Surprise lit Morgan's face. "You do?" His voice rose an octave and he pressed his right hand to his chest like an offended maiden. "Don't tell me, Duke Lestrade, that you've taken to believing those very same revisionist histories of your family that you've paid to have produced?" Morgan stared at him with utter disbelief. "My God, man, those fables redefine the word 'nonsense.' The idea that you alone survived the veritable plague of accidents and raids that killed everyone ahead of you in line for the throne of Summer is improbable. The further suggestion, as presented in the last work, that your good fortune was a sign of favor from God not only makes for bad fiction, it is blasphemous!"
Morgan moistened his lips. "Remember, Lestrade, that what you have done will come back to haunt you. Your father, my brother . . . the blood on your hands will drown you."
The appearance of Franklin Hecht kept Lestrade from any further riposte. "Excuse me, my Lords," said Hecht, "but the Archon has requested the presence of these two mercenaries." The Minister of Protocol gently took their elbows and steered them away from the others.
Dan smiled. "Thank you for your timely intervention."
The Minister shook his head like a schoolmaster carting boys off toward detention. "No one minded your rough handling of Baron Sefnes earlier, Hauptmann Allard, but I could not let a similar situation develop between the Colonel and Aldo Lestrade."
Morgan glanced over at Hecht. "Is he that powerful?"
Hecht hesitated, then nodded regretfully. "In places, yes. His opinions hold near gospel-strength for Skye separatists. Here on Tharkad, many individuals would have applauded your victory in a forceful argument, but. . ."
"But the argument would have been distorted when replayed in the Isle of Skye," Morgan said.
The Minister nodded. "Precisely."
As they spoke, the Minister had been leading Dan and Morgan toward a small set of steps leading up to a dais, where the Archon stood with her daughter. After dismissing the Minister with a nod, she said, "Forgive me, Morgan, for dragging you up here and away from that battle. As much as Lestrade deserves a mauling, I'll not have you begin the new year on such a dark note."
Slipping her hand through the crook of the Colonel's arm, Melissa stepped between her mother and Morgan. "No, to greet a new year in the company of those jackals would be an omen of nothing but trouble." Taking Dan in with her smile, she added, "A new year should be greeted in the company of friends."
Morgan accepted a glass of champagne from the silver tray offered by a servant. "That is a sentiment with which I fully concur, Melissa. Being here with you, Dan, and your mother does indeed make this an auspicious beginning for the year. With your coming wedding, I can imagine nothing but a happy year as well."
Melissa shot a glance at her mother, and the Archon nodded. "You could do something to make it yet happier for me, Morgan Kell," Melissa said, looking up at him.
"For you, Melissa, anything. So what is it to be?"
Melissa glanced down, the lights flashing against the gold of her hair falling to her shoulders. "You were my father's cousin and his friend. I never saw him, at least not to remember, because he died six months after I was born." She reached out and squeezed her mother's forearm. "All I have of him are the holographs and some vids. But, for me, he's always lived in the stories you and Patrick told of him."
Melissa's voice trailed off. Morgan handed Dan his glass of champagne and enfolded Melissa in a hug. "He would have been proud of you, Melissa." He released the Archon-Designate from his embrace and smiled at her.
"What I want to know, Morgan, is whether you would give me away at the wedding."
Morgan's head snapped up as though he'd been punched by a 'Mech. He looked over at Katrina, then smiled as he read the expression on her face.
"Melissa Arthur Steiner, it would be the greatest honor of my life to represent your father at your wedding."
At that moment, the palace's tower clock began to ring with the first of twelve peals to announce the new year. The Archon lifted a glass of sparkling champagne to the three people standing with her on the dais. "May 3028 be filled with love, health, happiness, and . . ."
"Justice, Archon," Morgan added as he spotted Aldo Lestrade in the crowd. "Plenty of justice . . ."
17
New Aragon
Capellan March, Federated Suns
15 January 3028
Captain Andrew Redburn saluted smartly as the orderly closed the door behind him. The dark-haired officer standing behind the gray metal desk returned the salute, then smiled and offered his hand to Andrew. "Good to see you, Redburn." The officer indicated a steel chair beside Andrew. "Please be seated," he said politely, but was clearly uneasy.
Andrew smiled. "Thank you, Colonel Stone." Andrew lowered himself into the chair and noticed the frown that momentarily creased Stone's brow. I wonder what's bothering the old man?
Stone forced himself to smile easily. Shuffling some files on his blue blotter, the Colonel looked up at Redburn. "A few simple things to take care of first, Captain. I see we finally got your Leftenant Craon into the Bachelor Officers' Quarters here on the base."
Andrew nodded. "Craon moved his stuff in yesterday. Now all my junior officers are on base."
"Good." The Colonel flipped open a green evaluation file and grinned somewhat sourly as he read it over. "These are amazingly good scores for a company that arrived on planet barely a month ago, Redburn. You should be proud of your people."
There was no way they were going to do anything but their best in their first evaluation, Colonel. "Yes, sir. The honor of being selected for a Davion House unit. . . well, the tradition really seems to bring out the best in my people." Especially because we come from the Capellan March and I'm the only person with an academy background. We've got something to prove—to you and to everyone else in this unit. We're not farmers from the March who think we 're supposed to be running hot AgroMechs around.
The Colonel nodded absently and flipped one page over. Peering up over the edge of the file, he looked at Andrew and chuckled. "Your Corporal Pay en Montdidier earned the regiment's highest rating with small arms. You should know that's irked our Jump Infantry Battalion."
Redburn smiled. No surprise there . . . "I'm certain the Corporal will be happy to hear that, sir." Andrew hesitated as Stone frowned. "About his ranking, I mean, sir."
Stone raised one eyebrow, then closed the file. He slid it to the side, leaving a stark white folder stamped with a red legend alone in the center of his desk. The Colonel looked at it uneasily, then clasped his hands together and leaned forward. His forearms all but obscured the folder.
"Before I get to this last item, Captain, I thought I'd discuss with you the purpose for attaching your company to the First 'Mech Battalion, as your company is organized at this time. While I am not totally in favor of it, the Prince wishes to try an experiment. You're it." The Colonel opened his hands and laid them palms down against the polished surface of his desk.
"First of all, we won't split up your group. With twenty-seven people, you have more than double the personnel normally found in a 'Mech company. That does not disturb us because your people have all trained together. Leaving an odd-sized unit together has worked well with the other training battalions."
Andrew nodded. So much easier to quarantine us . . .
The Colonel eased back, ignoring the white file. "The Prince wants to build your company into a close-assault unit. We've cobbled together a group of 'Mechs that we believe to be uniquely suited to our purposes. Mostly Valkyries and Jenners, but we've added some Javelins and Firestarters to round things out."
Andrew nodded slowly. "They're all jump-capable and are fairly fast."
The Colonel smiled. "Exactly. Your job will be to get in and get out quickly after inflicting as much damage as possible to your objective. The Valkyries, with their long-range missile launchers, will give you some distance weaponry, but I see that as a way to discourage pursuit."
"Or," Andrew off
ered, "a way to soften up a target as we go in." He frowned. "None of those 'Mechs have machine guns to deal with infantry ..."
The Colonel waved away Andrew's reservation. "The Fire-starters are enough to throw a scare into infantry."
Andrew conceded the point with a nod. "I understand, sir, I'm sure my people will gladly accept this challenging honor." His gaze flicked toward the folder. "Is there anything else, sir?"
With the reluctance of a doctor giving a patient bad news, Colonel Stone handed Andrew the white file. "I want you to understand, Captain, that this makes me uneasy. I know how much you valued your time serving with Major Allard. I was with the Fifth Davion Guards on Spica when Justin and Bill Dobson broke the siege on Valencia. Justin saved our butts and there wasn't a MechWarrior in the unit that wouldn't have given his life for Justin."
A scowl darkened Andrew's face, but Stone gave him no opportunity to speak. "People change, Captain. Something snapped inside Justin. I don't know if it was losing his arm or whether it was the trial or what—but he's not the same man we both knew ..."
Andrew shook his head angrily. "Why tell me this, sir? Are you afraid I'll embarrass the unit when some high official comes to visit?"
Stone stiffened at Andrew's accusation, then seemed to shrug it off. "I just want you to read this report in context, Captain." He pointed to the file. "Read it."
Andrew's mouth dried out like a riverbed in a drought. The scarlet legend stretching across the white folder looked like blood on snow and sent a shiver down Andrew's spine. Codeword Only!—Things don't come much more secure. Andrew opened the file with the enthusiasm of a man prying open the lid of a coffin.
He swallowed hard as he recognized the cover sheet's letterhead. Ml 7-Military Intelligence's liaison with the Ministry of Information, Intelligence, and Operations. Why do they have me reading this? Andrew glanced up at Colonel Stone, but his superior officer seemed to stare through him as though he were made of glass.
Andrew turned the page and his heart nearly stopped. He brushed his fingertips across each of the terrible words, wanting to rub them out, to destroy them and the reality they represented.
"RE: Maskirovka Operation on Kittery, 20 Nov 3027," he read. "Analysis.
"In reviewing the information recovered from the Maskirovka stronghold on Kittery, we have made the following discoveries and drawn the following conclusions:
"1) The operation used personnel last known to have been on Sian. All indig Maskirovka agents captured as a result of this operation have defined the assassination attempt as an operation set up and directed by the highest Maskirovka circles on Sian. All documentary evidence supports this claim.
"2) The operatives used were onplanet for two weeks before the assassination attempt. During this time, ample opportunity presented itself for attacks on ranking officers of the Davion Assault Guards, the Capellan Dragoons, and the Kittery Borderers. There were no apparent efforts made to attack the command structure for these units, despite what our investigation shows was poor security during this time period.
"3) During this same time period, the First Kittery Training Battalion was involved in its final testing and graduation program. To prevent the possibility or appearance of cheating, security surrounding this unit ran high at this time.
"4) Complete dossiers on each of the training battalion NCOs and officer candidates was recovered from the Maskirovka warehouse. The details contained in the dossier included information that has been described as 'intimate' and 'insightful.'
"Conclusion: This assassination attempt against the staff of the First Kittery Training Battalion was not a random act of terrorism. The information compiled and the operatives chosen for the mission were directed at one target, and one target only. Orders flowed from Sian with the blessings of the Maskirovka.
"It is our belief that the effort was directed specifically by Justin Xiang against his old command. Xiang is placed highly enough in the Maskirovka to be the source of all orders associated with this operation, and details revealed in the files are appropriate to the level of information he had as the unit's Commanding Officer. The attempt even took place at what was known to be Xiang's favorite restaurant in Shaoshan. Though this last point may well be a coincidence, it is inconceivable that Justin Xiang had no previous knowledge of this operation."
Andrew's hands trembled as he closed the file. Pale and shaking, he handed it back to Colonel Stone. "I... I don't know what to say." His head had begun to pound with each heartbeat. "I can't believe it."
Stone nodded sympathetically. "I know, Captain. I can hardly believe it myself." He glanced down at the folder and shrugged impotently. "The spooks generally know what they're talking about."
Andrew clenched his jaw to stop it from trembling. "Dammit, Colonel! It makes no sense! Why hit a training battalion's staff?"
Stone shook his head. "I don't know, Redburn. But you're absolutely right. It makes no sense." The Colonel tapped the file with a finger. "I think that's why they've put it down to a personal vendetta. I've seen vids of the trial, and I saw a holovid of Justin's last fight on Solaris. There's no love lost between him and the Prince."
Andrew shrugged. All that may be true, Colonel, but there's something wrong. He ground his teeth and balled his fists. No matter what anyone says, I know Justin didn't change—at least not in that way. Murder just isn't his style.
He glanced up at the Colonel. "I know I can't say anything about that report to my men. What should I do?"
Stone took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "Just be careful, Redburn. Tell your men to stay alert. You're a lot safer here on New Aragon than you were on Kittery, but we don't want to give Justin Xiang a chance to succeed a second time where he has already failed once."
18
New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
14 February 3028
As sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, Hanse Davion adjusted his shooting glasses. Then he glanced to where Quintus Allard crouched by a pile of broken bricks, trying to catch his breath. The Prince pointed at the outline of a three-story building hidden in the gloom halfway down the street. He tightened his grip on the laser pistol, then held up three fingers of his left hand. Quintus nodded, and as the fingers curled into a fist, the spymaster spun from cover and dashed across the street.
A string of burning scarlet laserbolts stitched a pattern of destruction behind Quintus as the sniper on the roof sought vainly to track the dodging target. Pools of molten ferrocrete blazed in Quintus Allard's wake. Debris whistled through the air on waves of laser-born heat, but nothing stopped Quintus from reaching the safety of a small building.
Hanse rose to one knee and spotted the sniper in the backglow of the laser rifle's fire. I've got you now! he exulted, sighting down the pistol's barrel and squeezing the trigger twice. His laser bolts stabbed skyward and lanced explosively through the sniper's humanoid form.
Quintus Allard whirled and snapped off three fast shots, which sizzled through the air above Hanse's head. The Prince spun, smashing back flat against the half-wall that had covered him before, and saw two bolts burn into the casement below a window in the building behind him. The third bolt exploded brilliantly, revealing a haunting glimpse of a broken human form reeling back into the room.
An obnoxious buzzer roared over the ruins complex. Lights hidden in the roof came up like three dozen small suns to dispel the artificial night. Smiling broadly, Quintus crossed back to Hanse and offered the Prince his hand.
"Excellent shooting, my Prince." Quintus squinted back along Hanse's line of fire toward the robotic rooftop sniper. "Two hundred meters if a centimeter."
Hanse shook Quintus's hand, then glanced back over his own shoulder. "Well, Quintus, your marksmanship puts mine to shame. A shot through a window at a hundred meters while on the run? Why didn't we ever train you as a MechWarrior? With skill like that, I could leave the Capellan March to you and never have to worry."
Quintus shook his head
, though the smile generated by the Prince's praise remained. "I'm afraid that I've slowed down, though, Highness. In the old days, I'd have hit with all three shots."
Hanse laughed aloud. "But you did hit with all three, Quintus. Two hit the building and one hit the target."
The Minister joined in with Hanse's laughter. "I suppose we should head back to the control center and find out our scores."
Hanse glanced at his chronometer. "They only gave us twenty minutes on the course, so we must have scored well." He shook his head. "It would be terrible if you and I didn't qualify with small arms."
Quintus shrugged. "I'm not so worried about that, Highness." The Count jerked a thumb in the direction of the other small arms qualification maze. "I just hope your nephew Morgan and Ardan haven't beaten us out."
God! Not another six months of Ardan and Morgan making jokes. "Amen to that, my friend." Hanse narrowed his light blue eyes. "Speaking of which, what news from Morgan's new companion?"
Quintus pulled the power pack from his pistol, then slid the gun into its shoulder holster. "Nothing suspicious to report. As you know, they've seen a lot of each other. Kym has visited Morgan unannounced a couple of times, and she almost always finds him reading and studying military history."
"Has she reported anything about his communications to and from his parents?" Does Michael enlist Morgan in his mad plans?
Quintus shook his head. "Nothing unusual. At one point, a courier brought a holodisk from Duke Michael to his son, and Morgan played it immediately even though Kym was present. She said she saw nothing unusual in the disked message or in Morgan's reaction to it."
Quintus smiled at the Prince. "At other times, Morgan has gotten disks and set them aside in favor of going out with Kym."
The hint of a grin began to play over the Prince's face. Perhaps we shall find that, indeed, Morgan Hasek-Davion has nothing to do with his father's plots. Very likely, he knows nothing about them. Unfortunately, the pressure will be on, and I have to know which way he will jump. "Good, Quintus. I like hearing independent confirmation of my feelings about Morgan. I still want to continue surveillance, however."
Warrior: riposte Page 13
