Tassa responded to his blunt statement with an honest shrug. “Why not? I already have two Condor tank crews who are routinely assigned to me at their request. Are you concerned that I will start my own army and take Achernar with a bare lance of men?”
“No. But such…” he trailed off, looking for the right word, “such recruits could do a great deal of damage if they decide to break against us at the wrong moment.”
Tassa scoffed. “I can keep them in line.”
“Yes, but will you put your Ryoken up as a bond on their loyalty?” The Knight Errant sat forward, suddenly very intent on the other MechWarrior. His gray eyes were sharp as splintered slate, and stared unblinking into Tassa’s pause. From comrade to commander just that fast, Raul noted.
“I will put myself up as a guarantee,” Tassa finally said, rolling with the change. “The Ryoken goes where I go.”
“You’re asking me to put a lot of faith in your word of honor, Tassa Kay. Do you have anyone who can vouchsafe your loyalty?”
To her credit, Tassa never once looked in Raul’s direction. Not a glance or even a partial shift in the line of her shoulders. But he felt the question that hung between them. Raul knew she waited for his decision, and his alone. “I will,” he said, speaking up before he could think better of it or argue himself out of the gut-sense call.
Powers raised an eyebrow. “You know Tassa Kay well enough for that, Captain Ortega?” The tone of his voice—a timbre of expectancy—made Raul think that Powers had been waiting for the junior MechWarrior to speak as well.
“I don’t know her at all, Sir Powers, except that she’s about the best damned partner you could ask for in a battle. And if I can trust her with my back on the field, I can give her my support here.” He shrugged, feeling the burden of Powers’ judgment weighing on his shoulders. “And like she said, what can she really do with one lance?”
Kyle Powers seemed less interested in Tassa Kay and more in Raul, as if he could measure the other man’s depth of devotion and empathy in a single glance. “All right, Tassa Kay.” The judgment came down slowly, and with almost ceremonial reverence. “You can have your man. But he does not get anything better than medium armor.”
“He will be a technician on my ’Mech for at least a week,” she said, dismissing any concerns. She tugged at the dark forelock hanging down from her widow’s peak. “Then maybe I will find him an infantry battlesuit.”
Raul shuddered, trying to imagine giving up his Legionnaire for one of the tinman suits enjoyed by ground soldiers. Now that was desperation.
Clark Diago thought so as well, though along another train of thought. “You’re pretty trusting, giving the enemy access to your Ryoken.”
“I can use someone else with knowledge of cutting-edge technology to oversee repairs. Besides,” she shrugged, rising, “I think we are all pretty trusting to give Sandoval access to our plans and stockpiles.” She threw down the last of her drink, then set the glass on the table and used it to hold down her bar payment of crumpled bills. Without another word she left, gracefully weaving among tables and scattered chairs on a path toward the O-club door.
Most of the men watched her departure. More used to Tassa’s cryptic personality, Raul shrugged it aside. Moreover, the same uneasy feeling had plagued him as well, ever since the staff briefing on Powers’ arrival. How could the militia embrace one wayward faction even while fighting off another? “She’s right,” he said, then asked the question out loud for the opinions of the others.
“The Swordsworn aren’t acting nearly as predatory as the Steel Wolves,” Chautec said. Then, hedging, he added, “Yet.”
“Enemy of our enemy,” Jeffrey McDaniels said with a casual shrug. “It’s not like we’re going to suddenly side with Aaron Sandoval when this is all over.”
Powers offered nothing at all, staring at the table but obviously alert to the conversation. Raul pressed forward. “But we are choosing sides,” he pointed out. “With all due respect, Sir Powers, we’ve given the Swordsworn legitimacy, and I’m not so certain that’s a good thing.”
The Knight-Errant glanced up. A shadow of doubt flickered in his gray eyes just for a second, enough for Raul to be sure it had been there, and then was suppressed. The MechWarrior felt certain he had been meant to see it.
“I’m not so certain either, Raul.” Powers voice betrayed nothing of his own doubts, though. He had made his decision, and was standing by it. “It’s a terrible answer to a worse question, though. And the Swordsworn have helped keep Achernar free, haven’t they?”
Raul stood, abandoned his melting margarita. “No sir,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “I think they were just here first.”
He gave the Knight and then Major Chautec a respectful nod, and clapped Jeffrey on the shoulder as he stepped away and followed Tassa’s path to the door. He paused there to look back. Powers already had the table turned back toward an upbeat mood, encouraging Jeffrey McDaniels to recount another tale. The Knight Errant glanced his way, once, and saluted him with a noncommittal nod. Raul pushed his way outside.
Tassa waited, standing in a large patch of evening shade, letting the dry, evening breeze tug at her dark red hair. Somehow Raul had been certain he’d catch up with her, though she looked surprised to see him. “Not staying for the party?”
“You know,” he said, answering her in a roundabout way, “you have a knack for throwing water on other people’s fire.”
Tassa shrugged, not agreeing or not caring. Likely the latter. “I need to get Yulri out of dock. Can you give me a hand?”
“It’s going to take Sir Powers’s authority, likely countersigned by Colonel Blaire, to do that.” Raul shook his head. “No way he’ll get to it before morning, so relax, Tassa.”
Hands on her hips and a jaunty tilt to her head, Tassa swung around to regard Raul with a poisoned stare. “You do not like the idea of freeing the prisoner either, do you?” She quickly doused her flare of temper, though. “Still don’t trust me?”
Raul shrugged. “I don’t know you,” he said. “But I’m trying.”
“Yes. Sometimes you are very trying.”
If that wasn’t the Atlas calling the Jupiter overpowered… Raul shrugged, stared up into the pale blue sky. Achernar’s evenings were often mild and beautiful. Only a touch of the day’s heat remained. He suddenly doubted his decision to walk out on the O-club, but wasn’t about to go back inside. “You know,” he said with hesitant strength, gaining momentum as he talked, “it’s still early, and I left my third drink sitting on the table.”
“What of it?” Tassa Kay asked warily.
Another brief itch of guilt, which Raul ignored, having pushed this far already. “So, I have a bottle of whiskey stashed in my room,” he told her. “It’s not reserve label, but it’s true Glengarry stock.”
Tassa considered it for all of ten seconds. “One condition. None of this ridiculous four drink limit.”
He doubted that Tassa missed him wince at the headache he’d have in the morning, but nodded anyway. “Deal,” he agreed.