In contrast to the Draconian Coordinator, Maximilian Liao turned and extended his hand to his wife. Almost as tall as her husband and strikingly beautiful, Elizabeth Jordan Liao gracefully accepted his arm. Her waist-length black hair tumbled over her right shoulder, half-obscuring her white silk robe. Dragons and tigers embroidered in black thread cavorted throughout the design, but the aggressive images could not rob Elizabeth Jordan Liao of her femininity or charm.
Emerging behind her father and her stepmother, Romano Liao assumed center stage with the air of a warrior conquering a planet. Blue silk trimmed her golden robe, yet her obvious uneasiness in wearing it seemed to dim its beauty. Beside her, dressed in a blue robe trimmed with gold silk, Tsen Shang escorted Romano with a smile of pleasure. The Maskirovka analyst led her down the steps, though the look on her face made it clear that she was not yet ready to relinquish the spotlight.
Dan’s breath caught in his throat as Candace Liao and her escort stepped through the door. My God! It’s Justin! Riva shot Dan a hard glance, and Tamara reached out for her husband’s hand.
Unlike Maximilian or Romano, Candace had chosen to wear a clinging black gown decorated with sparkling black sequins instead of traditional Capellan garb. In a concession to current fashion, the right side of the gown was sleeveless, but a full sleeve covered her left arm, from the back of her hand up beyond her scarred shoulder all the way to her throat. Starting at the shoulder, the sequin design swirled down the sleeve like ivy, while slender sequined tendrils spiraled from the same spot down across the rest of the dress.
His face a proud mask, Justin stood a half-step behind Candace, with all his attention focused on her. He wore a black waist-length coat and sharply creased black trousers that accentuated his lean build. No design or insignia decorated his jacket. As though to mirror the way Candace’s sleeve half-concealed her left hand, Justin wore a black leather glove over his.
Turning her head toward Justin, Candace lifted her left hand. Justin reached for her with his right, then guided her down the stairs. Though Colonel Pavel Ridzik, the tall, red-haired Strategic Military Director for the whole of the Capellan Confederation, was next to stride through the door—discreetly followed by a uniformed Alexi Malenkov—no one in the room noticed.
Dan turned to his father, whose face was ashen. “I have to talk to Justin,” he said.
“No, Dan. Don’t do it. Please.”
“How can you tell me that? He’s my brother, dammit, and I’ve not seen him in years.” Dan glanced down, remembering a holovid he’d seen of Justin’s battles on Solaris. “At least, not in person.”
Quintus’s eyes hardened. “He’s changed, Dan. He’s no longer the Justin we knew.”
Dan’s head came up with a snap, and his voice had a similar sharp edge. “I’ll see that for myself.” He turned to his sister. “Coming, Riva?”
Riva frowned. “Thanks, but I’m here to have fun.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Dan said, “You’re wrong about him.”
Tamara reached out and squeezed Dan’s ann. “We’re not wrong, Daniel.” She swallowed hard to choke back tears. “We still love him, and that’s what hurts so much.”
Dan turned abruptly and began to move through the crowd. No one could change that much. I know the trial was hard on him, and I know the holovid companies played up Justin’s hatred for the Federated Suns fighters. But a man is what he is and nothing could have changed Justin that much. He remembered Jeana and what she had said to him back on Tharkad. The Justin he had grown up with was still there somewhere.
“Justin! Justin, wait!” His brother stopped, and Dan grinned in anticipation of their reunion. The smile died on his face when Justin slowly turned toward him.
His brother’s voice was as cold and lifeless as the expression on his face. “Good evening, Captain.”
Bile burned as it rose to Dan’s throat. “Captain? Justin, I’m your brother…”
Justin stiffened, but Candace Liao’s intervention prevented any reply. Smiling cordially, she bowed her head toward Dan, then turned to Justin. “Citizen Xiang, you have not introduced me to this handsome gentleman.”
“Forgive me, Duchess,” he said, with the merest hint of a smile. “Captain Daniel Allard, this is Candace Liao, Duchess of St. Ives.” Turning to Candace, he added, “And, Duchess, this is the son of the man who was my father.”
Dan was stunned by the coldness and hatred in Justin’s voice, but he took Candace’s right hand politely and pressed it to his lips. “Meeting you is a great pleasure, Duchess.” Dan indicated Justin with a nod of his head. “At one time, he would have introduced me as his brother.”
Justin’s head came up sharply. “Half-brother, but not even that anymore. Hanse Davion said Quintus Allard no longer had a son. By imperial decree, he wiped away everything I had ever been. I lost a father, a brother, a family, a whole life.”
Dan stiffened at the venom in his brother’s voice. “Justin, wait.” Dan fought to control his breathing while his heart raced out of control. “What happened between you and Hanse Davion doesn’t change things between us. We’re still brothers.”
Justin shook his head slowly. “That’s impossible. Our relationship belongs to a system and a society now closed to me. This isn’t a game, Captain. No one is going to yell, ‘Ollie, Ollie outs in free’ to end it. All the confidences we shared, the secret clubs we formed, and the cyphers we created are no more. It’s all gone. All of it.” He stepped closer to Dan, and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Justin Allard died a year and a half ago!”
Dan stared blankly at Justin for seconds that seemed to last for hours. When he finally gained control of his anger, he raised himself to full height and glared down at the man who had been his brother. “I don’t believe you, Citizen Xiang. I don’t believe Justin Allard is dead. Instead, I choose to believe that, like King Arthur or General Kerensky, Justin Allard is a hero just waiting for his chance to return. When he does, Citizen, tell him that his brother waits to stand gladly beside him.”
Chapter 26
COMSTAR FIRST CIRCUIT COMPOUND
HILTON HEAD ISLAND
NORTH AMERICA, TERRA
17 AUGUST 3028
The jostling of well-dressed guests finally forced Dan away from Justin. For half a second, Dan fought against the tide of people shifting around and pressing back from the doorway, but there was nothing more he could say to the man his brother had become. How they must have hurt you, Justin.
Like an automaton, Dan turned and let himself be moved toward the far end of the hall. Standing on a raised platform against a white silk banner emblazoned with ComStar’s logo, a red-robed precentor held up his hands in an effort to get the attention of all who were gathered here.
Dan narrowed his eyes. Looks like Ulthar Everston, Precentor of Tharkad. Makes sense. He’s part of the First Circuit and this is a momentous occasion. When Dan turned to the man standing next to him to confirm his guess, he was startled to discover Morgan Kell at his side. “Colonel!”
Morgan nodded. “I saw you speaking with Candace Liao’s escort. He is your brother Justin?”
Dan looked down and shrugged. “It depends who you ask, I suppose.” Catching the puzzled look on Morgan’s face, Dan opened hands and raised them shoulder-high. “Sorry, Morgan. You don’t deserve that. In body, that was my brother. In mind, however…”
Morgan reached up with one hand to squeeze the thick muscles at the back of Dan’s neck. “Are you all right?”
Dan nodded. “I’ll live… The hurt tells me that much.”
“People change, Dan.”
Dan smiled weakly, wondering how many more people would tell him that about Justin.
Precentor Tharkad was lowering his hands in a gesture that cut off virtually all conversation in the room. “It is my very great honor to welcome all of you to our compound,” he said. The man smiled so guilelessly that Dan sensed that the speaker’s words echoed his true feelings. “We are all present to witne
ss and bless a most hallowed event in our lives, the lives of the Archon-Designate and Prince, and, indeed, the lives of all who inhabit the Successor States.” Looking around the room, the precentor seemed to sense how quickly he had established a rapport with his audience. “It is the hope of every member of the First Circuit, and all members of ComStar, that the Peace of Blake be upon you during your stay with us. If there is anything we can do to make your visit more pleasurable—within the bounds of reason, decency, and nonviolence, of course—please ask it of any yellow-robed acolyte you see.”
Clasping his hands against his chest, Precentor Tharkad closed his eyes and smiled. His lips moved as though mumbling a prayer, then he bowed his head. “It is my very great pleasure and honor to introduce your host, ComStar Primus Julian Tiepolo.”
Polite applause rippled as Precentor Tharkad stepped back to allow the Primus to take the platform. Dan narrowed his eyes as the hawk-nosed ascetic walked slowly to center stage. He looks barely alive, Dan thought. I wonder how true are the rumors that he is really a revivified Jerome Blake. As Tiepolo faced forward, Dan answered his own questions. No. Even a reanimated corpse would have more humanity in his eyes.
As Tiepolo removed his hands from the broad sleeves of his dun-colored robe, Dan wondered if the Primus had some hidden reason for wearing so plain a garment. Does he mock his richly dressed guests with humility, or is this a graphic demonstration of the poverty ComStar claims so that it can keep communications possible between the stars? Dan chewed his lower lip, realizing that here was a man whose every word and action would have many levels of meaning.
Tiepolo smiled as though the effort were more strenuous than lifting a cubic myriameter of uranium. “We greet you in the name of the Blessed Blake and trust that you will find this place as hospitable as your own domains while you are with us. It is said that one should treat guests as family, and family as guests. This we shall endeavor to do during your stay.”
Morgan leaned toward Dan. “Given the history of patricide in the Successor States, I’ve had warmer greetings in hot landing zones.”
Tiepolo’s strong voice swallowed Dan’s chuckle whole. “Most honored guests, we of ComStar are not divided by location or nationalities. We have renounced all title and ties to the structures of power so that we may more perfectly serve the divine mission placed upon us by the sainted Jerome Blake. Through strict adherence to the Word of Blake, we have recaptured, in ComStar, the unified spirit that mankind once knew and cherished.”
With the light glinting off the sweat on his bald head, Tiepolo had begun to warm to his subject. “That rivalries and open hostilities exist among and between the various people gathered here is no secret. That many people fear what this union of man and woman will mean to the Successor States is not in doubt. Some see their share of power withering and would wish to reverse this loss. Others see energy draining away from their enemies and would seek to hasten the loss. Like selfish children,” the Primus chided, “some gather to them the means of exploiting the less fortunate. This is pitiable.
“It is pitiable because this marriage does not involve loss.” Tiepolo graced the Archon-Designate with a respectful nod. “This woman will gain a husband, and this man will gain a wife. It is the normal enactment of a cycle that has, for eons beyond counting, brought life into an entropic universe. The cycle of life is all that keeps man above savagery, because as man and woman struggle to create a better future for their children, they aspire to greatness. Facilitating and nurturing this growth of the human spirit and invention is the cornerstone of Blake’s Wisdom.”
Tiepolo smiled as though he alone understood the true significance of his words. “This gathering, and the ceremony that will cap it, is a celebration of life, of unity, and of growth. We all gain through the wedding of Melissa Steiner to Hanse Davion. It is our wish that you will dwell with us here in this spirit of hope and affinity.”
Tiepolo bowed, then drew to the side as Precentor Tharkad again moved forward to speak. The tall double doors on either side of the platform opened into the room beyond, from which Dan could hear the strains of a sonata for flute and clavichord.
Ulthar Everston listened to the music for half a second, then he spoke over it, but with reluctance. “We ask you to join us in an evening of music, dance, and food.” He waved a hand toward the doors on his right. “All waits for you within…”
His words trailed off as though someone had dialed down the volume on his voice. Staring over the heads of the crowd, the precentor’s mouth opened as though to speak, then he licked his lips and simply remained silent as he watched the man who was coming now through the entrance.
Though physically small, the gray-haired, lantern-jawed MechWarrior standing in the doorway commanded the attention of everyone in the room. He wore a cropped black jacket that was belted at the waist, and well-creased black pants with a red stripe down the side of each leg. Over his right shoulder hung a cape that was cinched across his chest with a silver chain. This left free the left shoulder of his jacket, which was intricately embroidered with a gray wolf’s head and pelt, with eyes of ruby-red. Everyone immediately recognized the man as a member of the feared mercenary unit known as Wolf’s Dragoons. Light caught at the wolf’s head insignia on either side of his collar, but the only other indication of the man’s rank or identity were three silver stars that glittered on the lower part of each jacket sleeve. The newcomer was none other than Colonel Jaime Wolf.
The MechWarrior’s gray eyes smoldered as he surveyed the crowd. Spotting his quarry, he tightened his grip on the long black cloth bag in his right hand. Light rippled along the bag’s silver brocade as he brandished the satchel.
He had barely taken a step forward before Tiepolo’s voice rang out over the assembly. “You are most welcome here, Colonel Wolf.”
Wolf’s head turned almost mechanically to slash Tiepolo with a harsh stare. Dan was startled, almost frightened by what he saw. Wolf looks at the Primus with such contempt!
Wolf gazed from Tiepolo to the people crowded between them. As though moved by force of the mercenary’s will, people slowly began to drift through the doors and into the room beyond. Dan, too, turned to leave, but Morgan’s strong grip on his elbow broke Wolf’s spell. “Wait, Dan.”
As the crowd thinned out, Jaime Wolf descended the stairs. He backed two acolytes away with one of his molten stares, then crossed to where Takashi Kurita stood amid a circle of retainers. One by one, the MechWarriors surrounding the Coordinator withdrew until only Yorinaga Kurita stood between the mercenary and his master.
Wolf appraised Yorinaga with a frank stare, then nodded almost imperceptibly. Yorinaga bowed his head to the mercenary colonel, but did not give way until Takashi laid a hand on Yorinaga’s shoulder and guided him aside.
Wolf slipped the corded knot at the head of the bag. Sliding the black fabric down, he revealed the hilts of a katana and wakizashi. With contempt in his eyes, the mercenary cast the two swords down at the Coordinator’s feet. Then Wolf lashed out at the Coordinator in a voice that had the fury of some nightmare storm. Though Wolf’s flawless Japanese was too rapid for Dan to follow completely, there was no mistaking his intent.
The Coordinator listened for as long as his honor would tolerate. Though he had looked uneasy at first, he soon had complete control of his expression, which was a truer sign of his own anger building. When Takashi opened his mouth to speak, Wolf cut him off with more angry words and gestures. Like a ship in some storm, the Coordinator had no choice but to weather it.
Words spent, but fury unabated, Wolf finally turned from Kurita. The few people still standing about quickly removed themselves from his line of march, fearful that he might direct his fury on one of them. The only exception was Morgan Kell, who moved toward Wolf, clearly intending to intercept him. As though in a dream, Dan could not keep himself from following.
By the time the two men came face to face, Wolf had dominated his emotions, for not a trace showed in his expression.
His eyes narrowed as he studied Morgan’s uniform and the decorations it displayed. “Morgan Kell,” he said, as recognition sank in. “After all these years, Morgan Kell.”
Dan was now totally confused. He says Morgan’s name with… respect?
Morgan nodded and extended his hand. “I have long admired and respected your abilities, Colonel Wolf. Indeed, I have always held the Kell Hounds to the same high standards you set for your Dragoons.”
Wolf shook Kell’s hand heartily, though his expression remained impenetrable. “I’d used to hope,” he said, “that our regiments might have a chance one day to test their mettle against one another in the field.” Wolf shrugged as though to say that hope had not disappeared forever. “Unfortunately, your Kell Hounds were reduced to battalion size after Mallory’s World. Not much of a challenge for one of my regiments and without you”—Wolf looked directly into Morgan’s eyes—“no challenge at all, for me.”
Morgan nodded slowly. “There was a time, Colonel, when I would have offered a meet to answer the question of which unit, which warrior, is superior.” Weariness tinged Morgan’s voice. “It seems that I’ve learned not to enjoy such games.”
Pain washed over Wolf’s face. “Many people have died… sometimes I think it is too many.”
“I was sorry to hear of your brother’s death in the Marik civil war. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Wolf again accepted Morgan’s hand. “And I regret your brother’s death on Styx. Though it does nothing to ease the pain or loss, you must realize he died happy, knowing he had saved his command.”
Morgan barely whispered his reply. “I trust it was so.”
Warrior: Riposte (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Two): BattleTech Legends, #58 Page 20
