Justin removed his black jacket and peeled off the sleeveless shirt underneath. The moonlight dulled the bronzed hue of his hairless torso and outlined the wiry muscles in dark shadow. The artificial limb replacing Justin's left forearm and hand reflected only the barest hints of the moon's glow from nearly invisible seams. The blackened-steel prosthesis at first mocked the garden's natural beauty, but once Justin had bent it to his will, it no longer seemed lifeless.
Slowly and deliberately, as with all the motions performed in t'ai chi chuan, Justin's metal fingers curled inward until the tips of the middle pair touched the top of his metal thumb. He took a deep breath, then straightened the fingers again as he moved his hand out to the side in a flawlessly smooth parry of an imaginary foe's attack.
As his body worked its way through the demanding series of familiar movements without conscious direction, Justin's mind floated free. Though he tried to concentrate on the flower perfumes rising from the garden on the gentle breeze or on the energy flowing more easily through his body, his thoughts rebelled, returning again and again to an urgent concern.
Why Andy Redburn? Romano could have sent her team against any number of similar commanders. The First Bell Training Battalion is closer to her own world of Highspire, and she feels no love lost for that unit after Galahad '27. Why cause an incident on a Davion world almost completely surrounded by her sister's St. Ives Commonality?
Justin shut his eyes and grinned. Don't let the paranoia infesting this place get to you, Justin. You were about to assume that Romano tried to kill Andy because she's upset at your primacy on the crisis team. It is true that she'd like to see Tsen Shang succeed, but that would be so that she might direct his efforts against House Marik. Her pathological hatred of the Free Worlds League is almost as great as her father's loathing of the Federated Suns.
Justin shook his head to flick off droplets of sweat off before they could sting his closed eyes. If she thought at all before she sent the termination team out, she probably directed them at Kittery because she wanted to spark reprisals against worlds in Candace's St. Ives holdings. If that was her intent, she's playing a dangerous game. I'll have Alexi place her under passive surveillance.
Justin smiled as he thanked God her attempt did not get Andy. Then he caught himself with a silent laugh. Careful, Justin That's treason . . .
The sound of approaching footsteps brought Justin's movements to a halt. Wiping his brow on the back of his right wrist, he opened his eyes. What he saw was a woman entering the area of the shrine. Remaining shrouded in the shadow cast by a willow, he said not a word.
Dressed in a green and gray silken robe, Candace Liao strode toward the shrine. The robe, cinched tightly around her slender waist by a green sash, reflected the moon's soft light. Reaching the shrine, she stood there with arms crossed over her chest as though attempting to control the fury that was making her tremble visibly.
Justin narrowed his eyes. I do not want to be here. Intending to circle around behind her to slip unnoticed from the shrine, he moved silently toward his left. Candace whirled with the reflexes of a cat and stabbed her right hand out in his direction. The moonlight glittered in her eyes, flashing at Justin with supernatural intensity.
"Why are you lurking here, Xiang? Are you spying on me?" The fury in her words was like the scream of a jungle cat.
He fought his initial reaction to snap back angrily, and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Duchess. I was alone here well before you arrived." Justin pointed at where his shirt and jacket lay. "My exercises had deposited me there, in the shadows, when you arrived."
Her right arm lowered and she reached across with that hand to massage her left shoulder. "Indeed, it seems to be as you say." She glanced at the rumpled pile of clothing. "Very well then. I bid you leave me now. I wish to meditate."
Without thinking, Justin snarled, "If you truly wish to meditate, then my exercises will not disturb you." Sweeping forward from the shadows in a series of circular moves, he increased the speed without sacrificing any of the precision or restrained power they demanded. Then he froze suddenly and looked at her coldly. "I am not finished here, at this time."
Candace's eyes blazed with outrage. "How dare you speak to me so, Citizen Xiang!"
Justin batted her protest aside with a parry of his right hand. "How dare you lash out at me with your anger in this place of peace!" He closed his eyes and forced the tension to flow out of his body with a sharply exhaled breath. "You expose your ire to me, and I want no part of it."
With his gaze lowered, Justin could not see Candace, but he could feel the waves of fury radiating from her like heat from an overworked 'Mech. Emotional meltdown, he commented inwardly. Meanwhile, he forced himself to ignore her and concentrated instead on opening and closing his artificial hand as he launched himself into a new series of t'ai chi chuan movements.
Her anger broke like a fever so suddenly that Justin opened his eyes. "Citizen Xiang, I, there is . . . Please forgive me." She smiled penitently. "There is no excuse for my behavior, and though I am loathe to admit it, you were right to rebuke me here, in this place."
Justin let his arms drift down to his sides. "Apology accepted."
Candace stiffened, then caught herself and forced a smile. "Yes. I suppose that was an apology, wasn't it?"
Justin nodded slightly. "And beautifully rendered at that."
"I surprised myself," she said with a small laugh. "It's been a long time since I've apologized to anyone." She shook her head, but a gentle breeze kept her glossy black hair away from her face. "I should not have taken it out on you. I should have just gone off and strangled my sister."
Justin licked his lips, but restrained himself from replying.
"Do you know what she did?" Candace stared into Justin's eyes, then laughed. "I'm asking the head of the crisis team if he knows what Romano did on Kittery. But of course you know."
As Justin nodded, Candace continued to speak, her anxiety threading its way into the words. "Davion's likely to attack Taga or St. Loris or Spica in reprisal for Romano's stupidity."
"I don't believe so, Duchess. Duke Michael won't send his Fifth Fusiliers from Kittery, but he will demand that Prince Hanse send the Assault Guards to teach you a lesson. Because it's him, the demand will probably mean the Guards won't go anywhere. The First Kittery is waiting to ship out to New Aragon, so they won't be the ones to go, and neither the Kittery Borderers nor the Capellan Dragoons have the JumpShips needed to launch a raid." Justin smiled wryly. "Besides, the CID shut down our spy network on Kittery, so Davion's laughing up his sleeve at us. He'll do nothing that could turn out badly and sour this coup."
Candace pressed her lips together into a thin line as she considered his words. Then a sudden smile lit up her face. "So you came out here intending to find peace?"
"A sense of peace is what I usually get from a t'ai chi workout." Justin smiled and wound his right arm through a parry and strike combination that was as beautiful as it was simple. "You should try it."
Candace shook her head as her right hand again rubbed her left shoulder. "I'm afraid I couldn't." She smiled weakly. "A 'Mech injury has left me less than graceful."
He turned to face her and extended his metal hand. "Forgive me, Duchess, but this lump of pig iron does nothing for my grace, either."
Candace's eyes glowed with renewed agitation as she slipped the robe from her left shoulder and withdrew her left arm from the sleeve. Holding the robe closed with her right hand, she turned so that her shoulder was no longer in shadow. Then, with a flick of her head, she tossed her hair back from the shoulder. "At least, Citizen, they were able to fix your arm."
Justin winced as the moonlight poured white fire over the patchwork of scars on her left shoulder. It almost looks as though she were mauled by a wild animal. Though the reconstructive surgery had no doubt been undertaken with the best intentions and meticulous care, the suture scars merely highlighted the futility of the doctors' efforts. "When did it happen?" he
asked softly.
Candace's face hardened. "Eleven years ago." No. It couldn't have been ... Justin swallowed hard. "Not on Spica..."
Candace nodded slowly. "Yes, on Spica. A brash young Davion Leftenant who was quite fluent in Liao managed to convince members of my command that the effort to relieve our siege of General Sheridan Courtney's position in the city of Valencia was coming from the north. My superiors shifted their resources around and left the defense of the eastern approach to my company. Colonel Dobson's battalion hit us hard ..."
Justin looked down at his feet and folded his arms around himself. "You were fighting in that Vindicator. . ."
Candace nodded. "And you, Leftenant Justin Xiang Allard, fought in a Blackjack." Candace bowed her head until her hair hid her face. "I had nightmares about our running gun battle through the jungle. In the dreams, you continued to hound me and pick my 'Mech apart with your autocannons. Never the coup de grace. Just the endless chewing and grinding of my Vindicator into scrap. Everywhere I turned, everywhere I ran, you were there, and another piece of my 'Mech would vanish."
Justin studied Candace silently, then let a respectful grin onto his lips. "Believe it or not, I relived that battle on a fairly recurrent basis as well. I never knew you were the Vindicator's pilot, but now it fits. You never gave up. I thought I'd shot the hell out of your 'Mech. I knew you were running hot, but whenever I'd get too close, you'd fire your damned PPC at me. In my nightmare, I'd come across your Vindicator all rusted and overgrown with vines and creepers. I'd raise the Blackjack's arms to blast your machine into scrap, and it would trigger one last PPC blast. It'd hit the cockpit, and I'd wake up in a cold sweat."
Justin grimaced. "I saw you eject after the gyros went. I hoped you got away in one piece, but I saw the canopy afterward." Justin stepped closer to her and reached out his right hand toward her shoulder. "Ejecting is always nasty when the canopy doesn't blow away cleanly. That safety glass can turn into a mouthful of razor teeth."
Candace flinched as his hand touched her bared shoulder. Justin brushed his fingers lightly over her skin as though he could smooth away the twisted scars. He stroked her shoulder gently and breathed in deeply, enjoying the warmth and smoothness of her skin. Her perfume replaced that of the garden.
Justin's fingers touched the silk of her robe and the chill in it shocked him. His hand recoiled as from fire, and he took a step back. "Forgive me, Duchess, I did not mean to . . ."
Candace pressed her left hand to his lips and stilled his protests. "No offense taken, Citizen." She smiled and slipped her arm back into the robe's left sleeve. "Doctors rebuilt the deltoid and tricep with myomer fibers, but the initial job was done in the field, and so wasn't very good. Acupuncture keeps the pain under control, but I have a restricted range of motion." She held her left arm straight out from her side, but could barely elevate it above shoulder height.
Her words took a few moments to register as Justin's mind raced. He felt the same icy tingling in his guts as when he saw her for the first time. Despite those feelings of doom, he hungered for the woman who caused it. Dammit, Justin. Smarten up! You're tired. It's late. You're not thinking clearly. You're the one who caused her injury. That's more than enough reason for her to hate you.
Justin narrowed his eyes. "You never underwent physical therapy for that injury, did you?"
"Ha!" Candace scoffed. "I was surrounded by nurses who wanted to help me, but the sycophants could not bring themselves to make me work. At the first sign of fatigue or discomfort, they'd scatter for fear they'd anger me . . ."
Justin raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you didn't make it easy for them. But you should have had the discipline to do it yourself, for yourself."
The moonlight skittered blue through her hair as she shook her head. "Weights and moving my arm in circles bored me to death. Then I was summoned back to Sian and given my present duties as the Treasury's Regulator."
Justin chuckled lightly. "T'ai chi could restore that mobility, and it's not boring. It's both meditative, and when speeded up, a formidable martial arts discipline."
Candace brought her head up and stared into Justin's brown eyes. "You will teach me."
Justin hesitated. "Duchess, I am certain there are far better teachers here on Sian than I."
Her eyes flashed argent. "I do not wish servitors who will be afraid to tell me when I'm not working hard enough. You will teach me, Justin, and you will call me Candace. I get enough of titles from those who are not sincere. I'll not have it from a MechWarrior worthy of my respect."
"Very well, Candace," Justin said with a slight bow of the head. "When would you like to begin?"
Candace smiled. "Here. Now."
Justin returned her smile. "Fine. We begin with breathing." So I can control mine as well as show you how to control yours. Face it, Justin. You're lost. You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, but now you’ve gone looking for trouble and found it in spades . . .
Book II
Recovery
12
New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
27 December 3027
Duke Michael Hasek-Davion nibbled absentmindedly at the synthetic thumbnail on his lifeless left hand. Staring at his office's wooden door, he willed it to open, then snorted derisively when it failed to do so. Just as well. If I found a way to channel my fury into some undiscovered telekinetic ability, I'd probably tear the door apart. He narrowed his eyes. That is a display I'd prefer to save for his Grace, the Ambassador.
Michael's hair, worn unbraided for the formal ceremonies during the holidays, hooded his face until he impatiently thrust its darkness back over his shoulders. How could Liao do that? How could he order an attack on my people? What sort of a fool does he think I am ?
Michael again glanced at the Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations' preliminary report on the Shaoshan terrorist attack on Kittery. It is well the attack failed utterly, or I would be forced to punish Liao's presumptiveness.
Suddenly Michael stiffened. Could it be that the Maskirovka launched the attack without authorization? Does someone suspect I'm sending inaccurate information to Sian, and this is their not-so-subtle way to check up on me?
A knocking at his office door snapped Michael out of his worries. For a half moment he considered standing to greet his visitor, but decided against it. No. Let's break the rules of diplomacy so he'll know how furious I really am. Michael set his face, then said, "Come. The door is unlocked."
The smile on the tall man's face died a slow death as he came through the arched doorway. Sweat almost immediately began to glisten on his bald pate, but his brown eyes showed neither fear nor deceit. Reading Michael's mood with uncanny accuracy, he spoke but did not approach the Duke. "You summoned me, Duke Michael?"
Muscles bunched at Michael's jaws. "Indeed I did, Ambassador Korigyn. I wish to know, with no prevarication or obfuscation on your part, just what the void Maximilian Liao was thinking about when he ordered the attack on Kittery?"
The Ambassador brought his stocky body to its full height. "I do not know the Chancellor's mind, Highness." Korigyn let some of his anger at being addressed so sharply bleed most undiplomatically into his voice. "I do know, however, that the orders did not originate with Maximilian Liao."
Michael heard the tone in Korigyn's voice, but hid the feelings of superiority it aroused in him. Good, Korigyn. You detest me. You think of me as a traitor—a puppet who dances when your master pulls the strings. Excellent. You’ll reflect those sentiments in your dispatches and Maximilian will share your beliefs. Then, when I turn on him, he will have had no warning and will find no way to escape . . .
"How can I accept this as the truth?" Michael pointed to the map on his wall. "I told your master of the Prince's impending wedding and urged him to strike before the union was consummated, but he said his allies demurred. Whenever no action is taken, or an action is taken, Maximilian Liao never seems to be responsible. Who runs the Capell
an Confederation anyway?"
Korigyn stiffened. "Maximilian Liao is the sole ruler of the Capellan Confederation, Duke Michael. He has assured me that had he been aware of it, that attack would never have taken place."
The Duke bowed his head condescendingly. "Pray, tell me more. Who did order the attack?"
Korigyn's nostrils flared as he writhed beneath Michael's patronizing tone. "The orders went out through Maskirovka channels, yet they appear to have originated with Lady Romano. It is suspected that she hoped to create an incident that would prompt Hanse Davion or you to strike at the St. Ives Commonality—a holding that belongs, almost exclusively, to her sister."
Korigyn's tone communicated his full belief in this official version of the attack, and bled away some of Michael's tension. So it was not an attack to verify my troop estimates. I am, as yet, undiscovered by either of the forces that I play off against one another. Splendid. Michael narrowed his eyes. "Cannot your master control his whelps?"
The Ambassador grinned cruelly. "As well as you control your son, my Lord."
"You bastard! How dare you speak to me like that!"
Korigyn held up his hands and composed his face with a look of contrition. "I meant no offense, Duke Michael. I merely meant to point out what every parent of an adult comes to realize: children cannot always be controlled. Takashi Kurita is at odds with his son Theodore, and Maximilian has sent his son Tormana away." The Tikonov national smiled. "We can but hope Hanse Davion will live long enough to feel the sting of ungrateful children."
Michael ignored the pulse pounding a heavy rhythm at his temples and forced a light tone into his voice. "Well put, Ambassador, though I think Maximilian and I would prefer to save Hanse Davion that pain. Even though I find your thesis valid, you will agree with me that Romano Liao can be, at best, unpredictable."