“True, Clovis, but we all know what we are. That’s just one of the changes in Heimdall that forces me to look at things like this job differently. With Arthur Luvon’s marriage to Katrina Steiner, he sent out a signal to all of us that he endorsed her as an Archon who would deserve our full support. She curbed Loki’s operations within the Commonwealth, and while that has given Heimdall room to breathe, it has also weakened Katrina’s ability to uncover the treasonous plots of her internal enemies. Heimdall has accepted some of that responsibility, but we still must act in a subtle and covert manner to accomplish our ends.”
Clovis stared hard at his mother. “This is where you confuse me, Mother. In one breath, you say we should be quietly loyal to the Archon. In another, though, you order an operation—at the behest of a political mercenary who is only out to enrich himself—to hijack a ship. In that one motion, you will damage the relations between the Commonwealth and the Federated Suns—hardly the subtle kind of action you claim to favor. How can you, while professing to be loyal to the Archon, undertake an action that will jeopardize a policy that Katrina Steiner supports completely and utterly?”
Danica turned back and smiled at her son. “Congratulations, Clovis. You’ve asked the question I’ve wrestled with since the day Gray Noton offered us this job. Had I a chance, I would have taken counsel with the person above me in the chain of command, but I had no time to do so. I weighed the positive and negative points, then made a difficult decision.”
Danica clasped her hands together, leaned forward, and rested her elbows on her knees. “It’s true that this plot is undoubtedly sponsored by the Archon’s enemies, and could be very damaging to her. That’s why I decided Katrina could afford to have no one else undertake this mission.”
Clovis narrowed his eyes, then slowly nodded. “So,” he said thoughtfully, “by accepting the mission, you’re in control of how it turns out. You can decide whether or not to turn the DropShip over to Noton’s people…”
Danica crossed to Clovis and hugged her son. “Exactly, Clovis. With your work, Monopole will let the Silver Eagle know that they’re to link up with us. We won’t jump to Errai, as they expect, or Sirius, as Noton intends. We’ll jump back to Styx, and from there, Heimdall will be the one to decide who exactly is to profit from this enterprise.”
Chapter 42
FOMALHAUT
DRACONIS MARCH
FEDERATED SUNS
21 MAY 3027
Andrew smiled as he watched over Melissa’s shoulder from the back of the cockpit. Captain von Breunig, never dreaming that the young woman was anyone more special than Joana Barker, pointed of the long silver cylinder hanging in space. “That is the Bifrost, Ms. Barker. That circular collar on the side is where the Silver Eagle will dock with the JumpShip.”
Andrew glanced at a chart on the wail, then frowned. “Captain, the assignment board says that the Meridian was to be our transport from Fomalhaut to Errai.”
Von Breunig did not turn, and so did not catch the glance Melissa gave Andrew. “The Meridian suffered a helium failure,” the captain said. “You see, Ms. Barker, the Kearny-Fuchida jump drive requires liquid helium to stay cold enough to conduct all the energy needed to rip a hole in space and to propel us up to nine parsecs from here. The Meridian lost some seals, and so the Bifrost came in to keep the trip on schedule.”
Melissa smiled. “The name, Bifrost…why does that sound familiar?”
Von Breunig smiled easily as the JumpShip slowly filled the forward screen. “Mythology, Ms. Barker. Bifrost was the rainbow bridge that Heimdall guarded. In many ways, I find it a comfort to find a JumpShip named after a mythical bridge or ship or fantastic beast.”
Andrew laughed. “You black-ocean sailors are all the same—superstitious.”
The captain took Andrew’s remark for the good-natured ribbing that it was. “True,” he said, “but you mud-marchers would be out of business if not for the likes of me.”
The pilot half-turned in her chair. “Captain, the Bifrost signals that she’ll be ready to go as soon as we hitch up.”
“Good. Signal the passengers that we are fifteen minutes to jump.” A soft, pulsing tone filled the air, then a computer-generated voice began to instruct passengers on their options during the upcoming jump through hyperspace. The captain smiled at his guests. “If neither of you requires dralaxine to combat the travel sickness, you are welcome to join me in my cabin during the jump.”
Melissa and Andrew nodded their pleasure at his invitation, then followed Captain von Breunig from the bridge down through the narrow, dark corridor to his quarters. Though the cabin was small, von Breunig had filled it with a galaxy of nautical charts and artifacts. Despite the abundance of sea-life samples from across the Inner Sphere, Andrew and Melissa noticed only one thing about the cabin.
Hanging high above them, burning like an opal disk, the clouded face of Fomalhaut V shone through the cabin’s transparent ceiling. Surrounding it, stars burned diamond-white and sapphire-blue. Without atmosphere to mute and warp their light, they neither winked nor wavered. Rather, the suns stared down harshly at the people watching from the Silver Eagle.
The captain spoke softly. “It often affects me that way.”
A smile spread across Andrew’s face. “Those stars are like watchful eyes…almost as though the universe were alive.” He reached up a hand toward the ceiling as though to grab a star and hold it in his hand.
Melissa shivered. “It looks so cold and unforgiving.”
Von Breunig nodded. “Space is an anvil on which the meek are broken. The mariners on old Earth both feared and loved the sea. I feel the same way about space.”
A second warning tone sounded through the ship. In compliance, the captain waved his guests to chairs and then buckled himself into one, too. “I hope, Leftenant, that your Prince Davion and his New Avalon Institute of Science will find a way to manufacture gravity. Going weightless when we shut down our acceleration drive is bothersome.”
The captain punched several buttons on his desk and a viewscreen raised itself from a compartment hidden in the deck. It was clear that the image flickering to life on the screen came from a camera mounted in the bridge. The trio watched as the pilot expertly docked the Silver Eagle with the Bifrost. The computers spun and contracted the various interlocking rings on the docking collars, then the pilot extended the K-F drive boom and locked it into position on the Bifrost.
Her voice echoed from a small speaker on the captain’s desk. “Request permission to jump, sir.”
“Granted.”
Melissa gripped the arms of her seat. A final warning tone—this one more urgent and insistent—rang one minute before jump. Melissa felt the perspiration trickling down her neck and between her breasts. She forced herself to breathe normally and to keep from screwing her eyes shut. No, you won’t do that this time.
They jumped.
The stars above them blurred, then flared and filled Melissa’s eyes with a flash of light. Is the universe screaming in pain? Can it feel us pierce its flesh and rend its soul? The fabric of the ship crushed in on her in one instant, then everything seemed to draw away and to stretch out like the distorted reflection in a carnival mirror.
Just as suddenly, everything snapped back into focus with a nearly physical impact. Melissa shook her head to clear away the dizziness, and fought back against the nausea. More sweat wrapped her in a cold, clammy blanket. She closed her eyes and immediately tasted bile in her throat. Still battling the nausea, she leaned back and looked up.
A planetoid larger than Tharkad City filled the overhead viewscreen. Blue lights blinked on high towers. She picked out an obviously man-made dome among the pockmarked cliffsides and canyons on the surface of the tan-colored rock. Then, as the rock rotated, she spotted the lighted square dug into the planetoid’s stony skin.
Something caught in her throat. She barely heard the urgency in the pilot’s voice, or the worry in Captain von Breunig’s hastily snapped orders.
Melissa knew, instinctively, that something was very, very wrong.
Chapter 43
LUTHIEN
PESHT MILITARY DISTRICT
DRACONIS COMBINE
23 MAY 3027
Subhash Indrahar bowed deeply to Takashi Kurita. The black kimono swathing his barrel chest and broad shoulders seemed somber for a man whom others had named “the Smiling One” for his gregariousness. The somberness was appropriate, however, to the great seriousness of Indrahar’s mission.
Takashi Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, returned the bow of the director of the Draconis Combine’s Internal Security Forces. With an elegant gesture, he indicated that Indrahar should seat himself on the pillow to the Coordinator’s right—a place of honor. As the ISF director crossed to that pillow, Kurita gathered up the sheets of rice paper that he had filled with calligraphy and set them aside.
Indrahar knelt on the pillow. “Domo arigato, Kurita Takashi-sama.” Indrahar allowed a smile to tighten his lips for an instant, then the gravity of his mission smashed it fiat. “I have information that might best be described in terms of the Liao curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’”
Kurita nodded slowly. “Hai?”
Indrahar straightened his kimono, then looked up at the Coordinator. “We may have in our grasp the means to force incredible concessions from the Lyran Commonwealth. I have reason to believe that Melissa Steiner, the Archon-Designate, is currently in the Draconis Combine.”
Kurita’s head snapped up and Indrahar felt the extent of the Coordinator’s shock. “How do you know this?”
Indrahar composed his face. “The initial information came from a chance comment made by Precentor Myndo Waterly to one of my people on Dieron, but we have worked to confirm the rumor.”
The Coordinator nodded slowly. “Where?”
Indrahar allowed himself the hint of a smile. “My sources suggest that she is being held in the system known as Styx.”
Kurita’s eyes narrowed. “The system that once belonged to Viscount Robert Monahan?”
Before replying, Indrahar hesitated slightly to show the Coordinator that he had not been completely correct in his recollection. “Monahan owned the Styx Mining Corporation, but he sold it to Wayland Smith late in 3025. As you will recall, Smith managed to obtain a large number of investors for his new Styx Mining Corporation by letting them believe that their spies had cracked the security on his computers. The investors saw what they believed were genuine geological reports indicating that the Styx system was not played out, despite the four hundred years of mining done there.”
Kurita frowned. He dipped his brush into the pot of black ink on the low table before him and quickly slashed a stroke onto a sheet of rice paper. His irritation flashed in his blue eyes, then died. “You still have not caught this Wayland Smith?”
Indrahar shook his head. “No, though Monahan and his board of directors were executed, as per your orders. We believe that Smith is somewhere in the Lyran Commonwealth now. Ever since he absconded with the twenty-five million C-bills, malcontents have been using the Styx system as a safe heaven.”
Kurita nodded. “Better they hide themselves in safety than force us to expend energy hunting them down.”
The Smiling One chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “We have learned that the current contingent has made a contract with Frederick Steiner, a contract negotiated by Gray Noton on Solaris. According to its terms, they have hijacked a Monopole DropShip, the Silver Eagle. The Silver Eagle jumped from Fomalhaut aboard the JumpShip Bifrost. Styx is within range.”
Kurita’s eyes became azure slivers as he listened to this news. “Why do you believe Melissa Steiner is on board?”
Indrahar opened his hands, then brushed his right hand across his partially bald pate. “Our agents ran all the usual programs on Lyran shipping and came up with several interesting names on the passenger list. Aside from a Davion war hero and a couple of holovid stars, everyone else is normal. In fact, several names and profiles came up as almost too normal.”
The ISF director closed his eyes. He felt the Coordinator’s penetrating gaze on him, but he ignored it. Indrahar sank inside himself for a moment and touched the argent pillar of energy he visualized as pulsing up and down his spine. His mind caressed his ki, and he drew strength from it.
“One person—Joana Barker—matches Melissa Steiner in certain physical characteristics such as height, weight, and proportional limb measurements. Medical histories also match in crucial items such as medical allergies.” Indrahar opened his eyes and stared at Kurita. “In addition, I know Joana Barker to be Melissa Steiner.”
Kurita met Indrahar’s gaze, and the ISF director recognized that look. He’d seen it many times before as the two of them stood patiently for minutes at a time, facing one another in kendo contests. Kurita’s eyes probed for any weakness, any opening, any lie.
The Coordinator nodded. “I respect your judgment, Subhash. And I’m sure you already have a plan.”
Indrahar smiled more openly. “I have an elite ISF unit of jump infantry on Dieron. Many of them participated in the unsuccessful raid on Styx when we attempted to capture Smith. They will get Joana Barker and bring her to us.”
Subhash Indrahar expected Kurita to dismiss him then, but the Coordinator stared down at a blank sheet of paper. He dipped his brush gently into the ink, then in a few quick strokes, he had painted an eye with a strange bird in the center of it. The Coordinator smiled and looked up at his visitor.
“Styx is within range of Nashira, is it not?”
“Hai!”
“Excellent.” Kurita stared at the brush painting he had just completed. “Alert your unit and send it to Styx. But also send the Genyosha. They will succeed in capturing the Archon’s daughter if your people fail.”
Chapter 44
SOLARIS VII
RAHNESHIRE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
22 MAY 3027
“Take your hands off that shield, Capet.”
Philip Capet froze as Justin Xiang’s voice lashed him. The other MechWarriors in Valhalla watched breathlessly as Justin and Tsen Shang waded into the room and confronted Capet. Behind the Capellan MechWarrior, there followed a crowd of Battle Commission officials.
Justin stabbed a finger at him. “The alcove is not yours.”
Capet turned slowly. The confidence and power he tried to project through his easy, casual movement did not match his red-faced embarrassment. “And who are you, Xiang, to tell me that this alcove is not mine?” he blustered. “What claim have you to it? Have you come to take it yourself?”
Very good, Philip. Strike out. Play right into my hands… Justin slowly shook his head. “No, I’ve come here with these officials to prevent a coward like you from desecrating my friend’s memory. Neither one of us has a claim to that alcove. Neither one of us defeated Noton and earned it.” Justin looked around at the other MechWarriors, many of whom nodded in agreement.
Justin pointed at the Legend-Killer shield. “Noton did not lose his skill at piloting a ’Mech. In a battle, he could have—and would have—ripped either one of us apart, and we both know it. Just because he lost out in another arena is no reason to betray the memory of his honor.” Justin paused and narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps, Capet, you could not bear the thought of challenging him for the right to this alcove.”
Capet stiffened, then snarled. “Don’t try to lay that murder on me, Xiang—”
“Why not, Capet? There’s been enough murder by your hand here already. You gave Wolfson a tongue lashing after he bailed out during our first fight. You told him, and all the other members of your ‘Capellan Mafia,’ that a real man does not fight with his ejection seat enabled. They believed you, trusted you, and you killed all of them as surely as if you pulled the trigger on my weapons.” Justin spat on the floor at Capet’s feet.
Now Capet stabbed a finger at Justin. “I’ve had enough of your chatter, Xiang. I’m not the one who betrayed my country.
”
Justin laughed in Capet’s face. “Bravo, Philip. This from the man who destroyed his command on Uravan. This from the man who preached nonsense to MechWarriors foolish enough to believe him. Face it, Capet. If not for your rash decision to protect your home village—so that you could be hailed as a war hero by your own people—the Capellan forces would never have torn the village apart. If you hadn’t moved to defend it, they would never even have noticed it. In your quest for personal glory, Philip Capet, you murdered your own family!”
An enraged scream burst from Capet’s throat. He wrenched the shield from Noton’s alcove. Knuckles bone-white, he raised it in both hands and lunged toward Xiang. With murderous intent, Capet brought the metal disk crashing down.
Justin dodged to the left, then smashed his right fist into Capet’s exposed ribs. Though a bit short, the powerful, piston-like blow knocked Capet to the side. The MechWarrior collided heavily with the long table to his left and grunted in pain. As he stumbled over one of the benches and dropped to the floor, the shield flew from his hands.
His right fist still cocked and ready, Justin stared down at him. “If you’re not a coward, then you’ll accept my challenge to do battle.” Justin looked up at the other MechWarriors who had gathered around to watch. “If the others think it proper, I suggest we battle for the right to Noton’s alcove.”
Capet smiled easily and pulled himself to his feet. “Is that all you want, Xiang, a fair fight? Will you use your Centurion against my Rifleman? I assure you that I will not make Billy Wolfson’s mistake.”
Justin smiled cruelly. “Which error is that, Capet? Exposing his back to me or accepting your advice? I am touched at your concern that I will not be able to match your Rifleman, but I suggest that you not lose any sleep over it.”
Warrior: En Garde (The Warrior Trilogy, Book One): BattleTech Legends, #57 Page 29