“The Fiefs have done their job well.”
“Lester has never minced words over his feeling toward you, Mother.”
“Too true. And he has been charitable compared with Anson.”
“Not to mention,” Janos continued, “their actions at the end of the Jihad as they hunted The Master . . . it is impossible to forget such barbarity. The Fiefs may play at civility, but a beast lies just beneath the surface . . . a beast no one wishes to arouse.”
“And rightly so,” Jessica said.
Nikol stared for a moment at her mother, struck by a strange quality she suddenly heard in her voice. Are you afraid? That didn’t seem possible, but it was a strong impression.
Janos nodded and opened his mouth as though to respond, then closed it again. He sat stiff-backed, unable to relax even in this intimate family gathering.
I doubt you know the meaning of the word intimate , brother. Nikol nearly giggled at the idea of Janos being intimate, but she covered it with a slight cough and her hand over her mouth.
Janos glanced crossly in her direction before continuing. “Not a single world was willing to sign anything, though several made verbal commitments.”
Nikol spoke up. “Which aren’t worth the breath they used to say them unless we can strong-arm them into compliance when needed.”
Janos’ features registered the affront of his little sister daring to interrupt the conversation of the adults at the table, but she met his eyes when he tried to stare her down. I am no longer your little sister, Janos, and you need to learn that, right now.
Janos raised his eyebrows at her boldness, then looked back to their mother, his expression equal parts confusion and irritation. Nikol made no effort to hide her smile.
“They assured me, Mother, that—”
Jessica cut him off with a raised hand. “I’m sure they did. And while some of them may actually mean it, Nikol is not too far off the mark. Rulers can be cattle just like any crowd, and will move with the prevailing wind. If too many of them fail to heed the call, those who spoke of oaths will find ways to rationalize taking new ones.”
Janos’ eyes narrowed dangerously at the prospect of any of the rulers he treated with going back on their word. For just a moment, before his features smoothed back into their usual neutral expression, Nikol glimpsed the man that might have been—and caught a minute shift in her mother’s eyes, too. Is that what you see every day? An abrupt sadness filled Nikol as she empathized with her mother; shared disappointment in a son and older brother who never lived up to expectations.
“They need an impetus, Mother.” Janos finally spoke, the weariness Nikol saw in his face bleeding into his voice.
“Yes, I suppose they do,” Jessica responded, giving Nikol a speculative look that made her feel uneasy. You can’t change my orders, Mother. You’ve given me my task and I’ll depart tomorrow to do it.
But the memory of her mother’s inscrutable gaze followed her for days, and she couldn’t erase the memory of the uncomfortable weeks spent dodging an enthusiastic older man.
Janos stood in the bathroom of his own room and heaved a sigh of relief. Finally home. He undressed slowly, allowing his clothes to fall where he stood on the plush carpet; a sure sign of his fatigue.
He opened the glass door to the shower, turned on the hot water and waited for the first burst of cold water to pass before stepping into the soothing spray. He almost groaned in pleasure. Amazing how good a shower can feel, especially after months of nothing but the sponge baths ubiquitous on DropShips and JumpShips.
He lathered up the soap and tried to scrub away the grime from the trip. Tried to scrub away the image of his mother and youngest sister in apparent collaboration; after rinsing away the soap, he squirted an extravagant dollop of shampoo onto his palm and proceeded to scrub his scalp until the pain made his eyes water.
You’ve grown up, Nikol. Grown up and then some. I still see the impatience that has always been your Achilles’ heel, yet . . . Afraid he might actually scrape away his scalp, he let his hands drop and raised his face to the shower, hoping that the cleansing water might bring healing.
I’ve been your dutiful son for so long, Mother. Patient and stolid. Those are virtues that you don’t seem to see. . . .
He flashed on the image of a proud mother overseeing a chick taking its first flight, the mother’s eyes unable to see anything except the bright young wings. His head slowly sank forward until it rested against the cool tiles, the hot rain on the back of his neck no longer soothing. More than two decades. It had been more than two decades, but tears fell this day, unseen among the spray, as Janos finally gave physical expression to a worry that felt more like a yoke with each year that passed . . .
And now she might never see. . . .
21
Dormuth
Mandoria, Marik
Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
14 February 3137
The grandeur of the ballroom paled in significance as Julietta tried to hide her shock. The bright lights of the grand room were merciless, revealing every new wrinkle and the sag of flesh as if she examined him through a microscope. Can it have been only weeks since we last spoke?
Star Colonel Rikkard Nova Cat stood before her, shoulders slumped and eyes unfocused. As though you see things no other can? Normally such a thought— especially applied to a Spirit Cat, a Clan renowned for its mysticism—might’ve caused a twitter of suppressed laughter. Not now. You do see something beyond the here and now . . . and it has crushed you. She never thought to see any warrior, and a Clansman at that, so demoralized. But the signs were there for those who could read them. Her eyes skipped to his hair. She thought she spied some gray strands.
“Lady.” Rikkard finally spoke, several long minutes after she arrived at his summons.
“Star Colonel,” she responded, her tone deliberate yet encouraging. But not callous.
“I have confirmation that a small flotilla of DropShips are inbound.”
“Really?” It was easy to infuse her voice with surprise, as it was genuine. Why didn’t I know about this yet? I will have a word with Captain Tilson! “Who is joining our little struggle?”
“Do not play games with me, lady. I am sure you are well aware the incoming troops belong to the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth.”
Her stomach muscles clenched and she momentarily forgot Rikkard’s lackluster delivery of this news, itself a significant clue that his passion for this campaign had been compromised in some way. Commonwealth reinforcements . . . I cannot be captured! She knew they would ransom her for a tidy sum . . . but in the midst of war, a lot could happen. Bile rose as she once again blocked the memory of those callused hands; she reached for something, anything, to distract her attention from the painful knot in her belly.
“Star Colonel, I will respect your desire for blunt speech and observe that this news seems to have unduly weighed you down. Considering the fight you have waged these last months, I would not expect something as simple as the arrival of enemy reinforcements to cause you such . . . unease.” She snapped her mouth shut, afraid that she would say more than was needed; afraid that in her anxiety about the possibility of being captured and ransomed, she would destroy her chance to strike a deal with the Spirit Cat commander.
Star Colonel Rikkard’s gaze seemed to turn even further inward, as though a yawning chasm had opened into a blackness from which none might return. The silence of the room grew so profound that the distant crump of sporadic explosions could be heard even in this place, meters underground. Rikkard licked his lips in what appeared to be a nervous gesture, then responded in a voice as cold and desolate— and unguarded—as the void in his eyes. “I have just received word that Galaxy Commander Kev Rosse has been assassinated.”
Julietta recoiled from his words, but managed to not cry out in surprise. For the first time in weeks, a cascade of thoughts swirling like the maelstrom of a furious battle swept away the ever-present fear that kept the knot in the pit
of her stomach.
If Kev is dead, that means no reinforcements. And if they have no reinforcements, then they must agree to Protectorate help. She looked at Rikkard with a fresh eye. He appears broken. Will he give up? Will the concept of an alliance mean anything if Rikkard’s will to secure this world has been shattered?
Julietta relaxed her fingers from where they were wound in the fabric of her dress, wiggling them until the returning circulation rode invisible pinpricks the length of her hands. Discovered her lips tasted of dust and mildew, a testament to the wearing down of the immaculate order of the place since her first visit. Taking a deep breath, she pressed forward. She must assume that a Clan warrior could not so easily be broken, despite Rikkard’s outward appearance.
“Star Colonel Rikkard, I grieve for the loss to the Spirit Cats. But the loss of a single individual need not diminish the vision he espoused. Does not lessen the power of your own. It would appear that now, more than ever, the world of Marik is a refuge the Spirit Cats must have.
“If Galaxy Commander Rosse is gone, I assume there will be no reinforcements.”
“Aff,” he responded in the same toneless voice. “The Nova Cats, through Mystic Kisho, have extended an invitation to all the Nova Cat enclaves within the shattered Republic of the Sphere, calling them home. It is said that many Nova Cats, and even some Spirit Cats, are answering the call. Are following their visions . . . home.”
She could not immediately grasp all the ramifications of this startling news, but she knew her mother would find it invaluable. And still she needed to know if he would remain and fight for the world. Or would he “answer the call”?
“And what of you, Star Colonel?” She blushed furiously; she was trying to achieve bluntness, but every sentence out of her mouth seemed more foolish than the last. And she didn’t want to make him angry.
“What is it you want to know, Lady?”
Under her breath Julietta swore a curse that would’ve shocked (and in some cases delighted) her siblings. It’ll be a miracle if I can salvage anything from this venture! She thought frantically how best to phrase what she wanted to know. “Will you accept the invitation of the Nova Cats? Will you accept the loss of all you have fought to accomplish and bow to the vision of others a half thousand light-years removed?”
Like a small fire kindled in the black night of a new moon, animation returned to Rikkard’s eyes, the first hint that the implacable will that brought him to this time and place was only banked, not extinguished. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“My vision calls to me now as strongly as ever,” he responded slowly, as though testing his words for truth.
“Then you will stay and claim the world of Marik?”
“Aff.”
“But you cannot hold this world with Commonwealth reinforcements arriving.”
Rikkard shook himself and then smiled slyly as his old self seemed to slide into place, leaving mere vestiges of the defeated commander still visible. “I see what you are about, Lady.”
“I have never made any pretense at not having ulterior motives. We wish the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth to no longer have access to this world. You wish to hold it as a Spirit Cat refuge. If both our objectives are achieved, is that so wrong?”
Rikkard’s eyes bored into hers with renewed intensity, yet he answered quickly, reinforcing her impression that he had been severely shaken. At least enough so that her somewhat clumsy efforts had succeeded.
“Neg. It is not wrong.”
“Then you will agree to an alliance?”
“The terms must be defined and the details laid out. An open invitation for a military alliance with a spheroid power invites only disaster.”
“History supports your view,” she said stiffly. “We also seek well-defined terms of alliance, but we must move quickly. As you say, Commonwealth troops are already en route, and the Protectorate forces cannot arrive instantly. You still must hold out.”
This time a true, burning fire blazed in his eyes. “We will.”
She marveled at the inner strength that could survive such a battering of will, and the drive to succeed that turned so quickly to face the new challenge. “Very good, Star Colonel.”
Rikkard turned and led the way into the depths of their underground command center. Julietta followed, her mind already composing the triumphant report informing her mother that she had established the alliance Jessica sought. Despite her missteps.
You will not eclipse me so easily, Nikol.
Dormuth
Mandoria, Marik
Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
“Say again?” Daniella Briggs tried to keep the shocked surprise from her voice, but she knew her anger showed on her face. A minute passed as the signal feed flashed at the speed of light to the operations deck of the command DropShip of the incoming reinforcement fleet, to be answered by the commander and flashed back. Only a few million kilometers remained in their hundred-million-kilometer journey, but in her current mood that was an unconscionable delay.
The screen sputtered to life again. “I command a battalion of mixed troops. Captain-General Anson Marik sends his regards. I and my troops are at your disposal.”
She slowly leaned forward, gripping the edge of the console like a lifeline to reality. Her limbs shook with suppressed hysteria; only the looks on her subordinates’ faces kept the dark amusement from slipping her control.
A mixed battalion. Which means, if I’m lucky, anadditional company of ’Mechs. If I’m lucky. What have you done, Captain-General? I’ve only kept control of this world by destroying Dormuth. And when your reinforcements finally arrive, they’re only enough to bring us up to par with the Spirit Cats? Maybe I can hold them at bay now without resorting to dropping skyscrapers and leveling entire city blocks. A snarl peeled back her lips; that, along with the lines etched by the strain of the past punishing months and resulting weight loss, made her face look like a maniacal skull.
“Why,” she finally ground out, “are there not more reinforcements? We have waited long months, and this is what the captain-general sends?”
Small talk and the sound of fingers on keyboards ceased at her words, and only the constant hum of electrical equipment filled the silence as they waited the required sixty seconds for an answer.
“Captain-General Marik felt an infusion of troops critical at this juncture and so I command the first wave. A second wave is imminent.”
Which she knew could mean anywhere from a week to a month or more. Always couch such broadcasts in conservative terms just in case encryptions are compromised. All this time, Anson, and this is the best you
can do? My people are dying! She closed her eyes, willing herself to stand erect once more, knowing that her words, body language and tone would be needed to light a fire under her troops. Willed her slumped shoulders into an erect barricade of determination. Upon such might all depend if a second wave of reinforcements did not set down on a world still held by a Marik.
“So be it, Commander Jacks. You will have your deployment orders within two hours.”
22
Choac Plains
Nashhad, Oceana
Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
1 March 3137
Though it was still several kilometers away, Nikol imagined she could feel the fusion fires within the mammoth tractor as the 600-ton locomotive engine powered toward her position. Pulling nearly three dozen cars behind it, the Adelante passenger/cargo train represented a small DropShip’s worth of mass hurtling toward her forward picket lines. Despite her repeated requests/pleas/orders to stop, the train moved inexorably forward.
She now knew the cargo capacity of this train model to a hundredweight, and appreciated (and feared) its capability for quickly and easily moving enemy troops; Casson nearly lost a lance of ’Mechs to a combined-arms company spilling unexpectedly from what they’d assumed was a transport for dried foodstuffs from the northern plantations and workers returning from the late-summer harvest. Now
they assumed a potential flood of troops each time one of the trains approached their lines.
Never mind that tradition, from all the way back into the Succession Wars, forbade the use of such civilian vehicles for wartime matters. It was one thing to use a civilian train to quickly ferry troops from one location to another behind the front lines. But to use it to ferry troops right into the face of enemy forces, or to move reinforcements into position behind your front lines—that made them targets. And when a target refused to acknowledge your broadcasts, you had to take out the target, regardless of the possible consequences.
“No way are you going to spill a battalion of troops into my rear echelon,” Nikol said quietly, reflexively trying to wipe the sweat off her face and annoyed with herself when her hand banged into the neurohelmet— again. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been in her ’Mech.
“Commander.” Jenna’s voice rang out. “Casson reports that he’s penetrated Axion and the commander there has surrendered.”
“So quickly?”
“He wondered the same thing.”
She breathed deeply, eyes watching the readout on her forward screen as the distance between her and the train rapidly shrank, tempted to call the train conductor on an open frequency one more time. But after ten attempts at communication, she knew it was futile. “So, either we overestimated their forces and the world is ours, or they’re trying a Trojan horse on us?”
“But they just did that two weeks ago, commander, “ her XO shot back immediately. “Would you try the same tactic twice in such a short time?”
“No . . . no, I wouldn’t. Then again, maybe that’s their strategy. That we wouldn’t believe they’d try a stunt like this twice.”
“Maybe we’re overthinking this. . . .”
She wanted to smile, despite the tense situation. All about gut reactions, eh, Jenna? “If I’m wrong and they have troops on this train . . .”
“The world is still ours. It can’t be carrying more than a company of regulars, maybe two additional companies of militia. We’ve got enough to take them.”
Pandora's Gambit Page 19
