Michael glanced at the shelves behind his desk. There, in rare leatherbound originals or holodisc editions, he had amassed an enviable collection of histories, some dating from the time even before the Star League. His bloody knuckles tasted salty-sweet, but he barely noticed it as his mind raced on.
It's all there, Hanse. Don't you think I know it? Man's history has always been the story of conquest by war. The advent of BattleMechs some six centuries ago did not change this basic fact, yet you have ignored it. You consider 'Mechs to be a necessary tool, yet you do not see these glorious war engines for what they truly are—the highest evolutionary state of mankind's drive for conquest. A warrior may not become one with his BattleMech— though that legend persists—but in his 'Mech, he can reach the pinnacle of his personal abilities.
Michael dropped his hand and pursed his lips. Hanse, you ignore this fact and force me to join you in playing at politics. How much do you know of my ties with Maximilian Liao? If you knew I'd visited him, you’d have stripped me of my office and settled it like a noose around my captive son Morgan's neck. You may have your suspicions about me, but you have no proof. Trust me, Hanse, you shall never have any.
Michael walked over to a map of the Successor States and let the fingers of his right hand trace the slender wedge that marked his Capellan March. My realm, larger even than the Capellan Confederation. I should be one of the five Successor Lords, but you ignore me and the claims of my blood, Hanse. You have forced me to deal with Maximilian Liao because you have refused to give me the forces I need to conquer him. Had I the troops, I could destroy him. Ah, but then, having proved to the entire Federated Suns my ability to lead, I would be able to take your place on the throne so that our people could have a proper leader at the helm of our nation.
The salty taste still lingered on the Duke's tongue as his eyes flicked over the other Great Houses pictured on the map. Already, Hanse, your hatchling alliance with the Lyran Commonwealth has drawn your three foes together. The Draconis Combine's leader, Takashi Kurita, has forced Janos Marik and Maximilian Liao to set aside their bickering so they may deal with you and House Steiner. Their alliance is not as strong as yours, for suspicion continues to undermine the ties between the Free Worlds League and the Capellans but their alliance is far from impotent.
Michael smiled slowly. But then, your rivals do not know your alliance has fledged, do they? News of your impending marriage will galvanize them. They will bind together and they will come to crush you. Michael took a step back from the map. But how may I benefit from this turn of events?
The Duke of New Syrtis tapped his index finger against his chin. Studying his map, he saw how the borders of the Draconis Combine and the Free Worlds League were poised like the jaws of some fierce hunting animal to snap the life from the Lyran Commonwealth, Davion's ally. As his thoughts raced, he slowly nodded to himself.
Yes, I must inform Liao of your betrothal. I will continue to forward the information you send me on strengths and positions of your troops, and I will continue to undervalue the strength of my own troops in the same reports. I will convince Liao that the Lyran Commonwealth could fall to a combined strike by Houses Marik and Kurita.
Liao, that little viper, will agree to this because it means that Marik will shift troops to the Lyran border, giving him a chance to recover some of the worlds his Confederation lost to the Free Worlds League over the past century. Liao, so confident that he knows my own strength, will pull forces from my border to launch an attack on his enemy.
Michael touched the long border between the Davion and Kurita realms. Hanse will strike at the Draconis Combine to relieve pressure on the Lyran Commonwealth. He might even finance some insurrections in the Rasalhague military district, for haven't they always resented House Kurita's domination ? No matter what he does, though, his war will be a stalemate, because he does not possess enough strength to defeat the Draconis Combine.
The pain forgotten, Michael balled his right fist and punched it into the palm of his artificial hand. When the people grow weary of a war that cannot be won, a war launched to help the Lyran Commonwealth and Hanse's child-bride, I will strike at the Capellan Confederation and crush it. I will be the Federated Suns' conquering hero. In one bold stroke, I will prove myself Hanse's superior militarily. I will negotiate a peace and the people will proclaim me the new Prince of the Federated Suns.
Michael returned to his desk, where he took from a drawer his leather-bound copy of the Lyran classic, Origins of the Three Great Families, by Thelos Auburn. Without committing anything to paper, he mentally composed the message he wanted to send. Then, thumbing through the book, he assigned a three-number code—corresponding to page, paragraph, and word numbers— for each word in the message.
As he did so, he cupped his artificial hand in his good hand and pressed his flesh and blood fingers against the joints of their artificial mates. Executing simple, natural, and almost indectectable motions, he recorded the appropriate numbers in a RAM cache that Capellan scientists had implanted in his hand during his first visit with Maximilian Liao. Even the closest observer would see nothing more suspicious than the Duke skimming a book while massaging his artificial hand.
The Capellan engineers had also equipped the hand with a tightbeam, high-speed data pulser that would broadcast information in one incredibly short burst. Limited to a range of about four meters, its onboard programming prevented operation unless activated by a signal sent from a receiver—a receiver of the type built into the local Capellan Ambassador's prosthetic leg. Then, by pressing his thumb to the base of his little finger, the Duke could pulse the message out.
Michael closed the book and returned it to the desk drawer. Scanning the stacks of documents on his desk, he quickly selected one showing the local Capellan Ambassador's letterhead. Michael read the text, then stabbed the button on his personal intercom. "Agnes, tell Ambassador Korigyn that I expect him in my audience room in two hours."
His personal secretary hesitated, her fear almost crackling through the speaker. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Ambassador is not in the capital right now . . ."
"I don't want you giving me his excuses, Agnes!" he snarled. "If that idiot thinks we're going to increase his embassy's yearly shipment of vodka from the Confederation just so he can sell it on the black market here to keep his mistress, he is sadly mistaken. Two hours, Agnes, or there will be hell to pay."
Michael never heard her reply. He patted his left hand and smiled to himself. In two hours, the Ambassador will get this information Hanse has so graciously supplied me. Korigyn will turn it over to ComStar and their HyperPulse generators will flick it across the stars via their communications network. Liao should have it in a matter of days, and then he will act. Through him, I shall light the fuse that will throw the Successor States into one final Chaos, and from the ruins will I rise to rule supreme over all. . .
2
Sian
Sian Commonality Capellan Confederation
15 October 3027
Justin Xiang smiled as his subordinate, Alexi Malenkov, handed him a stack of blue files. "I appreciate this very much, Alexi," he said, setting the files on his desk and idly covering them with his left hand. A black leather glove sheathed the prosthetic limb, and Justin chose to ignore Malenkov's look of repugnance as his gaze fell on the lifeless hand.
Nodding his blond head, Malenkov quickly recovered his composure. "I assumed, Citizen Xiang, that you would be especially interested in our reports on how the Davion unit you once commanded had done in the recent military exercises. The First Kittery Training Battalion will be shifted, in a month or so, from probationary status because of their performance, and will become part of the Davion Light Guards, First Battalion."
Justin smiled easily. "Is Captain Redburn still in command, or did they provide a new commander for the unit?"
Malenkov seated himself on the edge of Justin's desk and lowered his head to just beneath the level of the gray cubicle walls. "It's
all in the reports, Justin. Because of Redburn's loyalty to you during the trial, Count Vitios recommended that he be replaced. Apparently, however, the MechWarriors in the battalion protested and he was retained."
"Good." Justin raked his right hand back through his straight black hair. "When do you anticipate your analysis team will finish up with their assessment of the Moravian part of Operation Galahad '27? Lady Romano is quite concerned with the units used in that battle. She maintains that the First Bell Training Battalion was configured along the lines of Marion's Highlanders, the 'Mech regiment serving on her world of Highspire, and she was upset at the 'casualty reports' suggesting that the defenders, the Sixth Crucis Lancers Regimental Combat Team, ripped the Bell Battalion apart."
The analyst from the Tikonov Commonality of the Capellan Confederation shrugged. "Your father has his Counter-intelligence Division working overtime to give us plenty of false data about Operation Galahad '27." Malenkov smiled weakly. "The report Romano Liao is talking about has been utterly discounted."
Justin pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That's something."
Malenkov nodded, then a pained look came over his face. "Unfortunately, the real report about that exercise is almost as dismal as the fake. About the only thing the Bell Battalion did right was to capture a mining center, but that was because it had been abandoned during a hideous blizzard in the area. The Bell Battalion got lost in the same storm and stumbled upon the mine—which was never the objective of the exercise."
Justin chuckled softly to himself. "Were the Highlanders able to accomplish as much against the overwhelming forces pitched at their surrogates, we'd be more than happy."
Malenkov raised his head and looked around toward the other cubicles, then hunched down and nodded enthusiastically. "Just don't let Lady Romano hear you say that."
Justin raised an eyebrow. "My dear Alexi, remember, we are the Maskirovka. Others must fear that we will overhear them utter disloyal truth, not the other way around." Justin shot a glance at the appointment book on his desk, then looked up at Malenkov. "See if you can get a preliminary report from your people in the next two days. I..."
Justin hesitated as a slender, smiling man framed himself in the cubicle's doorway. He shared Justin's oriental features, dark hair, and brown eyes but the sharpness of his expression—while not unhandsome—gave him a calculating, cunning look. He smiled at Justin, and nodded respectfully at Malenkov.
"Excuse me, Citizen Malenkov. Justin, we have been summoned immediately." The visitor pointed toward the ceiling with his index finger as he spoke. Silhouetted against the bronze flesh of his hand and wrist, Justin saw the ten-centimeter long nails on the last three fingers of the man's right hand.
Justin stood and stretched. "Do you know what he wants, Tsen?"
Tsen Shang shook his head. "No. The message just came down from Chandra Ling's office. She told me to collect you and to report to the Chancellor without delay."
Justin nodded thoughtfully. Summoned to a meeting with Maximilian Liao by the head of the Maskirovka. I hope this is more than one of Liao's temper tantrums. Justin turned to Malenkov. "Alexi, light a fire under your analysts. I want you at your desk, or easy to reach, while I'm in conference—just in case I need you to bring me some data."
Malenkov nodded and Justin swept past him. Shang led the way from the Analysis Division to the elevators. The two Death Commandos flanking the elevator up to the Palace checked their identification papers and radioed for permission to allow the pair passage.
Justin and Tsen Shang shared a secret smile as the commander barked a tinny order that made the soldier flinch. Ashen-faced, the guard inserted a key in the lockplate and twisted. The inlaid bronze doors opened and the Maskirovka agents entered the wood-paneled box.
Once the doors had closed and the elevator was climbing up from the subterranean depths, Justin turned to his companion. "I realize you might not have wanted to speak in front of Malenkov. Have you any clue to what the Chancellor wants?"
Shang shook his head. "The Chancellor has been edgy of late..."
Justin nodded. Both Maximilian's daughters, Candace and Romano, have been fighting since they arrived on Sianfor their father’s birthday. They've trapped him in the middle of their little war, and he's been in a bad mood ever since. Justin coughed, then shook his head. "If I've been asked in, we can bet it has something to do with the Federated Suns. Do you think it's new troop strengths and deployment figures from our friend?"
"Possible ..." Tsen Shang looked at his right hand and flexed it like a claw. The overhead light glinted off the black and gold nails. "I don't like the way this whole thing feels . . ."
Justin stared at the talons and barely heard Shang's comment. He'd seen those carbon-fiber reinforced nails slash through thick leather as though it were tissue paper. He still wondered if Shang kept them coated with the poison he liked to use on Solaris VII, where he had succeeded in recruiting Justin.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open soundlessly to admit the two men directly to the Chancellor's throne room. Normally hidden behind a wall panel, the elevator opened midway along one of the rectangular room's long side walls. The half-light cast strange shadows over the teak lattice-work that screened hidden alcoves in the upper half of the opposite wall. Though Justin saw nothing to indicate they were being watched, he did not feel totally comfortable.
Glancing at the people assembled in the room, he understood why Shang had been disturbed by the summons, and it heightened his own sense of unease. This is bad. I can feel it.
Tall and slender, Chancellor Maximilian Liao stood before his massive throne. His steel-gray eyes stared down at the sheet of paper clutched in white-knuckled fingers. The sheet trembled with the rage Justin could feel pouring off the Chancellor in unseen waves. The Chancellor's lipscurled back from his teeth in a silent snarl as he reread the words.
Standing below and to the right, Chandra Ling seemed untouched by her master's fury. Small and slight, this gray-haired, elderly woman appeared to be nothing more than a benign grandmother. Justin narrowed his almond-shaped eyes. She's the grandmother type, but no one gets to be the head of the Maskirovka by baking cookies—unless those cookies are laced with cyanide and fed to one's rivals.
Across from Chandra Ling, Maximilian's two daughters stood side by side. Romano, the younger of the two, barely concealed her irritation. With angry twists of the head, she flicked her reddish-brown hair back across her shoulders while pure rage flared in her green eyes. With her gold silk robe tied only loosely at the waist, it gaped open enough to provide a glimpse of her MechWarrior's cooling vest. As she impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to another, the robe revealed glimpses of her slender figure and long legs.
Justin noticed that her agitation lessened slightly when she saw Tsen Shang. I wonder if she was angry at having been called away from 'Mech drills, or if she couldn't understand what might have been delaying Shang ?
Candace Liao, heir-apparent to the throne, also seemed to notice the shift in her sister's attitude. Clad in tight black leather boots, slacks, and a looser leather blouse with padded shoulders, Candace raised her chin and slowly folded her arms across her chest. Her long, black hair fell to mid-back, but the thin ribbons of it falling forward of her shoulders framed her exotic face perfectly. Her eyes half-closed as she made eye contact with Justin, then she turned and watched her father.
Justin felt a thrill tingle in his belly, but quickly smothered it. No, Justin. She's got her father's cunning and quick temper, and her mother's icy soul. She’d use you up and spit you out. Were her sister less obvious in her pleasure at seeing Shang, Candace would never have even noticed you. That is as it should be, for she's a tiger and you should be a mouse.
Maximilian's head came up and he spitted Justin with a savage stare. "You, Xiang, you are Quintus Allard's son! Why did you not know of this?" He held the message up in his right hand like a torch. "Are you sent here to betray me?"
L
iao's accusation ignited a jet of fear that quickly changed to anger in Justin's heart. He opened his mouth to snap a harsh denial, then hesitated. Ease off, Justin. He's not thinking rationally. How can you defend yourself when you don't even know the charge? Bowing his head, Justin replied quietly, "Forgive me, Celestial Highness, what should I have known?"
"This, dammit!" An inarticulate sound of rage squealed from the Chancellor's throat. "Hanse Davion is to marry Melissa Steiner!"
The information hit Justin like a laserblast. He hugged his arms to his midsection and swallowed back the caustic bile that bubbled to his throat. He bent forward and shivered. Slowly he straightened up and addressed Maximilian Liao in a low, cold voice. "Had I known that information, Supreme One, I would have communicated it to you the instant I was exiled from the Federated Suns. Had I even guessed at it, had I heard even the slightest hint of it. . ."
Chandra Ling's voice sliced like a razor through Justin's denial. "Had you any suspicions, Citizen Xiang, you would have died at your own father's hand before he would have permitted you to leave the Federated Suns."
Liao glanced down at the Maskirovka mistress and snorted derisively. He studied Justin again, then stiffly lowered himself onto his throne. "Of course, the Director is correct." He nodded at her, half-lowering his lids. "Your shock at hearing this news is obvious. Still, you and Shang are my top two people in the Davion section. Why have we not known before?"
Shang bowed. "I offer no excuses, Excellency, but I should point out that Davion's Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations sends out much chaff, through which we must sift carefully to obtain any kernels of truth in reports we get.
True, we did not provide you the information that you now have, but we can surmise how the negotiations took place, and where the meetings were held."
Warrior: riposte Page 2
