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

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The sight of her father’s transformation created a spark of regret in Romano, but her ambition smothered it before it could even begin to approximate sympathy. Xiang’s plan could well divide the Federated Suns against itself. It is curious that the same freedoms that make our enemy strong are the freedoms that make it open to such a covert assault. She smiled at Justin. Likewise, only such an open society could breed an agent with the skill to recognize and exploit such a weakness.

  Romano licked her full lips. “Very well, let us prepare a welcome for Morgan Hasek-Davion and a trial for Alexi Malenkov. We will take the moral high ground away from Hanse Davion, then leave him to drown in his own plots and deceptions.”

  Chapter 46

  INBOUND, SIAN

  SIAN COMMONALITY

  CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION

  22 OCTOBER 3029

  Andrew Redburn, lost in thought as he stared out the DropShip’s viewport, nearly jumped out of his skin when Morgan Hasek-Davion slapped him heavily on the back. “Dammit, Morgan! Don’t do that to me!”

  The larger MechWarrior smiled warmly. “Sorry, Andy. I really didn’t mean to startle you.” He rested his huge right hand on Andrew’s left shoulder. “You’ve been preoccupied ever since we jumped to Sian and started our trip in system.”

  Andrew stared out at the second planet orbiting the star called Sian. Still two days out, despite arriving at a nonstandard jump point and heading in at just over two gravities, the world was nothing more than a white ball in the distance. You’re down there, Justin. I can feel it. Have you figured out what we’re doing or are we going to trick you this time?

  Andrew forced a smile. “Don’t mind me, Highness. I’m not worried about the plan. It’s flawless. They appear to believe wholeheartedly that we’re remnants of the Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers returning in triumph with Prince Hanse’s heir in tow.” His smile grew a bit more genuine. “I can’t wait to see the expression on Maximilian Liao’s face when our DropShip opens up, and we drop out a battalion ready for a fight. The First Kathil Uhlans should build quite a reputation in this action.”

  Morgan chucked softly. “Yes, I believe you are correct. Our JumpShip will be recharging the KF drive from its fusion reactor in preparation for our return trip. All we have to do is find Hanse’s agent and get him out.”

  Turning his back to the viewport, Andrew frowned. “I don’t like not knowing who the agent is.”

  Morgan shrugged. “That can’t be helped. We just have to listen for the countersign. They’ve got half an hour to make contact with us. If we knew who they were, it would be information we could reveal if captured. We’re to find the agent, give them the packet of stuff our intelligence liaison officer issued yesterday, and then cover their back as he gets out.”

  Andrew nodded slowly. “What if they’ve already captured the agent and they miss the pickup?”

  Morgan frowned. “In that case, I guess we’ll just have to take the palace apart and find them.” He narrowed his green eyes. “Somehow, Andy, I don’t think that’s what’s been bothering you. I can read your uneasiness like a book. You’re telegraphing like you telegraphed your punches in our first boxing match back at Warrior’s Hall.”

  “That obvious, huh?” Andrew sighed heavily. “Somewhere down there on Sian, I’m going to run into Justin Xiang. I know that if I see him, I’ll have to try to kill him.” Andrew looked up at his friend. “I know he’s the enemy, and my face still burns when I think of how easily he dealt with me on Bethel, but there’s still part of me…”

  Morgan held up a hand to stop Andrew. “I know exactly what you’re saying. You’re angry at him not so much because he’s the enemy but because you feel he betrayed you. He taught you a great deal while you served under him in the First Kittery Training Battalion, and you stuck by him during his treason trial. But then he tried to have you assassinated on Kittery, and he defeated you in a ’Mech battle on Bethel. Part of you wants to fight him and beat him, but part of you doesn’t want to lose the friendship you felt for him.”

  Andrew saw sadness in Morgan’s eyes. “Yes, that sums it up almost perfectly. How did you know?”

  Morgan folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back against the DropShip’s hull. “When I was a boy, my father taught me to play chess. We’d play once a week or so, and those games became very important to me. No matter what problems my father had to deal with at court, he refused to miss our game. He always encouraged me and told me that when I could finally beat him, I would become a man. Yet, try as I might, I could not win, and felt myself smaller in his eyes for my failure.”

  Morgan glanced away, focusing his malachite eyes beyond the ship’s metal shell. “Finally, when I turned fourteen, I took to studying chess. It became an avocation for me, and was sufficiently martial for my tutors to indulge my desires. During this time, my father was called to New Avalon, so we did not play for three months. But when he returned, the first thing we did was to face off across a chess board.”

  Morgan lapsed into silence for a moment as pain and confusion passed fleetingly over his face. “It was no contest, really. I had become very good in his absence, and I beat him even before I knew it. When I announced, ‘Checkmate!’ I expected congratulations from him, and to be seen in a new role as an adult.”

  Andrew moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. “What happened?”

  Morgan shook his head ruefully. “He swept the board and pieces from the table. He demanded to know who had conspired with me to humiliate him. He grabbed me and tried to look into my ears to see if I was wearing a radio earpiece because he couldn’t believe he’d been bested by ‘a half-grown whelp.’”

  The Lion of Davion met Andrew’s stare. “I’ve not played chess since because even the idea of a game reminds me of what that last match cost me in the loss of intimacy between me and my father. For years, I thought I’d done something wrong. I beat him, and he hated me for it. After a while, I realized this conflict would probably have developed one way or another, no matter what either of us would have chosen to do about it. My father had become a different person, and I had to deal with him on that basis.”

  Andrew thought for a moment, then nodded grimly. “What you’re saying is that Justin’s responsible for the changes in his life. I’ve got to make sure to keep the past in the past, because dwelling on it will get me killed in the here and now.”

  “Yeah,” Morgan said with a grin. “That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know what sort of a reception we’re going to get down there, but I don’t want anyone thinking about anything other than the mission. We get our man and get out.”

  Andrew nodded. “Get our man and get out. Right.” That means, Justin Xiang, that I’m looking for someone different than everyone else. When I settle with you, I’ll consider my mission accomplished.

  Chapter 47

  CASTLE LESTRADE, MOUNT CURITIBA

  SUMMER, ISLE OF SKYE

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  23 OCTOBER 3029

  Clovis Holstein eased himself from the shadowed corner of Aldo Lestrade’s library and moved into the light as the duke headed toward the crystal service on the sideboard. Clovis made no noise, but the duke, as though sensing the emotions raging in the dwarf’s breast, whirled unsteadily. Clovis stopped.

  “I have come for you, Duke Aldo Lestrade.”

  Lestrade jammed both fists on his hips and screwed his face into a grimace that looked like the prelude to a furious outburst. Then his eyebrows tipped up in a mocking expression. The short, squat duke threw back his head and laughed raucously. “Does Morgan Kell hold me in such contempt that he sends you to kill me? Be off with you before I find a stick and beat you to death as I would any other vermin.”

  “He doesn’t even know I’m here,” Clovis said. “If Morgan Kell truly wished you dead, he’d have crushed you beneath the heel of his Archer months ago. He would gladly have killed you for any of your attempts against the life of the Archon. With Duke Frederick gone, Morgan
assumes you are no longer a threat.”

  Lestrade’s jovial expression grew darker, and Clovis took secret pleasure in the change. Yes, Duke Lestrade. I know of Duke Frederick’s demise. I am privy to highly secret information. This makes me an unknown quantity in your eyes, doesn’t it? I am a mystery to be unraveled before you destroy me.

  Lestrade frowned, then crossed to a massive wooden sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Duke Frederick’s loss is a blow to my plans, but it matters little. Alessandro Steiner is dying, and Ryan, his heir apparent, will still need a political mentor to wrest control from Melissa. It may take ten or twenty years, but I will be there to see my plans come to fruition.”

  Clovis unzipped the Kell Hound flight jacket he wore. “All your planning will be for naught,” he said, a cruel smile tugging at his mouth. “The same raid that killed your father, the raid that took your left arm and destroyed your left hip, maimed you in another way. Reconstructive surgery is wonderful, but even the best in the Successor States could not give you back the ability to sire a dynasty, could it?”

  Lestrade’s face drained of color. He swirled the brandy in his snifter, then gulped down the amber liquid. It restored sanguinity to his cheeks, but the haunted look in his brown eyes remained. “How do you know that? Who are you?”

  Clovis’s laughter clearly irritated the duke, so the dwarf lashed him with it mercilessly. “How did I know you were castrated in that raid? I’ve been in your castle for two days now, and I’ve sorted through every piece of data in your computer system. What other conclusion could I draw from the fact that one of the greatest womanizers in the Lyran Commonwealth has testosterone derms sent to him from a dozen different sources? You’ve never had an heir and never even been involved in a paternity suit. As I suggested before, reconstructive surgery can be wonderful, but some things it cannot rebuild.”

  Lestrade, slightly unsteady, eased himself into a green leather wingback chair. He stared at Clovis, appearing almost mesmerized. “You broke my security? The computer security system I created?”

  Clovis nodded patronizingly. “I’ve a knack for that sort of thing. Some say I inherited it.” The dwarf’s smile grew as he looked around the dark, cavernous room filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of valuable, leather-bound books. “As for your other question, I am offended that you do not recognize me. I didn’t think I had that much of my mother in me.”

  Lestrade squinted through the room’s dim light at the dwarf. He pulled back for a second, then looked closely at his visitor again. Finally he settled back in his chair, an astonished smile spreading across his wide face. “My God, is it possible? I thought she died in the raid. Someone told me afterward that she’d been pregnant…I couldn’t have cared before…” The duke looked at the plastic left hand he wore as a result of the Kurita raid twenty-four years before. “Afterward, I would have given my right arm for her child. What was her name?”

  Clovis threw back his long black hair with a proud shake of his head. “Danica. Her name is Danica Holstein. I am Clovis.”

  A chuckle began deep in Lestrade’s barrel chest and grew to fill the room. “Clovis. That’s a good name, a strong name. It means illustrious battler. Yes, yes…Clovis Lestrade.” The duke’s eyes flashed with unadulterated joy. “Clovis Lestrade… That’s as good a name as I would have chosen for you myself.”

  The dwarf rested his hands on his hips. “Now I have come for you.”

  Lestrade nodded enthusiastically. “Of course you have, my boy. You’ve come for what I can give you, what we can share. The Lyran Commonwealth is a ripe plum, just waiting to be plucked by someone with the courage and knowledge to take it.” The duke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Of course you broke through my computer’s security—by the gods, you’ve got to be brilliant. Now my people will have someone to lead them when I have passed on.”

  Clovis smiled easily. “I have people as well, Father.”

  The duke heard his words, but placed different emphasis on them. “Father,” he said, musing over the sound of the word. “How often have I been jealous of other men who have children? There I was, a strategist without equal, a political leader who is a god in his own realm, yet I had no heir, no future on which to build. I would look at some halfwit peasant toiling on an agrocombine, with a dozen wailing brats surrounding him like a pack of mongrels. I could not understand my fate because I knew God had chosen me for great things.”

  Lestrade smiled at his son. “Now I see that it makes sense. It does not surprise me that you have followers of your own. That would only be natural. I can see it in you, the Lestrade fire. You can speak passionately and make people listen. You can inflame them and direct them. How many are your followers? What is your power base?”

  Clovis’s dark eyes hardened. “It was a small community on Lyons. It was called New Freedom, and it died when you ordered the Kell Hounds to abandon the world.”

  The duke frowned for a moment as the pain in Clovis’s voice confused him, but his dreams of empire carried him away again. “It was too bad about that. But the important thing is that you survived.” The horror of losing the son he’d not known sent a tremor through him. “Do you have a son? Am I a grandfather?”

  Clovis shook his head. “Not yet.”

  The duke laughed aloud. “But you will, Clovis. You will. I will arrange for you a marriage that will strengthen our ties with the Tamar Pact. When your son assumes the throne, he will rule a realm a third the size of the Lyran Commonwealth.”

  Clovis shook his head. “I’m afraid you don’t understand why I am here. Just as you killed your father, I will kill you. First, I wanted you to know who I am, and that your foul line ends with you.”

  The joy on Lestrade’s face melted into outrage, then changed to calculated pity. With his right hand, the duke tugged on his artificial left hand, bending it all the way back against his forearm. At his wrist, the barrel of a laser pistol popped out and pointed directly at Clovis.

  The duke shook his head. “I am not as stupid as my father. I am never without a weapon.”

  Clovis laughed at him. “As I told you before, I’ve been in this castle for two days. I learned about your little trick from the computer and I drained the battery cell last night after you removed the arm to sleep.”

  Lestrade stabbed the laser at Clovis, but no beam shot from it to impale him. The duke levered himself out of the chair and raised the plastic and steel limb. “It does not matter! You are nothing! I will crush you!” He took one step toward the dwarf, then clutched at his chest. The duke sank heavily to his knees before pitching forward onto his face.

  Clovis approached him, pleased to see his father’s breath moistening the cold marble floor. “I’m a Lestrade, Father. I’ve been here two days, and you never saw me. I would have remained here a week or a month or a year if I had to.”

  Clovis lifted the duke’s head just enough so the man could see the sideboard. “Were I acting just for myself, or the people you caused to be murdered at New Freedom, I would have killed you cleanly. But in your attempt to kill the Archon, you had my best friend’s lover killed. You gave Daniel Allard untold pain—pain he does not deserve—and for that, I decided to break you. The only reason you saw me tonight, Father, is because you were moving to drink from the brandy I poisoned when I first got here. I just wanted to see your face when you realized that you would die a complete and utter failure.”

  Clovis laid the duke’s head back down on the cold floor, then walked away, leaving Aldo Lestrade to die very, very much alone.

  Chapter 48

  NUSAKAN

  ISLE OF SKYE

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  24 OCTOBER 3029

  Chu-sa Akira Brahe left his company under the command of Jack Seaborg to pace his way through the Genyosha column. Pulling parallel to his father’s Warhammer, he keyed up a radio link. “Sumimasen, Tai-sa Yorinaga. Please speak with me on our private channel.”

  His father’s voice came
after a moment’s hesitation. “Hai.” After a short buzz of static, Yorinaga Kurita’s voice again filled Akira’s neurohelmet. “As you asked for this conference by addressing me by rank, I shall assume we will speak only of military matters?”

  Akira winced at the anxiety mixed with an uncharacteristic eagerness in his father’s voice. What we are to face both worries and exhilarates him. The calm that seemed the core of his being erodes as he draws closer to his meeting with Morgan Kell. He drew in a deep breath in a weak attempt to allay his own anxiety. “Hai, sosen. My primary concern is military, but it does not smother all else that I feel. But the Way of the Sword enables me to put aside personal concerns to consider the military necessities of a situation.”

  Yorinaga’s laughter brought a smile to Akira’s lips as the MechWarrior stepped his Orion around a wind-carved dolmen. “Well put, Chu-sa Brahe. I am rebuked for placing my personal concerns ahead of military ones, though, in actuality, I have not done so.”

  Akira frowned. A desert wind swirled red dust up into a bloody dervish that coated both lead ’Mechs with a layer of ocher. He glanced at his heat monitor and noticed that because of the external temperature, his ’Mech’s monitor lights were already creeping into the yellow cautionary zone.

  “Forgive me, Tai-sa, if your statement confuses me. Ever since you learned that Palmer Conti—at loose ends because of the attack on Dromini VI—jumped his Fifth Sword of Light Regiment in here to destroy the Kell Hounds ahead of us, you have driven us hard in a race you knew we could not win. You’ve heard the reports of combat communications. You know they joined in battle twenty hours ago, and you know it will be over by the time we get there.”