Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57

by Michael A. Stackpole

“I mean that the duke sent Count Vitios and a pack of ‘investigators’ to Kittery to ruin the best MechWarrior in the March.”

  The baron sneered. “You cannot be referring to that Capellan, Xiang, are you?”

  Redburn nodded curtly. “That trial was a joke. Major Justin Allard is no more a traitor to the Federated Suns than am I or are you.”

  Baron Sefnes hissed and drew back. “Be careful what you say, Leftenant. Your arrogance will lead to no good. Haven’t you seen the fights on Solaris?”

  Redburn shook his head. “Colonel Sortek and I have been on an inspection tour.”

  “Suffice it to say, Leftenant, that Justin Xiang is doing his best to kill every Federated Suns MechWarrior on the Game World.” The baron’s words sent a chill down Redburn’s spine.

  “Impossible!”

  The baron’s frown sharpened his features and made him look like a rodent. “As I said, Leftenant, be careful of what you say.”

  He smiled hungrily. “You’d not want any of us loyalists to think you a sympathizer, would you?”

  Ardan Sortek looked over and saw Baron Sefnes approaching Melissa. That sycophant! I trust him about as far as I can throw my Victor. He glanced back toward Frederick Steiner and saw the anger still smoldering in his eyes. Chuckling inwardly, Ardan made his way toward the Duke of Duran.

  Extending his hand, Ardan said, “Your Grace, I don’t believe we’ve met before. I am Ardan Sortek.”

  The duke grimaced and extended his own hand toward Ardan with the reluctance of a man asked to greet a leper. He shared the family trait of piercing gray eyes, but the scar running from the corner of his right eye up toward his hairline diluted the effect of his arctic stare. He inclined his graying head slightly, then offered Ardan a thin-lipped smile. “Your reputation precedes you, Colonel.”

  Matching the duke’s powerful grip, Ardan shook the other man’s hand. “As does yours, Duke Frederick.”

  Steiner freed his right hand and probed the scar by his eye. “I see your career has left you without scars, at least not visible ones, Colonel. I fear that I have not been so fortunate.”

  A frown flashed across Ardan’s face. Petty, isn’t it, to remind me of the “delusion” I suffered when recovering here on Tharkad. I’m sure you’ve kept the story of my psychological difficulties circulating, haven’t you? If you only knew the truth—that it was all a part of Maximilian Liao’s plan to destroy the Federated Suns.

  Ardan smiled and riposted, “Of course, Your Grace, my career has not been nearly as long as yours.” Ardan watched with feigned innocence as his thinly veiled comment on the duke’s age hit home like an SRM. “Please call me Ardan.”

  Frederick Steiner winced as Ardan waited for him to reciprocate the offer of familiarity. Duke Lestrade, reading Steiner’s transparent anguish, forestalled any action by limping forward and thrusting his pudgy hand at Ardan. “I am Aldo Lestrade.” He nodded toward Steiner. “Like my friend the duke, I too have suffered the physical toll of a valiant career serving in a frontline unit.”

  Ardan nodded. Aldo Lestrade clutched his champagne glass in a steel and plastic left hand. Ardan knew that the prosthesis extended to the duke’s shoulder, and he also knew that the duke’s limp came from a hip joint replacement. That Kurita raid may have taken part of your body, but it did nothing to dull your mind, Ardan thought ruefully. By referring to Steiner as “the duke,” you prevent me from expecting any familiarity from him. Neatly done.

  Ardan smiled courteously. “I know your homeworld of Summer has been raided by Kurita, but I was unaware that you were a MechWarrior, Duke Lestrade.”

  The short, stocky man smiled and spread his hands. “Life on Summer is itself service in a frontline unit. My father died in a Kurita raid. I nearly did as well. It seems that my family dared not allow me to undergo the training for fear I’d be shipped away from my world to die defending someone else’s holding.”

  “Yes,” Ardan said, cocking his head slightly. “I do recall reading in Thelos Auburn’s Origins of the Three Great Families that yours suffered miserably. Indeed, I would suggest that it was almost providential that you, the youngest of your family, outlived older siblings and managed to take power.”

  Frederick Steiner quivered with rage. “What might you mean by that, Colonel Sortek?”

  Ardan smiled innocently at Katrina’s cousin. Do you ask if I am accusing the duke of murdering his father during a Kurita raid, just as he got rid of the others standing between him and the throne? “Why, I merely meant to compliment the duke on his ability to survive. I have read texts of his speeches, and if the Commonwealth leaves Skye as wide open as he describes, I marvel at his ability to live in such a dangerous area.”

  Lestrade reached out and laid his artificial hand on Steiner’s arm. “Calm yourself, my duke, I took no offense.” Turning back to Ardan, he added, “But I believe the colonel thinks my thesis incorrect…”

  Ardan held up his glass, and a passing servant refilled it. He waited until Steiner and Lestrade had been similarly refreshed, then replied to the duke’s statement. “Perhaps, without the benefit of a military education, you underestimate the strength defending you. Not three weeks ago, I watched the Kell Hounds repulse a raid by elements of the Second Sword of Light. A better mercenary battalion you’d be hard pressed to find.”

  Lestrade shook his head slowly. “True enough, but what is one battalion in a holding as vast as the Isle of Skye? Besides, that raid is the exception that proves the rule. You soldiers think of worlds as squares on a chessboard, and your ’Mech units as the pieces on that board. To you warriors, especially when not engaged in a line unit, the squares on the board are empty.”

  Lestrade nodded toward Duke Steiner. “Those commanding line units, on the other hand, realize that each world has a life of its own. Though a raid may not result in the loss of a planet, it always generates hardship for the inhabitants. That perspective is easily lost when you only view the situation on a strategic level.”

  Ardan laughed. He relished the anger in Steiner’s eyes, and the shock filling Lestrade’s face. “I am amazed at how like my Prince you sound, Duke Lestrade. This lack of feeling for a world’s natives is exactly why he suggested—and the Archon accepted—my visit. I will see the places where men have fought, and I will meet the natives. Through further exchanges and stronger ties between our two nations, we will address the very issue you raise.”

  Though reluctant to leave Steiner and Lestrade as they writhed over his favorable comparison of their views and those of Hanse Davion, Ardan excused himself. He returned to the dais and laid a hand on Redburn’s shoulder. His arrival prompted Baron Sefnes to withdraw quickly, and Redburn was finally able to unknot his fists.

  Melissa smiled. “Ardan, you’re a cross to a vampire.”

  “Salt to a slug, more like,” Redburn grumbled. “So help me, Colonel, if you’d not arrived, I’d have punched his eject button! Blake’s Blood, he’s as bad as Vitios!”

  Ardan shook his head and snorted. “No one is that bad, Andrew.”

  Redburn nodded sheepishly. “I guess not.”

  Melissa reached out and brought a fourth person into their circle. “This is Misha Auburn,” she said. “Thelos Auburn’s daughter and my best friend. Misha, this is Ardan Sortek and Leftenant Andrew Redburn.” Melissa hooked her left arm through Ardan’s right. “You men are far too handsome to be locked away here in political discussions. Let’s go to the ballroom and dance.”

  A quick glance from Ardan told Redburn that there was no appeal of the sentence, and so he offered Misha his right arm. He smiled as she deftly slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I pray, Miss Auburn, that you are either an able instructor or that your feet will move swiftly from beneath mine.”

  The dark-haired young woman laughed throatily, and a mischievous glint illuminated her brown yes. She brought her right hand to rest on Andrew’s right forearm as they walked down the wide corridor behind Ardan and Melissa. “And I pray, Leftena
nt, that you have the MechWarrior’s legendary agility so that you may avoid stepping on my feet. I fear this gown was not created with an eye toward swift movement.”

  Andrew chuckled lightly. Misha’s black-sequined gown covered her slender body from floor to throat and from neck to wrists like a snakeskin. Slits up the sides extended only as far as her knees, but he could not see that the dress hampered her movement any. “Forgive me, Miss Auburn, but you move as if born in that gown. And please, call me Andrew.”

  She gave his arm a slight squeeze. “And I am Misha, Andrew.” She turned and smiled at him. “Let me suggest that if we survive each other’s skill at the dance, we should enjoy the winter sports here in Tharkad tomorrow. That is, if you have nothing else planned.”

  Andrew nodded his head and guided Misha into the darkened ballroom. Splashed against the domed ceiling, stars twinkled in the exact pattern they would have taken had the roof been glass and the blizzard a memory. The orchestra filled the room with sensuous music, but the song had enough intensity for both the younger and the older listeners. Its tempo even infected Andrew, who seemed able to follow Misha’s instructions with ease.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Ardan and Melissa dancing, too. He could not hear what they were saying, but the smiles on their faces and the laughter in their bodies revealed the lightness of the conversation. He nodded to Misha, then gestured with a tilt of the head at their two friends. “It’s good to see the colonel enjoying himself.”

  Misha smiled. “Melissa nursed him back to health after his trauma on Stein’s Folly. They became very close. She has been looking forward eagerly to this visit.”

  As the music slowed and faded around them, Misha and Andrew retreated to the edge of the dance floor. “You dance very well, Andrew,” she said.

  “Ah yes,” he told her. “We may attribute that to the superior skill and grace of my teacher.”

  Misha took the glass of champagne that Andrew offered her from the bar and touched it to his glass.

  “To great combinations.”

  Chapter 27

  THARKAD

  DISTRICT OF DONEGAL

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  11 APRIL 3027

  “Good afternoon, Misha…Andrew.” Ardan strode into the living room of Redburn’s suite, stopping to warm his hands before the fire blazing like a nova in the fireplace. “I trust your skiing went well?”

  Redburn nodded and set his brandy snifter down on the low table before him. “Yes, sir.”

  Ardan smiled at Misha. “I trust, Misha, that you worked the leftenant hard and that he did nothing to dishonor the Federated Suns?”

  Gracefully uncoiling herself from the sofa, Misha shook her head. “He learns quickly, Colonel, and did very well.” She reached down and squeezed Redburn’s hand. “If you leave him here on Tharkad, I’m sure he’d pick up enough within two weeks to teach those Federated Suns mountain troops whatever they need to know.”

  Ardan nodded slowly. “Indeed.” He looked at Redburn. “I’m afraid that duty now calls, Leftenant.” Misha made to get up, but Ardan waved her back. “No, Misha. Please stay. I’ll only steal him for a little while. He’ll return within the hour.”

  Redburn seconded Ardan’s invitation with a hopeful smile, and Misha nodded. He stood up slowly and stiffly, then looked at Ardan. “Should I change first?” Wearing a thick pullover, blue corduroy knickers, and thick wool stockings, he looked far too casual beside Ardan’s neatly pressed blue uniform.

  “No, Andrew, that will not be necessary.” Ardan turned and walked from the room. Redburn caught up with him in the corridor, but neither man spoke. Their silence continued unbroken until they’d entered a small, nearly featureless room and Simon Johnson closed the door behind them.

  Johnson stood while the two Federated Suns officers sat in the gray iron chairs. He narrowed his black eyes and addressed himself to Ardan. “How much does he know?”

  Redburn felt a sinister thrill as Ardan answered. “He has not been briefed.”

  “Very well.” Johnson dragged a chair around before him, but seated himself on it with his chest against its back. “I will keep this simple, Leftenant. I could have let you read a file, but you would probably find all the details boring. As you are aware, Leftenant, the more you know, the more you might reveal.”

  The chancellor of the Lyran Intelligence Corps exhaled, then watched Redburn for a moment before beginning to speak. “Five years ago, in 3022, Hanse Davion and Archon Katrina Steiner signed an agreement on Terra. Your visit is but one of the exchanges made possible by that treaty. For example, I believe that two Lyran Commonwealth students entered the Warriors Hall in your final year there.”

  Redburn nodded. “I knew of them, but they served in other cadet companies.”

  Johnson nodded curtly. “No matter, except that you are aware of the treaty and some of its effects. What you do not know is that the treaty has some secret provisions. What I will reveal to you now is known only to a handful of people, for reasons that will become painfully obvious.” Johnson winced. “I believe that even that is too many, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Redburn saw Ardan nod in silent agreement with the chancellor. He swallowed hard. “If you do not feel that I should know this…” What is it? What could be so important?

  Johnson waved away Redburn’s protest. “No one would believe you if you told the story. I fear, however, that those with ambition will use their knowledge to secure power during this delicate time. You see, Andrew Redburn, Prince Hanse Davion and Archon-Designate Melissa Arthur Steiner are to be married on Terra, on the twentieth of August, next year, in 3028.”

  Redburn took the news like an autocannon salvo to the head. His mouth dropped open and a legion of questions clamored at his mind. Instead of vocalizing that babble, he shook his head and kept his mouth firmly shut.

  Johnson waited a moment, seeing Redburn’s need to compose himself. “Melissa has met her future husband once, on Terra, when the treaty was signed. She was a child then, and the betrothal seemed more a game to her than reality. Since that time, her contact with the Prince has been restricted to messages exchanged through Colonel Sortek.” Johnson nodded at Ardan, and the hint of a smile tightened the corners of his mouth. “Though the colonel has told Melissa much about the Prince, and the messages have pleased her, it is not the same as a flesh-and-blood meeting.”

  Redburn nodded. “Like fighting in a simulator.”

  Johnson paused and smiled more fully. “An apt analogy. While I debate the wisdom of this enterprise, both the Archon and her daughter insist that Melissa must travel to the Federated Suns to meet Prince Davion. I have managed to convince them that I should handle the travel arrangements. You have already met one part of our preparations. Jeana Clay will double as Melissa, traveling with Colonel Sortek on some further inspections. Including you two, less than a dozen people will ever know that the real Melissa has actually left the Commonwealth.”

  Redburn nodded. “I assume, then, from the way the conversation is going, that I am to return to the Federated Suns in the company of someone who just happens to be Melissa Steiner?” Redburn narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t transshipping her amid a mercenary unit, say Richard’s Panzer Brigade, be safer?”

  Ardan shook his head. “You, Andrew, being a hero and something of a media figure, will attract the attention of everyone watching. During the long voyage on a commercial liner, your contact with Melissa-in-disguise will not be noticed. That is because you, in essence, will have a large target painted on your chest. Melissa will pass unnoticed on the same ship.”

  Redburn nodded and Johnson smiled. “Very good, Leftenant. I feel better now. As soon as Melissa selects her traveling name and we have assembled an identity around it, you will be briefed further.”

  Ardan and Redburn rose to leave, but Johnson added one more remark before they could escape the room. “Oh, and Leftenant—be careful. Though Misha Auburn is Melissa’s best friend, she does
not know any of this. In fact, she has spent much time in Jeana’s company without guessing at the exchange. Still, she has trained well to take over for her father as court historian when he retires. The Auburns have an instinctive nose for conspiracy. Watch yourself.”

  Melissa looked up from the computer screen and over at Jeana. “I think I have it.”

  “Have what?” echoed her own voice from Jeana’s throat.

  “I have the name I’ll travel under. I will become Joana Barker.”

  Jeana frowned. Melissa wondered for a moment if she really looked like that when angry or puzzled.

  “That sounds familiar, Melissa, but I can’t place it.”

  Melissa smiled triumphantly. “I’ve cobbled it together from one of the books I read. Do you remember Sweeney Todd?”

  Melissa’s twin shivered. “That ghastly tale about the demon barber of Fleet Street?”

  Melissa nodded. “Sweeney Todd’s real name was Benjamin Barker, and his daughter’s name was Joana. No one ever called her Joana Barker, but that was her true name. That’s what I’ll use.

  Jeana yawned. “If you want to select a name from this ancient literature you seem to devour, why not pick something more romantic? Why not become Irene Adler?”

  Melissa wrinkled her nose with distaste. “A Lestrade might select a name from Sherlock Holmes, but not me. No. Joana Barker married a tall, handsome man, and lived happily ever after, I’m sure. That’s the sort of omen I want watching over me as I travel to meet—” Melissa blushed at the thought, “—my betrothed…my Hanse Davion, my future husband.”

  Chapter 28

  NASHIRA

  DIERON MILITARY DISTRICT

  DRACONIS COMBINE

  15 APRIL 3027

  Hands folded serenely behind his back, Yorinaga Kurita watched through the large window as the first of the Genyosha engaged in calisthenics. Broken down into groups of five, including the chu-i leading each, the twenty-five men performed in perfect unison. Utterly faithful synchronization made each man a finger on one hand, and the training would make all five into a fist.