"That's about the size of it, Garth. For now, though, let's rest a few hours and then get out and see the town." Duncan pulled out a false bottom to the valise that had held the pistols. Stacks of C-bills sat in neat rows in the hidden compartment. "Each of you will get ten thousand C-bills. That should be enough for you to flash around looking like cocky champions of the Games and ... to have some fun at the same time."
"Do we go separately or as a group?" Bovos asked while fitting his pistol into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. "Let's stay together," said Duncan. "Civvies or dress?"
"Uniforms. If the invitation to this casino is a pretext for setting up a time and place for our 'host' to contact us, we want to be visible." Duncan looked around at the other three. "If there's nothing else, then—"
"There is," Bovos said, glancing quickly at Hawkes, who nodded as though by some previous arrangement.
"We need to talk, Duncan," the big man said. "And Dawn too."
"Of course," said Duncan. "What's on your mind?" Dawn looked curiously from one to another, then sat down again at the foot of the bed.
Bovos stood up and cleared his throat, apparently putting his thoughts together. "Hawkes and I started to wonder what was going on when you turned down so many of the contract offers on Galatea. Some of them were quite lucrative."
"Lucrative, yes, but I thought we could do better."
"Well, that wasn't all," said Hawkes, picking up the thread. "We also started wondering about Trane—and why some of the others call him 'Captain' and why they act more like professional soldiers than mercenaries. Bovos and I have both been military regulars. Soldiers move differently, talk differently, think differently than mercenaries. A merc sells his services for profit and maybe a little fun. They aren't known for strong loyalties to their unit. But it's obvious Villiers, Blix and the others are totally loyal to Trane. Don't try to deny it, Duncan. Bovos senses it too."
Duncan exhaled slowly. Given some of Jon Blix's verbal blunders, he was surprised this hadn't come up sooner. The whole mission suddenly felt like a house of cards in a violent windstorm. There was no time to consult Trane or anyone else about what he should do now. He'd already been through a lot with these three, and his gambler's heart told him to take the risk.
Duncan looked from one man to the other, than at Dawn. "We've known each other only a short time," he began slowly, "but we've fought some hard fights and lived to tell the tale. Hawkes ... Bovos, I know you've heard of the Knights of the Inner Sphere, but maybe Dawn hasn't." In a few sentences he told her how Thomas Marik had in recent years formed the Knights from some of the best warriors in the Inner Sphere.
"Well, there's something else about them you should know," Duncan went on.
He took his time, leaving out very little of the story while the others listened without interruption. When he was done, no one spoke. "And while we're on the subject of who acts like a merc and who doesn't," Duncan added, "I've got to say that I've known a few in my time. And you don't seem very much like one either, Hawkes."
Hawkes shrugged and then smiled faintly. "I'm Hauptmann Garth Hawkes, Commander of the First Company, First Battalion, of the Sixth Crucis Lancers. Or I was until those raiders destroyed my command on Valexa. I'm still a Lancer. My commanding officer sent me here to see what I could find out."
"Neither of us bought the fake Knights impersonation, but our intelligence boys are so up to their eyeballs in what's going on with the Skye March and the Sarna March and god knows what else that we couldn't get them to pay attention. Sending me to scout around seemed like the only way to find out what was really going on. Galatea was the logical place to begin hunting for whoever was behind the raids. Sooner or later they'd have to find replacements for their losses." Hawkes paused. "I'm disappointed you saw through me. I thought I was playing the role pretty well."
"And you, Bovos, I suppose you're going to tell me you were with the Oriente Hussars company that got hit on Shiro II. I've wondered about that since the day we met."
Bovos nodded. "My story's almost the same, except that I resigned my commission and went to Galatea on my own. The only way I'll ever be able to live with what happened to my people is to track down whoever did it and pay them back."
"That brings us to an interesting point," said Hawkes. "What if this 'lord' is here on Kyeinnisan? Even if Trane comes roaring in with his Knights, that still leaves us with nine warriors and eight 'Mechs against however many troops he's got, the local Security Force, and whatever else is on this chunk of rock."
"True, but Trane will get off a coded message to the nearest HPG station. From there it relays to the Second Regulan Hussars on Tiber, which is only a jump away. The main body of the Knights is standing by on Marik, but that's too far for a rapid response. All Free Worlds League military units have been ordered to render immediate, unquestioning, assistance to this mission. There's nothing on Kyeinnisan that can stand up to them."
"I know the Regulan Hussars," Bovos said. "They're one of the best regiments in the League."
"I don't think it will come to that," Duncan said. "Kyeinnisan isn't the kind of place the raiders would need for a baseworld. I suspect this is some kind of intermediary stop in their plan to recruit new units. All we can do for the moment is just play along and wait."
"Let's hope the wait won't be long," said Bovos.
Duncan looked over at Dawn. "What about you, Dawn? You've been all eyes and ears, but haven't said a word. When Trane and I first met you, we wondered if you'd been involved on Cumbres."
Dawn lifted her head proudly. "I was driven from my people and my Clan because of what happened on Cumbres," she said. "I led the Steel Viper raid on that world, and now I know it was the raiders you describe who surprised us there and destroyed my Trinary. I survived where nearly all the rest fell. I failed as a commander. That is my shame.
"A warrior without honor is nothing. Though the Steel Vipers drove me out, I will not rest until I can reclaim my honor. How I will do that I do not know, nor whether the warriors of my Clan would acknowledge such a claim. For now, I am neither of that world nor of your world, but your mission has merit, Duncan Kalma, and I would assist you in it if you will still have me."
Duncan walked over and offered Dawn his hand. "You're one of us now, Dawn."
She bowed her head, then shook it slightly. "Neg, Duncan. I fight with you and I respect you. But I am not one of you. We walk the same path at the moment, but this is only for now."
Duncan turned to the others, still clasping her hand. "That's good enough for me. How about you other two freebirths?"
"We're a team," Hawkes said, laying his hand on top of Dawn's and Duncan's. Bovos added his big paw to theirs. "A team."
22
Luck City
Kyeinnisan
The Protectorate Border, Free Worlds League
8 June 3057
"The lady wins again!"
Dawn understood the concept of gambling, but not the fascination. Compared to the thrill of combat, it offered only a glimmer of entertainment to her. Still, the ritual was one she decided to master should the skill be of use to her at some point in the future. She'd handed some C-bills to a young man standing beside a table, and in turn he'd asked her to pick two numbers. Her selection was duly recorded, and after other players had similarly registered their choices, the man gave a yank to a large wheel mounted on a stand behind the table and set it spinning. The wheel had numbers from 1 to-100 on it, and clacked as it spun, rhythmically catching at a ratchet that gradually slowed and then stopped it. At the top of the wheel was a lighted arrow. As best Dawn could figure it, whatever number the arrow pointed to when the wheel stopped was the winning number. However this game was played, she had now won twice.
"I don't believe it. Luck and looks all in one lovely little package." A swarthy man standing just behind her was the one who spoke. Dawn was about to tell this freebirth where he could stuff it when she remembered Duncan's admonition to keep a low profil
e. She gave the filthy rodent a withering glance, then quickly turned on her heel and strode away.
Duncan, meanwhile, was seated at a gaming table, feeling very much at home. There were many casinos on Kycinnisun, but the most popular, and his favorite was this one ... The Cave. Looking around, he thought it hadn't changed much since his last visit. Despite its name, the place was as ornate as the casino's vast profits could make it. And the drinks were free to those actively gambling. Duncan motioned to a scantily clad young waitress that he needed a refill.
Bovos stood quietly behind a velvet rope strung between brass stands that circled the table where Duncan was playing cards. Each table or major gaming space was cordoned off by such a soft rope to keep onlookers, called "The Gallery," at least a meter from the game. Watching Duncan playing Four Card Drax, one of the most popular in Marik space, was a sad reminder to Bovos of many nights he'd passed playing Drax with his comrades in the barracks, amid the jovial telling of tall tales, reminiscing, and good-natured joking. From what he could see, Duncan was winning ... a lot. Hawkes, who wasn't much a gambler, wandered over and also stood by watching idly.
"Are you ready for the fourth card?" the dealer asked nervously. He was so edgy and inept that Duncan couldn't figure out how he'd ever gotten the job—or managed to keep it.
"Deal." The man who spoke was a textile merchant from Tamarind. He was a disagreeable-looking person with a sullen face full of pockmarks and several teeth capped with gold. His losses in the game so far had not improved his attitude.
The dealer cringed when he saw that he'd dealt Duncan the Lancer of House Marik. Of itself the card was worthless, but its possession increased the value of every House Marik card in Duncan's hand by one. The two Marik nines he already had showing thus increased to a value of ten. Duncan set the Lancer card aside—in plain view, in keeping with the rules—as the dealer dealt him another card. It was another nine of the House Marik suit.
"I'm out." The fellow who threw in his cards had a five, six, and seven showing face up on the table, the seven being the last card dealt. All three cards were of the same suit. He'd obviously been trying for the next to the highest winning hand in the game, which was called the "Drax"—a numerical sequence of four cards all of the same suit. Whatever his "hole" card was, the first card dealt to a player face down, it wasn't going to make his other three cards into a successful hand. He claimed to be some sort of bush-league bureaucrat from Atreus on vacation. Hearing that, Duncan was glad none of the Knights were with him. What if this man had somehow recognized Trane or one of his men?
"So, it's down to you and me . .. again," said the Tamarindian. "I'm showing three nines and so are you. But ... have you got another nine in the hole? That's the question."
"You'll have to pay to see," replied Duncan. If the man's hole card was a nine, he would have four of a kind, a winning hand, unless Duncan's hole card was also a nine, in which case they would both have four of a kind. With his Lancer card increasing the three House Marik cards in his hand by one to a value of ten, Duncan would have the winning hand by virtue of numerical superiority. Of the four suits in Drax—Marik, Steiner, Kurita, and Davion—Duncan thought it ironic that the House Marik suit might prove a winner for him.
The Tamarindian seemed to be caving in under the pressure. During the two hours of play he'd lost a hefty number of C-bills. Sweat was forming on his brow, and the pot now approached 5,000 bills. After lengthy consideration, he apparently decided to cut his losses. "I fold," he said.
Duncan raked the pile of currency over to his place at the table. His luck had been exceptionally good tonight ... maybe too good. He noticed the nervous dealer looking furtively about. It was time to leave "I thank you for your contributions to my financial welfare," he said, "but I've only recently arrived after a long journey and now it's time to retire. I bid you all a good night and—"
"Wait," the Tamarindian barked. "You haven't shown your hole card."
"Nor am I required to do so," Duncan said politely. "You folded." Before he could react, the man reached out and turned his hole card over. It was a three.
"You're a cheat," the man cried. "In every hand you've had a ranking card. You and the dealer—he's giving you what you need. It's a set-up." While he continued to complain loudly, calling for the manager, the dealer began to blubber a confession, saying that it was all true, yes, Duncan had paid him off. Two security guards in The Gallery stepped over the velvet rope and moved up protectively behind the Tamarindian. "Get him," the man told the pair.
In an instant Duncan realized that the Tamarindian and the dealer were plants to create an incident. One of the bodyguards started to draw his pistol, but not before a knife flew through the air and embedded itself almost to the hilt in the man's chest. Duncan recognized the blade as the one Hawkes had showed him earlier that day. The second bodyguard managed to get his pistol free of its holster, but he never got to fire it either. First came a sharp crack, followed by a small hole appearing in his forehead. He fell backward without a sound. As people nearby began to shout and shriek in fear, Hawkes and Bovos were pushing their way roughly through the panicked crowd to where Duncan stood.
"Where's Dawn?" Hawkes shouted.
"No time now," Duncan said, gesturing in the direction of the door. "She'll find us."
* * *
"Just stand real still, little lady." Dawn felt the muzzle of a pistol pressed against her right side. The voice belonged to the man who'd spoken to her at the table with the rotating wheel. "They told me to kill you, but if you behave—"
Dawn quickly spun to her left. Coming about, she jabbed back with her left elbow, knocking the gun away from her ribs. Facing the man now, she drove the heel of her right hand into the end of his nose. She could feel the bone breaking and being driven back into his brain. The man stood motionless for a few seconds as if frozen in time and then dropped to his knees. Dawn almost pitied him. These freebirths seemed itchier to fight than an Arcadian rat, but they didn't do it much better.
* * *
As the crowd in the casino scattered before them, Duncan, Hawkes, and Bovos made their way toward the main entrance of the casino. Duncan looked around for the Tamarindian in hopes of having a very short and violent conversation with him, but the man had disappeared. As they neared the door, it suddenly opened as two Kyeinnisan Security Force Patrolmen entered brandishing gyroslug carbines.
"Dandy, just dandy," Duncan said under his breath. As the pair of Patrolmen aimed their rifles at Duncan and his companions, Duncan stopped and raised his hands.
"Don't these nitwits even ask who the bad guys are first?" Hawkes said peevishly.
"I suspect that knife in your hand may have something to do with it," Duncan said. Hawkes had retrieved his knife from the body of the Tamaridian's bodyguard, but hadn't wiped it clean. Blood still dripped from the blade. Still, with the mad flurry of bodies trying to get out of their way, Duncan doubted that the Patrolmen had even seen the weapons in the hands of his companions or that they'd actually known who they were looking for. He smiled when he saw Dawn pushing her way toward them, her pistol in one hand.
"Lady, get out the way," snarled one of the Patrolmen.
Dawn triggered the weapon. There was a loud report, the Patrolman dropped his rifle, clutched his abdomen, and fell.
The second Patrolman made the fatal mistake of turning his head to see what had befallen his partner. Bovos's small pistol sounded more like a loud pop than the bang of a slug-throwing weapon. That Patrolman crumpled too.
"Let's move it!" Duncan yelled, then darted out the door, the others trailing closely behind. People running, screaming, and shouting in every direction provided them cover. Outside, the small Security Force transport sat empty in front of the casino.
"Shall we?" Duncan looked at Bovos.
Bovos pulled the door open and threw the driver to the ground while the others piled in. "Where to, Duncan?"
"Hell, I don't know. Just get us out of here." Duncan
reached into the side pocket of his uniform jacket and pulled out the small communicator. When Bovos had driven about dozen blocks from the casino he began to transmit.
"Roy, do you copy?" For a few seconds there was nothing but static on the frequency.
"I gotcha, D.K. What's up?"
"Call the ship. Tell Trane to get ready and to stand by."
"Roger that, D.K. I'll be standing by, too." Duncan and his friend had prearranged to keep their commlink contacts brief just in case the Security Force, or anyone else, would be monitoring such message traffic. Short and sweet would give the eavesdroppers no time to get a fix on their locations even if they were lucky enough to be listening on the right frequency.
"I repeat, where to, Duncan?" said Bovos. "Head west if I remember right, there are some heavy woods out that way. We need to ditch this transport."
"And then?"
"Damned if I know."
"Someone's been setting us up ever since we got here," Hawkes said. "Why?"
"Perhaps it's some kind of test. Right now all we know for sure is that we're fugitives—unaffiliated mercs who're going to be accused of cheating and shooting up a casino. From here on it's likely to get a lot hotter."
"I hope things are going better with Trane," Dawn said as Bovos leaned forward at the wheel, scanning intently as he drove westward and out of the city.
23
Kispiox Forest
Kyeinnisan
The Protectorate Border, Free Worlds League
8 June 3057
Duncan, Hawkes, and Bovos sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and watched Dawn struggling with her boot. After they'd abandoned the transport at the edge of the forest she'd fallen down an incline, her left leg becoming entangled in a sharp rusty wire that sliced long gashes in the leather. She was now trying to effect repairs without much success.
Sitting there thinking about how they'd ended up in this fix Duncan berated himself for not being sharp enough at the casino. True, he'd noticed the young dealer's nervousness, but hadn't guessed that his own exceptional luck with the cards was due to the young man's double-dealing. But now it all fit. The manager had met them at the door and steered Duncan to that particular game. The dealer dealt him exceptional hands and the loser cried foul.
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