Yorinaga chose his words carefully. "I am indebted to you for Chu-sa Brahe's life. His loss would have been a great blow."
Jaime Wolf nodded slowly. "You honored us by accepting our help."
Yorinaga received Wolf's remark with a graceful nod. "Do you know what he found in ComStar's heart?"
"We did not have time to explore ourselves, but we have an idea," said Morgan Kell. "One of the guards had a tattoo on his forehead that marked him as a former member of a band of Periphery pirates. Hiring a man like him means ComStar has something it desperately wants to hide."
Wolf smiled cynically. "Such as a storehouse of lostech."
Yorinaga invited Akira forward with a nod. "Tell them."
Akira looked apprehensively at the two mercenaries. These words should be for the Dragon's ears only, but my Father is right. These men have earned the right to hear. As he began to speak, his voice betrayed a slight nervous tremor. "Down inside the ComStar facility, I saw a warehouse of BattleMechs. From what little I could make out, all appeared to be in perfect condition. I saw no indication that they'd ever seen combat."
Something cold and dreadful flashed through Wolf's gray eyes. "Think back. Did you see any 'Mechs of the Hatchet-man design?"
Akira chewed his lower lip and closed his eyes. He summoned back the picture of all those many 'Mechs and searched through it for the unique model Wolf had inquired about. Opening his eyes, Akira shook his head. "I do not recall seeing that model, but I believe I understand the purpose of your inquiry. All the 'Mechs I saw seemed, from external appearances, to have been built along the lines of Star League originals."
Wolf's frown revealed his distrust of Akira's analysis, but the younger MechWarrior held his right hand up to forestall any comment. "Colonel, I know I do not have your vast experience, but I learned to pilot a 'Mech in the Alshain factory. Engineers used to regale us with stories about the original designs for the 'Mechs they worked on. It's true that their purpose was to show how their work had improved on the original design, but they taught me enough to make this report with certainty."
Morgan Kell stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Your answer, Chu-sa, gives us half the puzzle. It is possible that ComStar is sitting on a Star League armory. Colonel Wolf's question actually meant to discover if ComStar was manufacturing their 'Mechs, and if they were keeping current with post-Star League designs."
Akira shook his head. "I saw no assembly gantries, but then I only glimpsed a very small portion of what must be a very large facility." Remembering the shaft heading down beneath the ocean floor, he said, "Very large, indeed."
Wolf turned to Yorinaga. "Have you told the Dragon what your son has learned?"
Yorinaga hesitated before answering, and Akira winced at the pain in his father's eyes. The elder man brought up his head. "I hesitate to do so because of the reaction it might provoke. Given ComStar's pacifistic propaganda and despite the encounters last night, I believe it is possible that they keep these 'Mechs to prevent them from being used in war. Furthermore, any attempt to take the BattleMechs away from ComStar would be most troublesome."
Akira's emotions tore him apart as he listened to his father speak. My loyalty to the Dragon cries out at my father's betrayal of the Combine, but my brain and heart tell me my father is correct. If the Draconis Combine attempted to wrest the 'Mechs away from ComStar, it would be placed under an interdict that would prevent all interstellar communications from going in, out, or through the Combine. Without communication, defense would be impossible and our enemies would pick us apart.
Morgan Kell nodded in agreement with Yorinaga. "We have not truly determined ComStar's purpose in keeping those 'Mechs. I believe that it is advisable to keep the news of Chu-sa Brahe's discovery secret for the time being."
Colonel Wolf reluctantly gave his consent. "I do not so easily accept the fiction of ComStar's purity, but the choice of action you draw from it is acceptable to me."
All three men turned toward Akira. They ask me to agree. They do not order compliance. I am indeed fortunate to serve with one of their caliber. He nodded. "The secret shall not pass from my lips, but what if ComStar is monitoring our discussion?"
Wolf grinned like his namesake. "Have no worry about that. Our conversation is safe."
Yorinaga turned slowly to face Morgan Kell. "Colonel, I would speak with you on another subject."
Morgan nodded slowly and Akira saw a weariness in his eyes and bearing that seemed to bear down on him like a great weight. It is as though he already knows what my father will say, and my father seems equally burdened.
Yorinaga bowed his head respectfully. "I wish you to know I that I would not have chosen to destroy your brother if there had !J been any other option. I assure you that your brother had full j knowledge of his actions and did not shun the glory of a war-rior's death."
Morgan clenched his jaw and forced his hands to unknot. In his heart was pain and grief, but his words were calm and measured. "It pleases me to know that Patrick earned your respect in the manner of his death. For all that, however, I wish it had not happened."
Yorinaga nodded. "It is the best one can hope for now. I trust that when you and I meet again in the battlefield, we shall be as honorable."
"Do you so look forward to that meeting?" Morgan asked. "You know what it will mean, don't you?"
Yorinaga opened his hands. "I have accepted and awaited that outcome for the past twelve years. I was ready for it on Mallory's World. In showing me honor, you shamed me. I have had many years to remember that battle and your actions. I have relived our contest again and again. I recall it in such exquisite detail that I have often studied a single action or thought for weeks at a time."
Morgan Kell's face became a mask of anger. "Have you learned nothing through that study?" He clenched his fists, then his expression melted in a flood of compassion. "I can feel it in you, Yorinaga. You have touched the key. You know it and have mastered it, but you've not used it to unlock the door."
Yorinaga smiled tolerantly. "Perhaps it is true that I have found what you call a key, but perhaps I have used it to open a different door. For me, it will unlock the chains that keep me from what I lost on Mallory's World. I have endured the years without it in hopes of some release from my captivity. For a time, I felt that the Coordinator would allow me to take my own life to purge me of the shame. He denied my every request, and so I came to accept that my salvation would not come by the Dragon's claw."
Yorinaga's hands moved through the air, eloquently describing a sphere. "I studied our battle and mastered every nuance of it. In myself, I found the raw materials of what you discovered during our battle. From them, I constructed the key. When we next clash, I will use it to free myself and to forever banish my shame."
"You willingly accept the price that we both will pay when that battle comes to pass?"
Yorinaga nodded. "Is there any honor in saving our bodies from what our minds already know and accept about us?"
Morgan shook his head. As he turned to walk back into the reception, Yorinaga moved to join him. Akira, confused, turned to Jaime Wolf. "What do they mean, Colonel? What are they talking about?"
Wolf narrowed his eyes. "It's simple, Chu-sa Brahe. Morgan Kell and Yorinaga Kurita both know that the next time they meet in combat, they will kill one another."
33
ComStar First Circuit Compound
Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra
19 August 3028
As Tamara Allard joined the depleted circle of Federated Suns citizens, she raised an eyebrow as she saw the two mugs of stout in Dan's hands. He motioned with one mug toward the balcony. "This one belongs to Colonel Kell, mother."
Ardan shook his head. "No way you can escape it, Dan. My mother still worries, too, even though I'm piloting a desk, for all intents and purposes."
Tamara turned to Ardan with a look of reproval. "Shame on you, Colonel. Your mother is most proud of you, and you know that."
Ard
an winked at Dan, then nodded to Tamara. "You are most correct, Countess. Believe me, I dearly cherish my parents, and I know that Dan does as well." Ardan smiled slyly. "In fact, when we last met, about a year and a half ago on Pacifica, he spoke to me of you . . ."
"Wait a minute, Colonel," Dan broke in. "Let's not start anything I can't handle here."
Riva poked her brother in the ribs. "Come on, Dan. Let the Colonel finish."
Dan firmly shook his head. He turned toward his mother and met her severe expression with a mild chuckle. "Let's change the subject," he said. "Where's dad anyway? I have something to ask him."
Tamara shrugged. "He's still back at the bungalow. Some late dispatches arrived and he said he needed to go over them." She glanced at her chronometer. "I expect him soon."
Dan saw Riva whispering in Ardan's ear. I've had it now. Ardan will tell Riva the story of my 'Mech being shot up on Paci-fica, then she'll needle me about it. He thrust both mugs toward his sister. "Here, Riva. Hang onto these." Nodding to his mother and Ardan, he added, "If you'll excuse me, I'll escort my father back here. Colonel, I entrust the Allard women to your care."
Ardan smiled. "An honor and a pleasure."
Dan cut a path through the crowd and ducked out the door into the cool evening air. Light sea breezes rustled the fronds of palm above his head and set the dark cone-shapes of pine trees dancing in the night. Setting off along a ferrocrete pathway lined with dim lamps alternating sides every twenty meters, Dan thought about how peaceful and beautiful it was here.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs and nose with the salt air. I can see why Terra has always held a cherished spot in the hearts of wandering mankind. No matter where one is born, or on what worlds one has dwelt, Terra feels like home.
Dan shook his head. Maybe it's just the romance of Terra that's gotten to you, Dan. Or maybe it's Jeana who's given you such a cheery new perspective? Yet all you know about her is that she comes from the Lyran Commonwealth, is close to the Archon-Designate, and probably once trained as a MechWarrior. Aside from that brief encounter on Tharkad, you've really only known her for the past thirty-six hours. It's not like you to let a woman get under your skin so quickly and completely.
Dan smiled as he recalled the time they'd spent together. He remembered fondly their aimless wanderings over the island the day before and how they'd begun to anticipate the other one would finish sentences. Hell. Half our conversations ran unspoken, yet fully understood. Then when they'd rummaged through the shops and galleries in the small civilian village ComStar allowed on the island, they discovered how parallel were their tastes.
And their lovemaking. At first urgent, but always gentle and loving, it was more than just the joining of their flesh. They hungered for each other and yet hungered to please. Wants and desires, spoken or unvoiced, were met eagerly as each partner physically shared the love that was welding their spirits together.
Dan sighed. I'm so happy it scares me. From these emotional heights, about all I can be sure of is that eventually I'll fall. I hate to be apart from Jeana but, like tonight, I have no choice. I am a mercenary and she serves the Lyran royal house. I have her heart, yet I seem to need to cling to something more solid. . .
Dan turned off the main path and carefully made his way along a flagstone pathway heading east. Silhouetted against a background of moonsplashed ocean, the bungalow was set amid a stand of pines. A wide porch surrounded the squat building, with pillars at each corner to support the steeply pitched roof.
Dan mounted the wooden steps, quickly crossed the wooden deck, and knocked on the wooden door. "It's Dan, dad."
Quintus Allard smiled as he opened the door. "Didn't expect to see you here, Dan."
Dan shrugged. "I saw mother at the reception and she said you'd soon be joining her. I thought I'd take a chance at finding you here so we can talk." Dan glanced down at his boots. "I mean . . . well, I assume that if any place on this island is secure, it's this one . . ."
Quintus nodded and waved his son into the bungalow's huge parlor. The center third of the back wall was made of glass, giving both father and son an excellent view of the ocean and a stretch of white beach. The glass wall extended halfway up the roof to form a partial skylight that provided the added spectacle of the brilliant, crescent moon.
The cream-colored carpet matched the walls, giving the room a light, airy feel. A lazy fan turned slowly on the room's cavernous ceiling. Dan flinched as he saw the various neo-cubist paintings decorating the walls, but he realized they'd been selected because their colors matched the more subtle and subdued rose and blue tones in the overstuffed chairs, couch, and loveseat arranged in the center of the room. A huge hearth of roughly finished stones dominated the exterior wall, and across from it, a short hall led deeper into the bungalow.
Dan looked at the papers scattered on the couch, then spied a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid on a glass-topped table between the overstuffed chairs. Pointing at the glass, Dan said, "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."
"Not at all, son. I had just poured myself a drink when you knocked." The elder Allard pointed toward the hallway. "I've got a fully stocked bar in the kitchen. Want anything?"
Dan shook his head. Someone was here. You don't drink alone, father, and you don't drink whiskey. "You're a lousy liar, you know."
Quintus Allard gave his son a wry grin. "Taken to calling your father a liar now, Dan?" He shook his head with exaggerated remorse. "I guess it must be true that being a mercenary does sap a MechWarrior of his moral fiber."
"Touche," Dan laughed. He pointed to the drink. "You don't have to finish it to convince me."
"Thank God. Scotch is awful."
Dan nodded sympathetically as he seated himself in the nearest of the overstuffed chairs. He turned it to face the chair his father had taken, which also gave him a partial view of the ocean beyond. As he sat down, Dan heard something scrabble its way onto the roof.
Quintus noted his concern but waved it away. "Racoons. This is one of the last few places you can see the real thing in the wild. ComStar reintroduced them from zoo stock about a century ago."
Dan smiled. "They really have changed Terra, haven't they? Coming in on the DropShip, no one could have guessed how bad things must have been in the wars before ComStar took over the planet."
Quintus nodded. "I assume you did not come here to talk about ComStar's successes at terraforming Terra herself."
Dan chewed his lower lip. "True." He smiled weakly. "I've met a woman-—actually we first met on Tharkad—but I've seen her here again. I. . ."
Quintus leaned back in his chair. "You're in love with her."
Dan nodded. "I think so. Hell, I know so."
Quintus smiled broadly. "Good. I'm happy for you, Dan. Your mother will maintain she's too young to be a grandmother, but I won't mind having a new Allard generation running around." Quintus winked. "And I know your grandfather would love it."
Dan held his hands up. "Whoa! Not so fast. I didn't come here to tell you to ask the Prince to make this a double wedding. But yes, I do love this woman, and I think she shares my feelings." Dan sighed heavily. "I trust her more than I trust the people in my 'Mech lance, but there are some things she can't tell me about herself. I want to know if you can do some background work for me?"
Quintus narrowed his eyes. "You mean you want me to abuse my office as the acting Minister of Intelligence, Information, and Operations of the Federated Suns?"
Dan smiled nervously. "Please?"
The elder Allard nodded. "Of course, son. What do you know about her?"
Dan swallowed hard and concentrated. "She's just a bit shorter than me and not a gram more than sixty kilos. Her hair is brown and her eyes green ..."
"Those can be changed," Quintus said.
Dan nodded. "True. She calls herself Jeana and I'd guess she's in her late twenties to early thirties. I think she trained as a MechWarrior, but she's got no scars or wounds from combat. She's here with the Lyran r
oyal party and says she is very close to the Archon-Designate."
Quintus raised a white eyebrow at the last remark. "Could be LIC. Anything else?"
Dan looked up at the ceiling as he tried to remember any other clue Jeana might have let slip during their time together. As he opened his mouth to add one more detail to the list, he saw something shadowy through the skylight. The room's soft light congealed around and flashed from one part of the shape, spurring Dan into action.
Gathering his feet beneath his seat, Dan launched himself at his father in a tackle that hit Quintus high on the chest. Enfolding his arms around the Count, Dan twisted, wrenching both men free of the overstuffed chair and spinning them into the short hallway.
Above them, spears of flame shot from the submachine gun's muzzle. A hail of bullets blasted through the skylight, cutting a ragged line of holes across the carpet. The projectile stream sawed Quintus's chair into a cloud of wooden splinters and feathers. The stuttering explosions drowned out the whine of ricocheting bullets and the crash of falling glass.
Using his momentum, Dan tossed his father deeper into the hallway, then looked back up at the assassin. The muzzle flame's backlight etched deep canyons in the gunman's hateful face and stained his broad teeth blood-red. Dan felt terror ripple through his body as their gazes met. Grinning madly, the assassin swung the gun toward the hallway.
An overwhelmingly brilliant green light seared its way into the room. Squinting against the painfully intense illumination, Dan saw a narrow, scintillating beam slice up into the gunman's left flank, right below his ribs, then burst free through the man's right shoulder. The gunman stiffened as though every muscle in his body had tensed with the extra energy. When the green light vanished abruptly, the assassin collapsed like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Falling forward, the man somersaulted, landing on his back amid the skylight's ruins and floating white chair feathers.
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