Warrior: En Garde Page 10

  She heard a click from across the room, and then the outline of a door traced itself in gray lines against the white wall. Jeana stood and quickly walked over to it. Pushing it open, she slipped through and stopped dead in her tracks.

  Standing there in the center of the room, with arms folded across her chest, was none other than Archon Katrina Steiner. "Do you know who I am?" she asked Jeana.

  Jeana hesitated as she stared into the Archon's gray eyes. "Sergeant Jeana Clay, LCAF, 090-453-2234-12." She stood at attention and drew her head up high. Though as tall as the Archon, Jeana felt dwarfed. Is this a trick? Am I hallucinating?

  The Archon smiled. "Very good, Sergeant. At ease. I am Archon Katrina Steiner, and this meeting is neither a dream nor a nightmare." She waved Jeana toward a chair at a small table and also seated herself. The remaining pair of seats were vacant.

  Jeana hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down. She'd seen the Archon countless times on holovision or in person at 'Mech unit reviews. She'd met her when the Archon had awarded medals for the triathlon two years before, and all that told Jeana that this was no illusion. It is Katrina Steiner. But what does it all mean ?

  The Archon smiled to put Jeana more at ease. "I'd like you to know that I understand the sense of loss that you must feel for your mother." Katrina reached out to place a hand on Jeana's wrist. Her gray eyes clouded over slightly, then she forced a weak smile. "Though it has been seventeen years, I still feel keenly the loss of my husband. You have my sympathy."

  Jeana bowed her head. "Thank you, Archon." She bit back tears of guilt and loneliness.

  Katrina's eyes narrowed. "You also have my promise that the LIC will find your mother's killer and will deal with him or her."

  "Again, thank you, Archon." Jeana looked up. "You will forgive me, Archon, but may I ask why I am here?"

  The Archon nodded, her yellow hair framing her face softly. "I cannot answer for the melodramatic means used to conduct you here—though I have been assured that they were essential—but I can address your main question. You are here so that I may ask you to undertake a mission of extreme danger. It will also be one demanding selfless concentration. It will be a totally consuming operation and could very possibly end with your death."

  Thank God, it's not for the other reason. Jeana sat up to her full height. "Anything, Archon. I will do anything you ask."

  Katrina smiled. "I had expected no less a prompt answer from a member of the 24th Guards. Though you remain untested in battle, your loyalty is unquestioned. Yet, I would not have you agree so readily to a mission I have only begun to describe."

  The Archon took up a folder from the table and opened it. "This mission will mean that you will never again be able to participate in the triathlons you love so well."

  Jeana shook her head. "No matter."

  The Archon continued to read. "It means you will never again see your friends in the 24th."

  Jeana shrugged. "We will be together in service to you, Archon."

  The Archon's voice tightened. "This mission will mean you'll probably never again pilot a 'Mech."

  Jeana hesitated, then slowly shook her head again. "Please, Archon, before you read any more, understand one thing. Everything I am, and everything I have, comes from House Steiner. There are some things your files cannot tell you about me, because they are things I would confide to no one." Jeana's eyes flicked down to her hands, then back up into the Archon's gray stare.

  Forgive me, mother, but I must do it. "This is not the first time we've met, Archon."

  Katrina Steiner nodded thoughtfully. "I recall awarding you a silver medal two years ago."

  Jeana shook her head. "No, that was not our first meeting, either." The Archon narrowed her gray eyes and their electric fire made Jeana's words catch in her throat. She looked down and shyly continued to speak, as though confessing some horrible crime. "We first met twenty-two years ago, when I was only three ... on Poulsbo." Jeana's head came up. "You sang to me so I'd not cry while Loki agents questioned my father downstairs in our house ..."

  The Archon stiffened and the muscles at the corners of her mouth bunched. "Your file says nothing ..."

  Jeana shook her head. "That was your husband's doing. Before he died, he made sure to cover our tracks so that no one could get at us. My mother kept your secret from everyone but me. I don't think she would even have told me, Archon, except that she had no other answers to a daughter's questions about her father. You knew him by his codename—Grison."

  The Archon rocked back in her chair, then recovered herself and smiled bravely. "I owe your father my life. When my DropShip landed on Poulsbo, I guessed that my uncle Alessandro saw me as a threat to his own power as Archon. But in the arrogance of my youth, I never dreamed he would dare to move against me. For me, the trip was merely a routine inspection of a military base. The Bangor base, after all, is a strategic site in the Commonwealth."

  The Archon took Jeana's hands in hers. "What did your mother tell you about your father?"

  In the glow of the memories that had warmed her childhood, Jeana smiled. "She told me that I got my height and my green eyes from him. She said that she had loved him fiercely and that he knew he would be meeting his death that night. He told her it would be dangerous, but that he also believed you'd be a better Archon than Alessandro ever could. He said you'd be an Archon worth dying for." Tears gathered in Jeana's eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

  Katrina reached up and brushed away the girl's tears. "Your father was a brave man, Jeana. Alessandro's men made their move to kidnap me while I was dining with the Duke of Donegal. Arthur Luvon—my future husband—and his cousin, Morgan Kell. Morgan was fresh from the Nagelring Military Academy and had been assigned to the Duke's personal guards. I'd known Arthur for years, but we'd just been friends, and so meeting him and Morgan on Poulsbo was a pleasant surprise.

  "Alessandro's agents attacked us, but we beat them back. We fled into the night, and lost ourselves in the streets of Bangor. We had no idea what might be a safe haven until a man found us in a dark bar one evening. He walked up and said simply, 'I'm from Heimdall. Loki wants you. Therefore, they won't get you. Call me Grison. Let's go.' "

  Katrina squeezed Jeana's hands. "Your father was the sort of man who could inspire confidence and trust in so simple and direct a greeting. I'd heard horrible stories about Heimdall, the underground organization opposed to the Lyran Intelligence Corps and to Loki, in particular. I believed those stories until your father spoke to us. In that instant, I knew that Heimdall posed no threat to me. With the Loki after us, I even understood the need for Heimdall. The three of us went with your father, and that must have been the night you and I first met."

  Jeana nodded and swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. "My mother said he organized a raid that got you off Poulsbo."

  The Archon nodded solemnly. "Your father and his comrades in the Bangor cells of Heimdall provided us with clothing and disguises. They raided the military side of the Bangor spaceport so that we could slip into the civilian sector and steal a small shuttle. We succeeded and managed to escape. I later learned that the craft was stolen from a Heimdall sympathizer who covered our escape."

  Jeana nodded. "Loki ops shot my father after he blew the radar tower."

  The Archon's lower lip trembled. "I know. Arthur had a radio link with your father. He blew the tower so that we could escape. The last thing your father said to us was, 'You're free. Return the favor to the Commonwealth.' "

  The Archon stood and turned away. "I tried to find out your father's identity, to reward him and the others, but I could never crack Heimdall's security. I don't even think ComStar knows what Heimdall is." Her lips pressed into a thin, grim line, Katrina turned back to Jeana. "I was able to tighten the reins on the LIC, and the Loki no longer runs rampant." The Archon nodded at the folder. "Had I known, I never would have allowed Loki agents to be the ones to bring you here."

  The Archon clasped her hands behind her back. "
In view of your family's sacrifices, though, I cannot allow you this duty. To release you is the least I can do to honor the memory of your father."

  Jeana shot to her feet. "No, Archon! You cannot deny me the chance to serve you. You have rewarded me and the people of Heimdall many times over." Jeana balked, but knew that Katrina deserved to know all of it.

  She bowed her head and completed her confession. "Your husband was a member of Heimdall. He had been a member for years, and though neither he nor my father recognized one another, the Duke of Donegal trusted my father. Later, in the five years left to him, your husband saw to it that the families and cell-members of Poulsbo were well-cared for."

  Jeana pointed to the folder from which the Archon had been reading. "Your husband engineered the restructuring of my history files, and he secretly endowed many of us with monies or other bequests. I went to Slangmore on a scholarship that he arranged, and I'm sure he assisted the children of the others who helped you, too. As I said before, everything I have and everything I am is because of you."

  The Archon started to speak, but Jeana would not be interrupted. "My father died because he believed in what you would do for the Commonwealth as Archon. You said you'd spare me this difficult duty out of honor for my father's memory. But to accept the mission would allow me the greatest tribute I could pay to that memory. The reason I became a MechWarrior was to continue what he believed in. Though it meant losing her daughter, my mother never flinched from the same mission."

  Jeana opened her hands. "Now I have nothing and no one but you and the Commonwealth. What could you ask for me that I would not willingly agree to carry out?"

  The Archon's head came up and she impaled Jeana with a harsh stare. "What I ask of you is a total sublimation of yourself. Jeana Clay will, in fact, cease to exist. You will undergo a minor amount of reconstructive surgery. You will spend the next six months in an intensive learning environment where everything you are will be broken down and discarded. You will learn to do everything differently, and you will receive neither medals nor applause for your efforts. In fact, the mark of your success will be total anonymity."

  The Archon pointed to the folder that contained most of the details of Jeana Clay's existence. "If you accept this mission, you will be forgotten forever."

  In reply, Jeana simply pulled herself to attention.

  The Archon nodded slowly. "Johnson was correct. You are an excellent candidate." She stood up and drew Jeana to her feet as well. Looking the girl directly in the eyes, Katrina Steiner said, "Jeana Clay, will you accept the role of my daughter's double for now and all time?"

  * * *

  Albert Tompkins watched the members of the 24th Lyran Guards walk away from the gravesite and into the mist. The old man brushed tears off his cheeks, then placed a white rose on the loosely packed earth. "Rest well, Jeana Clay. Though your life was cut short, you made all Heimdall proud."

  12

  New Avalon

  Crucis March, Federated Suns

  20 January 3027

  Count Anton Vitios narrowed his brown eyes and nodded to the military tribunal. He turned so that the holovid camera in the courtroom's corner would catch him at his best. "The prosecution calls Leftenant Andrew Redburn to the stand."

  Redburn wiped his moist palms against his trousers as he stood up, then shuffled through the crowded aisle where he'd been seated, whispering apologies as he went. Once clear of the packed gallery, Redburn straightened his dress uniform jacket, took a deep breath, and walked toward the bailiff, who held a low wooden gate open for him.

  Though Redburn was holding himself ramrod-straight outwardly, his guts had turned to icy slush. He took his place at the mahogany witness stand while a court clerk held out a leather-bound copy of The Unfinished Book. "In the name of the freedom-loving people of the Federated Suns, this court calls you to a pledge of truth," the clerk intoned. Redburn raised his right hand and placed his left firmly on the book's brown cover. "In the name of duty, faith, and honor, I pledge this sacred oath," Redburn declared, feeling the solemnity of the time-honored phrases. He licked his lips. "So help me God."

  Vitios stood at the prosecution bench and conferred with the aide who had interviewed Redburn. Seated at an identical oaken table across the aisle were Major Justin Allard and his lawyer.

  Redburn shivered. Justin stares straight ahead, he thought. It's almost as though he's not even in the room. The sight of the black leather glove on Justin's left hand gave Redburn a start, but fascinated him so much that he missed Vitios's first question.

  "I asked you to state your full name and rank." The irritation in the prosecutor's voice had characterized his whole performance in the courtroom, and Redburn suddenly dreaded what he had hoped would be his chance to help his friend.

  "I am Leftenant Andrew Bruce Redburn." Redburn allowed himself to linger over the "r's" in his name. Though he'd struggled mightily to suppress his accent during his cadet days at the Warriors Hall on New Syrtis, he summoned it now in the defiant spirit of his Scottish ancestors, whose motto was "Die fighting!" Redburn gripped the railing of the witness stand and met the prosecutor's black stare.

  Vitios pointed to a folder. "I have studied your deposition, Leftenant, and it has been entered into the official record." The man's face suddenly reminded Redburn of a hungry raptor stooping toward its helpless prey. "How did Major Allard come to be with your unit on that training exercise?"

  "I requested his participation."

  Vitios nodded. "Did you not request his participation several times before he agreed to attend the exercise?" Redburn swallowed. "Yes, sir.”

  “How many times?"

  Redburn narrowed his eyes and decided to go on the offensive. "Four times, in writing. Perhaps the Count does not understand that the Major was busy."

  Vitios smiled coldly. "Oh, I understand how busy your Major was, Leftenant. After all, that is what this trial is about, isn't it?" Vitios turned his attention to the deposition and flicked it open. "In fact, you did not have confirmation from Major Allard that he would join you until the day before the exercise, when you had a private meeting with him. Is that not correct?"

  Redburn nodded uneasily. "Yes, sir."

  Vitios dramatically cupped his right elbow in his left hand and tapped his pointy chin with his right index finger. "In your deposition, you characterized the meeting as urgent. What did you speak about?"

  Redburn bit his lower lip. "I expressed to the Major my concern over some unrest in the training battalion. I told him that his participation in the exercise would help morale and might regain him some of the respect due a MechWarrior of his reputation."

  Vitios made a hissing sound as though the Leftenant had said something that pained him. "This 'unrest' in the battalion. What was that about?"

  Redburn shrugged and tried to downplay the gravity of the question. "Recruits seldom like their CO, especially when he's hard on them."

  Vitios stepped forward, then spun to face the gallery. "Come now, Leftenant. You know the real reason for the dissatisfaction in the battalion, don't you? Were there not demonstrations of support for Sergeant Philip Capet? Weren't the troops furious because Major Allard, without provocation, had dismissed a Gold Sunburst winner?"

  "That may have been part of it, Count Vitios."

  Redburn's hopes that he'd parried the Count's dangerous thrust died on the Count's riposte. "And part of that unrest was due to Major Allard's trafficking with the indigs, wasn't it? How could these recruits trust a man who regularly traveled among, met with, and preferred the company of the enemy to what should have been his own people?"

  "Objection!" Justin's attorney shot to his feet and stabbed the air with one finger. His left hand struggled to shove his glasses back into place before they could fall from his face entirely, but his intense stare did not change. "The prosecution is leading the witness and has stated his question in a totally prejudicial manner."

  The ranking tribunal officer, Major General Sheridan C
ourtney, turned toward Count Vitios. "Sustained. Be more careful, your Lordship."

  The Count nodded. "Leftenant, did Major Allard visit with indigs on any sort of regular basis?”

  “I suppose he did."

  "Indeed, Leftenant, he did. Have you forgotten the Community Relations Committee meetings each week? Have you forgotten how he liked to take his first meal in the restaurants of Shaoshan upon returning from field exercises? Have you forgotten his hiring indigs to work as personal servants in his home?"

  Redburn looked down at the polished wood-tile floor. "No, sir."

  Vitios's voice lost none of its edge. "Why were you stationed on Kittery, Leftenant?"

  Redburn's head snapped back up and his anger rocketed through his answer. "To protect the world and the frontier."

  "From whom, Leftenant?"

  Redburn spat out his answer. "From the Capellan forces of Maximilian Liao."

  "The very people the Major spent so much time with. Correct, Leftenant?" Before Redburn could answer, Vitios pressed a new question upon him. "Do you know Shang Dao?"

  What the hell is he getting at now? Redburn nodded. "I was introduced to him."

  "By Major Allard?"

  "Yes."

  Vitios nodded. "Isn't Shang Dao the leader of the Yizhi tong in Shaoshan?"

  Redburn frowned. "I believe he is."

  Vitios canted his head slightly. "I thought the CID had identified the Yizhi tong as a Capellan organization, and that contact between Federated Suns personnel and the tong was forbidden. In fact, you dismissed a cadet on a charge of trafficking with restricted personnel, didn't you?"

  Redburn hesitated. "I. . . it was not like that."