Melissa smiled openly and hooked her left hand around Daniel Allard's right arm. "Think of it this way, Minister. Why be a slave to history when you can create it?" Melissa winked at the Minister, which raised the color on his cheeks. "Besides which, I want to dance with this handsome warrior, and I want to do it now!"
The Archon watched her daughter indulgently. I hope Hanse Davion realizes what he's gotten himself into, she thought, turning to the Minister. "Well, tell the musicians the Archon-Designate wishes to dance, and it is my wish that everyone should enjoy themselves in like manner." As Hecht scurried off through the crowd, the Archon led Morgan off toward a small side door guarded by two formally dressed LIC agents.
Passing through the door and down a short hallway, the pair reached the Archon's personal office. As they entered the room, Katrina released Morgan's arm. Standing in the center of the wood-paneled room, he slowly surveyed it. "It feels very much like you, Katrina," he said with an approving smile.
He pointed at her massive oaken desk and laughed aloud. Though made of wood, the desk was neither as old nor as exquisitely worked as the other pieces in the room. Stained a warm chocolate brown, it had a life to it that the other pieces lacked. "You've still got it. After all these years . . ."
"How could I part with it, Morgan? Arthur made it with his own hands." Katrina looked at the desk and felt a lump rising in her throat. Ah, Arthur. . . you've been gone these seventeen years. They say time heals all wounds, but this one only grows from year to year.
Morgan's voice pulled her back from the sad memories. "Now, Katrina, you know that's only half right. Arthur had some help with that monster."
"Ha!" Katrina laughed aloud. "To hear Arthur tell it, you just supervised."
Morgan affected a pose of offended nobility. "Now, now. I have a splinter or two to prove my part." He pointed toward the right side of the desk. "Take that top drawer. I did that one myself. . ."
"The one on the right?"
Morgan nodded.
Katrina smiled. "You mean the one that sticks..."
"I told Arthur he had the casing all wrong," Morgan teased. "Damn! Those were the days, weren't they, Katrina? Got anything to drink in this office?"
Katrina crossed to the corner and touched a hidden stud on one of the wooden panels, which slid up to reveal a secret sideboard. She grinned at Morgan. "Do you still drink Irish whiskey?"
Morgan shrugged. "I don't really know. St. Marinus House is dry—except for sacramental wine, that is. Your uncle, Brother Giles, runs a tight ship."
Katrina squinted and reached deep into the sideboard. "This will be a treat for you, then." She withdrew a dusty bottle and showed it to Morgan. "It's from the Connor Distillery on Arc-Royal. Patrick had them send me a case each year."
She poured out two glasses of the amber liquid, then handed one to Morgan. He held the glass aloft. "To those we've lost. May we have the strength and wisdom to build upon the foundation they have created."
Katrina touched her glass to his and then took a sip from it. The mere scent of this whiskey brings back so many memories. Of the good times and the hard times. The liquor burned her throat, but not unpleasantly. And of the hunted times.
Setting down the glass, she looked her old friend directly in the eye and asked, "Morgan, why didn't you ever tell me Arthur was a member of Heimdall?"
Morgan's nostrils flared as he slowly breathed in. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, then returned her gaze. "This will sound odd, perhaps, but I didn't mention it because Arthur didn't tell you himself."
The Archon frowned. "I don't understand your reasoning. When Arthur died, you should have come and told me. We had so little time together, he and I. I would have cherished anything you could have said."
Morgan stepped forward and rested his large hand on Katrina's shoulder. "Katrina, you know, deep down, how much Arthur loved you and trusted you ... You do know that. No doubts, right?"
Katrina nodded slowly. Yes. I know that. What I don't understand is why didn't he trust me with this side of himself ?
"Good, because that is the complete and utter truth." Morgan hesitated, searching for the right words. "Heimdall is a conspiracy of the loyal opposition. Though it began as a movement to undermine the LIC's and Loki's efforts to destroy civil liberties, at various times—good times, as I understand its history— it's been little more than a fraternal organization. In fact, that's how Arthur, Patrick, and I got involved. Arthur's father inducted him into the organization, and when Patrick and I were appointed to Nagelring, he brought us in. It all seemed quite innocent at first."
Morgan took a deep breath, then fortified himself with a sip of whiskey. "I was already at Nagelring and on my way to becoming a Mech Warrior when your predecessor, Alessandro, came up with his cockeyed plan of Concentrated Weakness. Then he dealt brutally with the revolts his policy inspired. Suddenly Heimdall became more active and Arthur, with his money and influence, did what he could to help the organization."
Morgan swallowed hard. "You see, Katrina, because of Arthur, Heimdall almost moved from being the loyal opposition to becoming part of the establishment. But Arthur didn't want that, and as much as he loved and trusted you, he did not want to compromise the organization. If you had asked, he would have brought Heimdall into the mainstream, but then it would not have been there when needed—be it tomorrow because of a coup staged by Alessandro, or a hundred years from now because of a Kurita invasion. Does that make any sense?"
How well you knew me, beloved husband. . . Katrina nodded, then cocked her head in thought. "That does explain why Arthur didn't tell me about his ties with Heimdall, but it does not explain why you said nothing after his death."
Morgan shrugged and Katrina felt a pang of regret for her question. He seems so helpless.
"I guess I made a mistake." Morgan again sipped at his drink. "I knew that Arthur spent much of his last few months setting up identity files and trust funds to care for the Heimdall cells that got us off Poulsbo back when Loki tried to kill you. I assumed that Arthur had either told you about his affiliation, or did not want you to know. I took your silence on the subject as a reflection of his wish. I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to think less of us."
Katrina set her glass down on the desk her husband had made and picked up a small cubical holograph display unit. When she punched a four-digit code onto the numberpad at its top, a three-dimensional image focused itself in the dark cube. Katrina smiled. Staring at the projected holograph, she almost forgot where she was.
It showed her, twenty years younger and with hair dyed a bright red, flanked by two men. On her right was Arthur Luvon. His long, fair hair was tied back with a black headband, and he was smiling broadly. His mustache and goatee gave him the roguish look that matched his spirit, but that was so unlike the staid, sober Arthur most believed her husband to be. On the left, wearing a blue shirt open to midchest to reveal a heavy thatch of black hair, was a much younger Morgan Kell, also smiling at the holocamera. His thin mustache curled up at the ends, and his expression mirrored Arthur's devil-may-care attitude.
Has it really been that long? Katrina shook her head. "Morgan, after all we went through, how could I think less of him or you?"
She extended the cube to Morgan. He looked at the image and laughed deeply. "God, the Red Corsair and her two henchmen ..."
Katrina laughed aloud as well. It's so good to hear your laugh, Morgan. How it conjures up memories of the old days. Trying as those times had been, she could now also see them as exciting adventures. "What we did to escape Poulsbo would be considered too outlandish for a holodrama series."
Morgan tossed off the whiskey remaining in his glass. "Well, I must admit that in hindsight, the idea of heading out into the Periphery and coming back through Marik space might not be the best plan, but it sounded good at the time." He gazed at the cube again. "You know, one of the brothers at St. Marinus was from a band of Periphery raiders and he says they're still looking for t
he Red Corsair." Morgan's smile ebbed away as the look on his face became distant and remote.
Katrina reached out and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "You miss her as much as I miss Arthur, don't you?"
"Tempest?" His head came up and he forced a weak smile on his lips. "Perhaps, had things not ended so abruptly, my answer to your question would be, 'Yes.' As it is, I just don't know."
The Archon let her hand fall from his shoulder. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Don't be. It's ground I've traveled often in the past eleven years." Morgan winked at her and brandished the holocube, his sadness banished. "Think I should go back to just a mustache?"
Katrina shook her head. "No, Morgan, the full beard is more becoming." A mischievous light flashed in her eyes. "However, if ComStar decides to hold a masquerade as part of Melissa's wedding celebration, perhaps we can reprise the Red Corsair and some of her court."
Morgan slapped his forehead with his open right palm. "What a dolt I've been! Here I see Melissa for the first time in ages and I haven't yet congratulated her on her engagement."
Katrina held a hand up. "Don't worry, Morgan, you've scored points with her for that omission. Everyone in the receiving line commented on what a pretty bride she'd be and how much they regretted not being able to be there." Katrina rolled her eyes.
"Trolling for invitations—a time-honored tradition at epic events." Morgan smiled wryly, but a look of concern had settled over his handsome features. "On Zaniah, when we heard of the engagement, we were happy, of course, but Brother Giles and I both worried that this might become a rallying point for dissidents and rivals in the Commonwealth. Brother Giles even had a visitor from Solaris-—an Enrico Lestrade, I think—who inquired if he wanted to come out of retirement in light of the engagement."
Damn that Aldo Lestrade! How dare he send his nephew to disturb my uncle in his retreat. And bless you, Morgan, for actually caring. "There has, indeed, been some resistance among the nobility. Aldo Lestrade pulls Frederick Steiner's strings, so that's trouble. Aldo's engineered at least two failed assassination attempts against me, and I think he was behind the Silver Eagle's diversion. The hard evidence may be tantalizingly elusive, but I know he's the author of many of my troubles."
Something flickered in Morgan's dark eyes, and Katrina felt a coldness slice through her. Well, Aldo, you don't know what you have unleashed with your actions, do you? You killed Patrick Kell, and that's not a sin that either Morgan or Heimdall are likely to soon forget. "Aldo keeps trumpeting his complaint that we leave the Isle of Skye vulnerable to attack, but even the raid Kurita pulled on Chara to exterminate the Kell Hounds failed to excite many people."
Katrina smiled. "However, with you back to lead the Kell Hounds, I don't think Kurita is going to try anything as foolish as that last raid ... But Morgan, what is it?"
Morgan frowned. "Katrina, I have a special favor to ask of you."
The Archon opened her hands. "Ask and it will be done."
Morgan smiled briefly, then let the smile die. "I appreciate the vote of confidence. Dan has told me of a clause in the Kell Hound contract that allows me to dissolve any agreement that Patrick made."
Katrina nodded. "The contract expires in 3031. Do you want to break it or renegotiate? I can probably pull some extra money out of the budget for you . . ." What are you up to, Morgan ?
Morgan shook his head. "I appreciate the thought, but no. And don't worry, I'm not taking the Hounds off to another House. I, ah, I'm taking them myself. I have some business to complete."
Katrina's eyes became like sharp steel slivers. "What, Colonel Kell, have you in mind?"
Morgan sighed and replied in an uneasy voice. "I'm not sure, Katrina, and it scares me. Dan tells me Yorinaga Kurita is back and that he killed Patrick."
Katrina shook her head in disbelief. "Morgan, you aren't going off on a vendetta, are you? That's for recruits just out of Nagelring. You know as well as I that personal conflicts have no place in warfare." She stared at him.
Morgan raised his hands in surrender. "Easy, Katrina, I'm not a green leutnant in your battalion." He opened his mouth to continue, but couldn't find the words.
Katrina watched Morgan Kell as he wrestled with the demons in his mind. This is very important to you, isn't it, Morgan? I've not seen you like this before—except, perhaps, when you first went to Zaniah. All those years at St. Marinus and you've still not got control of it? My heart aches for you, old friend.
Morgan looked up and sighed heavily. "Believe me, Katrina, when I tell you Yorinaga's return to duty—it's palpable. I knew he was back months before Dan came to Zaniah." Morgan faltered. "I just never imagined Patrick would get caught in the crossfire.
"Years ago, on Mallory's World, Yorinaga Kurita and I started something. It began in 3013 when tattered remnants of the Davion Fourth Guards and two companies of the Kell Hounds held off the Second Sword of Light while other Davion troops evacuated Ian Davion and pried his body out of his broken 'Mech. Yorinaga had killed Ian, but we prevented him from taking home any trophy.
"Three years later, again on Mallory's World, Yorinaga and I met." Morgan paused and stared off into space. "We fought and I learned a lot about myself in that fight. I fear what I learned, to be very honest, and I felt the seeds of the same terrible thing in Yorinaga. While both of us remained in exile, nothing could happen. Now we'll be drawn together, inexorably, and our fight must eventually take place." Morgan shrugged. "There's no other way."
Katrina smiled warmly. "Can I convince you to wait until after the wedding before you head off on this quest of yours?"
Morgan started to answer, then paused and slowly nodded his head. "I believe we have the time. I will pull the Kell Hounds from active duty, however. They're already on their way to Arc-Royal."
"I have no difficulty with that," the Archon said. "But do you think it wise to have a light battalion going up against what's likely to be a Kurita regiment?"
"No," replied Morgan Kell as he poured himself another whiskey. "Not wise at all." Smiling, he raised his glass in a salute. "That's why the word went out from Zaniah. The Kell Hound unit I'm assembling at Arc-Royal will be, once again, a full regiment. Let the Dragon beware . . ."
15
Tharkad
District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
31 December 3027
At the Minister of Protocol's insistence, the string quartet immediately began a waltz. As the first soft notes filled the room, Dan disengaged his arm from Melissa's grasp, then turned and bowed to the Archon-Designate. "It would be my distinct honor if you would accompany me in the dance."
Melissa smiled and bowed her head. "And it would be my pleasure, Captain Allard." She took his extended right hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor. The other guests parted to let them pass, then some of the more adventurous followed until soon the dance floor was full.
"You realize, don't you," Dan whispered, "that there are dozens of your citizens who would kill to be in my position."
"That may well be, Captain, but I would prefer not to deal with them. None of them would be as light on their feet or as agile as you are." She smiled impishly. "Does the Federated Suns teach dancing in their military academies?"
Dan shook his head and whirled the Archon-Designate through a series of steps. "Only at the New Avalon Military Academy, Highness. Albion and Warriors Hall frown on dance, though they do have excellent anti-armor classes." Dan blushed as Melissa giggled. "Actually, my mother insisted that all her children learn 'how to behave in polite company,' and in my opinion, company comes no more polite."
"Thank you, Captain. I shall write your mother to say that all the training was not in vain." Melissa let her voice drop to the barest trace of a whisper. "And again I thank you for your efforts on my behalf last spring. If the Kell Hounds had not come along ..." Melissa shuddered.
"We did, Highness, and that is all that matters." Dan looked over at the quartet, which was playing the final strains of the s
ong. Releasing Melissa, he bowed. "Thank you, Highness."
"Thank you, Captain." Melissa's smile froze on her face, whose expression became one of fury as she glanced over his shoulder. "Captain Allard," she said. "Do you know Baron Sefnes?"
Sefnes . . . He's Duke Michael's ambassador to the Commonwealth Court. Dan turned formally and appraised the small, dark-haired man who had come up behind him. Looks like another Human rat from New Syrtis, and he's drunk. When he spoke, Dan's voice had became cold and formal. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, though the Baron's reputation precedes him."
Dan's chilly tone was not lost on the Capellan March lord, but the glazed look in his dark eyes hid whether or not the remark had actually registered. "So, Captain, is it an Allard family trait to abandon the Federated Suns?"
Melissa stiffened instantly, and Dan heard the hushed intake of breath as other guests overheard Sefnes's question. What's your game, viper? Dan thought. "Forgive me, Baron, but I do not understand your inquiry."
Sefnes let a sloppy, drunken grin splash across his pinched features. He hissed his words and a feral hatred showed in his eyes. "Simply asked, Captain, and easily answered. You jumped ship first by having your daddy beg Hanse Davion to assign you to the Kell Hounds. The Prince even gave you a Valkyrie as a going away present. Then your brother left us after betraying the March and nearly getting his command killed in the process." The Baron smiled like a hyena. "I just want to know which Allard is next?"
Muscles bunched at Dan's jaw as he ground his teeth. You insolent idiot. You hated my father because he replaced Michael Hasek-Davion in the Prince's inner circle, and you loathe my brother for his mixed blood. Now you seek to embarrass me, but you only embarrass yourself and the man you serve.
Warrior: riposte Page 11
