Kym hurried on through the night until she reached an avenue named Twain Street. Stepping out from the alley onto the street, she resumed a relaxed pace. Strolling past a restaurant, she paused as if making an impulsive decision, glanced at the holovid menu display, then went in.
Once inside, Kym removed her hat and shook out her hair, which cascaded over her shoulders as she moved toward a rear booth. When a smiling server handed her a menu, Kym leaned back to study it in leisurely fashion.
A deep male voice whispered from the speaker hidden in the cushions just behind her head. “Report.”
Kym yawned. “Contact with Shang. Noton is interested in Xiang, and Xiang is susceptible to Nasodithol. He did not notice it in a drink, and was highly suggestible under its influence.”
Kym stopped speaking as the server returned to her table. “Coffee, please. Nothing else.”
When the server was again out of earshot, the voice hissed in Kym’s ear like a snake. “Satisfactory. Continue to encourage Xiang’s entry into Noton’s service. He will be most useful there. Be aware that Fuh Teng is Maskirovka. Take care.” The flat, emotionless voice paused. “The minister would hate for you to find it expedient to kill his son.”
Gray Noton sank back into the shadows across Bunyan Street when he saw Kym reenter her Hurricane. Pressing his hand over his right ear, he listened carefully to the agent reporting to him over a radio, then smiled as he watched the aircar rise and disappear down the street.
Come all the way down here for a cup of coffee, Kym? I don’t think so. Especially not after you cajoled half a kilo of that special Atocongo blend from Enrico Lestrade a week ago! There’s nothing at that restaurant that you’d want, at least not to eat or drink. Remembering Lestrade’s assurances that Contessa Sorenson was nothing more than a bored rich girl, Noton laughed. You fooled him, Kym, but that’s no great feat. You didn’t fool me. And that will cost you more than you want to know.
Chapter 25
THARKAD
DISTRICT OF DONEGAL
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
10 APRIL 3027
The DropShip’s retrorockets blasted snow from the landing pad. The howling wind whirled in at the spherical Union-class craft, but the billowing clouds of snow broke the wind’s fury. The Cougar landed heavily on its four steel feet. The second the captain cut the ship’s engines, the raging blizzard smothered the DropShip in a blanket of snow.
Moving at a snail’s pace, a square patch of snow detached itself from the landing pad and rose skyward. As wind blasted the snow from its roof, the gantry grew upward. It stopped opposite the Cougar’s smallest hatchway and secured a canopy to the craft’s hull.
Ardan Sortek stood back as an ensign cracked the Cougar’s hatch. She smiled and waved Sortek forward into the room at the top of the gantry. Ardan moved quickly and shivered as the frigid winter wind of Tharkad nipped at him despite the canopy. Leftenant Redburn followed closely behind.
Why is Tharkad always so cold when I visit? Ardan crossed to the elevator in the rear of the gantry. He pushed the black button on the wall, then turned to Redburn, who was tugging nervously at his dark green dress jacket. Ardan laughed, thinking that Andrew looked as nervous as a MechWarrior dropping naked into a combat zone. “Easy, Leftenant. You look fine.”
Redburn’s face flushed scarlet and his eyes nearly bugged out. “Easy? This is the Archon we’re going to meet.” He followed Ardan into the elevator as its doors yawned open for them.
Ardan nodded and pressed a button to shut the door. “And the Archon-Designate, and the whole of the Lyran Commonwealth court.”
Redburn wilted before his eyes. “Oh thanks, Colonel, that makes me feel much better.” The elevator, independent of any command, sank faster than Redburn’s self-confidence.
Ardan laughed again, then straightened himself up and arranged his own dress tunic as the elevator slowed. He wore a blue uniform with gold trim because, unlike Redburn, he was not attached to a combat unit in the Capellan March. Despite the color differences, their uniforms looked similar and distinctive. The sunburst design, which started at the left shoulder and shot four rays extending out and down to the middle of the jacket, created a brilliant, asymmetrical double-breast. Tight-fitting trousers tucked snugly into cavalry boots. Completing the uniform were rowelless spurs, remnants of ages-old cavalry traditions and the mark of a MechWarrior in the Federated Suns.
Ardan reached out and adjusted the Silver Sunburst on Redburn’s chest. With a certain satisfaction, he noted that the medal matched the uniform’s silver trim. Redburn looked down nervously, but smiled as Ardan winked. They both turned to face the heavy elevator doors as they opened.
Ardan Sortek grinned at the sight that greeted them. Standing in the small receiving room, Katrina Steiner and her daughter, Melissa Arthur Steiner, returned his smile warmly. Stepping from the elevator, he took the Archon’s extended hand. “I am honored, Archon.”
“And I am very glad to see you, Ardan Sortek.” Katrina turned to her right. “You remember my daughter?”
Ardan laughed heartily and swept Melissa into a bear hug. “The best nurse an ailing MechWarrior ever had.” He hugged her tightly, then held her out at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.”
Melissa Arthur Steiner shared her mother’s height and steely gray eyes, but her blond hair was a shade darker, a legacy from her dead father. More lithesome than her mother, she nevertheless showed strength in her regal bearing and in the sharp fire of her eyes. In keeping with Lyran custom, Melissa’s light-blue eye shadow extended in a feathery pattern from the corners of her eyes and curled down onto her high cheekbones.
“You have become lovelier than ever in the two years since we last met, Melissa!” Ardan hugged her again, stepped back, but still held her right hand in his left. Ah, she will make Hanse Davion very happy.
Melissa smiled brilliantly. “I miss the time we spent together while you recuperated here, Ardan, but I’m glad you have not again needed my ministrations.” She gave his hand a squeeze, then reluctantly released it.
“You’re not alone in either thought,” Ardan admitted quietly. He turned toward Redburn, inviting him forward with a wave of the hand. “I should like to present my traveling companion and friend, Leftenant Andrew Redburn. Archon Katrina Steiner, Duchess of Tharkad, and her daughter, Melissa Arthur Steiner, Archon-Designate and Landgrave von Bremen.”
Redburn snapped to attention and saluted. Katrina Steiner returned the salute and glanced reprovingly as Melissa raised a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. The Archon stepped forward and offered Redburn her hand. “I am pleased to meet you, Leftenant. News of your brave deeds has preceded your arrival in Tharkad.”
Redburn nodded. “The honor is mine, Archon.”
Melissa took Redburn’s hand in both of hers. “Forgive me, Leftenant. I’m afraid I cannot understand how a man so courageous on the battlefield can be so baffled in a social situation.”
Ardan started to answer, but Redburn decided to speak for himself. “I think, Archon-Designate, the difference is that, on a battlefield, if I don’t know what else to do, I can always shoot.” Redburn smiled sheepishly. “That could get very messy in social situations.” The four of them laughed at Andrew’s witticism, which help to relieve his anxiety.
“I’m afraid, Leftenant, that you and the colonel will be thrown to the social wolves tonight at the reception,” the Archon said, leading the quartet out through a small door and into a large, underground maintenance facility beneath the spaceport. She pulled back the wrist of her quilted parka to glance at her chronometer. “Because the weather delayed your landing, things have already begun.”
The Archon guided them toward a hovercraft and stood back as the door slid upward and melting snow dripped from it to the ground. Melissa preceded the others into the craft’s dark interior. She seated herself with her back to the hovercraft’s pilot and Leftenant Redburn sat down in the jump seat beside her. Ardan Sortek took the seat opposite Melissa an
d the Archon sat facing Redburn.
The Archon pressed a hidden pair of buttons. The hovercraft’s door slid shut and the clear partition between the driver’s compartment and the back slid open. At a nod from the Archon, Melissa stood up and said something in a low voice to the hovercraft pilot. The driver rose, too, and moved to the seat Melissa had vacated while Melissa made her way to the driver’s seat.
When the whole exchange was complete, Katrina Steiner smiled. “Ardan,” she said as the hovercraft pilot removed a woolen cap to let free a rain of golden hair around her shoulders, “I would like you to meet my daughter, Melissa.”
Ardan Sortek, standing in the Archon’s offices, turned to Simon Johnson and shook his head. “Even seeing them stand side by side, I cannot tell them apart. You have done a superior job.” Ardan had suppressed a shiver, however, as he thought, This reminds me too much of what Max Liao almost accomplished with his duplicate of Hanse.
Johnson smiled. “I did nothing.” He pointed to the Melissa on the right. “Jeana has worked long and furiously to become the Archon-Designate’s double. Because she has voluntarily adopted the role, we believe she will be superior in her job.” Johnson glanced over to where Redburn stood talking to the Archon and raised an eyebrow.
Ardan shook his head only slightly, as if to say, Redburn knows nothing of the double, or of his true purpose here.
Johnson took his cue from Ardan’s curt shake of the head. “Thank you, Jeana. You may withdraw.”
Jeana nodded and retreated from the room through one of the private and secure corridors built into the palace for the royal family’s protection in even wilder times. Melissa crossed to a bookshelf and pressed a switch. The whole bookcase swung out to reveal a hidden bathroom and vanity. She glanced in the mirror. “I always feel an urge to make sure I’m still me after Jeana and I spend time together.” She smiled and turned back toward the room. “Sometimes she seems more me than I do.”
Ardan caught the tremor in Melissa’s voice. He nodded to Johnson, then walked over to the girl. “What do you mean, Melissa?”
The Archon-Designate shrugged her bare shoulders, then tugged at the top of her gray gown. “Jeana is eight years my senior. She’s a MechWarrior and she’s so much more mature than I am. It’s scary the amount of discipline she has and how commanding is her presence.”
Ardan reached out and placed his hands on Melissa’s, shoulders. “You seem to forget how commanding is your own presence, Melissa, and how you’ve grown into your duty. I can see it.” Remember, Ardan, though she is a woman in form, she is only seventeen years old. Melissa may have matured since last you saw her, but she has a way to go before she’s ready for the responsibilities that await her.
Melissa frowned and bit her lower lip. “When I look at her, I see the person I could be. Perhaps I should just let her rule in my place when the time comes.”
Ardan rocked back on his heels. “What’s this? Why is she more worthy to rule than you?”
Melissa looked down at her feet. “She’s a MechWarrior, just as my mother was—and as all the Archons have been.”
Ardan gave Melissa’s shoulders a squeeze. “As I recall, you did not study to become a MechWarrior.”
“I was too skinny. They trained me for infantry.” The dejection in her voice slowed her words to a dirge.
Ardan reached out with his right hand and tilted the girl’s head up so that he could look her in the eye. “I seem to recall that you did well in that training. Didn’t you once tell me to tell Hanse that he’d be getting a wife who could command the household infantry while he ordered his ’Mechs about?”
Melissa shook her head. “Those were games, Ardan. Jeana has had the will and discipline to become a MechWarrior and a champion triathlete. And she gave it all up to help protect me. That’s the sort of sacrifice I could never make, and I don’t think I’m worthy of someone else making such a one.”
Ardan noticed Leftenant Redburn hovering by his shoulder. “Yes, Leftenant?”
Redburn swallowed hard and looked down at his feet. “Begging your pardon, sir, and Your Highness, but I overheard that last remark.” He looked up, embarrassed, and his brown eyes searched their faces for understanding. “I’d not intended to, you understand, but the Archon wants a word with you, Colonel. What I wanted to say, though, is that I think I understand some of what the Archon-Designate is saying.”
Ardan narrowed his eyes, but found only pained innocence on Redburn’s face. Just saying what you have, Leftenant, has taken more courage than anything you’ve done on a battlefield. I respect you for it. Ardan dropped his hand from Melissa’s shoulder. “Please, Leftenant, share your thoughts.” Ardan smiled at Melissa. “I’ll be right back.”
Melissa composed herself, then looked up at Andrew. “Yes, Leftenant Redburn?” Feeling on the defensive, her voice and manner grew icy, but her obvious vulnerability kept the tone from wounding him.
Redburn hesitated, then bobbed his head and spoke. “I know what you’re afraid of, because I’ve been there. I’ve looked into the faces of raw recruits in a training battalion. I know that some of them, no matter how well I work with them, will die in their first battle. I know they’ll go to their graves wondering why I wasn’t there to save them. I know that just by trying to give them the skills they need to pilot a ’Mech, I’m probably teaching them just enough to kill them.” Redburn looked down at his balled fists. “It’s a hell of a responsibility.”
Melissa nodded unconsciously. “How do you handle it? How can you accept it?”
Redburn shrugged and looked into Melissa’s gray eyes. “I do the best I can because I know others would do worse. I hope my men’s faith in me will make them believe in what I tell them. I pray that the training will give them something—anything—that will save them in a tight spot.”
Redburn smiled wistfully. “The trick of it is, Your Highness, that people just want someone to tell them everything is fine, or they want someone to blame when things go wrong. They want someone else to shoulder the responsibility so that they can get on with whatever else they need to do. I accept the responsibility for my men, just as you accept the responsibility for your people.”
“Yes, but how do I know I can stand up under the pressure?”
Melissa’s plea bored through Redburn like a PPC blast. He forced a smile to his lips, but his voice remained grim. “I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t think anyone ever does until the time comes and they either stand or fall.” Redburn’s head came up and he winked at Melissa. “I do believe, however, that the only folks who even think about the question are the ones who have what it takes.”
Chapter 26
THARKAD
DISTRICT OF DONEGAL
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
10 APRIL 3027
Katrina Steiner, standing on the raised dais at the northern end of the Grand Ballroom, waited until the servants had circulated long enough to serve all the guests a glass of the rare wine. Then she lifted her glass toward the vaulted ceiling and smiled as the clear liquid reflected the image of her cousin Frederick—who stood pouting below the edge of the dais—and stood him on his head. “It is my great pleasure to welcome all of you here this evening.”
She looked over at Ardan Sortek and Leftenant Redburn, who stood flanking Melissa on one side of the dais. Ardan’s eyes betrayed his discomfort at being singled out during the reception. “I would like to offer a toast to our esteemed visitors from the Federated Suns,” Katrina continued. “Colonel Ardan Sortek and Leftenant Andrew Redburn, the Lyran Commonwealth salutes your courage.”
Most of the assembled members of the court lifted their glasses like so many marionettes controlled by the Archon’s hand. Ardan noticed that Frederick Steiner and Duke Aldo Lestrade were a bit sluggish in their own response to the toast. Perhaps their pained expressions mean that the Archon has ended their scheming by slipping them hemlock instead of this excellent champagne, he thought wryly. If so, I’ll find a way to ship a b
ottle of whatever they’re drinking to Duke Michael Hasek-Davion…
Ardan stepped away from the wall and lifted his glass. “If you will permit me, Archon, I was instructed to offer the following toast in the name of Prince Hanse Davion. ‘I salute the beauty, valor, and intelligence of the Steiner women. Long may their steady hands steer the Lyran Commonwealth’s ship of state.’”
Ardan nodded to the Archon, who accepted the compliment graciously, then smiled at Frederick. The raw hatred in Frederick’s eyes echoed a similar blaze in Duke Lestrade’s, but both men bowed to social necessity and joined the toast.
Melissa smiled and offered her hand to the slender, dark-haired man approaching her. The man kissed her hand gently. “A pleasure of the highest order, as always, Your Highness.”
Melissa’s face froze into a plastic mask of royal dignity. “How gracious, Baron Sefnes.” She turned toward Leftenant Redburn. “The baron is Duke Michael Hasek-Davion’s representative here on Tharkad. Surely, as you both are from the Capellan March, you must know each other.”
Redburn shook his head, and the baron answered for both of them. “The Capellan March is a large holding, Highness.”
Melissa reddened slightly. “Of course. How silly of me.”
The baron nodded at Redburn. “That is not to say that I have not heard of Leftenant Redburn. The duke himself had commented on how much he appreciates what the First Kittery Training Battalion has done.”
Redburn snorted. “He has an odd way of showing it.”
The baron, shocked by Redburn’s vehemence, frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57 Page 20