The sword and the dagger

by Ardath Mayhar

  House Liao intelligence operatives had long ago pinpointed the most important concentrations of Davion 'Mechs on the planet. The invasion fleet had concentrated on the four most important of those, overwhelming them in a firestorm of missiles and beams before the others could come to their aid.

  Only twenty-four 'Mechs had been stationed at Steindown itself, and of those, only fifteen had been operational when the first space-dropped Liao 'Mechs and Death Commando infiltrators had descended around the port. One of the defenders still stood behind the villa, a fifty-ton Enforcer, intact except for its head. Trickles of flame and roiling smoke rose from the jagged crater between the 'Mech's shoulders. Its leg actuators had locked, leaving it standing erect like some monstrous ten-meter-tall piece of junkyard sculpture.

  The defenders had not had a chance. Sprawled in the shadow of the Enforcer were two sodden forms lying like ragdolls in pools of still-liquid blood—the fat colonel who had commanded this garrison and a young lieutenant from his staff, both cut down by fire from Liao Death Commandos dropped ahead of the main assault

  A captain approached Ridzik, making the fist-to-breast salute of House Liao. His brown uniform was fire-smudged and muddy, the green trim nearly indistinguishable from the rest. Instead of the customary ceremonial katana, a 12 mm Hawking automatic pistol hung in a holster at his side. The man's helmet was missing, too, and his head was encircled by a bandage shockingly white against his dirty blond hair.

  "Captain Dyubichev." Ridzik stopped and turned, returning the salute with a nod. "Situation report?"

  "Yessir. Both the port and Steindown itself are secure, with light casualties. Forces at Lollan and Grebuchin report continued heavy combat, but all other DZs are secure as well. The entire peninsula is ours. A number of 'Mechs escaped into the swamps and hills north of the peninsula, and there are some isolated outposts still holding out, but..." The young face struggled a moment, then broke into a smile. "We beat ‘em, Colonel!"

  "That we did, Captain, that we did. How many 'Mechs did we take here?"

  "Nine in the repair bay. Eight more were crippled and abandoned in the fighting, but well have them repaired and in the field in a few days. Three were destroyed, and four escaped into the swamp to the north. We also captured a large number of Techs and Tech assistants, and quite a few civilians who were living on the base." He jerked a thumb back across his shoulder. "They're under guard at the hangar."

  "Treat them well, Dimitri," Ridzik said. "Reunite them with their families, get them food, medical attention, whatever they need. We’ll want them to join us. Can't go wasting prime Techs now, can we?"

  "No, sir."

  "As for the rest, take them outside the base, question them, and..."

  "Of course, Colonel. No survivors." The captain saluted again and turned back toward the base.

  Colonel Ridzik returned to his temporary headquarters, composing the report to his lord, Maximilian Liao. He scarcely noticed the two bodies as he stepped across them and mounted the steps to the villa.

  3

  Ardan Sortek paced the terrace like a caged cat, his steps clicking sharply against the artificial stone. At the moment, he hated the terrace, the palace, and its surrounding gardens filled with alien plants brought from a dozen worlds. He hated the artificiality of the place, of his friend Hanse. And even of himself.

  He paused beside the low wall bordering the terrace. His friend Hanse, Prince of Davion...he sighed unconsciously. The two had been companions ever since Ardan's boyhood, when he had tagged almost worshipfully at his older Mend's heels.

  Later, when he was old enough to take the MechWarrior training that would eventually fit him for the Royal Brigade, Ardan believed that his life had reached a peak, that never again could he feel quite so happy. Especially joyful were those times when Hanse had overseen his training personally. After their grueling workouts in their 'Mechs, the two would relax together, drinking cold ale beside the lake bordering the drillfield.

  They had both been so young and idealistic. Though Hanse was ten years older, he had not yet been burdened with the weight of rulership, and felt free to concoct wide-ranging plans for the improvement of the worlds administered by House Davion.

  The two had taken thought for the good of everyone from MechWarrior to serving wench, with the agrarian population and the merchant class properly cared for in between. Ardan, because of his origins in a house of lower nobility, could make suggestions that would never have occurred to the younger son of the Davion dynasty.

  He remembered all this as his steps echoed across the terrace. Would Hanse never come?

  He felt sick, now. Betrayed. When Ian Davion had died in battle and Hanse become Prince of Davion, Ardan had believed that his friend would manage to put into effect some of the reforms that were so badly needed among the Federated Suns. But it hadn't worked out that way. At every turn, he had watched Hanse make decisions that showed him far more influenced by politics and power than by concern for those he ruled.

  Footsteps behind him brought Ardan around. He stopped, stiffened...then moved deliberately toward the ruddy-haired man approaching.

  "Ardan! My friend! I am so glad we have time to talk. I was distressed at your request for transfer. Is there no way to persuade you to remain here with the Brigade?"

  Sortek took the offered hand. Grasping its hard, broad strength, he felt a surge of the old affection. Whatever Hanse might have become, he was still the big almost-brother Ardan had known for so long.

  Then he remembered...and loosed his grip. Stepped back. Shook his head slightly.

  "No. Things haven't gone...as I expected them to, Highness. I find myself dissatisfied with everything. The Court. Myself. Even...even those I work with."

  Hanse grinned. "The lovely Candent Septarian has been rubbing you the wrong way?" he asked, his tone suspiciously innocent

  "Sep? Who said anything about…No, it's just that these days, just about everything and everyone seems to irritate me. Things I thought were true have turned out not to be. People I trusted seem different. Unlike themselves. I thought it would pass with the years, but it hasn't."

  The older man's grin evaporated, and his brow furrowed.

  "Listen, Dan," he began, "I know what we used to say when we were younger. Before my brother was killed and I was still ignorant of the realities of rulership and power. We said a lot of things, you and I. And you have to admit that I have put many of our dreams into effect"

  "Things that make the Federated Suns stronger, the troops better fed, the people less likely to be restless!" Ardan said, interrupting.

  "Those are also what make everyone happier and more comfortable." Hanse sounded relaxed, but the furrow was still between his brows.

  "But you are working with people we can't trust...doing things that I can't approve!" Ardan insisted.

  "There is a grimy underside to politics," Hanse admitted. "That's how the thing works, though I didn't realize it until I had to deal with it firsthand. You've never stood in my shoes, Dan. You just can't know how hard it is to keep everything working together. It's like being a juggler trying to keep fifteen balls in the air...but using only one hand!"

  Ardan shrugged and turned to look out over the garden. Hanse came up beside him and set a hand on his shoulder.

  "See the gath-trees in the garden," he said softly. "They could never grow there without the special soil about their roots and the treated water in their irrigation systems. And the illgrass from Kentares must be fertilized with animal blood or it would die. Politics, too, is a strange weed. It has odd and sometimes ugly needs and habits. But it has not changed much over the thousands of years of human history." Hanse frowned as if trying to find just the right words.

  "Even the best ruler, over the generations, has not been able to force virtue between its teeth. I cannot wave a wand and make men honest in their dealings with each other. And if I could, I probably wouldn't, anyway. I don't always know what is right."

  Ardan turned to s
tare into his friend's face. "I have seen things...that I cannot accept. I have seen you change. I have seen myself begin to change. War is my profession, Hanse. I am not suited to politics, even at secondhand. I know I would be far happier simply not knowing about many of the things happening here at Court."

  Hanse opened his mouth to speak, but Ardan spoke first "I am wasted here. New Avalon is secure, but our borders are again under attack. Redfield and Stein's Folly have fallen to Liao forces, and our enemies seem intent on penetrating more deeply into our sphere. Your brother-inlaw Michael seems unable to stop them without assistance. You have plans, I know, for a counterinvasion of Stein's Folly. That's where I can do the most good...transferred to active duty."

  The Prince sighed. He, too, turned to gaze across the gardens.

  "Do you remember how it was, Dan? In battle? The terror and the blood and the noise? The devastation of the countryside as the 'Mechs battled it out, crushing forests and cropland and houses beneath their armored heels? You hated it, I know. We are too much alike for me to doubt that, though I was busy with other things by the time you were trained sufficiently to go to war. Do you really want to return to all that?" Hanse turned and took the younger man's shoulders between his big hands.

  "Think of what you will leave behind!" he said. Though Sep's name was not spoken, Ardan knew it was to her that Hanse was referring.

  "What other use is there for a MechWarrior?" Ardan asked quietly. "I cannot stay here any longer—and I've known it for two years now. Blood and death are no worse than deviousness and dishonor."

  Hanse drew a shocked breath. Never before had his friend spoken so bluntly to him. Even though there was closeness between them, Ardan was also a subject who had till now always observed the proprieties.

  Though he had reddened, temper rising, Hanse controlled himself. "You are naive, Ardan. You think that the straightforward techniques of war can be applied to diplomatic dealings among powers. That's where you're wrong, though." Hanse turned to look out over the expanse of garden and beyond to the distant wall of forest that bordered the great royal house.

  "I grant your request," he said finally. "You will go with the strike force to Stein's Folly. I wish you well." Hanse took a step backward, almost spoke again, but seemed to reconsider. Then he turned toward the doorway beyond the terrace. The soft sound of his cushioned bootsoles on the stone was far more menacing than the sharp click of Ardan's heels as he retreated in the opposite direction.

  The young man slowed a bit as he passed through the gates, with a nod to the 'Mech on guard there. Though he had been moving toward this point for two years, it had taken all his courage to face his friend and ruler so frankly. And now that he had what he wanted, Ardan felt suddenly without direction.

  His life was about to change drastically. Even though he drilled regularly with the Royal Brigade to keep his skills at their peak, life at Court had softened him. He had not smelled ozone mixed with blood for a very long while. Going to battle also meant going away from Sep, but he quickly forced his thoughts away from that.

  She was a MechWarrior, too. They had never spoken to one another of their feelings, and Ardan had no intention of changing that. But something inside him felt empty at the thought of facing battle with anyone else at his flank. Sep was good, and she was dependable.

  He was going to have to bid her goodbye, along with the rest of his company. Because of his relationship with Prince Davion, many had been too jealous to seek Ardan's friendship, but there were three with whom he did share a closeness. It was not going to be easy, saying goodbye.

  He strode away toward the drillfield and barracks. The Royal Brigade was housed in a shielded building capable of withstanding a full-scale assault by most weapons. Stored beneath the complex in double-shielded armory/workshops were the Brigade's ‘Mechs.

  Ardan thought, too, of the Techs who worked so faithfully to keep his Victor in topnotch order. He'd miss Lai and Nym almost as much as his fellow officers. But he had to make the break, and as quickly as possible. By keeping his ear to the ground in recent days, Ardan had figured out that Hanse was sending troops to retake Stein's Folly within the week.

  It would normally take almost two months to make the eight jumps between New Avalon and the Folly, but via the Command Circuit, they could make the trip in a matter of hours. Nevertheless, the last jump would be a doozy...right into the firepower of the Liao forces.

  He stopped for the I.D. scanner, then passed into the barracks, which was quiet at this hour. With drill and combat training over for the day, the others in his command were cleaning up, relaxing, or playing quiet games of strategy while waiting for the evening meal.

  Ardan knew that he would find Sep and Jarlik in the common room, where every afternoon they spent an hour at the computers, matching wits, polishing their strategic reactions, testing reflexes. He would wait to see them later in the mess hall. As for Denek and Fram, they would probably be in the quarters they shared. Quarrelling lazily, no doubt Drinking ale. Teasing.

  Ardan smiled. To listen to them, anyone would think those two were the worst of enemies instead of the best of friends. He tapped at their door and heard a chuckle beyond it.

  "Come on in!" Fram yelled. "Friend or enemy, we need somebody to keep us from scragging each other!"

  Ardan pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Well, you're going to have to find someone else to keep you from each other's throats. I'm off to the Folly."

  Two sets of boots hit the floor from their precarious positions propped on the table. Two pair of eyes stared at him, startled, from two brown faces.

  "No lie?" asked Denek. He pushed a chair toward Ardan. "Here, sit and tell us. Action? Holy Roarer! While we sit here and cool our heels and drill, you're going to be back in a real war! Sheee! Now is that fair?" He turned to Fram for confirmation.

  "Not fair at all," agreed the slighter warrior. "But just what you'd expect from someone with the Prince's confidence. Now we'll all have to be worrying about Ardan, as well as keeping our 'Mechs slick and our reactions smooth."

  "Have you told Sep and Jarlik?" Denek rose to pace back and forth in the scanty space. "They're going to be almighty upset."

  "No. I'll see them in a bit. Probably over chow," Ardan said. "I still need to get used to the idea myself, now that His Highness has given his consent. I guess I really didn't expect him to let me go." Suddenly weary from so many mixed emotions, Ardan leaned back against the neady made bunk.

  "You going because of some of the things we keep hearing?" Fram asked. "About secret treaties and such?"

  "I can't answer that," said Ardan.

  Before anything more could be said, a chime sounded, echoing through the corridors of the vast barracks.

  "Dinner's served, gentlemen," said Ardan, rising from the bunk. "Shall we go?" At the door, he stepped aside to let Fram and Denek pass first Now that the time had come, he found himself dreading his last encounter with Sep.

  4

  It had been a long day already. Sep had put her huge WarHammer through its paces for six hours without stopping, keeping Fram and Jarlik, in their lighter but more maneuverable Valkyries on the hop. Though they had almost gotten through her guard a couple of times, she had managed to hold them to a three-way draw.

  Given their abilities, Sep was rather proud of that. She would like to try the same sort of practice with Ardan, but in his present mood, she knew better than to ask. He was so touchy these days.

  Unwinding at the computers afterward, testing her wits against Jarlik's, Sep had again managed to come out appreciably ahead. This was becoming a regular thing, and Jarlik grumbled that she must have reprogrammed the system to give herself the edge. He was joking, of course. She understood the big fellow too well to take offense, though others sometimes bristled under his heavy-handed humor.

  Sitting in the common room, the two MechWarriors had talked of the growing rumor of a Davion counterattack against Maximilian Liao, who had seized both Redfield and Stein
's Folly near the Federated Suns border. The loss of those worlds had set the mighty House Davion on its ear, and everyone in the armed forces was on edge. Something would have to give soon, Sep knew.

  "Hanse must act," Jarlik had said. "He can't afford to hold back...There are too many powers watching his reaction. If he shows signs of weakness, well have others besides Maximilian Liao at our throats. Even Steiner isn't above a little polite planet-snatching, given the chance."

  "Not to mention the nasties out in the Periphery, just waiting to dart in and grab whatever they can catch," Sep put in. "I wonder if that's the reason Hanse's Institute of Science is working so hard at a new security system?"

  "New security? I'd have thought our old system would stand up to anything."

  "Well, it might, but last week I was drafted into a team assigned to try breaching all the systems in the palace. A couple of times, we almost succeeded. The NAIS observer kept nodding and making notes and muttering into a comp. Maybe she found out what she needed to know."

  Now, after freshening up in her quarters, Sep was thinking about that conversation while making her way to the mess hall. Something was in the wind. Every MechWarrior on New Avalon was antsy, edgy. Even Ardan, who was usually so reserved, had snapped at his men more than once.

  She entered the big hall and looked to the corner where she, Ardan, Jarlik, Denek, and Fram usually supped together. The others were already in place, full trays in front of them.

  Jarlik raised a hand and beckoned to her, then pointed to a laden tray at an empty spot beside him. Bless the man! He'd picked up her supper as well as his, saving her a lot of standing in line. Sep grinned, knowing Jarlik would take his toll. She never ate a whole trayful, and he would get to clean up anything she left

  She slid onto the bench beside Jarlik and smiled across the table at Ardan. When he didn't return the smile, she looked around at the group, realizing that they all were unusually grim.