Warrior: Coupé (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Three): BattleTech Legends, #59

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Julie shook her head. “You’re setting your sights too high, Riva. I’d gladly settle for something more than surly service and bland food in a restaurant.”

  Kym nodded enthusiastically. “I understand the need for rationing, but some of the chefs are hoarding spices as if they’re worth their weight in gold.”

  “Hey, on the black market, the spices are worth their weight in gold.” Riva locked her hands into talons and lightly clawed the surface of her desk. “I’d kill right now for a bottle of Tharkad Nichtlager or Timbiqui Dark.”

  “All right, then, I’ll find you a target.” Morgan Hasek-Davion filled the office doorway for a moment, then he stepped into the room and kissed Kym. He nodded to Riva and winked at Julie, which set her to blushing again.

  Riva smiled happily. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit, Highness?” He’s looking better than he has since learning of his father’s death, but he’s still not his old self. Kym says he wants a command so bad he can taste it. It shows, too. He normally visits the wards on Thursday… I wonder if he heard we got some people from his father’s old unit?

  Morgan returned her smile, slipping an arm around Kym’s slender waist. “I came looking for some women who have dutifully put up with the deprivations this war has brought on all of us.” He paused and glanced at Julie. “Last year, I had a complete set of the new Sherlock Holmes holovid series sent to Melissa Steiner-Davion. In return, on a diplomatic ship that arrived today, I got a shipment of a number of luxury items from the Commonwealth.”

  Riva shot a sidelong glance toward Julie. Kym is aware Melissa is here on New Avalon, and I know it because I was Melissa’s companion while she traveled incognito to New Avalon after the wedding. But I think Morgan’s story is good enough to withstand scrutiny.

  Kym gave Morgan a playful punch in the shoulder. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense, you fiend! What did she send to you?”

  Morgan smiled like a predator. His long, reddish-blond hair fell over his shoulders like a lion’s mane. “Well, soon-to-be Dr. Allard, they will probably put a kilo or two on her willowy figure because I’ve got three cases of Timbiqui Dark that need a home. And Julie, well, there’s a pile of new Immortal Warrior holodisks and a box of that white chocolate from Vorzel just waiting to be adopted.”

  Julie dramatically pressed the back of her right hand to her forehead. “It would be a strain, but I think I could handle accepting such into my home.”

  Morgan roared with laughter, then hugged Kym roughly to himself. “As for you, my love, the Archon-Designate had her seamstress make two gowns that she guarantees will turn the fashion world on its head and a round of that cheese from Nekkear that you fancied so much at the wedding.”

  Kym’s smile faded into a mock pout. “If I eat the cheese, I’ll not be able to fit into the gowns.”

  Riva shook her head. “No, Kym, you keep forgetting. If the food is a gift, it has no calories.”

  “Ah, how right you are.” Kym kissed Morgan on the cheek. “I also understand that food consumed at a party won’t fatten you up, either. I suggest we get together tonight to watch the holovids and sample the Lyran Commonwealth’s largesse. My place, in two hours?”

  “I’ll get the stuff over there,” Morgan said, “but I’ll beg off.” He hesitated. “There’s some work I want to do this evening.”

  Riva caught the loss of enthusiasm in Morgan’s voice, and the quick flash of worry in Kym’s eyes, but Julie missed them entirely. The teaching assistant smiled happily as she asked, “What did you get, Highness, if I may be so bold.”

  “A few things. Some programs and a case of Cuchulain Irish whisky from Arc-Royal.”

  Kym turned Morgan’s face toward her with her right hand. “Are those the Nagelring programs you hoped would come?”

  Morgan nodded. “I just want to check and make sure they survived the trip.”

  Riva kept her thoughts from her face. I know Kym’s been worried about how hard Morgan pushes himself. Morgan wants to prove he could be useful in the field so the Prince will give him a unit to command, but he just doesn’t realize the risk that would be for the Prince. If Liao captured Morgan before Melissa gives the Prince an heir, Liao could use Morgan as a bargaining tool to stop the war or cause the Capellan March troops to go neutral to save Morgan’s life. Studying for the Nagelring exams and maxing them isn’t going to change that one whit.

  Kym looked up into Morgan’s green eyes. “If that’s all, why not check them on the computer at my apartment, then join our little party. Please, Morgan? It will be good for you to relax.”

  Morgan was about to refuse, then let her concern melt his resolution. “I surrender,” he said with a grin, “but I need three hours to play with the programs before we start. Agreed?”

  Riva smiled slyly as an idea popped into her head. “How about four hours?” She waved a hand at her desk. “You can start working with them here because it will take us four hours to organize the party…a real party.”

  The others looked at her with puzzled expressions, then Kym seemed to guess what Riva had in mind. “We’re not talking about having a party at my apartment anymore, are we?”

  Riva shook her head. “You said that being shipped to New Avalon to recover was like hell for many of the soldiers down in the wards. I think we should take the gifts Melissa sent and hold the world premiere of Immortal Warrior, Part 48 right here in the hospital auditorium. It will be fun for the patients, and the publicity, along with the largesse from Melissa, will help quiet some of the Prince’s critics.”

  Pleasure shone in Morgan’s eyes. “I like it. If we can’t be out on the front, the least we can do is show our appreciation to those who are doing the fighting.” He glanced at the computer on Riva’s desk, then gave a slight shake of the head. “No time for playing games. We’ve only got four hours to organize that party.”

  Chapter 24

  SOLARIS VII

  RAHNESHIRE

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  20 JULY 3029

  Fuh Teng smiled courteously enough as Mandrinn Zhelang Qua stepped past Carrie, the buxom blond waitress holding open the curtain into the small alcove in Valhalla. Teng winked at Carrie, then killed his smile as he read the displeasure on the Liao official’s face. I’d best watch myself. He’s not in a good mood.

  Teng stood at the end of a rough-hewn table. Across from him, built into the alcove’s wall, a holovid monitor displayed a closed-circuit feed of a fight from the Factory battlesite. He bowed respectfully. “It is an honor for a member of the Capellan Ministry of the Military to visit me, especially here in Valhalla.” Teng glanced at the man’s threadbare clothing, then smiled politely. “I can appreciate the danger of your mission…traveling here to enemy territory.”

  The tall, slender minister bowed to Fuh Teng, but the stiffness and shallowness of the act revealed his anger and contempt for his host, despite his eloquent words. “It is a distinct honor to meet you, Citizen Teng. Your success, and the successes of those you sponsor in the games here on Solaris, have reached the ears of the Chancellor himself. In his name, and that of your friend, Justin Xiang, I bring greetings.”

  Teng smiled at the mention of Justin’s name. Two and a half years ago, Justin cold-cocked me and took my place in a fight that probably would have ended with my death. But he was just a vagabond then, a wandering MechWarrior who had been disgraced. Who would have imagined he could rise so high in so short a time? “Any friend of Justin’s is a friend of mine. This alcove is his actually, inherited from a legendary fighter—Gray Noton. Please, be seated.”

  The mandrinn slipped past the monitor and onto the bench facing the alcove’s drawn black curtain. “I am certain you know this is more than just a casual visit, Citizen Teng.”

  Teng nodded. “Would you like tea before we begin? I’ve finally gotten Carrie trained to make it perfectly. It’s a blend from Hsien.” He kept the smile from his face as the mandrinn visibly struggled over whether or not to accept the offer. I
know he hungers for Hsien tea—it was always the best in the Confederation. But Hsien was one of the worlds to join Ridzik’s Tikonov Free Republic. Round one of our game and the point goes to…

  Qua shivered as he nodded assent. Teng, smiling broadly enough to bring a blush to Qua’s sallow face, turned to the waitress. “Carrie, be a dear and make us some tea. Use the Hsien stock—our visitor is important.” Teng looked up at Maximilian Liao’s messenger. “And bring us some of the kincha fruit. That new shipment can’t be all used up yet, can it?”

  Carrie smiled warmly at the smaller man. “As you desire, Master Teng.” She bowed and withdrew, allowing the alcove drapery to slide shut.

  Fuh Teng let the Liao minister see him flip a switch on the arm of his chair. “That should deal with unwanted eavesdroppers. The tea will be here in a moment. Now, what can I do for you?”

  Qua folded his hands and settled them in his lap as he composed himself. “Over the last two years, you have put together a stable of MechWarriors that is the envy of the Successor States…”

  Teng nodded. “We have had our share of success in the arenas here in Solaris City. Justin has graciously let me reinvest his portion of the profits to expand our training program. This ensures us a steady stream of winners.”

  The minister politely waited for an opening. “Yes, I knew it was your hand in managing things that made the program prosper. The Chancellor wishes you to know that your victories have inspired and heartened many of your fellow citizens. As you know, many believe the battles on Solaris are a window onto the military future of the Successor States.”

  Teng leaned back in his high-backed chair. “As within, so without, as we say here on Solaris.”

  Qua nodded curtly, obviously annoyed by the interruption.

  “Quaintly put. Your grasp of tactics is revealed in the training you give your fighters. We believe this training is the edge that allows your fighters to defeat the Davion warriors on a regular basis.”

  The return of Carrie stopped the minister’s speech. She set small cerulean cups before each man, then poured the steaming, green-gray tea up to the brim of each. She set the teapot on the table, handle toward Teng, and centered the bowl of kincha between the two men.

  Qua glanced at the bowl of plum-sized fruit and frowned. A thick, golden brown skin protected the kincha’s sweet flesh. He looked up, then jerked back as Teng shook a razor-edged stiletto from the sleeve of his black and silver silk jacket.

  Teng bowed his head when he saw the mandrinn’s reaction. “Forgive me, Excellency. I did not mean to startle you.” He looked toward the curtain warding them from the other revelers in Valhalla. “This place, as you know, is in the heart of the Silesia sector of the city. I would never be molested here in Valhalla, but the same cannot be said for the streets between here and my home in Cathay. Solaris is something of a lawless world and—” he proffered the knife hilt-first, “—a tungsten lawyer is most useful in negotiating differences of opinion.”

  Qua took the weapon in trembling fingers and used it to slice through the kincha rind. He cut a small sliver from the fruit and closed his eyes as he touched it to his tongue. An expression of pure delight relaxed his features.

  Teng smiled. Kincha had become little more than a memory for many after the Free Worlds League took Shuen Wan, the only place where the fruit could be grown. Ever since Maximilian Liao had lost the world, he had considered consuming the fruit equivalent to treason. Teng was surprised that Qua took the liberty.

  The ex-MechWarrior sipped his tea as Qua lovingly pared the kincha down to its pit. “Minister, am I to assume from your remarks that you, or the Chancellor, would like me to instruct Capellan troops in the ways of defeating the Davion hordes?”

  Qua’s eyes snapped open, then darted around the alcove as he reoriented himself. “Ah, well, Citizen Teng, this is certainly a subject that has been discussed in the highest Maskirovka councils, but no conclusion has been reached.”

  Teng smiled to himself. That I believe. Justin wants me right here making bundles of money for him. “Then what is it that you want?”

  The mandrinn smiled as politely as he could manage. “The Chancellor asks that you turn all the MechWarriors in your stable over to us to fight in the war. You realize, I am sure, what it would mean for the war effort. Here on Solaris, you are fortunate that the war does not touch you.”

  Teng narrowed his brown eyes. “I beg to differ with you, Mandrinn. The war does touch us here. Since hostilities began, the number of championship-caliber fighters on Solaris has dropped by fifty percent. That’s part of the reason the Teng-Xiang stable has done so well. All our competition is off dying out of sight of the holovid cameras.”

  Qua blinked his eyes and stared at Teng with the look of disbelief that only a bureaucrat can master. “I don’t understand. What are you telling me? Don’t you know how much the war with the Federated Suns is hurting you? Don’t you want to see the war end?”

  Teng laughed aloud, slapping the table hard enough to make the kincha bowl bounce a few centimeters into the air “Oh, by all the gods, I do want the war to end. Do you realize that my revenues have dropped by thirty percent since the war began? I’d worked a deal for distribution in the Draconis Combine, but now the damned Dragons won’t allow the broadcast of fights in which MechWarriors from House Davion, Steiner, or Kurita fight—and no one wants to watch fights between just Capellans and Leaguers. I just got a call from the current champion’s manager. He said my bond of 50,000 C-bills would be forfeit if I didn’t find Don Gilmore a suitable challenge within a month, but I’ve got no one capable of fighting him right now. And this damned interdiction by ComStar just knocked my best market out of the picture. I’ve not got the numbers for June yet, but I’m betting my books will be hemorrhaging C-bills when I do. And now you want me to give you my warriors? Are you mad?”

  Qua’s face drained of blood, making him paler even then the meat of the kincha. His mouth hung agape, then his jaw closed and his black eyes became slits. “Need I remind you, Fuh Teng, that you are a Maskirovka operative. I have rank on you, and I could order you to turn those fighters over to me.”

  Fuh Teng stiffened. “Order me?” He folded his hands on the table, rubbing his thumbs together in irritation. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said, or haven’t I made myself clear? Wake up, Mandrinn! The war is over. It’s old news. This is the game world, and those of us who make our living here are used to picking winners and losers. Your side is definitely a loser.”

  Teng hit a switch at his end of the table and gave an order to the computer controlling the holovid display. “Patch in the political map of the Capellan Confederation, with the projections for the next wave of the Davion invasion.”

  At his command, the screen blanked, then flashed up a map of the Capellan Confederation. Each of the Davion invasion waves was overlaid in different shades of blue. The symbols designating several worlds in the Sarna Commonality flashed, indicating the local oddsmakers’ belief that they were next on the path to war.

  Qua stared at the map like a teetotaler watching a beer-blast erupting in his own home. “This…this…” he sputtered, pointing a shaky finger at the screen. “This is treason!”

  Fuh Teng shook his head slowly. “No, it’s reality. The oddsmakers say that the next Davion wave will come early in September, but my money is on August fifteenth to the twentieth. Got two-to-one odds on that bet.” He pointed to the Liao world closest to the center of the map. “Not only do I have money on how quickly Palos will fall, but I’ve arranged to have three cases of Palos champagne shipped here through the Davion-Steiner military liaison office.”

  Qua slumped forward on the table. Teng patted the mandrinn’s left arm with is right hand. “Listen, old boy. I can fix it up for you here. You’re a smart man. Forget your mission—the whole game will be up by the new year. I have a place for you here, in my organization.”

  Qua batted Teng’s hand away. Turning toward the battle promoter, his an
ger melted the mask of diplomacy he’d worn. “You pig! You filthy, gutter-dwelling pig! You’d put your personal profits and well-being above that of the Capellan Confederation.” He picked up the knife Teng had given him earlier. “I’ll kill you if you don’t give me those fighters.”

  Teng drew back, then let a smile play across his lips. “This is your last chance to accept my offer, Mandrinn Qua. Refuse at your own peril.”

  Qua smiled with open joy. “I spit on your offer.” He inched his way forward along the bench. “I will enjoy this.”

  Teng spun quickly from his chair toward the curtained alcove opening. Qua lunged at him, but missed and lay sprawled out over the table. The curtain slid aside and two men stood on either side of Fuh Teng with guns drawn and pointed at the mandrinn.

  On Fuh Teng’s right, the taller one grinned. “Lyran Intelligence Corps, Mandrinn. You’re under arrest for an attempt to coerce treason from a Lyran citizen, assault with intent to kill, and violation of a dozen immigration laws.”

  “You see,” Fuh Teng said as the knife slipped from Qua’s fingers and clattered against the floor. “I told you the war was over.”

  Qua only glared up at him venomously as Teng added, “By the way, this was only business. The odds were six to one against you being angry enough to try to cut me, but I had confidence in you.” He shrugged. “Remember, as within, so without. The Capellan Confederation is finished.”

  Chapter 25

  NEW AVALON

  CRUCIS MARCH

  FEDERATED SUNS

  20 JULY 3029