Akira looked up. “As I meant to explain, when I had the chance, I do not normally play with my food, but having quillar on my clothes would be cause for a report.”
Riva shook her head. “Your father wouldn’t write you up for that, would he?”
How much does she know? Akira narrowed his eyes. “I would feel obliged to write myself up for sloppy appearance.”
Riva’s expression told him she understood the necessary wording of his answer. “Sorry, Akira. I’m doing what I accused others of doing. I asked because you arrived with Yorinaga Kurita. He’s fascinated me ever since I read Mitchell’s book about Mallory’s World. My brother was there…”
Akira nodded. “A fair exchange, I think, Riva. I am Akira Brahe, and Yorinaga Kurita is my father.”
Riva wiped her hands on her napkin. “I am Riva Allard and my brother is Daniel Allard of the Kell Hounds.”
Akira closed his eyes. As vast as is the universe, we move in tiny circles. “And your father is Quintus Allard?”
Riva hung her head with resignation. “You can start treating me like a leper now.” Her hand retreated from his.
Akira again frowned. “I don’t follow you…”
Riva shrugged. “Many people assume I’m a conduit straight to my father.” She summoned a weak smile. “I nearly gave one Marik captain a heart attack when I told him who I was.”
Akira shifted his right hand to cover her left and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I know something of what you describe, for I earned similar treatment when acquaintances discovered my father’s identity.” He winked at her. “Let us finish our lunch and direct our detective skills toward the others or”—he paused for dramatic effect—“to uncovering ComStar’s deepest and darkest secrets.”
Riva rolled her eyes skyward. “Like, what do ComStar acolytes do when they can’t find a quote from Blake to justify their actions?”
Akira shrugged. “It’s bound to be more interesting than the rest of this tour.”
“OK. It’s a deal.” She laughed, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Who knows… we might even learn something about ComStar in the process.”
Seeing the ComStar acolyte trying to hustle his group together again, the two young people rejoined the others as they descended a broad spiraling staircase that would take them beneath the island’s surface. Opening his arms to take in the entire building, the guide smiled. “All this is devoted to the work of training our personnel. Everything from classrooms to individual meditation cells are contained in this facility. Now if you will follow me, I will show you how an average ComStar recruit passes his or her time during the day.”
Akira and Riva hung back. Riva looked over the stair’s railing and stared into the spiral’s dim depths. “I wonder how far down it goes?”
Akira shrugged. “Not that far.” He pointed to four robed figures climbing the stairs from below. “See? None of them are wearing rebreathing devices.”
Riva wrinkled her nose. “That’s true, but they walk funny.”
Akira glanced back down at the men. Though their robes effectively hid their limbs, their strides did appear exaggerated. It was strange, too, for the only time he’d ever seen people walk like that was after an extended run in a ’Mech simulator. When a bitter scent wafted up from the advancing figures, he turned back to Riva and grabbed her arm. “Do you smell that?”
She frowned, then sniffed twice. “Burned ashqua.”
Akira nodded. ’Mech coolant, an odor he knew all too well. He glanced back over his shoulder as the acolytes approached their level. Whispering harshly, he pulled Riva to him. “Slap me, hard.” Cupping her head in his hands, he kissed her forcefully.
Riva’s right hand rocketed up, spinning Akira with a thunder-crack slap. The tall MechWarrior reeled away from her and crashed heavily into the ComStar acolytes. He grabbed at their robes, and they supported him without anyone spilling to the ground. Straightening up, he pressed his left hand to the hot red mark on his face.
Riva graced him with a withering glare, then turned on her heel and stalked off with her nose in the air. Stunned to silence, the ComStar acolytes stared after her. Once she had vanished from sight around a corner, they let Akira drop to the cold marble floor and laughed heartily.
Akira rolled to his feet. “Who does she think she is? She can’t do that to the Combine’s finest jump troop commander.” He turned to stalk after her, but one of the acolytes grabbed his wrist.
“The Peace of Blake be with you, sir.” The acolyte wiped sweat from his brow. “Why don’t you leave her alone? That slap hit you harder than an autocannon round. As far as you’re concerned, why not just consider her a Firestarter. Got it?”
Akira nodded sheepishly. “Hai, wakarimas.”
The acolyte smiled sympathetically. “Look, it will be best if you rejoin the tour. And keep your hands to yourself.”
Akira rounded the corner and found Riva waiting for him, excitement written all over her face. “What did you learn?”
Akira rubbed his cheek. “I learned never to kiss you.”
Riva stood on her toes and kissed his reddened cheek. “You learned never to surprise me. What else did you learn?”
Akira shook his head. “I’m not sure.” He opened his hands. “I want to do some more checking before I say anything.”
Riva looked disappointed, but she never seemed to be at a loss. “I’ll accept that on one condition.”
“Name it.”
She smiled. “You tell me what you know when you confirm it.”
Akira nodded. I know I felt cooling vests hidden beneath the robes of those acolytes. That leads me to only one conclusion, but it’s one that defies all reason. An icy foreboding seemed to flood his gut. Who would believe that poor, pacifistic ComStar is training their own MechWarriors?
Chapter 29
COMSTAR FIRST CIRCUIT COMPOUND
HILTON HEAD ISLAND
NORTH AMERICA, TERRA
18 AUGUST 3028
Warm sea water rushed up the sandy beaches and tickled Dan and Jeana’s toes as they walked hand-in-hand along the shore. The setting sun stretched their shadows far out in front of them. Dan raised Jeana’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“You’re still a very good listener.”
Jeana smiled. “I guess you’re just such an interesting speaker.”
Dan shook his head. “We’ve been together all day and you’ve listened to my whole life story.” He stopped and faced her. “But you’ve barely said anything about yourself.” It feels as though you trust me, but you do not. Who are you?
Jeana glanced past his shoulder. “Look, Dan! Dolphins!”
Dan spun around. The dying sun burned red-gold highlights on the wet gray dolphins as they came up to breathe, then dove for food. They were so sleek and beautiful. Dan smiled as he watched the trio swim along the shore and then out toward deeper water once more.
“Again you manage to deflect me,” he said, turning back to Jeana. “I feel so close to you that little things shouldn’t matter, but I don’t even know your surname.” He sighed helplessly and looked down.
Jeana took his hands in hers and kissed him on the lips. “The feeling is very mutual, Dan.” She looked up at him imploringly. “There is so much I want to share with you, but I cannot.” She chewed her lower lip. “I can’t even tell you my full name.”
She tried to pull her hands away, but he held onto them firmly. “Names are just labels. If you can, tell me about you. Tell me what you do. Tell me if you’re happy.”
Jeana nodded and led Dan to a dry section of beach that was above the high-water line but below the sea grasses. She knelt and drew him down to face her. “There’s not much I can tell—but it’s not because I don’t trust you.”
Dan nodded confidently. “I know.”
Jeana smiled and caressed the side of his face. “I am close to Melissa Steiner, but my duties are hard to define. I do a little bit of everything, yet nothing in a routine sor
t of way.” She fell silent momentarily as she remembered something. “The work is not hard, though it can be demanding and require long hours.”
“You’ll not have any problems because you spent the day with me, will you?”
Jeana shook her head. “No. Melissa has more than enough people here to attend her. During the wedding, I can just be myself. But afterward, it’s back to work.”
Dan narrowed his eyes. Babysitting the Archon-Designate is quite a change from being a MechWarrior. I suppose, though, after the Silver Eagle incident, that the Archon felt it necessary. “Do you like the work?”
Without hesitation or reservation, Jeana nodded and smiled. “Though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, this has turned into the most satisfying job I could ever imagine.”
“Good.” Dan raised her right hand and kissed the palm. Smiling, he sniffed gently at the perfume she’d sprayed on her wrist. “What is that scent? It reminds me of night-blooming furancia on Ciotat, but not quite.”
Jeana’s light laugh sounded a perfect accompaniment to the tenor crash of waves along the beach. “It’s a fragrance created specially for Melissa by a cosmetic consortium on Eutin. They call it Nocturne, but they market a similar blend under another name for sale to the public.” Jeana leaned forward, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “Melissa says she hates the scent so much she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it. So she gave the whole supply to me because I do like it.”
“And so do I… on you.” Dan leaned forward to kiss Jeana gently on the lips. Pulling him closer with hands around his neck, she deepened their kiss. Dan gathered her into his arms, and hugged her fiercely.
They remained in each other’s arms, oblivious to all else until the alarm on Dan’s watch started to beep. “Just a reminder about the reception hosted by the Free Worlds League tonight,” he said, hitting a button to cut off the sound. “Shall we go together?”
Jeana pulled back, shaking her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Confused and disappointed, Dan could not keep the feelings from his face or his voice. “Oh, I’m sorry…I thought…”
Jeana pressed a hand to his lips and looked into his blue eyes. “Today, being with you has meant more to me than you will ever know, Daniel Allard.” She kissed him quickly. “I don’t want this day to end, not yet, not tonight.”
She took his hand, leading him up the beach toward the sandy path to her bungalow. “There will be other receptions, Daniel Allard, and I would be proud to attend them with you. But tonight, my love, I want you all to myself…”
Chapter 30
COMSTAR FIRST CIRCUIT COMPOUND
HILTON HEAD ISLAND
NORTH AMERICA, TERRA
18 AUGUST 3028
Kneeling at the side of his bed, Akira Brahe slid his valise from under the bed, then hoisted it up onto the quilt-covered mattress. After carefully opening the polybaux case, he let it lie flat on the bed while he pulled the cloth lining away from a long hinge holding together the two silvery metal halves of the case.
Casting a nervous glance at the door, he assured himself that it was, indeed, locked and bolted it. I could get into deep trouble for this, but only a fool travels unarmed at an enemy’s invitation. Akira shivered. Until this afternoon, I’d not considered ComStar the major threat here…
Akira pulled a multi-bladed pocketknife from the shaving kit on his nightstand, and flipped open its screwdriver blade. He ran his thumb over the triangular wedge cut into the blade to make it a two-pronged fork. Smiling, he fit the blade into the specially shaped screws along the hinge edge.
When the last screw was out, he laid it carefully with the others in the bottom of the case and flipped the hinge plate. From its hiding place between the hinge and the polybaux rim of the suitcase, Akira pulled a thin, paper-wrapped metal strip. The punctured holes down its center matched the location of the hinge screws. The bedside light flashed off the razor edge of the blackened blade as he stripped away the paper covering.
Akira refastened all but two of the screws, closed the case, and slid it back under the bed. He crossed the room to his chest of drawers, from which he pulled a thick leather belt and a clothes brush. He tossed them onto the bed beside the blade. After only a moment’s hesitation, he removed his shirt and pulled on a thick black sweater over his naked torso.
Returning to the bed, Akira separated the belt buckle from the belt. An oblong oval of bronze with a lotus pattern worked in the center, the decorative buckle had been styled after a sixteenth-century Japanese swordguard. Akira slid it into place on the blade’s tang and secured it with one of the two screws left from the suitcase.
Then he freed the wooden handle from the head of the clothes brush and screwed it into the blade’s tang to form a hilt. Satisfied at last that he’d gotten it set as tightly as possible against the guard, he used the last suitcase screw to fasten it securely. Finally, Akira used the sword’s keen edge to slice through the stitching holding the belt’s two layers of leather together at the buckle end. The long blade slid home into its sheath without even a whisper.
After stripping the black laces from a pair of shoes, Akira studied the crudely drawn map of the ComStar training facility he’d made upon returning from the tour. As the group left the building, he’d studied the approaches and slowly worked out a plan for returning there without being seen. By soaking his black woolen sweater and pants in water, he would get a slight margin of protection from infrared scanners. Akira frowned, wondering whether it would be enough.
He traced his pencil-marked route with a slender finger. Come in from the sea on the south side and look for openings. Akira remembered the look of pride on the guide’s face as he recounted the dozen construction projects undertaken in the past two centuries to expand ComStar’s facilities. The accompanying slides, taken from the air, had shown the expansion and often included natural additions to the beaches surrounding the island.
Except in the area south of the training facility. There the shoreline has pushed out about fifty meters over the years, with the last big move coming when the training building was erected. But cliffs are not supposed to expand the way beaches do.
Akira shook his head as he used the shoelace to fashion a strap for the sheath. Why should I find it so difficult to believe that ComStar is training MechWarriors? The guide reminded us that Terra became ComStar’s neutral headquarters after Jerome Blake planned and executed a ’Mech assault on the planet. Some even claim that he paid off the ’Mech regiments who helped him with vast amounts of spare parts, but who can say if what he gave away was only a drop in the bucket? Terra was, after all, the capital of the Star League. Who knows what ComStar actually found here?
Akira pulled his shaving kit into his lap, and lifted a small flashlight and a worn piece of chalk from it, which he shoved into his left front pocket along with the pocketknife he’d used before. Now he shut off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. After waiting with eyes closed for thirty heartbeats, he opened his eyes again, and they adjusted readily to the light cast by the white sliver of Terra’s only moon.
He swung the sword onto his back—the hilt rising at his left shoulder—and walked around the bed to the arcadia doors. Using a strip of knitted black cloth that he pulled from his pocket, Akira made a mask by wrapping the strip around his face and head until only his eyes and a thin strip of flesh around them showed. Lastly, he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, opened the door, and moved out into the shadows.
He became part of the night, slipping from inky patches of shadow to low hillsides covered with long stalks of wind-whipped sea grass. The crash of waves on the beach and the rustling of leaves swallowed what few sounds Akira actually did make during his journey. Where the entrance to a canal cut across the beach, he slipped into the water and waded through to the other side.
Moving with exaggerated caution and care, it took him half an hour to cross 500 meters of uninhabited beach, but Akira surrendered himself to his sense of the
night and moved with it. He only took conscious note of things that were out of the ordinary. Other than a few guests hurrying to attend the Marik sponsored reception, there was little to attract his attention.
Guided only by feel, Akira worked up along the rocky face forming the south shore. The climb was not difficult for him, except when he had to backtrack once after running out of handholds for pulling himself up. Compared to the cliff sides on his grandfather’s estate on Rasalhague, this ten-meter edifice was nothing. After finally pulling himself up over the top, Akira lay there quietly to listen and regain his strength.
While lying there, he recalled his map. ComStar or not, when they extended this spit of land and built beneath it, they had to provide for ventilation. With luck, I can find a vent large enough to slip through. If not, I’ll have to try some of the tricks I learned for getting unauthorized supplies from the Eleventh Vegan Legion’s depot. If they work here on Terra, I’ll be into the building’s restricted areas tomorrow.
Having heard nothing suspicious while resting at the cliff edge, Akira proceeded to work his way inland through the thick, tangled undergrowth. His desire to move as quietly as possible made it difficult going, but it was not long before he found a grate-covered cement cylinder jutting about half a meter out from a low rise.
He took a deep whiff of the moist air pouring from the opening. Mech coolant! He smiled approvingly. Vented out here, it mixes with the ocean breezes and no one can detect it. One of the MechWarriors must have had a vest leak this afternoon, or been working on his ’Mech earlier.
Cupping the flashlight in his hands to partially hide its beam, Akira peered closely at the four bolts securing the grate to the vent. He smiled and fished out his pocketknife. Salt air and warm weather had done their work on the bolts, and so Akira made short work of them with a few strong strokes of the knife’s hacksaw blade.
Warrior: Riposte (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Two): BattleTech Legends, #58 Page 22