"The cook makes a mean long grass steer sandwich."
"I'll take one and a Northwind Red, then." Pluncket nodded and looked at Mulvaney. "I'll have the stew, Mr. Pluncket, and some ale as well." As the older man limped back toward the bar, Loren turned his attention back to Mulvaney. "Are things well?"
She spoke in a soft tone to prevent anyone from overhearing. " 'Well'? That is a relative word. We're losing in the Sarna March, but I'll give you this much, you were right about this being the start of a civil war. One of the reasons the Davion troops haven't been able to put up a good showing is that many of the Prince's JumpShips had been reassigned to the Lyran sector and now Katrina won't give them back. How can he get troops where he needs them without JumpShips?"
"I won't be proud if I'm right, Major."
"Really? I'm surprised. I would expect that a famed Death Commando like yourself would be happy to see a foe consumed in civil war."
Loren chose to ignore the heavy sarcasm. "It's true that the Capellans and the Davions have long been enemies. But remember, I am a MechWarrior. Part of me is happy to see the Federated Commonwealth falling apart, but I'd like to be part of its demise."
"We have little in common, Major Jaffray."
"We're more alike than you'd ever admit. Both of us place a value on honor. I would give honor to the Davions with a fight to the end."
Mulvaney leaned across the table, her whisper barely audible. "Consul Burns has visited The Fort no less than three times demanding to see the Colonel, but MacLeod won't meet with him. It's going to get worse now that word is out across the whole damned Inner Sphere that the First and Second Kearny are on their way back home. The local governments are up in arms, being so close to the Clan border. Katrina Steiner has promised replacements, so their anger will probably be short-lived, but it's safe to say that our image has been tarnished in a number of circles."
Loren drew a long breath and shook his head. "I'd say the Highlanders' reputation was already tarnished after they deserted the Capellan Confederation. Millions died because of it."
Mulvaney's temper flared at the comment. "And you blame me for that, Loren?"
"No, but I imagine you blame me for all that is happening now."
She shook her head. "For whatever it's worth, I don't. It's just that you're stirring the pot. Telling the Colonel what he wants to hear, helping him reach a decision that could spell the end for us all."
"You're so damn bitter," Loren said, shaking his head. Mulvaney never hid the contempt she had for him, yet there was something in her anger, a fierceness of sorts, that drew him to her.
"I'll give you bitter. You've only been on Northwind for a handful of days. I was born and raised here. My family served in the First Kearny Highlanders for six generations. To you this place is a tourist attraction, a place you've read or heard about. To me it's home and these people"—she gestured to the other patrons in the bar—"are my kin. They're my brothers and sisters. Your coming here puts all that at risk. You've managed to start a lot of people questioning their loyalties."
Loren could never tell her how happy he was to hear those words. "You're partly right, Chastity. When I first came here, Northwind was just a place to me. Now that I've gotten to know you Highlanders I've learned something. You're my people as well, no matter how much I resist it. Everyone has treated me as an equal—present company excluded, that is.
"I know I'm not a Highlander, but I'm starting to feel like one. I told you before that I intended no harm in coming here. Now I understand why I was sent and why the timing of this mission is so important.
"True, my father and I didn't serve in the regiments, but we never forgot where we came from. This has become my home too now." Loren had lowered his voice, but he filled his words with intense conviction. And watched her reaction carefully. Mulvaney is my chief opponent in the Highlander ranks. If I can win her over, my chances of success increase dramatically. The only problem now is that I'm starting to believe my own words too much.
"I believe you," she said simply.
"What did you say?"
"I believe you, Loren," her use of his first name was calming. "I believe your words, but I still don't trust you. Too much has happened since your arrival for it all to be a coincidence. And no matter what, I won't sit back and let anyone threaten my way of life."
"Chastity, with all that's been going on, well, we're both under a lot of pressure." Loren rubbed his thigh where he'd taken the needier hit several days before.
"It's not just the pressure, Loren. I'm used to pressure. As a commander, I've known plenty of it." She was frowning in distress, and Loren noticed for the first time the dark rings under her eyes.
"Chastity, the Cabel tonight. What will happen?"
"MacLeod will let the troops know the truth about what's happening between us and the Davions. He will call for us to rally around him in his decision. Most of the officers and warriors will follow his lead. I'm sure he'll also present Sun-Tzu's offer to the Highlanders."
"And you?" Loren couldn't help wanting her on his side, whether she knew his true motives or not. The idea of Chastity as his enemy pained him.
"I disagree with the Colonel ... and with you, for that matter. My family and the Highlanders have benefited a great deal from our relationship with House Davion. I would honor that bond."
"And if the rest of the Highlanders vote to side with MacLeod?"
Chastity looked into his eyes. "I'm not sure, Loren," she said, then abruptly stood up. "My emotions seem to be getting the better of me, Major. Perhaps the Colonel was mistaken in asking me to meet you here today. I apologize." She reached down to where she'd been sitting and pulled out the package wrapped in brown paper. "This is for you."
"Chastity ..." Loren began, but he couldn't think of any words to make her stay. "Don't go, not this way."
She ignored his plea. "Colonel MacLeod sends these to you so you'll blend in better tonight. Until then." Executing a perfect about-face, Chastity Mulvaney turned and strode out of The Pub, leaving Loren sitting alone in the booth. He hadn't known what to say, but even if he had, things were happening too fast all around them. Events that would only separate him from her, not bring them closer together.
Loren tore open the brown paper. Inside was a garment of red and blue plaid with a thin line of green in the design. He recognized it as the Jaffray clan's own tartan. A dress kilt. Also inside was a black formal shirt and a war sash. A full dress uniform for MacLeod's Regiment.
He held the uniform in front of him, then carefully folded it up. A chill ran down his spine. Now, for the first time in nearly three decades, a Jaffray would once again wear the uniform of a Northwind Highlander. Loren knew that if his grandfather were alive, he'd be bursting with pride. He also knew that the Chancellor would be equally pleased that Loren had managed to infiltrate the Highlanders according to plan. The same emotion, but light years apart. Somewhere, alone, in the middle, Loren Jaffray sat contemplating the gravity of his mission. The Highlanders must be destroyed. For him, there was no choice but to obey.
Mister Pluncket limped over to the table and set Loren's food and drink in front of him. "Don't worry, lad. She's got it for you in a big way."
"What do you mean?" There'd never been any doubt that she had it in for him.
"As if you didn't know, laddie. She's got that look women get when they have a soft spot for a man. I've seen it when the lass looks at you. She may yell and fight like you're the demon incarnate, but inside she sees something she likes. If you're smart, laddie, you willna let her go."
Loren looked at the man and shook his head. "I wish I had your faith."
12
Caithness Woods Northwind
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
21 September 3057
The trip to the Caithness Woods southwest of Tara was one that Loren found somewhat uncomfortable. He and several other Highlander officers all wearing dress uniforms boarded a hover truck that stopped for t
hem at the BOQ. Loren was surprised that his Highlander uniform fit so well, except that the natural wool of the black shirt made his chest itch almost unbearably. The other big problem was where to place his rank badge and Death Commando insignia. He would not have felt dressed without them, and had finally decided to pin them to his tartan sash. It seemed a good solution, a way of fulfilling his oath to the Chancellor while also showing respect to MacLeod and his grandfather's memory.
Sitting next to him on the bench in the back of the truck was Lieutenant Jake Fuller, whose perpetual enthusiasm reminded Loren of his own early years as a warrior. Though a vehicle like this was most often used to ferry infantry to and from the battlefield, tonight the mood was more festive. Fuller introduced Loren to several other Highlander officers as the truck made its way out of town and eventually into the woods. Most of the others had either heard of Loren or seen him fight the honor match with Mulvaney in The Pub.
Some greeted him warmly. Others—maybe those who'd lost money on the contest—simply nodded.
Caithness Woods was in the rolling hills near the training range where Loren and MacLeod had gone for their 'Mech drill. From what was visible, the woods were neither heavy nor deep, probably covering only a few dozen acres. A bright light rose from the hills deep in the center of the woods and the air rang with voices and music. As Loren and the others climbed down from the hover truck he saw several infantrymen carrying pulse laser rifles and outfitted for night operations. They carefully surveyed each warrior climbing out of the truck, and two of them were using night-vision gear to scan the nearby countryside.
As a military man himself, Loren understood why MacLeod had selected the Caithness Woods as a meeting place. From what he could tell by the light of the moon the cluster of trees was isolated, with the rolling hills providing natural protection from security devices. The open fields surrounding the woods made undetected approach nearly impossible, even in the darkness of night.
Loren followed Jake Fuller and the other officers into the woods, the underbrush snapping against his bare legs and scratching his skin. A kilt wasn't much of an advantage in such an environment, but was otherwise surprisingly comfortable. Slowly the line of officers snaked into the thick of the Caithness Woods, heading toward the light that seemed to rise from the center of the small forest.
As they crested one of the steep hills Loren saw the gathering of Highlanders. Nearly four hundred men and women of all ranks and standings were assembled around a roaring bonfire, their faces illumined by the blazing flames. Many were drinking, but Loren did not see the concealed source of the ale.
The music he'd heard was clearer as they topped the hill. The Regimental Honor Guard was present, bagpipes, flutes, and drums blaring their rendition of "Hielan Laddie" out into the night. Around the fire nearly a dozen of the regimental dancers, mostly female, jigged to the rhythm and blare of the bagpipes. He had heard that the regimental dancers of the Highlanders were not just for entertainment but were trained medics who accompanied their kin into combat. The almost festive scene was compelling, and Loren felt a twinge of guilt. These were the same happy men and women who, if his mission was successful, would be dead or broken.
Watchful of his step, Loren followed Lieutenant Fuller down near the bonfire. The warmth and brightness of the flames sharpened the contrast with the surrounding dark. He looked around and recognized the faces of several other men and women he'd met in the past week. He wondered how they would react when the Chancellor's proposal was presented. Would the Highlanders accept? Or would they toss him into the bonfire? Was the Cabel really now a moot point, considering the actions of Colonel MacLeod in the past forty-eight hours?
Loren looked for Colonel MacLeod and spotted him near the top of one of the hills ringing the bonfire. In the flickering firelight the CO of the Highlanders seemed younger. The gray hairs that stood out by day, even from a distance, disappeared by night. Gone too were the worry lines and wrinkles of a seasoned regimental officer. Instead what Loren saw was a powerful and dominating man, a consummate leader of his people. Colonel MacLeod spotted Loren and motioned him to come forward. Making his way past the line of dancers, Loren waded through the crowd.
Loren stood only a few steps from the Colonel, but was half a body length shorter thanks to the steep slope of the surrounding hill. MacLeod gazed toward the bonfire and the regimental dancers swaying against the flames. "Impressive, isn't it, Major?"
It was more than impressive to Loren, it was stirring. A line of Highlanders came out of the darkness carrying large pole-like logs, holding them on end. The jubilation and merriment seemed to stop as the procession came into view. Like a long line of funeral mourners they encircled the bonfire, logs upright. The effect was almost hypnotic. The dancing and music slowly dissipated and soon the only sound was the crackling of the bonfire. Loren turned back to MacLeod. "What are those?"
"The Cabers, lad."
Loren watched as one of the men holding a large log stepped from the ranks and came up before him. "They are the past. I had our craftsmen prepare yours." MacLeod made a sweeping gesture toward the log. Loren was unsure what to do, but followed his instincts and the actions of the others. He stepped forward and the younger man handed him the massive caber. He glanced back at MacLeod, but the Highlander CO was again staring off into the fire.
Loren walked forward to the roaring flames. The heart from the fire seemed to keep him focused as he joined the ranks of those in the long line. He moved nearly without thought, almost like being in a trance. He looked at his right and left and saw the stern resolve on the faces of the other troops. On his own caber was the name "Jaffray" burned in by laser. Under it was several smaller words that were difficult to read with the glare of the light in front of him. Turning slightly so that the firelight would illuminate the log he read the words silently: Brighton, Calloway VI, Lopez, and Ningpo.
The names were familiar to him as worlds of the Inner Sphere. His grandfather had talked a great deal about those planets, places where his ancestors had died fighting in the Northwind Highlanders. Looking over his right shoulder Loren saw that the man next to him had a different lineage under his family name of Campbell. On the other side a woman bore the caber bearing the family name Drewkovich.
The bonfire's crackle was broken by the slow, almost heart-like beating of drums. Loren stiffened slightly as the caber dug into his hands. He hugged the massive log against him, ignoring its weight. It was as if they were joined as one. Behind him he heard Mulvaney's voice bark into the night.
"Honors ... 'hut!" Loren could not see the other Highlanders, but heard them snap to attention.
"Brothers and sisters," boomed the voice of William MacLeod to his kindred. "I welcome you all to this most time-honored event in Highlander lore, the Warrior's Cabel. One has not been called in years, but times have changed and the need is great. We begin in the past, with who we are. Let us never forget those who have died for our people. Let us honor the Eternal Roll of the Clans of the Northwind Highlanders!"
The drums suddenly stopped and a lone bagpipe's mournful tones cut into the Northwind night. The sounds of "Amazing Grace" rang upward as Chastity Mulvaney began to call the names aloud. "Wayne, Buchanan, Burke, Jacobsin, MacDougall ..."
The bonfire flamed anew with the reading of each name. As each clan name rang out in the night, the honor bearer tossed the huge caber into the raging fire. The impact of the cabers stirred the embers, sending sparks flurrying into the night sky. The heat of the flames seemed to reach through Loren's pole to warm his chest and face, burning into and beyond him. He listened carefully for a full ten minutes until he alone was holding the last caber. Finally, Mulvaney called out the name of his clan into the night, "Jaffray!"
With every bit of his strength Loren lifted his arms upward, sending the caber into the air and down into the roaring fire. The log disappeared for a moment as it crashed down, half in and half out of the raging fire ... a poor toss by the standards of the others be
fore him. Loren's arms hung like dead weights and his face was bathed in the heat of the cascading fire. He was embarrassed by his poor showing, but no one else seemed to notice. The pipe player finished her chorus and the music died away.
Loren felt empty for a moment as he looked into the flames. I have never had a history. My only real family was my grandfather. Now I find that I'm part of a greater family, one welcoming me with open arms.
A family that I must destroy.
Colonel MacLeod's voice shattered the night air as Loren stepped back among the other honor bearers. "At ease, fellow warriors. A Northwind Highlander is bound by honor and lives in the past and present. Such is our way. We are here as equals and I ask you to say what is in your hearts.
"Tonight I speak to you of a great need for this Cabel. We face a time of decision and a time of danger. Some of you have served me for years and I wanted you to know what we are up against. To those of you who have just begun your careers you are about to witness what separates us from the rest of the Inner Sphere.
"First I speak to you of our common danger. Most of you have heard of a civil war that is brewing between the Steiners and the Davions. I have received orders for our sister regiments to return to Northwind. I have honored those orders. Our Davion liege lord has, however, issued counter orders for our troops to remain where they are. Tensions are high between us and the Davions and are bound to get worse because I intend to stand on my original orders.
"This is not just an issue of mere orders, but one of sovereignty—our sovereignty. For us to reverse our stand and send the troops back would be a mark that our kind could never bear. Our sister regiments will return to their homeland!" Murmurs rose from among the rank and file of Highlanders. The words were muffled, but Loren could tell there was strong feeling on both sides of the debate.
"On this matter I am not concerned about whether or not you agree. I am the commanding officer of all regiments abroad and the personal CO of this regiment. My orders stand and are not open to debate. But all of you must realize the implications of this course. On one hand, the Davions have, until recently, been a fair employer and have turned this world over to us to administer. Our current contract calls for us to garrison worlds on the Clan border, not to fight in a civil war.
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