|
|
New World Order
Start of a HUGE Alternate Universe story
by The Nice Guy |
|
Einstein, Deep Periphery
Copernicus Caldera
Planck's Quantum Hole
I cannot believe Deserk is dead, and that I am still alive. This recurring thought came to Descartin Winters again and again as he sat on his bed in his makeshift bunk in the base, his patched-up legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees.
He was prepared to die in that last fight. He was even eager to embrace death, and it had given him a focus, a sense of power that terrified him.
During the battle, the fight with the advanced drones, he had felt invincible. Stravag, he was invincible. There was no target he did not take down once he started on it, no enemy could touch him.
Until the sky erupted in fire and light.
He remembered thinking that it was the end for him, when almost all the armor on his mech had been blasted away by the orbital strike.
And then the transmission from Frank came, urging them to pull back. He had refused, but Deserk had unexpectedly fired on his Nova Cat, blowing it apart. He had ejected to be snagged by Lee's Spider and taken to safety.
Deserk had died in the second orbital blast. All that was left of him was his codex bracelet, found in the wreckage of the Black Hawk.
It laid on Des' table as he stared at it. Beside it were some other items from Deserk's locker from the dropship Nile, a few letters and some personal souvenirs from past battles.
There was also a small black pouch containing Deserk's vineers. By clan law, they should be returned to the Bloodname House Leader, to be sacrificed during a private ceremony.
Des did not want to think about that might mean to him.
The one which grabbed his attention most was a letter addressed to him specifically, dated just before the battle. He had tried to ignore it, but it remained stuck in his mind, refusing to budge.
He did not want to touch any of Deserk's belongings, because he refused to accept the fact that his friend was dead. Years ago, after Luthien, it had not been so bad because there were still many comrades, friends still alive after the fight. But now he was the only warrior of his sibko left, and he had been delighted to find Deserk alive after so many years.
I have lived for too long. Descartin knew he should be dead. He had cheated death too many times for him to remember. He was almost forty years old now, and by winning a bloodname, his genes were already assured of immortality in the gene banks of Clan Nova Cat.
In truth, he had nothing left to live for. Even this last Seeker mission was simply a way for him to accomplish the one thing he had never done, a vision quest.
It was different for Deserk. He could recall the pride in Deserk's voice as he spoke of his reams and hopes for the future, of raising a family on Outreach. He had everything to live for.
And now he is gone. It was so bitterly unfair, that he, the clan warrior with nothing to live for, no real future to speak of, would be the one to survive, while Deserk, who had a child and a lifetime of happiness awaiting him on Outreach, would be the one to die.
There were too many painful memories for him now. He dreaded every time his mind went back to the past, where many demons lurked. As he got older, past events seemed to lose their luster of glory as friends and comrades were killed one by one.
What good were the glorious days of yesteryear when there was nobody to share them with? All that remained was the terror of combat, the frightened calls for support, the pain of loss after every battle.
Des wanted to cry, to let the tears flow, but strangely, he did not know how to cry. All he could do was to scream in rage at the universe, for the twists of fate that had led to this.
And he had done that so many times for the last few hours that he had no more strength even to get up from his bed.
There was a knock on his door.
"Come in." He said listlessly. His voice was hoarse and strangled.
Ian Dorlacen entered, wearing a clean jump suit under a brown and fading jacket, in stark contrast to Des, who had not even changed out of his cooling vest.
"It's morning mess time. That means food." The mercenary commander said. "Come on out."
Des stared at him for a while, before replying. "Neg. I am not hungry."
Ian suddenly shouted, "The heck you are! It's been more than eight hours since the battle ended, and you're still here in your vest!"
Des was startled by the outburst, and his eyes simmered with rage. "Leave me alone!"
Ian walked forward and grabbed Des by the front of his cooling vest. He pulled Des off the bed and flung him against a wall. "Wake up! Deserk is dead, and to sit here sulking will not bring him back!"
Des did not even notice the pain of being thrown against the wall as he lashed out at Ian with a punch. Ian drifted backwards as he avoided the blow. He was fresh and rested, whilst Des was not.
"He was my best friend. We grew up together!" Des yelled.
"And so? What would he think of you like this? Dammit, you are a mechwarrior. Act like one!"
Des leaned back against the wall. He was tired of fighting. "You don't understand what went on out there. I should be the one to die, not him. Not him." He repeated to himself softly.
"I understand all too well. You aren't the only one to have lost friends. I have lost too many as well. But that doesn't mean I get a death wish every time somebody dies!"
Des shook his head. "You did not know what happened out there. He could have retreated, and let me be the one to die. Instead he blasted me out of my mech, and I was the one to live."
"So you're angry at him for saving your sorry ass?"
"Maybe." Des sighed. "Maybe I am also angry at myself for not thinking of blowing him out of his mech first."
"He was a warrior, first and foremost. He knew the risks, same as you."
"Then why did he not tell me first? He knew he would die, and yet…"
"No greater love hath one man for another than to lay his life down for his fellow man." Ian quoted quietly. "Ancient words, but still no less true. He wanted you to live, Star Captain Descartin Winters, and he was prepared to do so at the price of his life."
"Are you that uncaring, that callous, that you would squander away the gift of life he has bequeathed to you?" Ian asked as he walked to the door.
"Neg." Des breathed in deeply once, then exhaled out all the air in his lungs, as though trying to expel all the anger, the hurt. He looked up again, feeling a bit better. "I will be joining you for breakfast in a while. Just let me wash up first."
He could detect a slight smile on Ian's face as the merc walked through the open doorway.
"Wait." Des said just as Ian was about to close the door. "Why are you the one to talk to me?"
"You might not have noticed it, but Yoshino is still technically your subordinate, and too many of the others are too busy with their own tasks to worry about one demoralized clanner. Except me, so that's why I'm here."
"Busy? Free?" Des blinked. "I think you have an upcoming duel to worry about, quiaff?"
"Aff. I'm not worried." Ian grinned easily.
Frank was musing over an article from the alien archives in their makeshift medical center when a doctor clad in traditional white coveralls came up to him.
"Sir," He winced when Frank glared up at him, "Captain Jadine Sheik has woken up from her coma."
"Don't call me sir. Right now, I'm just another doctor. Same as you."
Frank continued. "So how is she?"
"To tell the truth, she is raving mad at the moment, demanding to know where she is, what Falcon warriors are doing in the same ward, etc. I think it would be best if you explained everything to her yourself."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." Frank got up reluctantly, and started walking. The information inside that article was simply too interesting to ignore, as it dealt with the inhibition of metastasis in cancer, something which he had been involved in at the NAIS, while they had been trying to discover a cure for Joshua Marik's leukemia in 3056.
How to explain the loss of almost her entire company of Dragoons? Frank found himself agonizing over this problem as he walked towards her ward.
There had been many changes since the last of the humans on-world had transferred to the base.
For one, hot baths were finally available, as was fresh water for any number of purposes, where before they were only available in small quantities for drinking.
A few enterprising techs had managed to uncover the commands for the pumps working underground water sources throughout the planet, and managed to get the water routed to their toilets with some hasty plumbing. Some additional configuration of the pipes got the water to the repair bays, where the techs needed them to clean the machines.
Not that Frank, or anybody else, was going to inspect the mechs for parade readiness any time soon. Except the Falcons, come to think of it.
Lizabet Danforth had already begun screaming at her techs to get her mechs up and in peak condition barely four hours after the last enemy drone was destroyed. It had taken several arguments by Star Colonels Colbert Icaza, Fallon Hazen, Mikos Roshak, and Creed Mattlov before she relented.
Frank shook his head. He could never really understand the Falcons. A small number of them were still spoiling for a fight, which Daniela Mattlov explained by noting that these Falcons did not really face the drones in full force, nor taken part in the defense of the ground batteries.
The mercs, on the other hand, were more than happy to find the campaign over, and the alien base offered riches beyond their wildest dreams. A few commanders had privately approached Frank with an interesting proposal though, and he was sorely tempted to accept, after he had run it through Ian Dorlacen and Robert Feehan for their opinions, and they had agreed to it.
Losses had been heavy. The Falcons had suffered 70% equipment damage, and 40% personnel losses. Lizabet Danforth had told him that the entire Rho Galaxy would have to be rotated out of the Occupation Zone for at least two more years for them to recover.
The mercs were just as badly off. Even with the release of former merc bondmen from the Falcons, they had only half of their original strength in personnel, and even less than that in machines, about 30%.
As he approached the ward where Captain Sheik was, the sounds of people shouting became gradually louder. As he walked into the room, the reason became apparent.
Captain Sheik was in a shouting match with a male Falcon warrior who was in the bed beside hers. The cause of his infirmary was immediately obvious from the two leg casts propped up above the foot of his bed.
Two medtechs were trying to stop Sheik from throwing a nearby datapad at the Falcon, while the other occupants of the room looked on in glee and amusement, which puzzled Frank, until he realized from past experience that patients simply enjoyed a good scrap, which does that to anyone stuck in a hospital bed, especially warriors.
There was a smatter of applause from the appreciative audience as a particularly vehement exchange of insults took place. It was a cacophony of noise.
"Stop it!" He spoke loudly and firmly, but actually not expecting any result. "Come on, people, this is a hospital, not a fish market!"
To his chagrin and surprise, they did stop whatever they were doing, and all of them turned to look at him.
He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Okay, fun's over," he said as he pulled away the datapad from Sheik's hand with a strong jerk, took one look at it, and tossed it to a medtech, "now concentrate on getting yourselves healthy again."
He glanced pointedly at the clanner with broken legs, and the warrior simply turned to the other side to avoid looking at them. Frank sighed audibly.
Jadine looked cross as Frank sat down on a chair beside her bed. "What did you do in the time I was asleep?" She folded her arms.
Here goes nothing. Frank plunged into the whole sequence of events with a grimace.
"And that's it," he concluded.
She stared at him as though he was crazy.
"Look, it's the truth! You can ask everyone here in this room if you don't believe me!" Frank swept his arm around to indicate the ward.
"Ok, assuming you are telling me the truth, what's going to happen next?"
"Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth will take as much of the Star League and alien data as possible when she leaves, in return for an end to our war."
Jadine shook her head incredulously. "You are giving the Crusaders a technological advantage just like that?"
Frank winced. "It's not so simple. Many of the stuff has yet to be fully decoded and translated, and even if their scientists could understand the theories, it would years before anyone could start building advanced materials. From Lorik told me, even clan technology is mostly evolutionary, not revolutionary, which means that they wouldn't be too far ahead of the Inner Sphere in developing the technology."
"And?" She gestured with a hand, prompting him to continue.
"For the Warden clans, Des Winters will be taking the data back to Clan Goliath Scorpion, so that evens out matters on that side. As for the Successor States, we'll be selling them the tech, at a hefty price, of course."
"Of course. But what about the merc who wants to go into the open market for himself?"
Frank smiled. "Might not be a problem. Two days from now, we'll be forming a new merc brigade from all the mercs gathered here."
"Brigade? How do you think to convince all those mercs out there?"
"Simple. As of right now, we're the only ones with access to the lost Star League and alien technology. That makes us a monopoly. I'll prove that my single course credit in economics didn't go to waste by stating that as the sole source of this tech, we can sell the data at whatever price we want to the Houses, trickle by trickle. They will want to have it, since they all want to be at the forefront of technology."
"And once one House gets it, the others will want to catch up, so to speak. By jacking up the price as high as we dare to go, we'll be rich in no time. It'll be in every merc's interest to stay with us while we rake in the money, which will be distributed fairly and equally to everybody. They will want to be in."
She pursed her lips, considering. "There's one problem with your plan."
"And what's that?"
"Spies." She said plainly. "Did you ever consider the fact that the movement of eight regiments of mercenaries out of the Inner Sphere would go unnoticed?"
"Among these eight regiments, there will be agents of the Houses and god knows what else." At Frank's stricken look, she carried on speaking. "These spies will be able to procure the info and pass it back to their masters for free, which defeats your plan."
Frank looked stupefied for a moment, before he came to his sense again. "So we find those spies. It's that easy," he hesitated, "isn't it?"
She scoffed. "You're lucky Forsen Mandela cut a deal with the Dragoons. Now pull up the dividers. I don't want anyone overhearing me."
Frank did as she asked, and she went on. "I wasn't sent here just because I was a company commander, but also because I'm Wolfnet. I have files in a secure place that lists the name and allegiance of every agent and spy here, and some narco-interrogation tools in my quarters on the Nile."
"So in other words, you know who's a spy and who's not?"
"Yes. Well, 95 percent sure. I have a plan for ferreting out the rest, don't worry."
A thought struck Frank. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you seem to be someone the Dragoons can do business with. I won't be too wrong if I say that if this merc brigade idea of yours takes off, you'll be in a pretty high position, maybe even CO of this whole thing, right?"
"Nope, you won't be too wrong. But Commanding Officer will be a bit too much for me, right now."
"And there're other reasons for forming this merc brigade that you haven't told me yet. Be honest. The Dragoons want to know."
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. One is to protect this world as well, since it's gonna be our golden goose. The more important reason is to study up on the guys that beat the original aliens, and hopefully help defend humanity when the time comes."
"You don't think small, do you?" She laughed. "What you're proposing is exactly what the Dragoons were sent to the Inner Sphere to accomplish years ago!"
"The Dragoons will stand with your mercs in this endeavor, for a price, that is."
Frank understood instantly. "You also want a copy of the data. No problem, since that was in your original agreement with Forsen."
"Good. We'll go back to Outreach when the spy issue is settled. You will be holding your troops here, right?"
Frank nodded. "Only a few people will be going back to Outreach. Or at least, that's what I'm planning. Most of the mercs will stay here to refit their machines and train. I'm thinking of trading for food supplies from nearby inhabited worlds."
"Which are crawling with pirates."
"I've a plan for that too." He leaned in close, and whispered sotto voce. "Let's just say the advanced fighters aren't the only good stuff the aliens left us. I've got something that the Falcons don't know we have. And that makes us one heck of a merc unit from the very start."
Climbing up the side of his refitted Awesome, Ian felt relaxed in the warm afternoon sun as he entered his cockpit.
True to her word, Daniela had gotten some of her techs to fix up his Awesome with clan tech. Ian had accepted the 320-rated XL engine, salvaged from a Dragonfly, two clan tech PPCs, a clan ER small laser, and enough clan type double heat sinks to outfit the mech.
Plus one very special Inner Sphere weapon, placed in his right torso.
He started up the mech without any difficulty, and it was soon eating up the ground in huge strides, walking towards the Circle of Equals for the mech duel.
Two mechs from his Lancers accompanied him, while a whole lot of people were already waiting around the circle, all of them behind the invisible shield that Lorik had set up around the arena with a shield generator, after some judicious stripping of a ground battery to remove the generator.
Stalls of food could be seen behind the shields, heaped with cans of rations and even some plates of cooked meats, which could only be the result of some hungry mercs taking advantage of the natural fauna. Ian's mouth watered as he ran his scanners over the tables.
Off to one side, Des' Harbinger Tina was holding a rapt audience captive with her music, while a few crazy techs were carrying out acts more suited for a circus, performing to a mass of people which included even some Falcons hungrily munching on meat sticks.
It almost felt like a carnival.
Daniela's Masakari was already waiting for him inside the shielded area, and as he walked up to the edge of the arena, the shield dropped temporarily for him to enter.
Their mechs faced off against each other, with more than a kilometer between them, within the two kilometer diameter arena. Ian quickly drove all thoughts of food out of his mind, as he got into his warrior mindset.
"This is Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth!" A loudspeaker blared out. "This is a Trial Of Grievance between Major Ian and Star Captain Daniela Mattlov!"
Not exactly a Trial of Grievance. Ian also noted sourly that she omitted his surname. Not that it was his real name, but still…
"Warriors, you are free to engage!"
Ian started his mech running forward, firing off his PPCs at extreme range as he did so. The two ER PPC poured out damage equivalent to three of his old Inner Sphere versions. One shot hit, slashing a gash in the Masakari's right leg.
Surprisingly, Daniela did not open fire, instead sprinting towards him. Ian checked his computer quickly, trying to assess her mech's configuration.
The computer came up with a pulse laser boat with a targeting computer, which Ian groaned at. She certainly wasn't going to take any chances, sacrificing some range for the ability to confirm a strike, and even to target locations once the fighting got close.
He backpedaled the Awesome, trying to keep the range while lighting off with his PPCs constantly. He would only get one more free salvo off before she could use her large pulse lasers in reply. Another PPC hit the Masakari right in the middle, but it had more than enough armor there to spare.
She got into range, and fired off with all four of her large pulse lasers. Ian cursed as three of the shots hit, two of them punching into his right arm, and the other into his left arm.
His next salvo of PPCs missed completely, while Daniela continued carving into his mech, the right arm stripped bare of armor and exposing the PPC to damage. An idea occurred to Ian.
He lowered the right arm, hoping to lure her into thinking that his right arm PPC was destroyed, and continued to fire only his left torso PPC. It hit on the next discharge, reducing her center torso armor to tatters.
He ran forward as she started working on his left torso, using aimed shots to remove his left torso PPC from the fight. The armor on that location was completely stripped away, but the PPC was not hurt, and Ian managed to keep his mech up and moving, despite the loss of almost two tons of armor.
She stepped the Masakari forward as well, ready to end the fight with some well placed shots to his Awesome. Ian had other ideas.
He fired the heavy gauss rifle he had held in reserve so far, the heavy nickel iron shell streaking from the barrel in the right torso to smash into the Masakari, in one instant crushing the remaining center torso armor to nothing, and digging deep into the internals. Several puffs of smoke poured out of the gaping middle of the tottering mech, while a grinding sound could be heard, indicating gyro damage.
Ian followed up by bringing up his right arm PPC and whipping both PPCs into her mech, the particle beams stabbing into her right leg, snapping it at the bone.
She fired back before her right leg gave way, the blue energy darts seeking out his exposed left torso, but Ian foiled her move by torso twisting to his left, letting her shots play over his center and right torso, reducing most of the armor there into ruin even as her mech collapsed onto the hot ground.
He twisted his torso back, and trudged over to her mech. He lowered his guns to her prone mech, and spoke through his speakers.
"Yield, quiaff?"
"Aff, I yield." She replied breathlessly, the air knocked out of her lungs when the Masakari fell.
As Ian looked around, he noticed dozens of spectators tuning out of the fight and going back to having fun and food. He wanted to feel offended, but found he couldn't work up the anger, nor even some irritation. He smiled ruefully.
Sure is nice to be able to relax, he thought. It had been a grueling campaign, and the impromptu carnival was an excellent way for them to rest and enjoy life after the taut tension of the past few days.
He started thinking about parking his mech in a spot nearby so he could participate in the fun as well, and hopefully drag Daniela along.
Temptown, Harlech,
Outreach
Chaos March
"What do you mean, Landar is dead?" Frank Meronac demanded of Lieutenant Mitchell.
"You heard me." The police detective was unfazed, and continued reading the file in his hands. "A man matching his description was gunned down in a brawl in Temptown two weeks ago. The body was found, and his face was positively identified. His remains were cremated just yesterday, and his possessions were left to one," he took a closer look at the file, "Forsen Mandela. That's you."
"Huh?" The merchant was puzzled. "Why does his stuff go to me?"
The Lieutenant flipped through a few pages on his file searching for the entry before replying, "Uh, because there was a letter in his apartment which stated that all his belongings go to you?"
"And that's good enough?"
"Yes." Mitchell answered curtly. He had better things to do than cater to these two mercenaries.
"And what about the killer?" Frank asked.
"Some deadbeat who ran away before he was caught. Murders like this are a dime a dozen in Temptown. We don't have the resources, nor inclination, to pursue this matter further." He closed the file with a slap, and threw it on his desk.
"A man got killed and that's all you have to say?" Frank was incredulous, his eyes wide. "What sort of policeman are you?"
"The sort who doesn't give a damn about those thugs on the street." Mitchell snarled. "They can kill themselves off for all I care. Not my business, and none of yours too."
Frank fought down the urge to strangle the man, but he knew that it was a lost cause.
He looked at Forsen, "Let's get Landar's stuff, and then outta this dump." The merchant nodded his head in agreement.
Forsen didn't look too unhappy though, because all the profits for the trip was his.
Or would have, if he and the other operators hadn't agreed to Frank's conscription of their ships for his brand new mercenary brigade.
Frank had offered generous terms, dangling a share of the profits from the sale of the advanced technology before him and his crew, which he had immediately accepted.
Even better was the potential, the opportunity, to change the transport business forever.
The police had already run through the Landar's items once already, but when no discernable clues were found, they simply palmed everything off to Forsen. It was a quick process involving several forms, and a bored storeman passing over the stiff in a duffel bag, also belonging to Landar. Frank had the feeling that this sort of thing happened everyday, and that the police were glad to be rid of the stuff.
Frank ran over his choices over the past few weeks in his mind as they walked out of the Temptown police station, a drab and gray three floor affair that did little to inspire law and order in its grimy surroundings. Graffiti was scribbled over its walls, in bright colors that served as a sharp contrast to the building's dullness. Slung over Forsen's shoulders was the bag filled with Landar's belongings.
To discourage muggers from thinking they were easy marks, Frank and Forsen wore their handguns openly, while Frank wore a bulletproof vest under his jacket.
Almost immediately after the drone warship was destroyed, another programmed archive in the files had appeared to the people in the command center. Pascal Thome had been smart and quick enough to hide the information from the clanners present, waiting until Frank and Ian returned before breaking the data to them.
After the Falcons had left Einstein, about the very first thing he and the others did was to board the nearest dropship to the alien space facility.
An alien spacecraft production facility! Right in the middle of the asteroid belt, it was basically a huge asteroid itself, the size of a small moon. And if that wasn't enough, there were two alien spacecraft within its voluminous hangars, each the size of a jumpship, but with far greater cargo and carrying capacities, and armed to the teeth with advanced weaponry.
The reason given for the late revelation was the fear the Qlictorio had of the drones talking control of the facility, much like the underground base. As usual, they had devised another elaborate program requirement before allowing the new owners of their legacy access to the space facility.
Frank had felt a bit betrayed as he tried to understand the justification for the Qlictorio's convoluted plots. The ships could have saved quite a few lives if they had been revealed at the very beginning, instead of after the battle, when so much had already been lost.
Daniela Mattlov, who had elected to remain behind as bondsman to Ian Dorlacen after she lost to him in the duel, had been furious at Frank's sleight of hand. It had taken Ian a few
days to calm her down. And in the end, Frank said he never did recall any agreement that they were obligated to share spacecraft with the Falcons, sticking to the letter, but not the spirit, of the agreement.
All they had agreed was that the Falcons would leave with all the data from the Star League and alien archives, while the base would go to the mercs, who had after all, discovered it first. And strictly speaking, the alien space facility was part of the base.
It was a moot point. The Falcons were gone, back to the Clan Occupation Zone sans one Black Lion warship, many warriors, and many mechs.
Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth had been informed of the possible threat from beyond known space, but she had told them the chances of the clans taking the warning seriously was very slim. After all, who cared about the invasion of little green men when there were more than enough enemies already on your border?
And besides, the attitude of most clansmen regarding aliens was that "if they appeared, we would destroy them all too!"
A dangerous attitude, after what Frank had seen of their technology, of which the drones were the lowest rung.
He took comfort in a book Ian had lent him, "Wisdom of The Universe", by Homer Kellogi. There was one paragraph which Frank found very apt for their situation now.
"What is a homeworld, you ask? I'll tell you: a homeworld is any chunk of rock in space where man can live, whether it is Terra or new Terra or some other Terra. And I can promise you, if there are any little green men who try to push us off, they are going to have a real fight on their hands."
That had sounded nice, but also disturbing. Frank had no wish to have the entire galaxy embroiled in war in the future, for it had seemed to be humanity's one bane that they would never be rid of.
Jean Posavatz had also gone back to Roche, after the Goliath Scorpion Hunter class jumpship Far Traveler reappeared in-system two weeks after their last battle. The Bleeding Past went with her, along with the same items and information the Falcons had taken.
Des Winters, and the majority of his retinue, stayed on Einstein. The Seeker had not explained his reasons, but Frank guessed it had something to do with Deserk's death. He had accompanied them to Outreach, where Captain Sheik and Bryan brought him to the Inland South area of the city.
Deserk's death was only one of many losses they had endured, even if it was one that had struck closest to Frank. He was saddened by the warrior's sacrifice, but the hardest hit was still Descartin Winters, who still seemed like a zombie even after Ian had counseled him.
Throughout the journey here, and in the one month before they left, Des had not touched the controls of a mech or anything similar even once. Not for simulator battles, not for live fire practices, not for mech drills.
He spent all the time in his room, where screams of anger and hurt could be occasionally heard. Sometimes, they could hear sounds of things crashing onto the floor, or of fists hitting the wall with tremendous force. Des came out only for food and to relieve himself, but it always took either Yoshino, Tina, or Wolkul, his personal technician, to remind him.
His Sage, Lorik, was too busy having fun with all the new science he had discovered. The elemental had survived the battle unscathed, and with a great deal of respect earned after he had killed a Lemming singlehandedly.
Frank had planned to sell the tech off to the Houses, with the mercs all getting a cut of the profits. He, Ian, Jadine Sheik and several other leaders had planned for some long hours before they came up with a workable deal.
All of the merc present had agreed to Frank's scheme, and in true mercenary fashion, the commanders of the strongest groups got the main command positions.
Frank, as de facto commander of the Raiders, got posted as second in command, answering only to Ian Dorlacen, whose Lancers were the single largest command.
Next in line were the others, Hamirah Rasouf and Robert Feehan, who were tentatively assigned as regimental colonels, even if there weren't any real regiments set up yet.
They needed to make a trip back to Outreach, both to settle loose ends and to get into contact with the houses to sell their technology. Ian and Frank led a small contingent of mercs, leaving Robert Feehan in charge of Einstein, where his prior experience as a regimental commander could be put to good use training the new formations. But they needed to get the spacecraft ready first, since nobody wanted to go back on the oh-so-vulnerable jumpships.
It took the jumpship crews a month to get used to the new alien spacecraft and the advanced navigational systems, which also needed refitting to make them suitable for human operators. Some science fiction buff had dubbed them Nautilus, after Captain Nemo's famous and fictional ship of the seas, and the name stuck, for these ships were far more advanced than anything humanity had, much like the make-believe Nautilus in the 19th century.
It was a lot of testing and experimentation before Lorik and Forsen were convinced that the ships were fully dependable. The first Nautilus, which they named Nemo, after the fictitious captain, had been the one to carry them all the way from Einstein to Outreach in just a month, at a FTL speed of about 15 LY per day.
They had modified the hull at great effort to support four dropships, of which only two were used for the journey to Outreach. The other Nautilus, christened Ahab after a popular vote, was still undergoing refitting at the space yard, which the spacers had given the unflattering name of "Galactic Pit Stop for Hitchhikers", inspired by the title of an old book. Frank had a sneaking suspicion that any future Nautilus would be named after Horatio Hornblower and other famous ship captains from novels.
Well, provided they could get even the minimal manpower to operate the yard. Even the refitting of the Nemo had required practically their entire tech force. For once, Frank didn't have a plan to produce ships, or even mechs on world, for that matter, despite the functional factories and facilities on Einstein. Heck, there were even massive borehole mines that could extract huge amounts of material for use, provided there was enough manpower.
The Ahab was slated to make runs to outlying systems in the Periphery, particularly in the Rim Collective, to trade for food and supplies. Each dropship would be armed with battle armor troops and mechs to discourage piracy. The Ahab itself would be a final deterrent, but Frank hoped it would not come to that.
Frank recalled the month spent in hyperspace on the Nemo. The trip was quite comfortable, actually, and even the few personnel with known TDS were unaffected, which gave credence to the hypothesis that it was the highly disruptive energies in the zone accessed by the KF drive that caused the debilitating effects.
Hyperspace had been a orange place, filled with small black shapes. Lorik had explained the black spheres as gravity field echoes in hyperspace of stars and planets. To Frank, the black shapes often passed by quickly, which also gave him a rough gauge of their speed in real space.
They could have gone faster, but they decided to err on the side of caution. Nobody wanted to end up ‘lost' in space if the hyperspace drive failed.
They had exited about two days worth of dropship travel away from Outreach's zenith jump point, and proceeded to the planet with their dropships burning in at a standard 1G acceleration.
Jadine Sheik got them through the tangle of security checks caused by their unorthodox entry into the system, which Frank had insisted on because he did not want anyone to know of the Nautilus.
Both dropships carried a mix of mercenary commanders, and spies exposed by Jadine Sheik's Wolfnet list and some judicious testing of all personnel by her and Benny Greaves, who Ian vouchsafed for, and was assigned to help Jadine root out the remaining spies, due to his spec ops training.
Hamirah Rasouf had been mortified to learn that Benny was actually a spy from the Taurian Concordat, as was Frank. And as he thought about it, Frank realized that Ian never really told him about his own connections to the Taurian Concordat, or why Benny could be fully trusted. Even if Benny had agreed to work for them and not reveal any secrets from Einstein.
Most of the spies, however, were die-hard loyalists to their governments, and almost all of them refused to swear allegiance to the new merc unit they were forming on Einstein. There were five from MIIO, three from LIC, eight utterly inept operatives from SAFE, two from the Maskirovka, two from the ISF, four from Comstar ROM, three from the Periphery not counting Benny, and most ominously, two from Word of Blake ROM.
Frank hated the Wobblies, primarily for their beliefs. He had been raised on a poor world without much in the way of technology, and he had no desire to see humanity plunged into a dark age before rising again. To Frank, technology was neither inherently good, nor evil.
But the alien tech did have some ominous implications, especially the sentient/machine interface, which Lorik had renamed Man/Machine Interface, and nicknamed MMI for short. It promised incredible advances for mech control technology, but Frank was worried about the abuses that are possible with such direct intrusions into the brain.
Still, the few scientifically trained people they had with them were not enough to fully decode and understand the new technology, and Frank had already decided that they would sell off the Star League information before thinking of selling the alien tech next. He wanted to let their own scientific staff and their own mechs have a crack at the new tech first.
Failing that, he had a plan to get some of the best and brightest minds in the Inner Sphere to Einstein, playing on the many contacts he had made at his alma mater, the NAIS. He had wanted to go to New Avalon anyway, but it wasn't for business at first.
Interestingly, the one Star League Defense Force intelligence officer they identified, a lone Sagittaire pilot named Annette Fourier, agreed to work with them, on the grounds that they would reveal the information to the Houses in time, which Ian had easily agreed to. Ian had thought of assigning her as a liaison officer to the Star League.
So they had landed at the Harlech Interstellar DropPort after a system transit of nine days from the time they detached from the Nemo, at which point Wolf Dragoon security took custody of the unrepentant spies for ‘disposal' to their respective embassies.
Frank was smart enough, however, to have each group of operatives carry several ‘advertisements' for the purchase of the advanced data back to their Houses, complete with contact info for transactions. Even if the paper ads did not convince the House leaders, it was a foregone conclusion that the spies' own testimonials would.
For this trip to Temptown, Frank had accompanied Forsen just to talk to the man who had started this whole business, specifically because of the discrepancies that had cropped up between Forsen's retelling of the man's story and Ally's records.
Landar had claimed to have landed on the planet with a pirate band, but there was no record of any KF jump into the system for the past hundred years!
Not only that, but the small portable defense shield he had used to convince Forsen had turned out to be available only to the aliens, and not the Star League. And even the small device he had given Forsen had some crucial design differences with those of the Qlictorio.
Which all added up to one huge mysterious puzzle. And Frank hated puzzles, especially when they had cost so much in lives and material.
The key machine they had used to get into the base had its components fused, rendering the device unusable ever again. Lorik had been puzzled at this, because it had clearly been meant for reuse. Yet another mystery, because nobody had been spotted tampering with the machine, according to the surveillance cameras.
And the circumstances of Landar's death had raised all sorts of question marks in Frank's mind. It seemed too pat, too coincidental. It was entirely possible that Landar was still alive, but for what possible reason? Unless he was working for some hidden agency that wanted them to find the alien base, and then…
And then what? Frank couldn't figure it out, try as he might, while he walked along the streets of Harlech towards the Inland South residential area.
I have conspiracies on the brain, Frank observed sourly as he nodded in greeting to a huge elemental policeman on patrol, clad in a blue uniform, his retractable truncheon swinging easily by his side.
Frank hoped there would be clues in the items in the bag, though he didn't hold out much hope. If they had really wanted to hide their tracks, surely they wouldn't be so stupid as to leave clues in the bag, right?
One can always hope, he told himself. And he wanted those responsible to explain exactly to him why all the subterfuge, the sleight of hand, of which Landar's ‘death' was one, was needed.
Frank halted suddenly as he remembered something. Forsen went on for a few more steps before turning around to look at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Uh, Forsen, can you go get Des instead? I have to go to the Comstar station." Frank smiled weakly from embarrassment. "I need to send a message to my girlfriend and my parents, and maybe check for any messages from them too."
Forsen snickered, "What, can't wait for a few more minutes?"
"Forsen, you don't know how it feels like. I'll meet you and the others at the Goat, ok?" Frank started running off without waiting for a reply, "Bye!"
Which left Forsen Mandela staring at the pavement tracks caused by Frank's sudden departure.
Halting at the gate of a low fence, where a small path led to a small house with two floors, Descartin Winters debated internally whether to carry on his current path. The fingers of his right hand clutched a letter from Deserk, while his left carried a bag filled with a few items he had bought at the mall with the money Ian had given him.
He had been a liability to everybody in the previous two months. He had avoided anything and everything that had once been a normal part of his life, concentrating on his Great Work, where he direct his sorrow and energies to the music synthesizer. He had lost all taste for war and fighting, not caring for the results of the latest mech exercise by the mercs, or even some experimental new technology they were trying out, where once he would have been the first in line.
And even more than that, he feared the inner demon within him that had been unleashed during the battle. It had made him invincible.
It had also terrified him.
So breaking all manner of treaties and agreements, Descartin Winters traveled to Outreach, far behind the lines of the clan front. In a way, he wasn't breaking anything, though Ian had commented that Comstar would have a fit once they knew about his presence.
And that was before considering the reaction of Khan Ariel Suravov. There was a very good chance that he would be declared a rogue by the clan, but Des did not care. After all, he should have been killed in the last battle. Every day that came after was merely a bonus, one he did not appreciate.
Captain Sheik and Bryan had already walked up to the door, and were waiting for him to join them. Yoshino Ihara waited behind him, patient as ever, one hand resting easily on his katana.
Why am I doing this? He asked himself. As part of my repentance for surviving? Or simply to increase my ache in my soul?
Another part of his mind answered back. Because Deserk asked you to do this. That letter was for his wife. He trusted you to carry out his last wishes.
What was that Ian Dorlacen had said about a healing process? Pain is easier when it is shared?
Des did not really subscribe to the idea of sharing his grief, but it still laid within him, a palpable sorrow that even now threatened to send him over the abyss of despair.
He made his decision, pushing against the gate and nodding to Bryan as he walked resolutely to the door to join them. He could hear the creak of the gate as Yoshino followed, the oil on the hinges worn away by constant use.
After all, he had come this far. Better to get it over with.
Bryan raised his hand to knock, and his knuckles rapped sharply against the wooden door twice, three times, as he called out, "Reena! It's me, Bryan! We're back from our mission!"
"Bryan?" A woman shouted from inside the house. "Hold on for a moment!"
The door was soon opened by a tall woman with short black hair. Her brown eyes conveyed warmth and strength at the same time. Her arms were white with flour powder, as was her face, though she had cleaned her face up a bit with a piece of cloth.
"Bryan!" She saw Jadine Sheik. "Captain Sheik! You're back! Where's Deserk?"
Jadine Sheik cleared her throat to speak, but Des could already see the realization and horror dawning in Reena's eyes.
Sheik spoke with a formal, emotionless tone. "I regret to inform you that Mechwarrior Deserk was killed in action on the planet Einstein. He…"
She was cut off by Reena, who collapsed to the floor near the door, one hand clutching the side of the door, while the other clasped the front of her dress. She muttered in shock, "No, no, no. It's not possible."
Descartin swallowed hard. "Deserk is dead. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. He died with courage and honor. He saved my life."
Reena looked up at him. Her teary eyes brightened for a while, thinking he was Deserk, but they faded as she realized he was someone else.
"Who…" She asked, as the first tears began to flow.
He answered. "Deserk was my brother. We grew up in the same sibko. I am Descartin Winters, and I owe your husband, my brother, more than I could ever repay."
"Let's go in and talk." Jadine said as she moved beside the grieving Reena, wrapped one arm around a shoulder, and supported her into the house. Bryan and Des went in as well, while Yoshino closed the door behind them.
They sat down in the living room, while Bryan went into the kitchen to make some tea for the distraught Reena. The sofas were comfortable and a small baby crib hung nearby, where the smallest occupant of the house lay sleeping. Des put his items down on a nearby table.
"Tell me everything, Captain. I want to know." Reena said in a small voice, even as she tried to hold herself together to listen to Jadine. She tried to hold back her crying, but to no avail, even as she reached into a pocket for a handkerchief.
Sheik shook her head. "I wasn't there, but Star Captain Winters was. Let him tell you what happened."
Des sighed. "It was an all out fight. Our foes came on without mercy, without remorse. Deserk went with me to hold up a group of enemy reinforcements to buy time for the rest of our forces. We were badly outnumbered, but we held on. In the end, however, he was killed by an orbital bombardment from a warship overhead. Before he died, he destroyed my mech to make me eject, and that saved my life."
Reena visibly paled. "Orbital bombardment? Who would dare to use such tactics?"
Des clenched his fists. "I wish I can tell you more, but the long and short of it is that the agencies responsible for Deserk's death have paid in full for their crimes." The vehemence in his voice permeated the room, a sign of his rage.
He relaxed his hands, and the air, the atmosphere around him did likewise. "He left you a letter. I think you should read it." He reached over and plucked the envelope from the table, handing it to Reena.
She opened the envelope and took out the letter, unfolding it carefully as though it was coated with acid.
Reena spent a few minutes reading it, weeping silently.
She finished the letter, and fell back into the sofa.
"What did he tell you?" Des did not wish to intrude on her grief any more than necessary, but in a way, he was also sharing her pain.
"He knew he was going to die." The letter shook in her hands. "He wrote to tell me that he loved me, that he was sorry for not being here for young Rachel's birth, that he was sorry for not being here for me in the future. He said he just knew that it was inevitable."
What she had said was also the gist of the letter Deserk had left to him. Descartin had been furious when he had realized that if he had been a bit more perceptive before the battle, he might have been able to pick up Deserk's unease. And things might have been different.
"So what are you going to do now?" Sheik asked.
Just then, the baby in the crib began to cry. And no wonder, as the sense of gloom in the house was so strong that it was almost a physical presence. Reena quickly moved over to the crib and held Rachel in her strong arms, cooing and swaying gently to lull the child to sleep. Strangely enough, that brought some color back to Reena's pale face.
"I still have 4 months of maternity leave before I return to active duty." She said softly. "After that, we had planned to go into the Home Guard command, and work shifts, while we would be able to raise a real family here on Outreach. Deserk said he did not want Rachel to grow up in a sibko, where only hardship awaited her."
"And now?"
"I don't know. Tomorrow was so bright. Now… now all I see is darkness. I don't know what to do. I have to work, and then somebody will have to watch Rachel. She'll have to be sent to some child-care center in the day." Even as she spoke, she was already considering her options and discarding the least helpful ones.
Des stood up, and walked over to the crib. "May I?" He asked, as he offered to carry the baby.
When Reena hesitated, he said, "Deserk was my brother by blood, so that makes this child my niece. I will never harm her."
In fact, Star Captain Descartin Winters, for all his journeys, travels, and battles, had never held a child before in his life, but he was not about to be dissuaded by his lack of experience. Reena handed him the child gingerly, and he was tentative at first, treating Rachel like a porcelain vase.
Yoshino Ihara and the others stared on in amazement as Rachel initially cried loudly, her lungs bursting with sound, before being gradually calmed to sleep by the muscular clanner, who mimicked what he had seen and swayed his arms soothingly to an inner rhythm.
"A strong child." Des remarked, surprised that he could even feel pride in this freebirth, this natural-born child of Deserk's. The most striking features were her eyes, which were the same eyes that stared back at him every day in the mirror, and the eyes which he had shared with Deserk.
As he held the child, Descartin understood why Reena had seemed better after carrying the baby. In a way, it was a strong reminder that Deserk was still with them, in the child, his flesh and blood.
These children are our future, Des realized. That was what Deserk was also fighting for, what he had died for.
He looked at Reena as he slowly laid the baby into the crib. "Ms..." He was unsure how to address her.
"Just call me Reena. I was also a product of the iron wombs." Nameless, was the unspoken thought.
"Reena. I am sorry that events had turned out as they did on Einstein. Whatever happened there must remain secret for yet some time, but rest assured, I will not let his death, his sacrifice, be in vain. Whatever happens next, know that I am willing to help whenever you require it."
"And so are we. The Dragoons will never abandon the family of such a brave warrior. I was there too. And I made a promise." Bryan said as he walked in with a tray of tea. "And uh, sorry for taking so long. I had some trouble with the water heater."
They all sat down again, and before an awkward silence set in, Reena asked Des to describe his childhood with Deserk, of which Deserk had said little to her. She did not press further on the details of Deserk's death, as she probably knew as a warrior herself that some matters have to be kept secret.
They drank tea, and ate some biscuits which Reena made herself. There was even some laughter when Des recounted some of their misdeeds in the sibko, even as cadets in training.
As he related his youth, Des realized that by doing so, they were both recalling their happy memories with Deserk in their minds, and it helped to assuage the grief.
Time passed quickly, and before he knew it, it was almost five in the afternoon, when they would have to meet up with Ian and the others at the Goat.
Reena had seemingly accepted Deserk's death by then, though the anguish in her was still visible. But she was on the way to recovery, and Des finally understood what Ian had meant about sharing pain, because his heart did not hurt so much either.
He handed her the bag of presents he had bought at the mall, containing some toys and books for the child, including a cuddly Nova Cat plushie that he would not touch with a ten foot pole under normal circumstances. He offered some money as well, knowing full well that it was not his, but rather Ian's, but Reena refused.
It was the very least he could do. But with this last task accomplished, he felt empty.
Is there anything left in the world for me to do?
//route> Outreach-Woodstock; through to ; receive >Clarice Ferguson //encode text//
Dearest Clarice,
Sorry for not sending this out earlier, but I just got back to Outreach. Ahead of schedule, I might add.
I'm fine, and all my limbs are in working condition, which is more than I can say for many of the other mercs who went to the Periphery. I nearly got killed more times than I could remember, but somehow I made it. If your father hadn't been so stubborn, I wouldn't have to risk my neck in the first place. I would getting a cushy garrison job with some Davion Guard unit, rebuilding after the civil war.
Still, I can't say this trip has been a waste. Far from it. I've learnt a lot, and seen a lot in these few months. Can't say more, but let's just say I'm getting closer to my goal of getting your father to accept us. If he still doesn't, then we'll elope. There's this paradise in the Periphery…
Yeah, I know, he might decide to take his anger out on my parents. That's always the sticky part. They aren't willing to leave Lackland.
So how are things going with you? Is there a lot of work at the hospital? I certainly hope not. In any case, take care of yourself. Doctors aren't of any use to anyone if they're sick themselves.
And how's the research going? I heard just before I left that funds were going to be pulled because they needed it for rebuilding, which would be a damn shame. There're many people who would benefit from your work. Maybe you could get Doc Banzai to help.
I miss you a lot. I miss your voice, the smell of you, the way you laugh at me whenever I did something stupid or funny. I miss having someone to talk to, when I could just be myself.
There's a file document for my parents attached to this message. It's in condensed form, so help me transmit to it them, because it's cheaper to do it from New Avalon.
With a bit of luck, I will be going to New Avalon in a few weeks time, so we might finally get some time together again. It's supposedly for business, but being near the top of new management has its advantages.
I'll tell you more when I get back. Take care.
With all my love,
Frank
Frank nodded to the Comstar acolyte as the white clad technician compiled the message into the batch of data to be sent out.
He checked his watch. He was getting late for their meeting in The Goat's Tavern, a favorite hangout for mercenaries on Outreach.
Ian Dorlacen stared at Daniela Mattlov in disbelief as she polished off her third cheeseburger in as many minutes.
"Is anything the matter?" She asked on seeing his shocked expression.
"Uh, I know the food here is good, but can you stop gorging yourself like that? People are staring." He took a look around as he rotated his head, the grimace apparent on his face.
"They can stare all they want. I am not doing anything wrong, quiaff?" Ian winced at her use of the clan word. He really did not want to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had.
"No, but tell me. Have you ever had a hamburger before?"
"I have never eaten something as good as this." She said between mouthfuls. "All I had while in the sibko and serving in the clan were combat rations. Even in the occupation zones, we were not allowed to wander out into the freebirth cities. The Khans did not want us to become corrupted by their ways. Policing was left to the lower castes and the failed warriors."
But you're getting corrupted now anyway. Score one for living in the Inner Sphere. Ian wondered, not for the first time, why Daniela had insisted on becoming his bondsman after he had defeated her. He had expected her to simply accept the loss and return with her unit back to her clan. Instead, she had stayed with him, as well as the surviving elementals he had captured in his first battle. The reason she gave him was it was honor and clan custom.
She was not the only one. Much to Peggy Yeager's chagrin, Galietra Binneti had decided to stay on as well, citing that it was the Lancers who had taken him as a bondsman. He was quickly put in charge of their aerospace contingent, composed of the few remaining Seraphs and a handful of standard fighters that had survived the campaign.
He could always feel a certain tension between him and Daniela, but he could barely figure out what it was, and he was afraid to try. During the two months they had spent together, she had complained incessantly that he was not treating her like a proper bondswoman, granting her all the rights and privileges of a warrior despite her own insistence that she earn them first.
There was simply nothing to earn. She was an elite warrior, and even if she had fought and killed members of his unit, Ian could hardly bring himself to hate her. That was one advantage of fighting in mechs. Combat and death were largely impersonal affairs, and in the twists and turns of the wars of mankind in the past thousand years, there have been more than enough cases of foes turned comrades.
Ian had brought her, along with Benny, to Outreach. While it was largely to settle the affairs of the new unit they were forming, Ian also had another objective, to find out more about the situation of the Taurian Concordat before deciding how to return to Taurus.
The mercs had a chain of succession if anything happened to the main commanders, or the ‘ringleaders', as Hamirah Rasouf, now a Brevet-Major, had commented ungraciously. Ian had a feeling he would not be in charge for much longer, and that command would eventually be handed to Frank.
They had entered the restaurant twenty minutes ago, with Lorik and Tina in tow. Seated around two tables arranged next to each other, they ate and talked quietly while waiting for Frank and the others to show up.
Ian caught a movement towards their table out of the corner of his eye. He turned around to see a Chinese man dressed in a fashionable black suit, holding a wine glass in his right hand even as his left hand came up amicably up in a sign of greeting to Ian. The long nails of the fingers on his left hand glittered with reflected golden light according to the traditional Liao custom.
"Good evening, Major Dorlacen. I trust you are well after your excursion to the Periphery?" In this one question, Mandrinn Lin De Jian served notice that he knew about the new ‘arrangement' the mercs had set up, and his intention to persuade Ian to pass on to his government the data for the discovered technology.
The vultures start to gather. Ian tensed himself inwardly for the negotiation that was about to start. He pasted a smile on his face, and answered back. "I'm very well, Mandrinn Lin, thank you for asking."
"Ahhh," Lin drew out a long breath as he sat down on an empty chair and placed his glass on the table. The others looked at Ian expectantly, but he waved them to keep to their own business. This was something he could handle without their help, and they would not be able to understand the intricacies of the situation anyway.
Lin continued, "It is good that you are fine. There are certain issues that need to be discussed…"
Never losing the smile on his face, Ian interjected, "You can discuss them with the lawyers we have hired in the city. They are more than willing to settle the issues of payment and data transfer."
"Surely there is no need for such middlemen," Lin replied smoothly, "After all, we have worked together for many times now. That should be reason enough for us to come to an agreement that would be beneficial to everyone. That technology you have found could be the savior of all humanity."
Wow, they got the info out of their operatives that quickly?
"Which House Liao and the Capellan Confederation thinks it is? Sorry, but I'm willing to sell it to all the Houses equally, so that everybody would be on even footing. Also a chance at more profit." Ian took a swig from the bottle of bear in front of him. "We're not the Gray Death Legion, and I'm not a goody two shoes who is willing to save the human race from itself etcetera blah, blah, blah."
Ian stared hard into Lin's eyes. "You want it? You pay for it. Same as everybody else, and everybody gets a chance."
"I know you are a businessman at heart, and simply seeking more profit, but the more.. shall we say… partisan members of your little band might just decide to sell the information on their own, and earn more that way."
Ian dismissed that with a shake of his head. "Maybe, but they are all stuck on the cache world now, and they know that there are many who have paid blood for that knowledge, and that the others will gladly strip their hides if they decide to strike out on their own."
"I was referring to you, Major Ian." Lin arched his fingers, the long nails intercrossing to form an X. "You have contacts with a certain government at the highest levels, am I correct? That would place your loyalties in a rather… precarious position." Lin smiled as if delighted at seeing a fly caught in the web of a pet spider.
Benny paled as he overheard Lin speak, while Ian narrowed his eyes. Daniela polished off her cheeseburger, and stared at them with puzzlement written on her face. He knows, and that must mean that Sun-Tzu Liao knows too. Lin has never hinted that he knew about my true identity before, or they would have tried to capitalize on it before.
Still, I should never have discounted the abilities of the Maskirovka. No, they are certainly not stupid, but I'm not either. You are saying all this because you want me to get you the data at a cheap price, and to your House only. I will not be threatened this way. Two can play at that game.
"My loyalties are mine to decide, but rest assured that I would try to be as fair as possible to all potential buyers. I won't be like the mercenary commander on Carver, who went one way then the other. Didn't the HPG on that world go down a few weeks before their independence?" Ian rubbed his chin speculatively.
It was a deadly hand he was playing, alluding to the destruction of the Comstar HPG compound by mercenaries under the employ of House Liao. He had been on Carver at the time as well, extricating the last remnants of forces loyal to House Marik from that war torn planet.
It was purely coincidence that he met the merc commander who had carried out the assault on the moon when the Lancers worked for the pro- independence forces later. The merc commander was more than happy to turn over the evidence to him, in return for the use of Ian's hired jumpship to transport them to the Periphery, where they could hide out from Katrina Steiner's wrath until the civil war ended.
That same evidence was in his pocket, ready as insurance should House Liao ever try to screw them over a contract. Comstar would jump onto the Liaos like a trachazoi on steroids should their attack on the HPG become known. Ian had never envisioned using it for threatening the Capellans to keep his identity a secret. For the time being.
Because the matter of his identity might be a moot point in a few more months anyway.
Lin shifted uncomfortably, a sign that Ian's subtle attack had hit home. "It was an accident, I think. Thank you for the information, in any case. The Chancellor sends his regards, for you have been most efficient while in the service of the Capellan people, and he does not wish to see your talents wasted. He has expressed a wish that you would accept his invitation to form a new unit for the Confederation. Has you answer changed?"
Cold day in hell before it does, especially now, Ian thought. "No, my answer has not changed. I think we have talked long enough. I have issues to discuss with my dinner companions. Have a pleasant evening." He was essentially terminating the conversation with the last statement.
"Very well then. You know where to contact us if you should change your mind. I shall leave you to your dinner." Lin stood up and bowed slightly before leaving. He walked away calmly, but Ian could sense that he was seething on the inside.
That's one win, but there'll be more. Hopefully, we can get out of here and leave things to the lawyers before anybody else thinks to short circuit the process by coming to me or Frank directly. Try beating them. Hah!
Ian saw the door to the restaurant open as Descartin Winters, Yoshino Ihara, Forsen Mandela, Bryan, and Jadine Sheik w |
|
|
|
|
| Page :
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
