Page 14 of Malicious intent


  "Highness, are you all right?"

  Warning klaxons blared loudly and insistently. "What's happening?"

  Jotto's face darkened. "We're at Kiamba. We jumped into the middle of a military formation, including a fighting War-Ship."

  Katrina heard a distant explosion, then felt a tremor shake the deck. "We're under attack?"

  "Yes, yes, we are." Jotto glanced back at the bridge and the viewport. "We'd be dead if they wanted us dead—the WarShips could destroy us. The explosions are shots from aerospace fighters that were already deployed."

  Katrina swallowed and found it hard to do so. She'd imagined a number of scenarios concerning her arrival all during the trip, but none of them had including an attack. She'd been told—assured even—that the Clans always bargained before they struck. She'd counted on that initial communication to be able to make her case that the leaders of the Smoke Jaguar Clan should be brought to her, or her to them, so they could negotiate a mutually beneficial alliance.

  "Did they not bargain first?"

  "Bargain?" Jotto shook her none too gently. "We appeared in the middle of a formation, Highness. Kiamba is being attacked, and we stumbled into the midst of the fight."

  "Attacked?" Katrina felt goose bumps rising on her arms. "The Combine is here? When did they get fighting Jump-Ships?"

  "Who said anything about the Combine?" Jotto jerked a thumb at the viewport. "Those are Wolf ships out there, Highness. It's just my guess, but I'd say, as of now, your mission to the Smoke Jaguars is at an end."

  19

  JumpShip Dire Wolf Kiamba

  Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone

  12 February 3058

  The ache of fatigue gnawed at Vlad's joints, but the sensation remained almost below the level of his conscious attention. The assault on Kiamba had gone quickly and well. The Wolves had arrived in close to the third planet, then burned hard into the atmosphere. Their strikes had been all but surgical, and the Smoke Jaguar garrison troops had fought poorly. He knew even before the bidding began that he could have taken the world from the Jaguars.

  He also knew he could not hold it, so he had settled for winning bondsmen and breeding stock. That had been incidental to the purpose of the attack, however—salt in the wound he had opened in the Smoke Jaguars' pride. He and his people had prove they were not a broken Clan and that they were truly the rightful heirs to the Wolf Clan legacy. The threats of revenge beamed at him as his DropShip burned for the Wolf JumpShips had been a fanfare to mark his victory.

  Then the Inner Sphere JumpShip had appeared in the midst of his formation. Though alerted to its presence immediately, he had expected it to immediately jump back out of the system. When it did not he knew something odd was happening. When his aerospace fighters reported that the ship was unarmed and bearing House Steiner markings, a tingle of anticipation tightened his scalp. He might have expected a Kurita scout looking over Kiamba before a raid, but a Steiner ship meant something special was going on.

  His troops took the ship about the time the Lobo Negro had docked with the Dire Wolf. They reported no resistance, which did not surprise him overly. Anyone traveling in an unarmed JumpShip had already conceded military superiority to his foes. He'd learned enough about the Inner Sphere—from information Phelan Kell had given up during his interrogations—to know they considered JumpShips too valuable to pack with explosives and detonate in the middle of an enemy formation.

  The capture of the Steiner ship had gone unremarkably, though one of the prisoners demanded to see the Wolf leader. She claimed to be Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Alliance, but such a claim could not be taken seriously. Her presence, unescorted, so far from her capital, would have been decidedly reckless or foolish.

  Or both. Though Vlad had nothing but contempt for the Inner Sphere and its people, he did pay attention to intelligence gleaned from public holocasts. Though he scorned most of what passed for entertainment, the intelligence value of news programming was remarkably high. The freedom with which information was spread throughout the Lyran Alliance and other parts of the Inner Sphere was a bonanza for the Clans in their drive to learn their enemy's weaknesses.

  He knew who Katrina was—hardly a newscast went by without some bit of frivolous gossip about her. He had, in fact, seen thousands of holographic images of her. The woman went around constantly in new fashions, and always with some new way of doing up her blond hair. He'd laughed at first, but also found it fascinating to see how craftily she changed her image to subtly influence the people of her nation.

  The door to his cabin hissed open and Vlad rose to his feet. The gray jumpsuit he wore stood open at the neck, the fabric pulled taut over the muscles in his upper arms and thighs. He raked a hand back through his thick black hair, trying to sharpen his expression to one he hoped would seem harsh and cold. Whoever this pretender is, she will regret her jest.

  An Elemental entered the room, dragging the woman by her upper arm. Her long tousled hair hid her face until she suddenly wrenched her arm free of the Elemental's grasp. She swept the hair out of her face, then turned her startlingly blue eyes on Vlad with a stare full of fire. "I will not be treated this way."

  A jolt ran through him. Vlad wanted to say—intended to say—"You will be treated as befits your status within the Clans." In his mind he heard the growl that would have imparted threat to the words. Countless bondsmen and women before her had trembled at that tone of voice. But they were weaklings who would have cowered at merely a stern glance or upraised fist.

  He likened what he felt inside to fear—the tightening in his stomach and a kind of ache around his heart. At once he forgot all about the pain in his joints, which was instantly replaced by a curious sensation in the deepest reaches of his belly. It brought with it thoughts he had never thought before—thoughts beyond physical need and lust—and those thoughts left him speechless.

  Confused, Vlad hesitated. Even with the anger in her eyes and the tension in her body, she was beautiful. What he was feeling, what he wanted, went beyond physical attraction. Many of the women of his sibko and his Clan could easily be classified as beautiful. The worlds the Wolves had conquered likewise boasted legions of beautiful women. Both within the Clans and without he had coupled with the women he wanted, but never had one conjured up in him the thoughts he now entertained.

  Thoughts of procreation.

  The second he was able to label the thought—the urge he felt crying out to him on a nearly cellular level—Vlad felt himself utterly outside his previous experience. It made no sense to him, and that began to frighten him. He was a warrior, born and trained to become a dispassionate killer of the enemy. Logic and intelligence were tools he used to define, understand, and conquer the known universe, yet here was a reaction that defied logic, undercut intelligence, and still had the strength to shake him.

  With the Clan system of genetic breeding, the act of coupling was far removed from procreation for the warrior caste. Vlad had felt affection for his partners, but no more or less than he felt for other members of his sibko growing up or the units in which he had served. Sex, for the Clans, provided pleasure and relief of tension. It was given freely—a gift exchanged between comrades—with none of the emotional entanglements and jealousies that could tear a military unit apart from within.

  He knew he could not be feeling this attraction, this compulsion, toward this woman. I do not know how to feel such a thing. The idea that there was a new sensation, a new experience he had not yet known, did thrill him. Then again, his physical body betraying his accustomed discipline and control over it was profoundly disturbing. This is outside my understanding. How can I deal with it?

  Vlad recalled, dimly and distantly, Ranna describing a similar attachment to Phelan Kell, but Vlad had been unable to understand a word of what she had been trying to say. He had considered the freebirth Phelan beneath contempt and believed her involvement with him was at worst an infatuation or, more appropriately for one of the warrior caste, a way
of enforcing her domination over the bondsman. It was merely some game of which she would soon tire—or so Vlad had thought.

  This is impossible, yet it is real! All this passed through his being even before the last of her words had died. He looked over at the Elemental and pointed at the door. "Leave the prisoner here."

  The Elemental squeezed past the woman, and Vlad thought for a second that she did not give way to make things difficult for the warrior who had brought her to him. Then he noticed that the tightness around her eyes had lessened slightly and that her mouth remained slightly open. She stared at him, but did so blankly—striking him less as prey frozen in the presence of a predator than as another predator discovering an intruder in her territory.

  Vlad bowed his head slightly. "Welcome, Katrina of the Steiners."

  Realization seeped over her face. "You are a Wolf, but you are not Ulric Kerensky." Her words came cautiously in a voice full of wariness.

  "No, I am not. I am Khan Vladimir Ward of the Wolves."

  "You understand who I am?"

  "I thought I had some understanding of who you are." Vlad had paid little attention to Katrina Steiner and her exploits largely because she continually cast herself as a peacemaker. Her actions conjured up in him feelings of revulsion. Others might try to kill the Clans, but she with her peacemaking would try to dissolve their society and scatter them, ending forever the practices and customs that made them strong.

  But this woman before me is not the weakling I would have expected. Vlad could see that in the set of her shoulders and the way her stare never wavered. "Do you now present me with a facade, or has what I have seen before been mere illusion?"

  Katrina tugged at the bondcord knotted around her right wrist. "No answer I gave could be verified. You will have to make your own judgment." She opened her arms and her blue jumpsuit snugged over her belly and breasts. "What do I seem to be to you?"

  The fitting consort for an ilKhan, provided I am that ilKhan ... Vlad covered his reaction by turning away from her to gaze out a viewport on the void. She is a freebirth, yet you would raise her above all others. This is madness. "Your presence here means you are young and foolish."

  "To the charge of youth I will agree, Vlad." Her voice filled with warmth as she pronounced his name. He knew some of it was intentional on her part, but the way her voice trailed off showed her own surprise at how she had spoken to him. "And perhaps I am a bit foolish."

  "More than a bit." Composed now, Vlad turned back toward her. "Yours is obviously a unilateral mission to Kiamba intent upon opening a dialogue with the Smoke Jaguars. They would have been impressed with your taking the risk of appearing here in person."

  "And are you impressed?"

  "Does it matter if I am?"

  "Only if you are."

  "I am, a bit." Vlad shook his head. "However, I wonder at the wisdom of a leader who would leave her nation while it is under attack."

  Katrina's head came up and anger filled her eyes. "Attack?"

  "The Jade Falcons began an extended series of strikes against Alliance worlds at the beginning of the month."

  Katrina Steiner's icy eyes closed for a second, as did her hands into fists, her coquettishness suddenly forgotten. "Where have they hit? How have they done?"

  Vlad shrugged. "Falcon predations do not concern me. If they truly wished to prove themselves formidable, they would have dared strike at another Clan, not the Lyran Alliance."

  Katrina's chin came up. "I must return to Tharkad immediately."

  "Oh?"

  "My nation needs me."

  'The Lyran Alliance is no longer your nation. You are a bondswoman of the Wolf Clan."

  "What?"

  He pointed to the cord on her right wrist. "You were taken as a prize of war. You belong to me."

  Her reaction to his comment seemed to mix outrage with a hint of curiosity. "You actually think you can own me?" She pointed toward the viewport. "I command the loyalty of billions of people. In my name, hundreds of thousands of individuals will take up arms against you and contest your claim."

  He raised an eyebrow. "So far those people have been singularly unable to stop the Jade Falcons. Why should I believe they could wrest you away from me?"

  "Why should I believe my people have not stopped the Falcons?" She planted her fists on her hips. "And why would you be foolish enough to believe my people won't yet stop them? If I had to guess, I'd say the Falcons were hitting and running, making themselves a difficult target. Tukayyid shows that when you Clansmen stop, you can be defeated."

  "But the Wolves were not defeated on Tukayyid."

  Katrina's blue eyes sparked. "The Wolves had Inner Sphere help at Tukayyid."

  Vlad snarled, then caught himself and covered it with a smile. "You imply that without Phelan the Clans cannot win."

  She returned his smile. "You might interpret it that way."

  "And you believe Phelan and his people will save your realm from the Falcons?"

  Her expression darkened slightly, then an impassive mask slipped firmly into place over her features. "His loyalty to his home is exemplary of my people."

  Vlad nodded, analyzing her reaction to his mention of Phelan. She is too impulsive. Her emotions run too close to the surface. This is a flaw, though an intriguing one. "Phelan is your cousin, yet you do not like him."

  "You know him, I assume." She regarded him frankly. "Do you like him?"

  The Wolf laughed aloud, and Katrina seemed shocked by the sound. Vlad fingered the scar running down the left side of his face. "He has left his mark on me and on my people. And I blame our present plight on his undue influence over the ilKhan. His presence in your Lyran Alliance makes me view Arc-Royal as a special target when the invasion resumes."

  "And that will be?"

  He shrugged. "It will resume when we have chosen a new ilKhan."

  She frowned. "But you met to elect a new ilKhan a month ago."

  "Indeed we did."

  "So the attack will be coming now."

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  Vlad smiled. "We elected an ilKhan and I slew him minutes after his election."

  "You what?"

  "He was unfit to rule. I killed him for it."

  Her eyes widened in open admiration. "But that was not your only reason for doing so."

  "No. He was a Jade Falcon. I needed no other reason to kill him."

  "I see."

  Vlad nodded. "Perhaps you do."

  "And you see the purpose of my visit here, quiaff?"

  "An alliance with the Smoke Jaguars would give you leverage to press the Draconis Combine. That would distract your brother. The Jaguars might also be able to act as a brake on the Falcons or any other ambitious Clan with designs on your realm. From your incomplete understanding of how we work, doubtless they seemed a very good choice for you."

  She gave no visible reaction to the mild rebuke. "You think there is a better choice for an ally among the Clans?"

  "An open alliance with an Inner Sphere nation would be suicide for any Clan leader."

  "As would an open alliance with a Clan power for any Inner Sphere leader." Her steely gaze met his. "You and I could reach an accommodation, I think. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

  Echoes of the original jolt trickled back through him. The Falcons. Phelan. He nodded. "An accommodation, perhaps, yes."

  "Good." She held her right wrist out. "Free me of this bondcord and you will find me very accommodating."

  "Bargained well and done, Archon Katrina." Vlad slipped a knife from his boot and sliced the white cord with a single flick of the wrist. The card fell to the deck between them, and he kicked it away. "Now let us speak as friends of those who will dread our coming together."

  20

  Tharkad City Tharkad

  District of Donegal, Lyon Alliance

  20 February 3058

  Tension petrified Tormano's neck and shoulders. The holographic map floating in the air above his des
k had a jade green ice-pick stabbed deep into the Steiner-blue Lyran Alliance. The addition of strikes at Recife, Ellengurg, and Guatavita left no doubt that Coventry would be the next target.

  And Tharkad lies only four jumps past Coventry. At the Jade Falcons' current rate of advance that would put them on Tharkad by April first. The significance of that date was not lost on Tormano. He would have shaken his head in confusion, but it hurt too much to do anything but leave his chin resting in the palm of his right hand.

  What confused him was a yin and yang war of logic and illogic concerning the Clan aggression. Clearly the advance looked as if it was a drive to take Tharkad and thereby eliminate the Lyran Alliance from the fight against the Clans. That was good strategy on several levels. With Tharkad gone the various factions within the Lyran Alliance would be left on their own. They would either have to become Clan vassal states or hold on for as long as they could before the Clan tide sucked them down.

  The loss of Tharkad would also force Victor Davion to turn his attention from the Combine's problems to those of a nation he claimed as his own. Davion would be forced to fight on his own territory to liberate a populace that had evidenced little love or use for him. If he did not defend the Lyrans, the Free Worlds League would have to push forward from their border up toward the Clan lines to create a buffer zone that would mean they'd not be fighting on their own worlds to oppose the invaders. If that happened, the chances of the Federated Commonwealth ever being united again were dead.

  But there were also problems with viewing the Clan action as a brilliant bit of strategy. The first was that attacking to force Victor to shift support from the Combine to the defense of the Alliance would mean the Clans were working as one, since the Falcon action would also benefit the Smoke Jaguars and the Nova Cats. But the recent defection of Wolves to the Lyran Alliance was ample evidence that the Clans did not move together in lock-step.