Dan laid his hand on her forearm. “The Locust belonged in your family, right?”
Meg nodded. “Both of my mother’s parents were MechWarriors. The Locust belonged to my grandmother. She retired, though, to raise my mother and uncle after my grandfather died fighting against Kurita. My uncle inherited his Warhammer, but my mother wanted nothing more to do with ’Mechs. She married young, but my father abandoned us when I was just a few years old.”
Dan squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Meg swallowed hard before continuing. “Both my mother and grandmother were bitter. Grandma trained me to use the Locust, and told me I could have it, provided I would never get personally mixed up with a MechWarrior.”
She looked up into Dan’s open, handsome face. “There’s the problem, Captain. Austin’s been so nice to me that I’m starting to fall for him—falling hard—and I think the feeling’s mutual.” She smiled sheepishly. “In fact, every time I look into those amber eyes of his, I know I’m right. But lurking in the back of my mind is the promise I made to my grandmother. I know I’m giving him all sorts of mixed signals, but I’m not that clear myself.” Meg sighed and shrugged. “On top of that, I know that having lovers in the same lance is not a good idea, so I don’t know what to do…”
Dan shut his eyes and grimaced. Here I am, only twenty-eight years old, and she’s making me feel like a grandfather. Eleven years with the Kell Hounds is akin to a lifetime elsewhere. By the clock, I’ve only got four years on both Brand and Lang, but if you consider the mileage, it’s more like a century.
Opening his eyes, Dan laughed softly. “Listen, you’re getting ahead of yourself. First off, the Kell Hounds have no rules, formal or otherwise, about relationships within the lances or battalions. We want our people to be close and to care about each other. To encourage that, but then to try to prohibit intimate relationships, would be foolhardy and impossible to police. Frankly, you, Brand, and Eddie Baker work so well together that you could start sacrificing rabbits to a full moon—if our next station has a moon—and I wouldn’t really care.”
Meg smiled, and Dan continued. “You and Austin are two healthy, normal MechWarriors living on a world where the weather is crazy and day becomes night after seven hours. Your attraction to each other is normal, and is about the only thing on this mudball that makes any sense at all. Don’t push it, or kill it prematurely. Just wait and see what happens.”
“But what about my promise?” The fear and pain of betraying her mother and grandmother flickered through Meg’s question.
Dan paused, then answered slowly. “I know you don’t want to go back on your word, but you said it yourself—both women are bitter because of their experiences. You’ll have to make up your own mind.”
Meg frowned and Dan saw that she needed just a touch more convincing. “Look, Meg,” he said, “my father’s first marriage flamed out for political reasons, and it ripped him up pretty badly. Even so, he tried it again. And if he hadn’t, my older brother wouldn’t have had anyone to pick on as we grew up.”
“Your brother’s a major in the Capellan March, right?”
Her question called up Justin’s image to Dan’s mind, which made him smile proudly. “Justin? Yes. He’s my older brother and—” Dan rose up to his full height, “—I’m his big brother. Everyone else is back on New Avalon, just dreaming of a glorious assignment like this one.”
Both MechWarriors laughed. Meg stood and walked a short way with Dan before she stopped to apologize to Jackson. “Thanks, Captain. I appreciate the talk.”
“Sure, Sergeant. Any time.” At the mention of time, Dan looked at the huge clock on the blockhouse wall. “Damn, the staff meeting! Gotta run.”
Chapter 4
PACIFICA (CHARA III)
ISLE OF SKYE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
15 JANUARY 3027
Daniel Allard sprinted off toward the command center, pausing once to toss his cooling vest to an astech, and a second time to accept a pair of coveralls from Master Sergeant Tech Nick Jones. He pulled on the red coveralls in the elevator ride up to the third floor, but was still pulling up the zipper before he could knock at the door labeled Lt. Col. Patrick M. Kell.
“Enter.”
Dan opened the door and recoiled as a blast of refrigerated air struck him full on. The large room served Colonel Kell as a private office, but had ample space for the center table he’d set up for staff meetings. To Dan’s left, a bank of windows looked out on the ferrocrete landing pad, offering a clear view of the lightning bolts dancing down from the dark blanket of clouds. Along the windows was a battered brown-vinyl sofa left behind by the last mercenary company to pull duty—or “do time,” as it had become known on station—on Pacifica. It provided seating for the only NCO at the meeting.
Ignoring his massive mahogany desk, Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Kell sat facing the door at the round meeting table. With his black hair cropped so closely, the thin scar that ran from his left temple all the way to the crown of his head stood out clearly. The scar might have been ominous if Kell’s easy smile, gleaming brown eyes, and handsome features did not instantly create the urge to call this man “friend” in all who met him.
He gestured at the unoccupied steel chair to his right. “As you can see, we began the meeting without you.”
“Yes,” added Kell’s second-in-command, Major Salome Ward, “and I believe it’s my bet. I’ll see your twenty kroner, and raise you twenty.” Though she had the green eyes and fiery red hair that usually accompanied a hot temper, the officers in the room knew Ward to be one of the coolest MechWarriors, in or out of battle, in the Inner Sphere.
“Yipes!” Lieutenant Mike Fitzhugh, the junior officer in Salome’s Assault Lance, shot his superior an evil glance. “Forty to me? I’m out.” He looked up at Dan and shook his dark curly head. “She’s always finding a new way to make me earn my money.”
A mischievous look twinkled through Lieutenant Austin Brand’s eyes as he casually tossed the forty House Steiner kroner onto the growing pile of blue-green bills. “I call.”
Lieutenant Anne Finn, the blond junior officer in Kell’s Command Lance, calmly folded her hand. She smiled at Dan as he sat down beside her. “Glad you could join us.”
“Said the shark to her dinner.” Dan looked at the stacks of bills piled in front of Anne, and laughed. “You’d have been happier to have me contributing to your war chest there. Right, Annie?”
She merely smiled, but the long, lean black man on the couch sat up and spoke for her. “I do recall some discussion of your skill at leaving money on the table, Captain.”
“I should have had you sit in for me, Cat.” His remark brought a strange flash to Cat’s eyes, but Dan could not identify it.
Sergeant Clarence “Cat” Wilson ran a hand back over his shaved head and laughed deeply. Of all the Kell Hounds, he was the only MechWarrior to shave to his head for better contact in the neurohelmet. “When you’ve played in the big leagues, you never join sandlot games.”
Patrick Kell cleared his throat. “Back to business, shall we?” A worn twenty-kroner bill fluttered from his hand into the pile of wagers. “I call.”
Salome smiled hungrily. “Full house. Aces over Archons.”
Brand tossed his cards into the center of the table, and Kell nodded politely to Salome. “Your deal.” He turned to Allard and shook his head. “So, how’s your lance doing, Dan?”
Dan cleared his throat ceremoniously. “Eddie Baker was hoping you could use your influence with your cousin, the Archon, to get us some real duty.”
Kell chuckled. “Cousin-in-law, Dan. Tell Baker I’ll mention it the next time Katrina Steiner drops in for a beer.” Kell shook his head as Salome shuffled the cards. “What I really want to know is whether Lang is checking out on the Wasp.”
Dan nodded, and Kell cut the cards for Salome. “She’ll be fine once she works out the differences between a Wasp and a Locust. She’s game enough, though. No
lingering fears because of losing her Locust. The lieutenant and I will keep an eye on her, and I’ll keep you informed on how it’s going.”
Kell nodded and gathered his cards into his strong hands. As Dan did the same, he remembered the cards were of Lyran Commonwealth manufacture, and so he arranged them in descending order. Lacking any Aces, he put his pair of Dukes after his lone Archon. He had no ’Mechs in his hand, either, and so the numbered cards went into proper order. The four suits in the Commonwealth were Fists, Sunbursts, Dragons, and Eagles—the symbols of Houses Steiner, Davion, Kurita, and Marik. House Liao—the weakest of the Successor States—did not rate a suit.
Anne Finn gave Dan two hundred kroner as a stake. “Not like we’re playing with real money, is it?” Dan laughed and used the money to open for ten. After the others had bet or folded and he’d indicated that he wanted three cards, Dan turned to Kell. “Is the Intrepid’s captain still refusing to let Jones ship out with him after he returns here on his next run?”
Kell nodded and rearranged his cards. “We kept up a constant dialogue as his ship headed out to the jump point. He insists that we’re too close to the Draconis Combine frontier for him to take a soldier on board.”
Dan shook his head. “Thirty years a tech in the Lyran Services and due to muster out a day after the Intrepid’s JumpShip leaves Pacifica. We can’t ground the Intrepid, can we?”
Salome answered while Kell studied his dwindling cash reserve. “ComStar would have our tails in a sling. Somehow that lowlife merchanter weaseled a contract to haul bulk messages to backwaters like Pacifica, and that’s made him inviolate. He’s afraid, though, that shipping a Steiner tech aboard his ship would prompt the folks we know and love as the Combine to confiscate his ship—or worse.”
Dan picked up his draw cards and managed to keep the arrival of a third Duke from showing on his face. “We can’t just muster Jones out a day early?” He glanced up to see if anyone was watching him, but only Cat met his gaze with a satisfied grin.
Kell shook his head. “The Lyran Commonwealth, which has more salesmen than a cur has fleas, keeps a tight rein on its money and muster-out pay. Master Sergeant Nicholas Jones has to muster out of Pacifica on the twenty-sixth of May in order to get any of the bonus pay he’s entitled to. If the computer can’t check him for voice, retinal patterns, and fingerprints, his bonus goes back into the general fund.”
Dan snorted. “Amen. And, in the meantime, the Intrepid jumps out of here and won’t be back for another six months.” Dan looked up at the windows and watched lightning sear through the near dark. “Six months in this place is like thirty years. There has to be something we can do.”
Fitzhugh laughed. “Why don’t you play this hand and you can buy him a JumpShip. The bet’s fifty to you.”
Ah, Mike, your impatience will cost you. Dan carelessly flipped the money out onto the table. “Call.”
Fitzhugh flashed three tens on the table, and then Dan slapped his trio of Dukes down over Fitz’s cards. He waited a half-second for Kell or Salome to make a play, then raked in the H-bills toward him.
The second knock barely sounded at the door before Cat Wilson leaped up to answer it. Opening the door a crack, he imposed his muscular body between the person in the hall and the card game. That the colonel conducted his company staff meetings over a poker game was common knowledge among the Kell Hounds, but the outcome of the games was kept strictly confidential. The informality of the meetings could only survive if the officers knew that winning and losing did not matter. The money and bragging rights won in the weekly games remained among the deepest secrets that the Kell Hounds had.
Cat nodded and accepted a folded note from the messenger in the hallway. He shut the door and carried it over to Colonel Kell. Dan recognized the paper as the thin stock used in the communications center and noticed ComStar’s logo boldly emblazoned at the head of the message. He hoped, for the barest of moments, that the message was a transfer of the Kell Hounds to an assignment far from Pacifica. The expression on the colonel’s face quickly dashed those hopes.
Kell looked up from the paper, which trembled in his hand. “Dan, I’m sorry.”
Patrick’s tone set fear churning in Dan’s gut. My God, did someone get to my father? He snatched the message and quickly read it once, then stood abruptly. His chair crashed to the floor as Dan swept past Cat toward the windows. He smoothed out the paper he’d unconsciously crumpled and again read the horrible words as lightning illuminated them:
WYATTSUPCOMHQ RELAY PRIORITY ALPHA REGULAR
Origin: FEDSUNSUPCOMHQ NEW AVALON
Classification: Confidential
To: Lt. Col. Patrick Kell//COMKELLHOUNDS
To: Captain Daniel Allard//ATTACHKELLHOUNDS
On 27 November 3026 Major Justin Allard suffered battle-related injuries. Transferred to NAIS Medical Center 5 December 3026. Extensive trauma resulted in crude amputation of left arm. Prognosis for cybernetic rehabilitation awaiting end of induced narcotic coma. Prognosis for survival: Excellent.
Dan felt an icy claw reach into his belly and rake through his guts. He crumpled the message into a ball again and tossed it down to the floor, but none of the others made any motion to retrieve it. Dan’s hands knotted into fists as his whole body quivered with rage. No! Not Justin. Not him.
Patrick Kell stood and silently dismissed everyone except Salome and Wilson. The three of them had known Dan since the day he’d joined the Kell Hounds as part of the core of the mercenary company. Though all the Kell Hounds would be sympathetic to the sorrows of a compatriot, the three people standing behind Daniel Allard would share his pain.
Staring out the window, Dan watched drops roll down the storm-lashed pane like the tears streaming over his cheeks. How could it be? Why doesn’t that message tell me what really happened? Justin’s too good a warrior to get hit in a regular skirmish. It had to be an ambush or something.
Dan swallowed, then brushed away the tears. He turned halfway and glanced back at his friends. “Let them read it, Patrick.”
Salome bent to recover the note. She pressed it smooth against her thigh, then smothered a gasp as she read. She passed the note to Wilson, but he never took it. His black eyes quickly scanned the sheet, but no emotions showed on his ebon features.
Kell stepped forward and rested his powerful hands on Dan’s shoulders. “Dan, we’re all sorry.”
Dan squeezed his eyes shut against new tears. “He lost his arm, Patrick. He’ll never pilot another ’Mech. It’ll kill him.”
Salome brought Dan a glass filled with three fingers of Kuritan whiskey. “You’ve had a shock. Drink it.”
Dan hesitated, but Cat had foreseen his wish to hide any display of personal weakness. The tall black man handed Salome and Patrick similar glasses of whiskey, and even brandished one himself. “We’ve all had a shock.” Cat reached around and dragged a chair away from the poker table. He sat in it with his chest resting against the back of the chair.
Salome went to sit on the sofa, and Dan wandered over to join her. Patrick Kell was now leaning against the corner of his desk. “I’m going to have the crew get the Mac ready to take you up to the Cucamulus. We’ll get you back to New Avalon as fast as possible.”
Dan held up his left hand. “No, sir. Thank you, but no, sir.” What had gone wrong for Justin?
Patrick waved away Dan’s protest. “Listen. There’s some Kell Hound business to take care of in the Federated Suns. I’ll send you to represent the battalion. It’s business, pure and simple.”
Dan looked up and forced a weak smile. “No, Colonel—Patrick—I appreciate the gesture. Really I do, but no matter how fast I travel, it will take me over three months to reach New Avalon. And even if I did get there sooner, what good would it do? That message took more than a month to reach us here, even traveling through ComStar’s ‘A’ circuit. They would have brought Justin out of his coma two weeks ago.” Dan gasped and slammed his left fist down on the torn arm of the battered brown sofa.
No one spoke as he struggled to regain control of his emotions. Bitter tears streaked down his face, and he shook his head violently, flicking them off in anger. Muscles bunched at his jaws, and his face flushed scarlet. Stop it, Dan. Get hold of yourself. Justin’s probably handling it better than you are.
“Please, forgive me,” he said finally, looking around at his three friends. “I hope I’ve not dishonored myself in your eyes.”
Cat shrugged easily. “A man loves his brother. No dishonor in that.”
Salome nodded. “You were around during the Defection, when we all went through our own private hells. You were there for us. Now it’s our turn.”
The Defection. They all thought of it that way, and they all carried the scars. After a strange battle on Mallory’s World with that Kurita commander—one Yorinaga Kurita—Colonel Morgan Kell had quit the unit and entered a monastery on Zaniah III. Two-thirds of the Kell Hound Regiment had left at the same time. All that had happened eleven years ago. Patrick still wondered why Morgan had not trusted him with a full regiment, and Salome still wondered why Morgan had left her. And Dan never did understand why, as soon as he joined the Kell Hounds, they had fallen apart.
Patrick Kell nodded slowly in echo of Salome’s words. “We’ve all been through so much together, Dan,” he said, keeping his vow never to speak of the Defection. He faltered, then recovered. “I know what it is to have an older brother, and to lose him. But we all worked together and built up this unit into the best mercenary battalion around.” Patrick nodded at Cat and Salome. “We share your pain.”
Dan smiled weakly. “I appreciate this. I just hope Justin made it through… you know…all in one piece mentally.” He drank a slug from his glass and relished the burning in his throat. “I remember how, when we were growing up, other kids used to beat up on Justin because he was half-Capellan. I used to want to help him fight, but win or lose, he always kept me back. ‘My fight, Danny,’ he’d say. When I’d tell him that he was my brother and that it was our fight, he’d laugh and tell me I could have whatever he couldn’t handle.”
Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57 Page 5
