“Star Captain Xera!”
The aerospace pilot stood within a small cluster of pilots and tank crewmen, looking over a grounded Scimitar and pointing out its weak spots. With her hands she had been showing attack angles, and the best way to strafe ground targets for maximum destruction. Now she snapped to attention, found Torrent, and jogged over to her commander.
“Yes, Star Colonel.”
The woman had bound her blue-black hair into a ponytail, secured by a steel-spring clip. Her bright, hazel eyes missed nothing as she scanned her commander’s face for any sign of displeasure.
“Your pilots. They are ready for a new mission, quiaff?”
“Aff, Star Colonel.”
He would have been surprised at any other answer. But, “Even Star Commander Drake?”
“Drake has adapted, sir. He was quiet for a few days after our Circle of Equals. Then a pilot in his star questioned my orders in front of him and other witnesses. Drake took it as a challenge to his own authority, and… he put the pilot in the infirmary for two days.” She saw the slight crease to Torrent’s brow. “I chose not to bring it to your attention as it was a pilots’ matter. I fully support Drake’s resort to personal discipline. Sir.”
Torrent hid his smile. Good. Xera would make a fine aerospace commander. “I want all aerospace forces ready in two days. They will provide escort to our DropShips.”
“We are not leaving?” The thought seemed to worry Xera, as if giving up Achernar would be a blotch on her personal honor. “Have we been recalled?”
“Neg, Star Captain. The time has come to heighten our profile on Achernar. We will be moving our staging area to a more appropriate venue.” Such plans had been discussed before, when the Steel Wolves first planned their assault on Achernar and, since, after every difficulty noted in staging raids over distance on this planet.
Xera remembered their secondary plans as well. “Are you thinking, perhaps, of the River’s Run flatlands?”
“I was thinking River’s End,” Torrent said, a choice that had not been among their original plans. He noted the predator’s gleam that immediately brightened up behind Xera’s eyes. “Or something very, very close to it.” He turned for the bay exit and a shower, leaving her behind to stew of excitement.
“Bring Star Captain Nikola Demos to my office in thirty minutes,” he said, “and we will plan.”
River’s End
Achernar
Erik Sandoval-Groell walked around the lavish apartment that had been recently given over to him by the president of Steyger Railways, readying a few last-minute details. Music was selected, placed into the playback unit, and piped through at low volume to the dozen speakers hidden throughout the suite of rooms. He opened the wine to let it breathe. Its dry, oakwood scent perfumed the air.
The door chimes rang for attention, and at Erik’s nod Michael Eus left the room to answer it and invite in Erik’s guest. The nobleman heard Eus’ welcome, and knew that the door shutting would be Eus on his way out, leaving the two of them alone. Such rendezvous were best handled in private.
Especially if it worked out completely to Erik’s liking.
“Come in,” he called, moving to the table and pouring two glasses of merlot. He heard footsteps move into the room, but did not look up until both glasses were poured full. “I hope you enjoy red,” he said, placing the bottle back in its cradle and lifting a glass to his guest.
Tassa Kay accepted it with raised eyebrows and a shrugged nod.
The female MechWarrior was doubly attractive to Erik—and likely to most men, he assumed—being both a warrior and a beautiful one at that. While she tasted the wine he drank in her curled-back red hair and the arched slant to her eyebrows, green, inquisitive eyes, and her full, hard-bodied figure. Yes, this could go very well indeed.
“Not bad,” Tassa said, cradling her wine glass expertly in a cupped hand. “When your man asked for a meeting between us, he did not mention that it would be a social occasion.” Her smile did not quite touch her eyes. “I would have dressed more appropriately.”
Erik shrugged. “I see no problem with the way you are dressed.” Tassa’s everyday uniform usually consisted of a leather jacket with steel buckles, worn open, jeans, and a shirt of breathable cotton. This evening she wore dark gray jodhpurs and a black, collared blouse with red buttons up the front—like the bright warning markings on a poisonous snake or spider. Her earrings dangled a few inches below her lobes, flashing red-enameled spiders. They played up wonderfully the red highlights in her dark hair. Erik shrugged out of his uniform jacket and threw it over the back of a nearby chair. Lifting his own glass, he said, “To casual comfort.”
They both drank. The wine was a dry variety, tasting of blackberry and currant with the barest proper hint of charcoal. Erik breathed deep the heady fumes.
“Let’s sit, shall we?” He led her over to the open-plan living room, holding out one hand to seat her at the couch but properly taking his seat across from her in a deep-plush chair.
“You are an incredible warrior,” he told her. “Honestly, I doubt I’ve seen your like before, and I think it’s safe to say that without your help, the Republic militia would not still be functioning.”
“Well that is a lot to lay on a girl on your first date.” Tassa Kay sounded amused, though she did not exactly deny Erik’s compliment.
“You know it’s true. That’s how you managed to hold out against Colonel Blaire on that first day, knowing that he needed you and your Ryoken.” He sipped his wine. “It is a handsome design.”
Tassa’s smile turned down a few watts. “Which is why you wanted to confiscate it before the arrival of the Steel Wolves?” she asked.
Careful. Erik busied himself with a long taste from the glass, feeling the light smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “I believe it was Legate Stempres who originally tried to secure your machine, and obviously with good reason. If you had been working hand-in-glove with the Steel Wolves, I doubt we’d be sharing this wonderful wine right now.” A wary tightness around Tassa Kay’s eyes gave her away, as if she steadied herself from revealing anything. Erik grasped for what it might be, failed, and pursued his original proposal. “In fact, given your value to the local militia, I’m surprised that you have not renegotiated your original deal with Blaire.”
Tassa shrugged. “I gave my word on the matter. As, I believe, have you.”
“I can appreciate that.” Appreciate it, but never agree with it. “Still, if my reading of the regulations are correct, I concur with Raul Ortega’s original assessment in that you could demand a bond of somewhere in between twenty-one and twenty-four million Republic bills for the continued availability of your BattleMech and your skill.”
“You are very well informed about what went on inside the militia command post,” Tassa said, eyes narrowed.
“I am very well informed about everything—and everyone—on this world.” Erik could not sit still. He rose in a fluid motion and began to pace around his side of the room. “Everything, that is,” he said then, “except you. Who are you? Where do you come from? What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “I thought men liked a touch of mystery in their lives.”
Erik laughed into his glass. “Sandovals prefer to keep the secrets, not have secrets kept from them.” He sipped carefully. “Although in this case, I might be willing to live with the mystery. Especially,” he said with a frank stare of interest, “if it were on my side of the line.”