temporary attachment of a VTOL with crew to the unit. I want to get a better picture of the continent, and I'll need more mobility than my 'Mechs can provide. I'll need the men and equipment for about three months." Rose would probably need it for longer, but thought it would be easier to get a temporary extension later than to try to get the entire time up front.

"I think that can be arranged."

Rose hid his smile. The VTOL would prove invaluable during the first few months of duty.

"Good," he said, then looked at Cooke in mock seriousness. "Now, are we ever going to eat, or do we just keep riding around the block until this thing runs out of fuel?"

23

Houston, Borghese

12 June 3055

 

The next six months were busy ones for the Black Thorns. As executive officer, Rianna coordinated the training with the Green Team. Although every one of them was older than she, Rianna worked well with the leadership, which pleasantly surprised Rose. Esmeralda, Badicus, and Ajax performed most of the actual training.

Esmeralda reported that the Greenies had already been trained in the basics of anti-'Mech tactics, but that most of those tactics were hopelessly out-of-date. Sending infantry against a 'Mech was never a good idea. If the Green Team was to have any chance of surviving, let alone succeed in crippling a target, they would require extensive retraining.

Esmeralda, Badicus, and Ajax made a good team, and soon the Militia Training Center was ablaze with the sounds of mock combat. As Rose and the other mercenaries could attest, Esmeralda was a demanding officer. The Greenies, however, seemed to delight in the harsh demands and difficult exercises to which she subjected them. Ajax and Badicus piloted 'Mechs, served as advisors, and generally assisted the forceful woman as the Green Team was brought up-to-date.

Angus spent most of his time assisting Rianna at the base. When not needed at the compound, he too worked with Esmeralda. Rose was initially hard-pressed to find specific duties for the young man, but eventually that turned out for the best. Though quiet, Angus had tremendous leadership potential. He was not afraid to make an important decision when none of the other members of the Black Thorns were available. This ability to make quick, accurate decisions contributed as much to the smooth operation of the unit as did Rianna's ability to coordinate the logistics of training and unit supply.

Rose spent most of the first two months away from the compound. Accompanied by Hawg, he put almost eighty thousand kilometers on the loaner VTOL in the first sixty days he had it. Rose would have preferred to have Ajax or Angus with him on the scouting expeditions, but their experience made them better-suited to the training and support efforts going on back in Houston. Hawg, though knowledgeable about repair and 'Mech operations, seemed to lack the talent to transmit the knowledge to others.

Rose had feared he'd be spending all his time with a backwoods AgroMech jockey, but Hawg turned out to be surprisingly well-informed on a wide variety of subjects. When Rose's schedule allowed him to return to Houston, he rarely spent time at the compound, however. Most nights he spent with Rachel McCloud, determined to keep the relationship alive.

As the commanding officer of the most potent fighting force on Borghese, Rose enjoyed celebrity status. Soon Rianna was coordinating his social calendar in addition to keeping tabs on his scouting flights. Rose tried to make at least one event per week, Rachel McCloud at his side, to explain the purpose of his unit to the assembled guests. Though he was persuasive, Rose reckoned that he owed much of the unit's growing acceptance to Rachel. She may not have started out with much enthusiasm for the mission to Borghese, but she'd warmed to the idea as time passed. She was also much better at dealing with the social elite. Rose didn't know many details of her background, but was beginning to suspect that the kind of parties and social events they attended were nothing new to her.

By the end of the second full month on Borghese, Rose was pleased to find matters proceeding far better than he'd ever imagined. The protesters were still parked outside the main gate, and would likely remain there for the duration of the Black Thorns' contract. A small tent village had sprung up along the side of the road, but Rose let it remain because the protesters were, for the most part, quiet and well-behaved.

Salander Morgain was an increasingly common sight at the compound, soon striking up a friendship with Rianna. Although Rose did not know it, the two had been seeing one another socially for several weeks. The rest of the Thorns knew about it, but no one mentioned it to Rose because the situation seemed harmless. Besides, most of the mercenaries thought their commander was overly protective of his sister. Esmeralda didn't think much of Morgain, but she preferred to keep an eye on Rianna instead of dragging Rose into the situation.

When summer reached its hottest on Borghese, so did Jeremiah Rose. In the course of three days he learned that Rianna had been seeing Salander Morgain, that the VTOL was going to be reassigned, and that Hawg had caught viral pneumonia. It was only a matter of time before the first event came out into the open. Rianna had been behaving like a schoolgirl, which fit her age but not her status. Rose was furious, but directed most of his anger at the unit for not letting him know what was going on. His attention was quickly diverted, however, when a Borghese militia major arrived at the compound with written orders for the return of the VTOL.

Rianna stalled while Rose tried in vain to get in touch with Chairman Cooke. When neither action proved successful, Rianna confirmed the orders with the militia command center and impatiently waved the man away. The VTOL left thirty minutes later. Rose was still trying to procure some kind of airborne transportation to complete the last of the reconnaissance work when Angus called him aside.

"Hawg is sick, sir. I think we'd better get him to the hospital."

* * *

Riding in the ambulance with the stricken man, Rose berated himself for having let the illness progress so far. Hawg had caught a summer cold during one of their frequent flights, but refused to give it any attention. The condition seemed to worsen during subsequent trips, but Hawg refused to succumb to the illness. He was simply too robust to let the virus slow him down. That morning, however, Angus had discovered him with a raging fever. Hawg spent the next ten days in the hospital.

With his assistant in the hospital and the VTOL firmly back in militia hands, Rose returned to the Council with a formal request for an assistant and a replacement vehicle. He was not overly surprised when the Council turned him down, Miss de Vilbis again casting the swing vote. He was surprised, however, when a Ferret light scout VTOL landed in the compound yard the next morning. Rose, Rianna, and Angus, the only three Thorns remaining in the compound, gathered around as the pilot emerged. Approaching the assembled mercenaries, he pulled off his helmet, out tumbling the longest blond hair Rose had ever seen stuffing flight gloves into his helmet, the man extended his hand to Rose.

"Captain Rose, my name is Antioch Bell. I've been sent to help with your scouting." Rose took the offered hand and returned the warm smile.

"The Council changed its mind?"

The pilot gave Rose a lopsided smile. "Not exactly. I work for Salander Morgain."

"Salander sent you?" Rianna said, and Antioch seemed to notice her for the first time.

"Yes, ma'am. You must be Rianna." He extended his hand. "Salander has spoken a lot about you."

Feeling Rose glaring at her, Rianna's wide smile gradually disappeared. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Bell.

Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, then turned on her heel and went back to the command building. Rose watched her stomp away. Angus meanwhile was quietly introducing himself to Bell.

"Sisters." Rose shook his head and Bell grinned.

"I've got two myself. I'll never understand women, even when they're my own flesh and blood."

Rose considered the statement and Bell's presence in the camp. "Mister Bell, I appreciate the gesture you and Mister Morgain have made, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I can't, in good conscience, accept civilian transport."

"Well, Captain Rose, if it will help ease your mind, the Ferret over there has been collecting dust for the past five years. And that's the way it'll stay if you refuse the offer. By the way, I'm not exactly a civilian. I served seven years with the Twenty-sixth Lyran Guard."

"Oh, really?"

"I work for Morgain now. I signed a contract when we left the Guards." From the look on the man's face, Rose knew he viewed the signing as a natural thing to do.

"And the other warriors up at the estate?"

"Same deal, more or less, but I shouldn't be telling tales. You want me to head back home, or shall we do some recon?"

Rose looked the man over. He was roughly the same age as Rose, but he seemed much more at ease with what was going on around him. Everything from his posture to his expressive face told of a life lived in the open. Rose doubted that the man was trying to hide anything, and briefly wondered whether his original evaluation of Salander Morgain might have been wrong. He looked over at the VTOL.

"Can you really fly that thing?"

Bell's face lit up. "Sure. I'm not combat-rated, but all the combat gear was stripped when the militia sold it to Morgain. If we keep it on the straight and level, we're in good shape."

Rose considered the statement. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of ability, but the risk was probably worth the time that would be saved. He glanced over at Angus, who only shrugged.

"I'll get my maps," he said. Fifteen minutes later they were in the air over Houston.

* * *

The final stages of the reconnaissance took Rose and Bell three weeks. The Ferret was only a two-man vehicle, so travel was cramped. Like Hawg, Bell was talkative, but on a slightly narrower range of subjects. Their three weeks of scouting was most productive, however, and Rose figured that one more long day of flights to the north of the city would finalize this stage of his plans. He and Bell were on their way back to the compound when Antioch interrupted his paperwork.

"Incoming call for you," the pilot said, and Rose reached for the headset. Normally he didn't wear the communications set while the VTOL was airborne. Though he and Bell sat in separate compartments, the intercom system didn't require the use of the "head clamps," as Bell preferred to call them. Slipping the set over his head, Rose gave a thumbs-up to Bell, who switched the channel.

"Captain Rose, this is Chairman Cooke." Rose stiffened. The use of formal titles was rarely the harbinger of good news. "I understand you're en route to the compound?"

Rose nodded out of habit. "That is correct."

"Please divert to the Assembly Pavilion helipad immediately."

"Something wrong, Chairman?"

"We can discuss it on the ground, Captain. Cooke out." The line went dead and Rose was left staring out into the darkening sky. He slid the headset off and spoke into the intercom.

"I guess you heard that." Bell flashed another thumbs-up. "We're on the way?" Another affirmative. Rose settled back into the seat.

"Doesn't sound like war, so there must be trouble," Rose said, thinking out loud. "Can you raise the compound? I think I want Rianna and Esmeralda there to meet us."

When the Ferret touched ground, Rianna, Esmeralda, and Chairman Cooke were all waiting on the pad. Rose jumped out of the craft even before the blades had stopped turning, and dashed the short distance to the assembled figures. He nodded a greeting to the two women, then turned to Cooke.

"We've got trouble," the Chairman began. "Petr Ivaars, my strongest supporter on the Council, was arrested this afternoon on charges of environmental pollution and profiteering. He resigned in the face of the charges." The huddled group entered the back doors of the Assembly Pavilion and Cooke no longer had to shout to be heard. As the doors closed behind him, the Chairman adjusted his collar and continued.

"We called an emergency session of the Council, and on the way to the meeting—" Cooke paused and Rose braced himself for the worst—"Amanda Hillerman was killed in an automobile accident."

The group continued on in silence as Rose worked through what Cooke had told him. Suddenly it hit him. Two of the four members of Cooke's coalition were gone. Rose had no idea how politics worked on Borghese, but he doubted Ivaars would be back, even if cleared of the charges.

"You're out," said Rose solemnly.

"Not yet. I've got five more months left on the appointment, but there isn't much chance of another term. Meantime the first thing the Council will have to do is recruit two new members." The small group came to a set of closed double doors, which Cooke threw open in a show of strength and frustration. As echoes of the banging doors filled the corridor, he continued.

"Once the seats are filled, they'll move to change official policy. They won't fight the Clans if they arrive."

"What about the people? You said the populace was against the Clans."

Cooke shook his head. "Crenshaw will conduct a media blitz. Soften the edge of the Clans and exaggerate the weaknesses of the Federated Commonwealth. By the time it's over the people will welcome the Clan advance and wonder how the Inner Sphere ever got along without them." He barked a short laugh. "Most of them won't even realize that they were manipulated."

"It's already started," Rianna said. Startled, Rose and Cooke stopped in their tracks and turned to look at her. "I've been monitoring the local news reports. The Clans are being portrayed as unstoppable. Most of the footage is of destroyed F-C 'Mechs and the remains of the towns where the fighting's been heaviest. Things were kind of gloomy, but it didn't seem so bad, until tonight."

Rianna didn't have to be told to continue. She kept speaking as Cooke's face turned redder. "The footage they were showing tonight... I thought there was something familiar about it. When you mentioned the media, I remembered. Tonight's footage was from the battle of Twycross. I remember it from the academy. It wasn't available to the public when we viewed it."

"Meaning it's recently been declassified or else somebody has powerful connections," Cooke said. "Did they mention it was old footage?"

"No."

"That's it," said Rose. "If it was above the board, they'd have announced it was old film."

Cooke rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Captain Rose, you're about to become very unpopular. I can stall, but eventually Crenshaw's faction is going to win. That means no resistance if the Clans decide to take Borghese."

"What about a raid?" Esmeralda asked.

"A lance could take over the whole planet, if they looked threatening enough," Cooke said.

"You're joking."

"Biota and Volders fell without the firing of a single shot," Rose reminded her.

"But both planets were threatened. To a population who believes the Clans are about to destroy them, a couple of 'Mechs can seem very threatening."

Esmeralda snorted, and Cooke turned on her.

"Don't doubt it, lady. You're a warrior. Killing and destruction may come easy to you, but this is a planet of fishermen and farmers. They don't fight, and if they're threatened, they'll surrender to the first Clanner they see."

Esmeralda was taken aback by the intensity of the diplomat's gaze, but she recovered quickly. Seeing that Cooke was about to get an earful, Rose quickly stepped between the two.

"Point taken, Mister Chairman," he said, staring hard at Esmeralda until she was back in control of herself. "What about a counterattack?"

Cooke looked at Rose as though the mercenary had lost his mind.

"Crenshaw will try to persuade the people to accept the Clans," Rose said. "You've got to convince them not to. You've still got Morgain. If his reputation is as good as you say, he could slow the tide of support, at least for a while."

Cooke nodded, his eyes lighting up for a moment. "We'll have to wait and see that it happens."

"In the meantime, we're heading back to the compound. Rianna, consider the base on yellow alert." Rose turned to Esmeralda.

"Make sure the 'Mechs are ready to go at a moment's notice. Until we see how bad things are against us, we play it by ear and prepare for the worst."

Cooke checked his watch, then gestured in exasperation. "Now I'm thirty minutes late for the meeting I called." He started down the hall, but stopped after only a few steps. "Perhaps you'd better let your DropShip crew in on the news. They're still considered part of your force."

"The Chairman's right," Rose said, turning to Esmeralda and Rianna. "You two head back to the compound. I'll see if Antioch can take me directly to the spaceport."

24

Houston, Borghese

12 June 3055

 

As it turned out, McCloud was better prepared than Rose for the news of the change in Borghese politics. The Bristol 'sholds were already being filled for a trip to Cameron. In two days Rachel McCloud and the Bristol would leave Borghese. Rose doubted either would ever return.

There were no tearful good-byes, just the harsh reality of the demands of McCloud's job and Rose's contract. Rachel made her living hauling commercial goods from one planet to another. Although Rose had a contract, she did not. The maintenance on the Bristol was too high for her to remain sitting on one planet, even if she liked the company. Rose offered her a position as permanent transport of the Black Thorns, but she rejected the offer. The unit didn't make enough to provide for the extended maintenance of their 'Mechs. How could they hope to cover the expenses of a DropShip?

Rose left the ship after securing Rachel's promise to return to the compound tomorrow evening for a farewell dinner. It seemed the least he could do. Stepping off the ramp, he noticed Antioch leaning against a cargo lifter despite Rose's earlier insistence that he head for home. Rose crossed the deserted tarmac. With a sigh, he leaned a shoulder wearily against the same lifter.

"Tough night." Antioch made the statement sound like a question. Rose didn't respond and Bell let the silence drag. Eventually Rose grew restless and heaved himself away from the lifter.

"You know what I don't understand?" Rose asked rhetorically. "Me. I don't understand myself.

"I meet someone I really care about and things are going pretty well." Rose turned and looked up the ramp into the empty bay of the DropShip. "I have to leave, but we're on good terms. I send a couple of messages via ComStar and a few months later we're reunited. It's not the same, but I figure it's because of the separation." Rose crashed back into his resting spot against the lifter and continued to look up the ramp.

"Things start to get better on the trip here and I actually believe the relationship can last." Rose fell into silence.

"So what don't you understand?" Bell asked.

"When we're aboard ship, things are great. We talk and laugh and everything is fine. But the minute I hit the ground, I have to remind myself that she's even around. I mean, I think about her more than I should, but I rarely have the time to talk with her or tell her what I feel."

"Maybe there's nothing there," Bell said softly.

Rose looked hard at him, trying to pierce the dim light in search of mockery. Even in the darkness, however, he could see Bell was serious.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. But why do I feel so bad that she's leaving?"

"I've only known you for a few weeks, but I like you," Bell said tentatively. "If it's not out of line, I'd like to offer a bit of advice." Rose wasn't sure he wanted to hear what his companion wanted to say, but he was confused enough to realize that another viewpoint might give him some badly needed perspective.

"If you don't want her to leave, tell her. At least give her the chance to say no."

"I offered her a position in the unit."

Bell shook his head. "That's not the same thing. That was an offer to the DropShip and its captain. Not to the woman. There's a difference."

Rose knew there was a difference, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it aloud. The same thing had happened with Tiegard, with whom he'd also shared something special, but with Rachel it was different. She wasn't a 'Mech jock and she wasn't a warrior. Rachel looked at life in a completely different way, which was what Rose found so enchanting. Unfortunately, just as with Tiegard, Rose could not bring himself to admit how he felt.

"Let's go," he mumbled, seeing a strobe light come on at the top of the ramp. As the two men walked toward the Ferret, the ramp retracted into the belly of the DropShip. Rose couldn't see it, but he heard the echo of the ship's heavy door as it was secured for the night. There was an ominous finality to the echo that haunted him all the way to the compound.

* * *

Across Houston, at Crenshaw's second home, the mood was much lighter. Crenshaw was entertaining a single guest in his study and he was doing his best to make the man feel at home. Following a Council meeting that had been cut short by Cooke, Crenshaw mentally cursed him to Hell, then decided to retire to his home in town rather than endure the ride back to his country estate. When his guest had appeared just as the Council was adjourning, Crenshaw was able to invite him to his home without the other members of the Council noticing.

He smiled and offered his guest another snifter of brandy. This stuff comes all the way from Andro, he thought with a huff of annoyance, yet the man drinks it down like ale. Crenshaw had suspected it from the first moment this fellow had walked into the Council meeting almost three months ago—Salander Morgain was a mere shadow of his famous father.

"Do you like it?" Crenshaw managed to hide his disgust. After his many years as a politician, few could read his moods.

Salander Morgain nodded. The brandy had an intense warming effect he had never experienced with any other alcohol. He'd have to find out where to get some for himself. Crenshaw smiled and moved to a chair matching the one Morgain occupied. His movements were not those of an old man, despite his physical appearance.

As the councilman seated himself, Morgain could not help but remember the first time he'd seen Crenshaw. Even as a young boy, he'd sensed something sinister about the man. It lay just under the surface, waiting for the right moment to spring to life. His father had managed to keep Crenshaw's ambitions in check, as had the string of other chairmen who'd run the assembly. Only Cooke seemed unaware of what Morgain knew was the man's true nature. Now the beast was free, and he could see it in Crenshaw's eyes as the man prepared to speak.

"Salander, I will not mince words. We sit on the eve of an historic day. A day that will be remembered in the history of Borghese as the day we set our feet on the right path."

Salander was amazed. Crenshaw actually believed whatever tripe he was about to express.

"You know that I oppose Zenos Cooke in the Council?"

Morgain nodded and sipped his brandy. The fact was common knowledge.

"You also know that I would not oppose a Clan landing, if one were to occur."

Morgain hesitated, then nodded. He'd always known as much, but the gleam in Crenshaw's dark eyes was unnerving. "I hear your name mentioned as the leader of a pro-Clan faction, which I believe the media has named the Preservationists. "

Crenshaw snorted. "Populist hog wash. The name matters little, as does my involvement with the faction. I do, however, support their aims. This foolish war with the Clans must not come to Borghese. I am dedicated to preventing that by any means necessary."

Morgain nodded again. Crenshaw leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

Morgain continued nodding, then caught himself. The reaction had been reflex until he looked into Crenshaw's eyes. The old man was not joking around. The younger man swallowed the last of his brandy and set the glass on the table between them. He leaned forward, his position mirroring Crenshaw's.

"I understand. I've fought against the Clans, and I know what they're capable of doing. I would also do anything to keep the war from spilling into Borghese."

Crenshaw relaxed. Morgain was now on his side. He smiled and reached out to pat the younger man's knee. "Just like your father. You love your homeland." What a lie, thought Crenshaw. Power and money are all the boy cares about.

Crenshaw leaned back in the chair and motioned Morgain to pour himself another brandy. While he did so, Crenshaw continued speaking.

"I believe we can prevent a war, despite what that fool Cooke has already done. Can I count on you to help?" Crenshaw already knew the answer, but if he could get Morgain to verbalize his position it would seem more like his own idea.

"Of course. Tell me how I can help." Crenshaw hid his smile as Morgain crossed back to his chair, his glass filled to the rim.

"The Council controls the militia. If someone threatens war, the Council can keep the reins on any hothead who wants to start shooting. Since I control the Council—or will after tomorrow's appointments—I can keep the militia from starting something. But. ..."

"But the mercenaries," interrupted Salander.

Crenshaw bit his lip. He hated to be interrupted. He smiled through clenched teeth and continued. "But the mercenaries are beyond my control. I've tried to talk with Rose on several occasions, but he refuses to see me except during the Council sessions. If the Clans arrive before the end of his contract, he'll definitely try to fight them." Crenshaw let his words sink in.

"The Clans would be forced to fight back and who knows where it would end," blurted Morgain. Crenshaw nodded solemnly.

"We have to stop him." Crenshaw continued nodding as Morgain set the half-full glass back on the table. He looked at Crenshaw and started to speak, then stopped, his mouth hanging open.

"That's what you need me for, isn't it? I'm the only one who can stop Rose."

Crenshaw considered his options. Morgain's statement was not exactly true, but it was close enough. He looked at the young Mech Warrior and decided to be a little more circumspect than he'd originally planned.

"I don't want you to stop Rose. I'm hoping it won't come to that. What we, the Preservationists, need is someone with a military background to support our cause.

"You've been very outspoken in your views about what to do when the Clans come. Although I haven't always agreed with you, I respected your conviction. But consider the cost of resistance. Destruction like you saw while fighting with the Federated Commonwealth army. Do you really want that for your home? Could you live with that, knowing that the damage and death could have been avoided?"

Crenshaw leaned forward and impaled Morgain with his stare. Long moments passed, then the younger man shook his head.

"Of course you couldn't. I understand, son, how much home means to you.

"All you need do is support the no-resistance policy that I'll be proposing to the Council in the next week. If you were the first private citizen to announce his approval of the plan, the masses would follow. You'd be a hero."

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