Three warriors, as arranged, one with his arm in a sling. No weapons on their persons that she could see, although no provision had excluded arms. Nikola checked the position of her Elemental sentries—one at each edge of the upper ramp. She didn’t expect treachery—new treachery—but like her predecessor, she had learned to plan for it.
Not everyone played by the same rules as the Steel Wolves. Not many could, she supposed, and still be able to compete against the genetically engineered warriors.
Nikola’s guests talked amongst themselves while watching her people’s activities with interest. Two of them did, at least. She was halfway down the ramp before she finally recognized the third as Star Commander Yulri. He wore a white bondcord around his wrist and hovered off the shoulder of the female MechWarrior—this Tassa Kay—like an obedient guard dog.
Rather pathetic, she thought then, seeing how low one of Torrent’s handpicked warriors had fallen. Could fall. There was another warning in that.
“If you will all follow me,” she said in clipped tones, spending courtesy with a miser’s grip, “I will take you somewhere we can sit.”
“Just the two of us will be accompanying you,” Tassa Kay said, nodding for herself and Yulri. “Captain Ortega has another obligation this morning.”
Nikola Demos nodded. “I see. You are not an officer of The Republic, MechWarrior Kay. You can batchall on their behalf?” Batchall was the formal term for a bargaining of forces for battle. Nikola wasn’t certain it would come to that, but saw no reason to waste time if it did.
“We can discuss it inside,” the other woman said.
Turning to Raul Ortega then, oblivious of the star captain’s presence, Tassa stepped half a pace closer to The Republic captain. Nikola found herself appraising him with a woman’s eye. He did not have the size or inherent presence of a man such as Star Colonel Torrent, but there was a hardness—a confidence—in his dark eyes that spoke of an inner strength. And he had bested Torrent in battle. Good genes, Nikola judged.
“You’re certain?” Raul asked. Nikola’s appraisal dropped one notch with his lazy use of contractions. “I can hold this off until tomorrow.”
“To each his own.” Tassa reached into a pocket, slipped out a folded piece of verifaxed paper and handed it over. “To your Exarch, with my compliments. I will not be needing it anymore.”
Ortega caught up Tassa Kay’s hand, tensed a moment as if caught in the act of something shameful, and then plunged on ahead. He lifted her hand up and kissed its back. “With the gratitude of Achernar.”
Tassa Kay laughed. Her voice was rich and full of life. “You are Republic all right.” Grabbing up a handful of his uniform front, she pulled him in for a brief, hard kiss on the mouth. “Save the courtly love for knights and ladies. And make certain my Ryoken is brought out here at once, or the next smack you get might loosen a tooth.”
“I will miss you, too.” With a sad smile, Ortega traded casual salutes with Tassa Kay and then left without a backward glance.
“That sounded quite a bit like a good-bye.” Nikola Demos leveled a hard gaze at the other woman. “Going somewhere?”
Tassa ignored her, stepped around the star captain and preceded her up the ramp. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, the curt question tossed over her shoulder as if she didn’t care one way or the other whether Nikola did or not.
Nikola placed a hand into the middle of Yulri’s chest, stopping him from following and thereby also preceding her. With a hard mask set over her face, she jogged up to Tassa Kay and escorted the MechWarrior into the DropShip’s main bay and then through to officer’s country and a series of ladders that took them up to Star Colonel Torrent’s former office—now hers.
Torrent had preferred dim lighting. Nikola Demos did not. With so many hours logged inside cramped and dimly lit tanks, she reveled in brightly lit open spaces. The wall panels washed the Spartan room in sterile light, emphasizing the absence of any wall decorations or personal touches. Those would come later, when and if Prefect Kal Radick confirmed Nikola as Torrent’s successor.
“Bare, but functional,” was Tassa’s opinion. She slid into a seat on the near side of the desk. Star Commander Yulri waited back at the door, standing honor guard to one side of the entry. “I will not challenge you for it, so long as you provide me with good quarters and a place inside the main BattleMech bay for my Ryoken.”
“You,” Nikola said, hovering over her own chair, disbelief certainly showing on her face, “will not… challenge?”
“Not so long as all three DropShips are off Achernar by midnight, local time. That is the deal I bargained with the militia on the Steel Wolves’ behalf. If there is no JumpShip due from Tigress soon, we will take the next available commercial transport from this system.”
Sitting down into her own chair with a stiff, military bearing, Nikola Demos stared daggers at the woman who presumed to dictate terms to her. She was no representative of The Republic—was not even an officer except for an honorary title they had awarded her for piloting a BattleMech. Her idea of a uniform, in fact, was nothing more than hip-hugging leather pants and a leather jacket with stainless steel buckles for fastening. Beneath the jacket, she wore nothing more official than a black T-shirt emblazoned with a red hourglass. Casual. Irreverent.
Familiar…?
“If The Republic believes that they can dictate terms so easily to the Steel Wolves, we can show them the error of their ways. The HPG station may indeed be out of commission, but Achernar might still be pressed to serve as a staging ground for future operations. Who do you think you are to come in here and—”
Tassa did not allow her to build further momentum, interrupting with a hand slapped down flat and loud on the desk.
“I’m the woman who put that HPG station out of commission because it would get your attention, and I knew that we did not want the Swordsworn to keep possession of it. I’m the woman who is also telling you that Achernar is off limits. First, you have no good reason to remain here. Second, if you should try, I promise you that I will split your force strength in half, or worse, and ensure your defeat.”
Nikola scoffed. “You would do that how?”
“By challenging you for command in a Trial of Position.”
“You cannot. You have no standing here.” She paused, hedged. “Unless…” Only one thing might back up such a claim: unless Tassa Kay was Clan, and a Wolf.
A fact Tassa proved by reaching up to pull her necklace charm out from her shirt: a clear, faceted data crystal, banded with golden trim.
The star captain grounded herself back in the conversation, putting together an earlier comment by Tassa Kay with her recent orders. “You plan to accompany us back to Tigress.” It was not a question; almost coming out as an accusation. Her resolve hardened. “You believe Kal Radick will support you so easily?”
With a quick yank Tassa broke the chain, then tossed the military codex to Nikola. “You will find your answers in there.”
It took a single moment to power up the computer built into Torrent’s office desk—her office desk!—and slip the faceted data crystal into a small slot along one edge of the spotless surface. The holographic emitter charged to life, throwing up a white screen over which scrolled two-dimensional pages of text, dates and a directory of video reports. Tassa Kay’s military history, dating back from Achernar, through a military operation on Dieron and before that on the Republic world of Marfik.
And more. Tassa’s original Trial of Position as a Mech Warrior and Star Colonel. Also her full genetic history, and a note of her victory in winning a Bloodname from the House of—