Malicious intent

  Katrina sat back in her overstuffed chair. "What does this mean for the force Phelan Kell has at Arc-Royal?"

  "Reports from Arc-Royal are rather spare, Highness. The people seem to have intense loyalty to the ruling family, and the Kells are preferring to operate covertly. Even so, there is said to be much activity on the subcontinent of Braonach. That island had been relatively undeveloped because of the strict environmental regulations the Kells put in place long ago, so it appears the Wolves will have their own world within the Inner Sphere."

  Irritation whipped across Katrina's face like storm clouds being chased by a swift wind. "Damn them. How dare they defy me?"

  Not this again. "Highness, Morgan Kell's declaration concerning the Arc-Royal Defense Cordon is a blessing for you. It absolves you of responsibility for a huge portion of your border."

  "I cannot abandon the defense of the Alliance border to Morgan. In doing so I would legitimize his rebellion against me." Katrina slowly slid the blade of the letter opener between the fingers of her left hand as if it were a dagger being thrust through ribs. "People will begin to wonder why Morgan is rebelling, going from loyal vassal and blood-kin to a bandit king creating his own realm."

  Tormano Liao shook his head. "I cannot believe that you, of all people, do not see that the reasons for his actions do not matter. His declaration was simple and straightforward: he laid claim to the worlds along the Jade Falcon border. He gave no reasons."

  "Others will supply reasons."

  "Only if you do not supply them first."

  The irritation knotting her brow smoothed away, and the intelligence that always impressed him flowed back into her eyes. "If I issue a statement thanking Morgan for accepting the enormous responsibility for the border and cite it as one more instance of how all the worlds of the Alliance must do all they can to safeguard our realm, his defection becomes something I allowed and welcome."

  "Precisely, Highness." Tormano nodded solemnly. "It also gives you a chance to withdraw troops from that area and reassign them elsewhere."

  "But why would I do that?"

  "Because it pins Kell and Phelan in place. Since they have pledged themselves to defend the area, they cannot move away from it to attend to other things. They have trapped themselves, which gives you greater latitude in other areas, without fear of intervention by Morgan Kell."

  "I see." The Archon sat forward and lightly stabbed the letter opener against her desk blotter. "Where would I move these troops to?"

  "I would move them to the border with the Free Worlds League, to discourage Thomas Marik from becoming adventurous."

  "Wouldn't that antagonize him?"

  "He needs to see you are strong." Tormano killed the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. "It is important he sees this before he asks you to marry him."

  The letter opener thumped on the desk. "What?"

  "The logic of it is unassailable, Archon. You are beautiful and available, with a handsome dowry. As your mother's marriage with your father brought two realms together, so would a union between you and Thomas Marik. More important, it would establish you as a viable ruler of this newly unified realm over either his daughter Isis or my nephew Sun-Tzu. Subsequent to your marriage, of course, he would let Sun-Tzu marry Isis and bring the Capellan Confederation into the alliance."

  Katrina shook her head, but disbelief still clung to her face. "He would have to be mad to think I would marry him."

  "Not at all—the union would be to your advantage as well. You will outlive him. He is swiftly approaching the life expectancy of rulers of the Inner Sphere, and once before barely survived an assassination attempt. With Sun-Tzu waiting in the wings, one cannot be certain how much longer he will live. As a result, you stand to add the Free Worlds League to your Lyran Alliance. We mustn't forget either that the League's industrial capacity has been the backbone of the Inner Sphere's resistance against the Clans. By marrying Thomas you will be able to divert all that production, and most of the League's military, to the defense of your realm.

  "Diverting League production to the Lyran Alliance would further weaken the Draconis Combine, which should not cause you to lose too much sleep. If the Combine collapses, we both know Victor will do what he can to salvage chunks of it, just as he will offer the Kurita royals safe haven in the Federated Commonwealth. He might even wed Omi Kurita, which would cause all manner of internal difficulties in the Commonwealth."

  Katrina's eyes narrowed. "Such unrest would allow me to press my suit against Victor, and ultimately depose him and take over."

  "Making you de facto First Lord of a new Star League."

  "Provided someone does not make me a gift of flowers as they did my mother."

  "That's a risk, but one we can minimize." Tormano smiled. "The main thing is that Thomas will not try to take by force or arms what sweet words and kindnesses might win him. Whether or not you accept or reject his suit, allowing him to pursue you gives you time to strengthen your realm and plan for the future."

  "Your point is well taken." She arched an eyebrow at him. "This campaign to win my heart will begin when?"

  "It has already begun through some very low-level diplomatic channels. League consuls are sending out feelers for your reaction to a possible visit from Thomas. The middle of June will see the first anniversary of his wife's death and the nominal conclusion of Thomas' self-imposed year of mourning. He would visit to thank you personally for your kind messages to him in his time of grief."

  "Six months. Good. That gives me the time I want." Katrina blinked once, then flashed Tormano a quick grin. "You will handle the preliminary negotiations, of course. Play for time."

  "Yes, Highness, but time for what?" Tormano always felt rather uneasy when he couldn't guess what she had in mind. Though Katrina was intelligent, her immaturity and inexperience often made her believe that certain things were possible that could never happen or exist. She is too clever by half sometimes.

  She got up and begin to pace—a bad sign, as far as Tormano was concerned. "Your analysis of what my brother would do in the face of the Combine's collapse echoes my thoughts about it exactly."

  "Good." I hope.

  She smiled at him. "You have heard the expression, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

  "It is an old, old, saying."

  "And has survived for so long because it is true. It strikes me, Mandrinn Liao, that I have multiple enemies who share the same enemy. That shared enemy should be my friend."

  Tormano failed to suppress a wince. "Perhaps a more expansive explanation is in order, Highness."

  "Of course." She waved one hand as if to say the explanation was all too obvious. "The Draconis Combine has suffered much at the hands of the Smoke Jaguars. Morgan Kell and his Hounds were on Luthicn and helped defeat the Smoke Jaguars. Phelan Kell is a Wolf, and according to the Precentor Martial, the Wolves and the Smoke Jaguars have never gotten along very well."

  Tormano's jaw dropped. "You propose an alliance between your realm and the Smoke Jaguars?"

  "Yes! The simplicity of it is staggering, is it not?"

  His mouth went dry, and Tormano was suddenly glad he was sitting down. "Highness, the Clans want to destroy the Inner Sphere."

  "No, Mandrinn, they wish to conquer it, and I can provide them the means to do so much more quickly."

  "But ..."

  "But what, Tormano?" She opened her arms and stared down at him. "You outlined a simple way for me to become First Lord of a new Star League. I have found another means to that end. The initiation of relations and negotiations does not mean I will betray the Inner Sphere."

  "But consider the implications."

  "I have." Katrina folded her arms across her chest. "And I have made a decision. Within the week I will head out from Tharkad for the Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone. In roughly five weeks I will enter negotiations with the Smoke Jaguars for an alliance."

  She looked beyond him and Tormano knew there was nothing he could do to change
her mind. "I have recorded a number of messages that you may release on the appropriate dates to conceal my absence from Tharkad. I am cutting down on all my public appearances because I am working closely with you to put together a package of reforms that will change forever the nature of the Inner Sphere, and so on and so forth. You will be my liaison with my advisors on this project."

  "And if there is an emergency that requires your attention?"

  Katrina stared at him, the blue of her eyes icier than ever. "Handle it."

  Tormano opened his mouth, then closed it again. He waited until enough saliva had accumulated to cut the bitter taste in his mouth."You would turn your realm over to me? What if I don't want to give it back?"

  "If you refuse to relinquish control, it will become known that you had me kidnapped and shipped to the Clans as a peace offering. The people of this world will tear you apart." Katrina's smile froze his heart. "Does that answer your question?"

  "Quite sufficiently, Archon."

  "Good." Archon Katrina Steiner sat down again at her desk. "You may think my taking such a risk is mad, but I assure you it is not. In ten years the Clan tide will rise again, and my realm will be swept away unless the conquerors see a reason to leave it intact. I will give them that reason, and the Lyran Alliance will thrive while all the others whither and die."

  12

  Tenth Skye Rangers Headquarters Coventry

  Coventry Province, Lyran Alliance

  6 January 3058

  Doc Trevena took it as an omen that it rained on normally sunny Coventry on his first full day with his new unit. He'd been given command of the First Battalion's Second Company, nicknamed the Titans of Doom, though he'd already heard the unit called the Dwarves of Dumb. This spelled big trouble and the performance records corroborated that conclusion rather harshly.

  He stared at the holographic display of records scrolling up in mid-air over his desk. Like him, Second Company's personnel had all been transferred in from other units. Hauptmanns Dome and Wells, the commanders of First and Third Company, respectively, had arrived a week earlier, and like kids choosing up teams, they'd scooped up the best of what was a fairly pathetic crowd.

  Doc didn't think it surprising for any unit to have a few duds in it. Truth to tell, he considered it a fact of life in the military. He tended to think of the duds as "mascots"— people long on heart and desire, but a bit shy on skills. They gave the unit a heart, and often became a rallying point for everyone in it. Usually it was some green kid, or a guy who was physically small, or someone who really didn't grasp the full seriousness of being part of the army.

  Now I've got a unit with all duds in it. From the reports it looked like the only way his troops could hit a 'Mech with a shot was if they were piloting the 'Mech that got hit. They all looked like a recruiter's bonuses, or at least the ones that got him his quarterly quota. They weren't blind or lame, but not very far from it.

  Doc sighed, then looked through the holograph at the skinny, goggle-eyed kid standing in the doorway to his office. "What is it, Corporal?"

  Andy Bick's Adam's apple—after his nose, his most prominent feature—bobbed up and down. "Sir, Hauptmann Dome has sent a message inviting you to meet her and Hauptmann Wells at the Officer's Club for dinner?"

  Doc rubbed his eyes. "Who's buying?"

  Bick immediately looked stricken. He glanced at his noteputer, then blanched. "I don't know, sir."

  "Take it easy, Corporal, I didn't expect you to."

  Bick's smile seemed somehow wider than his face. "Was that a reticle question, sir?"

  "Rhetorical question, yes, Mr. Bick." Doc sat back in his chair. "Come in for a second and close the door. I want to ask you some questions about Two Company."

  Bick's nervous smile flared for an instant, then died horribly. He closed the door, then perched himself on the edge of the chair across from Doc's desk. "Y-yes, sir?"

  "What are your thoughts about the unit? You don't need to name any names—I'm not looking for people to watch out for. I just want a feel for things, and you've met everyone so far, right?"

  Bick's brow wrinkled, his reddish eyebrows almost touching. "Well, sir, we're all from different places and we don't know each other. We've been confined to base since we got here ..."

  "Yet some people have managed to get lost ..."

  "Yes, sir, but I'm sure it was just an accident."

  "It is a big base."

  Bick nodded enthusiastically. "Everyone has been squared away with a bunk and most of us have had our equipment make it to Coventry. Those who did get their stuff are sharing things with those who didn't—folks have been good about that."

  Doc raised an eyebrow. "No fights? No one playing the bully?"

  Andy Bick became church-solemn. "No, sir, none of that at all."

  Not only can't they fight, they're all nice guys! "And what about equipment? Have you been able to requisition what you need?"

  "No, sir. I mean, I have the forms in order, at least I think I do, but the battalion quartermaster still hasn't delivered any of it." Bick looked up. "I'm trying, sir, really, but ..."

  Doc nodded. A note in Bick's file indicated his promotion to Corporal had been a field promotion made by Hauptmann Wells when he and Dome discovered that the unit had nothing in the way of officers prior to Doc's arrival. Bick had drawn the short straw, though his experience as a clerk-typist before he got 'Mech training probably made him the best choice for the position.

  "Don't worry about it. I think we can handle that problem." Doc killed the holographic display and leaned forward. "Do we have 'Mechs?"

  "Yes, sir. Six Locusts, three Jenners, two Valkyries, and one Commando."

  Doc winced. "All lights?"

  "Except for your Centurion, sir, yes, sir." Bick smiled hopefully. "We're a recon company."

  "What a novel concept." Perhaps if I have drinks with Dome and Wells I can introduce them to Hemlock Highballs and get this regiment reorganized the way it should be. Units composed of fast and light 'Mechs were invaluable for performing reconnaissance missions, but they never got as big as a full company, and seldom exceeded a lance in size. For reconnaissance to have any value, the rest of the unit had to be able to deliver the firepower required to eliminate whatever targets the scouts located. A company comprised entirely of light 'Mechs couldn't supply anything but a continuous stream of targets for a heavier unit.

  The reasons Dome and Wells would have purged their companies of light 'Mechs was obvious—heavier 'Mechs saw more combat. While the Tenth Skye Rangers weren't likely to see much action on Coventry, other fighting units would always be needing officers who could command heavy 'Mechs. Though everyone getting tossed into the Tenth was in the same boat, Dome and Wells were proving to be pragmatists with an eye toward getting out again. However many years they needed to put in until retirement, they wouldn't all be with the Tenth Skye Rangers on Coventry.

  "Well, Mr. Bick, I think we've got our work cut out for us. Can I count on your help?"

  Corporal Andy Bick straightened up smartly. "Yes, sir."

  "Good. For starters I'm going to need you to call everyone together at 1900 hours in the barracks. I want you to get me a holovid projector and a half-dozen Solaris holovids of matches featuring light 'Mechs—preferably the 'Mechs in our roster, got that?"

  Bick made an entry into his noteputer. "Yes, sir."

  Doc dug into his pocket and pulled out a K60. "Here's money—get some food, too—snacks and refreshments and that sort of thing. Or at least as much as sixty Kroner will buy. That's as much as I've got right now."

  "Yes, sir." Bick frowned. "But if this is all your money, what are you going to do at the Officer's Club?"

  "Dome and Wells owe me buckets of dead Archons, so don't worry about me." Doc dropped his voice to a whisper. "Before you go, Bick, I need you to do one other thing."

  "Sir?"

  "You were a clerk-typist, yes?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So you could hack your wa
y into the quartermaster's computer and boost some stuff in our direction, yes?"

  Bick's Adam's apple bounced like a rubber ball. "Well, sir, I might be able to get in, but, well, I'll probably get caught."

  I expected that. "I'll cover for you. See if you can liberate marginal items and special stores, stuff like exotic beers and whiskey or something of value, okay?" Doc could see how much the idea pained Bick. "Consider it an order, Corporal. You're checking the security of our stores. If an enemy can break in and find out what you're going to find out, think how easily he can learn how many missiles and shells we've got—and we don't want that."

  "No, sir." The skinny young man shrugged helplessly and his shoulders slumped. "What do I tell the quartermaster when he calls me in?"

  "Tell him I gave you an order." Doc smiled broadly. "And tell him I'm in my office, but I've told you to tell him I'm out."

  Bick frowned. "But—"

  "Just do it, Corporal, then take care of the rest of what I asked." Doc winked at him. "Somebody's got to try to get this unit squared away, and I'm the guy who's going to do it."

  * * *

  Doc pretended he was surprised when Leftenant Ricardo Copley flung the door to his office wide open and stormed in. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

  Copley slammed the door shut, then marched over toward Doc and put his hands on the chair Bick had used earlier. "I'm thinking I should be asking you the same question. Sir." He stretched out the sir until it became a mockery of itself. "Your little clerk weasel tells me you ordered him to try to crack into my computer and funnel some goodies over here. That was a bad move, Trevena, and it's going to cost you and your unit. You don't know who you're dealing with."

  "Let me hazard a guess." Doc pointed to the chair across from him. He kept his voice cordial, completely devoid of the outrage or fear Copley had obviously anticipated. "Please, Leftenant, have a seat."

  Copley sat down cautiously. "Your boy was the one in the wrong here, not me."