As the crowd thinned out, Jaime Wolf descended the stairs. He backed two Acolytes away with one of his molten stares, then crossed to where Takashi Kurita stood amid a circle of retainers. One by one, the MechWarriors surrounding the Coordinator withdrew until only Yorinaga Kurita stood between the mercenary and his master.
Wolf appraised Yorinaga with a frank stare, then nodded almost imperceptibly. Yorinaga bowed his head to the mercenary Colonel, but did not give way until Takashi laid a hand on Yorinaga's shoulder and guided him aside.
Wolf slipped the corded knot at the head of the bag. Sliding the black fabric down, he revealed the hilts of a katana and wakazashi. With contempt in his eyes, the mercenary cast the two swords down at the Coordinator's feet. Then Wolf lashed out at the Coordinator in a voice that had the fury of some nightmare storm. Though Wolf's flawless Japanese was too rapid for Dan to follow completely, there was no mistaking his intent.
The Coordinator listened for as long as his honor would tolerate. Though he had looked uneasy at first, he soon had complete control of his expression, which was a truer sign of his own anger building. When Takashi opened his mouth to speak, Wolf cut him off with more angry words and gestures. Like a ship in some storm, the Coordinator had no choice but to weather it.
Words spent, but fury unabated, Wolf finally turned from Kurita. The few people still standing about quickly removed themselves from his line of march, fearful that he might direct his fury on one of them. The only exception was Morgan Kell, who moved toward Wolf, clearly intending to intercept him. As though in a dream, Dan could not keep himself from following.
By the time the two men came face to face, Wolf had dominated his emotions, for not a trace showed in his expression. His eyes narrowed as he studied Morgan's uniform and the decorations it displayed. "Morgan Kell," he said, as recognition sank in. "After all these years, Morgan Kell."
Dan was now totally confused. He says Morgan's name with... respect?
Morgan nodded and extended his hand. "I have long admired and respected your abilities, Colonel Wolf. Indeed, I have always held the Kell Hounds to the same high standards you set for your Dragoons."
Wolf shook KelPs hand heartily, though his expression remained impenetrable, "I'd used to hope," he said, "that our regiments might have a chance one day to test their mettle against one another in the field." Wolf shrugged as though to say, that hope had not disappeared forever. "Unfortunately, your Kell Hounds were reduced to battalion size after Mallory's World. Not much of a challenge for one of my regiments and without you"—Wolf looked directly into Morgan's eyes—"no challenge at all, for me."
Morgan nodded slowly. "There was a time, Colonel, when I would have offered a meet to answer the question of which unit, which warrior, is superior." Weariness tinged Morgan's voice. "It seems that I've learned not to enjoy such games."
Pain washed over Wolf's face. "Many people have died ... sometimes I think it is too many."
"I was sorry to hear of your brother's death in the Marik civil war. You have my deepest sympathy."
Wolf again accepted Morgan's hand. "And I regret your brother's death on Styx. Though it does nothing to ease the pain or loss, you must realize he died happy, knowing he had saved his command."
Morgan barely whispered his reply. "I trust it was so."
Releasing Morgan's hand, Wolf turned and looked Dan over. He closed his eyes for a half-second, then nodded. "You are Captain Daniel Allard, New Avalon Military Academy, Class of' 15."
"Yes sir," Dan said. "I've been with the Kell Hounds since then." It gave him an unpleasant start to realize that Wolf was not asking, but telling Dan that he already knew about him.
The trace of a smile worked its way onto Wolf's lips. "Yes. And how's the shoulder?"
Shocked even further by the question, Dan hesitated. How the hell does he know about my injury? He swallowed hard to force his heart back down from his throat. "Excellent, sir."
"Good. I'd hate to think that a MechWarrior of your caliber would let a broken bone keep him down for long." With a smile, Wolf turned to Kell. "Now a question for you, Morgan."
"Ask," Morgan said, returning the smile, but cautiously.
"I've often wondered if the Kell Hound name was, in some way, a play upon the Dragoons' name."
Shaking his head, Morgan chuckled to himself. "No, Colonel . . ."
"Call me Jaime."
"No ... Jaime. The Kell Hound's name comes from something far older than Wolf's Dragoons." Morgan narrowed his eyes. "Wolf's Dragoons, as I recall, first appeared in the Federated Suns back in 3005. I remember it well because I was just out of Nagelring myself. Anyway, the name originated before the turn of the millennium and almost seventeen years before we formed the unit."
Morgan smiled broadly. "Arthur Luvon, Melissa's father, was my cousin. One summer, when Arthur had come to visit our family on Arc-Royal, he saw Patrick and me running around, baying at the moons, and generally terrorizing a neighbor's flock of sheep. He tagged us the Kell Hounds, drew up our crest, and said we'd be great MechWarriors some day." Morgan's smile laded a bit. "Patrick and I formed the unit with the money Arthur left us when he died."
Wolf held up his hands. "Just wanted to satisfy my curiosity. No offense ever taken, really." He smiled easily now. "Actually, the Dragoons always appreciated the fact that the other unit with a wolf/hound crest fought so well."
Quintus Allard appeared at Dan's side. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said. "Colonel Wolf ... Colonel Kell, Prince Hanse Davion has asked me to invite you to join him and Archon Katrina Steiner." Quintus waved a hand toward the doorway leading out of the reception room.
Realizing that the invitation did not include him, Dan bowed his head toward Wolf. "A pleasure meeting you, Colonel Wolf. In fact, the dream of a lifetime."
Wolf smiled. "We should have met on a battlefield."
"No," Dan said, as he withdrew with a smile. "I said it was a dream, not a nightmare."
With a nod to Morgan and his father, he turned from them to enter the reception hall, now crowded with people. The tall windows running from floor to the two-story vaulted ceiling gave the room an airy feel. Though the couples swirling gracefully over the dance floor cut off his view of the other side of the room, Dan assumed that the long row of tables laden with food and drink also ran the length of the room's far wall. Combined with the pleasing music and the gentle hum of conversation, the festive atmosphere was most welcoming.
Dan smiled as he looked around with pleasure at the elegance and gaiety. I'll relax, put Justin out of my mind for the time being, and just try to enjoy myself. What could possibly go wrong?
Even as the words formed themselves in his mind, Dan felt doomed. Making her way through the crowd like an SRM with a hard lock onto its target, the Baroness de Gambier drove straight at him. He managed a weak smile, but it faded into puzzlement as Felicity pulled up short at the sight of someone slipping her hand through the crook of Dan's right arm.
Dan turned, half expecting to see his sister come to his rescue. "Jeana!" he gasped, at the same moment catching a whiff of the same spicy scent that she had worn back on Tharkad.
Jeana smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Come, Daniel. You owe me a dance." Taking his hand, she led him past a fuming Baroness and onto the dance floor.
As they moved to the music, Dan drew her close enough to whisper in her ear, "Thanks for the save."
Jeana laughed lightly. "Never like to see a friendly have to punch out."
Dan raised an eyebrow. That's MechWarrior jargon! But she can't be! She sure didn't look it at Tharkad, and the red gown she's got on now makes it hard to imagine her in a cooling vest and shorts.
Dan pulled back enough to look into her green eyes. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
Jeana shrugged. "I'm not sure. ComStar has so much going on for us. How about you?"
"I don't know," he said.
Jeana threw back her head and laughed. "Whatever it is, Dan, let's do it together."
<
br /> 27
ComStar First Circuit Compound
Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra
18 August 3028
Myndo Waterly clenched her fists so tightly that pain shot up her arms as her nails dug into her palms. This failure is unforgivable! She stared hard at the black-robed man kneeling on the inlaid star in the Primus's Chamber as though the heat of her gaze could melt him. "How can you tell us that you don't know how Colonel Wolf brought those swords into our Compound?"
The man looked up, directing his response to Julian Tiepolo. "Most exalted Primus, the Colonel's luggage went through screening twice, as did all the other guests' baggage." He looked down. "There was no mistake. Neither time did the swords appear on the scanning devices."
Tiepolo regarded the man with a benevolent expression. "You must understand, Jarlath, that we are most concerned about this incident. You did well in having your personnel offer to keep the blades for the Coordinator—I daresay he may not claim them when he leaves. But the matter of how they were smuggled onto our island is troubling."
Precentor Dieron's head came up. "It is more than troubling, Primus." She stabbed a finger at Jarlath. "This man directs ROM. He is the head of our security services, but he tells us there was no mistake. He maintains that the swords could not have been smuggled onto the island by Jaime Wolf, yet we all saw him pull those blades from the sack. Just yesterday, Jarlath reported that no one had smuggled weaponry into the island. How are we to believe him when he's been shown so emphatically to be wrong?"
Ulthar Everston shook his head. "Jarlath, in the wake of the events last evening, have the guest rooms been searched?"
The ROM chief nodded. "We have carefully gone through every chamber. We have recovered no weapon, yet we did gather a wealth of forensic samples, which we have forwarded to the laboratories for analysis."
"Don't try to evade the question, Jarlath!" snapped Precentor Dieron. She looked around the circle of Precentors surrounding the ROM chief. "Does it provide any of you with solace to know that your assassin dyes her hair or what his DNA sequence might be? No!" Myndo stared hard at Jarlath. "Your job is to maintain our security."
Precentor Tharkad opened his hands. "Precentor Dieron, Jarlath and his ROM agents are keeping us secure." He smiled easily at the other members of the full First Circuit. "We have not been assaulted and neither has any of our guests."
Ah, the Primus speaks through his other mouth. Myndo calmly tucked some strands of her golden hair back behind her right ear. "Again you evade my point. ROM searches for weapons were meant to keep them off the island. ROM failed. ROM surveillance of all meetings, covert and overt, was supposed to keep us informed. Again ROM fails."
The Primus raised his hand. "Surely, Precentor Dieron, you cannot lay the blame for that on Jarlath. How can he be responsible for the presence of devices that distort our own monitoring equipment?"
Myndo stared at the Primus in open amazement. "Isn't he? We know the devices originated in the New Avalon Institute of Science. Jarlath's ROM agents were ordered to infiltrate that institution from the day its doors opened, but they still haven't gotten anywhere. Had we but a hint of how those devices worked, we could have neutralized them. Now Davion has given them to Katrina Steiner so that her councils will be closed to us as well."
"But how has this compromised our security?" Ulthar said. "You know, Precentor, that we will learn of what happened in their secret councils when they send messages back to their subordinates."
Precentor Dieron shook her head. "And if they do not?"
Ulthar rubbed his hands together. "In time, we always find out what was said." He looked down at the ROM chief. "I would suggest, Jarlath, that you convey our distress to your people."
The Primus smiled at Precentor Tharkad, then addressed the other Precentors. "If there is no other . . ."
Precentor Dieron stepped toward the center of the circle. You do not escape that easily, Primus. "I have other business." She glared at Jarlath. "You are dismissed."
Jarlath looked up at Tiepolo, whose curt nod gave him permission to leave. Myndo Waterly went to where the ROM chief had stood in the center of the inlaid star, but she refused to kneel. With her head held up defiantly, she waited for the chamber doors to close behind the ROM chief before speaking.
"I wish to know, Primus, your purpose in offering so insidious a message to the gathering last night." She raised her hands to include all of the First Circuit. "For years, we have heard you argue that binding different Houses together was a blind, a sham. You have steadfastly maintained that by playing one alliance off against another, we will retain control of man's destiny.
"Yet with this as your professed goal, you spoke to our guests of unity and a return to the solidarity of mankind. You offered a shining vision of what man had once been, then you portrayed this cursed marriage as the prime example of it. How can you justify this action?"
The Primus breathed in slowly, but neither the pain nor the fatigue completely left his face. In a voice so low that all had to strain to hear, he said, "Once again, Precentor Dieron, your distaste for diplomacy prevents your ability to understand." The Primus shook his head like a parent watching a foolish child. "How is it that a person of your wisdom cannot pierce the veil surrounding my true intent?"
Precentor Dieron trembled with rage. "Do not patronize me, Primus. I will not have it! I serve the Holy Word of Blake, not any man or organization. I know only what I heard last night, and I did not find it a message in keeping with our mission!" She turned to the other Precentors. "What I heard was the Primus placing the destiny of mankind in the hands of generals and political schemers, while offering ComStar as an example of what they could become if they tried."
She turned back and pointed at Tiepolo. "You show us as an example to people who cannot possibly understand ComStar's true significance to mankind. We are not and can never be a mere example. If mankind is to reclaim its destiny and rise from the dung heap of conflict and war and if the Word of Blake is to be fulfilled, mankind needs a leader, not an example. ComStar is that leader, which is what you should have made very clear last night!"
Precentor Tharkad clapped his hands in a slow, insulting cadence. "Bravo, Myndo. As always, you provide us with a glimpse of what small minds think. Our audience last night heard the true message in the Primus's words."
Myndo stiffened. "Did they? After all the idiotic antics you've witnessed over the years, how can you assume any of them were smart enough to hear what I did not?"
Ulthar's predatory smile flashed and Myndo felt his snare close around her. "You, yourself, have just warned us of the dangers posed by Hanse Davion and Katrina Steiner. Are we to suppose that it is pity that has kept these two intellectual giants from crushing their enemies, or shall we believe—correctly—that the combatants are too evenly matched?"
Ulthar shook his head indulgently. "As you did not have ears to hear the Primus last night, allow me to translate his words' true intent. By emphasizing that the wedding ceremony symbolized growth, he poignantly reminded lords of stagnant and dwindling domains that all growth would be at their expense. By urging the blessing of unity upon those assembled, he rekindled the fierce fires of nationality and independence that burn so fiercely in the hearts of that audience. He urged them to bless a union that many of them secretly curse, and in asking them all to come together, he forces them further apart."
Myndo snorted derisively. "Did he say anything that did not require such mental contortions to understand?"
Precentor Tharkad nodded slowly. "In holding ComStar up as an example, he diluted our threat. 'Look at us,' he urged, and all there did. They saw a toothless organization in its dotage. Were anyone to point us out as sinister and scheming, he would probably have been laughed out of the room."
Precentor Tharkad smiled at the whole of the First Circuit. "Calm yourself, Precentor Dieron. Though you were deaf to the message spoken last night, do not worry that others did not understand its fu
ll import. They did—and closer yet to fruition comes the Word of Blake because of it."
28
ComStar First Circuit Compound
Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra
18 August 3028
Akira Brahe ignored the guide's droning voice and selected a table as far from the Acolyte as possible. He moved toward the corner of the rooftop patio and set his box lunch down on the table. Leaning against the railing that surrounded the patio, he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun. It feels so good to breathe the salt air and feel the sun's warmth. He exhaled deeply, letting all tension flow from his body.
"Excuse me," a feminine voice interrupted. "But may I join you?"
Akira forced a pleasant smile to his face, but it became more genuine as he opened his eyes and turned to the dark-haired woman. He nodded and waved her to the bench opposite him. "Please be seated."
"Thank you." Dressed in white slacks and a blue-and-white striped sailor jersey, she looked perfectly at home against the oceanscape background. The young woman extended her hand to him with a smile. "My name is Riva."
Akira shook her hand, then bowed. "I am Akira." He slipped onto the bench at his side of the table. "You are from . . . ?"
"The Federated Suns." She looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind that I came to sit with you." She glanced back at the other tour members gathered at tables nearer the ComStar guide. "I didn't realize this tour would be a geriatric attraction."
Akira smiled. "Though I acknowledge our elders as living storehouses of knowledge and tradition," he said in low, conspiratorial tones, "I do not want to spend all my time with them, either."
"The worst of it," said Riva, "is their curiosity. I've been asked so many questions about myself this morning that I feel like a terrorist under interrogation. No more. Your learning where I'm from is the last bit of information I'm giving out." She met his frown with a friendly smile. "Everyone here is being so careful about who they're seen with or what they say that I've decided to give up worrying about it."
Warrior: riposte Page 20
