“How what feels, Andrew?” Melissa crossed to the sofa and sat beside him. She heard the pain in his voice and it melted her own anger.
Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I revered Justin Allard. I could not have hoped for a better commanding officer, and I did my best to break through the prejudice the Kittery cadets had toward a man with Capellan blood in him. Even when he discharged Sergeant Capet, I defended him against all comers.”
Andrew turned and Melissa saw tears gathering in his eyes. “When the Capellans ambushed us, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to relinquish control to Justin, but he gave me command. He didn’t say anything, but I heard the confidence in his voice. He knew I would not let him down, and I fought desperately to be worthy of that trust. I pushed my men and organized them. Somehow, we got out of a very nasty situation much better than we should have.” Redburn turned away and stared at his clenched hands.
Melissa reached out and touched him on the shoulder, and she could feel the tension rippling through him. She bit her lower lip, but could do nothing but listen.
Andrew never noticed her touch. “I remember seeing the ruins of his Valkyrie and how torn I felt when I found out that he’d lost his arm. I knew, right then…I had a feeling…that his life would be different. Then the trial, and all that viciousness. Somehow it got to him.
“I watched a video of Justin’s fight against Wolfson just after we jumped to Summer,” Andrew said softly. “I heard him denounce Hanse Davion. I…I couldn’t believe it, but now I think I understand it all better, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I wonder if I ever knew Justin at all…”
Melissa rubbed her hands across Andrew’s neck. “It sounds as though you knew him well. But that trial left its mark on him. People can change, you know.” She bit off the words as though they were bitter in her mouth. “I just hope it doesn’t always have to be a change for the worse.”
Andrew, frowning, looked at her. “I don’t understand.”
Melissa moved to the center of her cabin, which put her back to him. She hugged her own arms around herself as that same mocking laughter seemed to echo at her from the void. “There was once a time when I would have challenged my elders to justify how they’d wielded their power, much as you did the other night. Some considered me foolish, and others thought I was merely an argumentative child. The worst, like Aldo Lestrade, patronized me, which I hated. I vowed to bend him and those like him to my will because I was destined to be Archon.”
She turned slowly. “Ruling, you see, was presented to me much as a game. Yes, they gave me lessons to study and Thelos Auburn steeped me in history. I know more boring facts about the Lyran Commonwealth than anyone should be cursed to remember. Yet, despite all that, I am the Archon-Designate.”
She smiled at Andrew’s puzzlement. “I could get away with anything. Courtiers I could not charm were courtiers I could terrorize. I learned, as a wee child, to win with smiles, or to take with an imperious demand. In short, I learned that the Archon-Designate always wins—only sometimes the tactics must be brutal.”
Andrew shook his head. “You must have outgrown that, though.”
Melissa shrugged, still holding her shoulders with arms crossed over her chest. “Have I? Perhaps… It’s true that on an intellectual level, I have learned what it means to rule. Even so, my lessons in power have been rather academic. I cannot fault my teachers, for there is really no good way to teach the use of power. Let’s take an example. Your company, perhaps, is being pursued by an overwhelming force. You can outdistance them, but the leg actuator on one of your unit’s ’Mechs goes out. Both the pilot and his machine will die unless you turn your command around to defend him. You might be able to draw pursuit away from one warrior, but others in your command will die. What should you do?”
Andrew considered the question for a moment, then nodded. “I would have to leave the one man behind and save my command.”
Melissa smiled. “The greatest good for the greatest number.” She shook her head sadly and looked down. “We comfort ourselves that the man will die painlessly and perhaps even sell himself dearly to earn you extra time. The fact is, though, that he will not die painlessly. Your Justin Xiang did not.”
She raised a hand to forestall Andrew’s comment. “Just as you came to apologize for what you had said, I, too, must apologize. You correctly protest against the pain that your friend suffered, and I tried to defend his suffering as a necessary action. Neither of us can alleviate his anguish, and we feel the guilt of that.” She smiled sheepishly. “If I thought a pardon would make him whole again, I would ask the Prince to do it.”
Andrew nodded, then paused as he thought deeply about all that had happened since that day on Kittery. “I appreciate that, Your Highness, but after seeing that tape, I fear that Justin is now lost to us forever.”
PART THREE
Chapter 40
SOLARIS VII
RAHNESHIRE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
6 MAY 3027
The click of the pistol’s hammer being eased back was loud enough to rouse Justin from his slumber. Turning over groggily, he lifted his head to squint at Tsen Shang. Silhouetted against the light of the desk lamp, the Maskirovka agent looked as dark as his clothes. The only light glinted off the pistol’s long barrel.
Justin tipped a pillow up and eased himself into a sitting position against the headboard. He raised his left hand to shield his eyes from the lamp’s strong glare and smiled. “You can put the gun away.”
Tsen Shang leaned his head slightly to the right. “Can I? You murdered Gray Noton—quite nicely, I might add—so why should I trust you?”
Justin shrugged.
Shang tipped the pistol up. “Noton had a document that was meant for me. We had agreed on a price. I will pay you the same amount to turn it over.”
“No sale.”
The pistol again aligned itself with Justin’s head. “I will not negotiate with you, Xiang. All I need do is shoot you and ransack this place to find it.”
Justin shook his head. “You won’t find it. I destroyed it, and you should be thankful I did.”
Shang did not move the gun. “Explain,” he said.
Justin smiled and nodded graciously. “Simply put, Noton was working with the CID to set up the Maskirovka. The document he had would have tempted you to commit men, ’Mechs, and money to an operation that would have cost you all of it.”
Shang lowered the gun, but did not holster it. “Go on.” He reached back and turned the lamp away so that it no longer blinded Justin.
“That document was the passenger list for a ship known as the Silver Eagle. I recognized the pseudonyms of two passengers as the names given to my father and his wife when they travel. The Maskirovka, within a day or two, would have cracked those identities. You can see what sort of valuable cargo that is.”
When Shang nodded, Justin continued. “The Silver Eagle, according to Noton, was to be hijacked and taken to a world—whose name you would have purchased from him—where the passengers would be held for ransom. Surely, the Capellan Confederation would not pass up the chance to snatch the head of Davion security, especially upon his return from a covert mission in the Lyran Commonwealth.”
“No, that would be too great a prize to let slip through our grasp.” Shang lowered himself to the foot of Justin’s bed. “How did you discover the deception?”
Justin smiled. “Superstition. My father and his wife never traveled on the same JumpShip in order to protect their children from being orphaned in case a K-F drive malfunctioned.” Justin leaned forward. “What made me even more suspicious was that while I was in the hospital, I saw a man who looked exactly like Hanse Davion and one who looked exactly like my father. The doubles had apparently been prepared to deceive someone. I know that Davion wants revenge against Liao, but I don’t know what for.”
Justin watched Shang’s eyes grow distant. Two parts hospital rumor, one part pure no
nsense, and a dash of family anecdote. That ought to allay Shang’s suspicions long enough to keep Andrew safe for the moment. Now for the clincher. “Reach into my jacket pocket.”
Shang slashed the pocket open with the sharpened nails of his left hand and pulled out some folded sheets. As he unfolded the document, he saw that they were Federated Suns identification papers containing Noton’s image and description. He studied it and grunted. “They’ve provided him with a new identity.”
Justin nodded. “I tried to reason with him, to get him to refrain from selling you the list. He seemed to think you’d only lose a regiment trying to capture the ship. I said you’d be angry and he said he’d apologize from his villa on Verde. Then he offered to sell the scraps of his operation here on Solaris.”
Justin lifted his left fist in the air and let it drop to the bed with a thump. “I declined his offer.”
Shang slipped the identification document into his own pocket. “Interesting.” He bowed his head, then backed toward the door of Justin’s spartan quarters. “We will speak again, Justin Xiang. For now, let me express the gratitude of the Maskirovka for all you have done.”
Justin nodded easily. “Goring Hanse Davion’s ox is a distinct pleasure.” He narrowed his eyes and tapped his chin with his right index finger. “I wonder how the Prince will take the death of Philip Capet?”
Chapter 41
FOMALHAUT
DRACONIS MARCH
FEDERATED SUNS
11 MAY 3027
William Pfister, captain of the JumpShip Meridian, shivered with as much anger as his portly body could contain. “My God, Danica,” he said. “If this is true, why, it would be a disaster!”
Danica Holstein nodded sympathetically and leaned back in the deeply padded leather chair opposite Pfister’s desk. “That’s the reason I brought this to you, Bill. My head K-F drive technician, Stephen Leigh, says that he shipped one of his early training cruises with Kevin Mori. He told me that the Mori on your Meridian is not the same individual, even though he claims the same credentials…”
Pfister shrugged. “I can’t thank you enough, Danica, for letting me know.” Pfister glanced over to a corner of the room where Danica’s son sat hunched over a computer console. “Do you think he can prove it?”
Before his mother could answer, Clovis raised a hand. The stubby, childlike appearance of the limb did not match the normal-sized head or the deep voice booming from his mouth. “Console him, Mother. My being a dwarf means nothing to Monopole’s computer. The codes that the good captain has supplied me have been most useful… Aha!”
“What? What?” Pfister shot from his chair and darted toward the corner.
Clovis swiveled his chair around and smiled as he pointed to the computer display with his left hand. “Here it is, Captain. Monopole’s files include an LIC advisory that Mori is suspected of being an ISF agent. They point out that old and current identification pictures do not computer-scan as having the same Bertillon measurements for the bone structure in the skull or long bones. You have a spy in your crew.”
Pfister bent over to read the report. His sharp, shocked breaths were audible across the room, and his thick lips quivered as they formed each word he read. Finally, he straightened up and shook his head. “Blake’s Blood!”
Clovis spun back to the keyboard and typed in another request for information. “That’s not all, Captain Pfister. Did you know that the seals on your third helium tank are suffering from molecular deterioration? I don’t suppose Mori informed you about that, did he?”
Pfister’s jaw dropped open as the data scrolled up the screen. “My seals are degenerating? My God!”
Danica stood and brushed her long auburn hair back over both shoulders. “That could be devastating,” she said. “If you lose the liquid helium, you can’t jump.”
Pfister wilted. “What can I do? I can’t trust my chief tech, and I’ve got this hauling job for Monopole on the twenty-first. Gotta jump the Silver Eagle to Errai. If I lose those seals, Monopole might jerk their contract, and then I’ll be sunk!”
Danica smiled and rested her right hand gently on Pfister’s left shoulder. “Take it easy, Bill. I’ll radio the Bifrost and have Leigh shuttle over to your ship. If those seals can be salvaged, Leigh’s the one who can put them right.”
Pfister rose out of his self-pity long enough to look warily at Danica. “You’d do that for me? Why?”
Danica gave him her warmest smile. “Bill, you’re too suspicious. Just call it insurance. I know that someday you’ll return the favor if I ever need it.”
Pfister flushed, then nodded. “Thank you, Danica. And you, too, Clovis.”
The dwarf dropped from the chair. “Don’t thank us yet, Captain. Wait until Leigh saves those seals.”
Pfister looked hopefully at Danica. “You’ll send him to the Meridian immediately?”
Danica nodded solemnly. “You radio clearance for him to board and inspect, but try to keep Mori from knowing he’s there or that you’re on to Mori’s secret. I’ll radio Leigh the second our little shuttle leaves planetary orbit.”
“Thank you, Fomalhaut Control. This is Bifrost shuttle Mistletoe leaving your control on return vector to our home ship. Out.” Danica switched the shuttle’s radio over to the scramble frequency she’d designated for covert communications. “Mistletoe to Bifrost.”
“Leigh here, Danica. How did it go?”
Danica smiled. “Pfister bought it. Take the Hemlock over to the Meridian and blow the helium seals.”
“What about Mori?”
Danica paused for a moment. “As we discussed, make the blowout look like sabotage and implicate Mori.”
Leigh’s voice dropped to a grim bass roar and rumbled through the shuttle’s cabin. “Dead men deny no charges.”
Danica nodded. “If you see an opportunity to catch him when the helium tank goes, do it.”
“Roger. Out.”
Danica removed her headset and swiveled the chair around to face her son. “You did manage to get the Bifrost designated as the alternate carrier for the Silver Eagle while rampaging around in the Monopole computer, didn’t you?”
Clovis nodded sullenly. “You kept Pfister busy enough for me to have reconstructed Monopole’s entire corporate structure.”
Danica frowned at her son’s glum expression. “What is it, Clovis? I know something is bothering you. You can’t hide it from me.” She narrowed her brown eyes. “Is it killing Mori?”
Clovis brushed his long black hair back from his face and snorted. “Killing an ISF agent? Don’t you think I knew that telling you about his ISF connection was his death warrant…? No, that’s no concern of mine.”
Danica frowned. “What is it, then?”
Clovis sighed heavily. “It’s this whole mission, Mother. The things Gray Noton has paid us to do in the past have been simpler—running ’Mech parts to insurgents in the Combine, or moving some documents from the Federated Suns to the Free Worlds League. That kind of job doesn’t bother me, but hijacking a DropShip to sour relations between the Commonwealth and the Federated Suns… Well that doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Heimdall should be involved in…”
Danica shook her head emphatically. “Don’t confuse things, Clovis. Performing this job for Gray has nothing to do with Heimdall. Gray is paying us good money—money we need to keep the Styx base functioning—to divert a DropShip. It’s a job. Nothing more…”
Clovis crossed his arms and hugged them to his chest. “How can you say that? You speak as though you can divorce Heimdall from what you and I are. Sure, our base in the Styx system harbors refugees who have fled the Combine, but it’s mostly peopled by other Heimdall refugees who have fled the Commonwealth. We’ve refused other missions that would have directly damaged the Commonwealth, but you accepted this one. Why, Mother? Why?”
Danica turned and stared out the large viewing-port on the shuttle’s nose. “For seven hundred years, Loki has existed in the Commonwealth. For most o
f that time, it has been a godsend. Answerable only to the Archon and the head of the Lyran Intelligence Corps, it has searched out spies and carried out operations that have blunted attacks by the enemies of our people.
“From time to time, though, the Archon has turned Loki loose on his own people. During one of those times, a number of loyal nobles and citizens banded together to form Heimdall. They worked passively and covertly, for the most part, to prevent Loki from depriving Commonwealth citizens of their rights. The attack on the spaceport on Poulsbo twenty years ago was the most public display of our power ever, yet only those within Heimdall even suspect we had anything to do with the raid.”
Clovis ground his teeth. “I know all this, Mother. Small I may be, but I am not a child who needs to be lectured about the history of Heimdall. You avoid answering my question.”
Danica shook her head. “It’s not a lecture I’m giving you, Clovis, but you don’t know all there is to know. You, my dear, were born into Heimdall and have lived within it all your life. I came to Heimdall while I still carried you… Had someone not rescued me, you and I would be nothing more than casualties blamed on a raid by House Kurita. Even as Heimdall saved Katrina Steiner from her uncle’s plots, it also extracted us from a dangerous situation. Yet, for all that I now owe Heimdall, at that time, I’d only heard it mentioned in whispers—dark whispers. For most citizens of the Commonwealth, Heimdall is as much a fiction as Saint Nicholas or the sanctity of ComStar.”
Danica smiled at her son. “The Heimdall you’ve grown up with is an organization far more public than ever before. Our base is the latest in a series of ‘openly’ Heimdall centers hidden in the forgotten recesses of the universe.”
Clovis shook his head. “I’d hardly call it ‘openly’ Heimdall, Mother. We never admit it to the refugees we take in.”
Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57 Page 28