The crowd melted back as Morgan Hasek-Davion passed through the door. Tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, Morgan moved with a grace that was almost feline. Without looking back, he continued far enough into the lobby for his compatriots to follow, then slid back the hood and doffed his rain-cloak.
Andrew read Morgan's tension in the way his hands curled into fists and the intentness with which he studied those around him. I remember when we first met at Warrior's Hall, pitted against one another in a plebe boxing tournament. When he looked at me just that way, I knew I was done for. Two minutes later, I was kissing canvas. I hope you’re up to it, Mr. Vebber.
Vebber stepped forward as KFYI staffers whisked away the MechWarriors' sopping raingear. He offered Morgan his hand, making sure to hold the pose long enough for the holovid cameras to shoot everything they needed for a promotional film.
The two men contrasted with one another in almost every way. Younger, healthier, and more physically imposing, Morgan bore himself with a strength Vebber would have lacked even in his youth. Morgan's black fatigues and the pistol riding in a hip holster also marked him as a military man, but it was more than that. Morgan is so vital and powerful,Andy thought. He is the predator and Vebber the prey.
Fredek Vebber, swathed in a gray business suit, looked old, soft, and heavy. "It is an honor, Highness, to have you tour our facilities," he said. "I am Fredek Vebber and at your service."
Morgan let a thin smile form on his lips, but his green eyes gave Vebber no quarter. "We found the visit to your antenna facility most instructive."
Andrew shared a smile with the other two officers who had accompanied Morgan to the microwave antenna dish plantation. "Instructive" had not been one of the words that came to mind while they stood out in the rain looking at those dishes.
Morgan turned to introduce his entourage. "Mr. Vebber, these are my staff officers." He smiled genuinely as he gestured to the MechWarriors. "This is Captain Andrew Redburn."
Vebber pasted a smile on his face that almost fell off when Andrew half-crushed the plant owner's fleshy hand in a solid grip. "I've heard of you, Captain, You're a hero—this is a thrill for me."
Andrew nodded politely. "Indeed. I'll not soon forget our meeting."
Vebber pried his hand free as Morgan introduced the beautiful black-skinned officer standing next to Andy. "This is Captain Alanna Damu." Vebber took her hand and would have kissed it, but Alanna shifted her palm around for a more appropriate greeting. Her ebon eyes flashed with irritation, prompting Vebber to nod silently and move to the last officer.
Vebber smiled warmly as he shook hands with Colonel Geraldo de Velez. "Highness, I know Gerry. I've known him since he was a kid. We sponsored his childhood soccer team." Vebber winked at the Prince. "Yare always takes great care of its employees and their little ones."
"I am certain, Mr. Vebber, that Colonel de Velez was chosen to command the Kathil militia's third battalion because of his maturity and skill at tactics." Morgan's voice took on a sharp edge. "He is young, it's true, but woe to any who mistake him for a child."
Vebber straightened his double-breasted gray coat. "I see." He waved them forward toward a long corridor. "Please, let me conduct you on the tour."
Morgan nodded slowly. "Do proceed, sir. We have come a long way for this." He glanced back at his aides, silently communicating his intentions to them. Andrew nodded understanding. Morgan wants to be in and out. We only want one thing from a visit to Yare, and now we’ll get it.Andrew smiled as one of the cameramen moved ahead to catch the party as it turned a corner. This is one vid no one is ever going to see.
Ahead, Vebber's tenor voice filled the corridor. "This is only a small part of KF Yare Industries, but the most important part. You saw the KF drive manufacturing plant in orbit as you came insystem, and you saw one of our many energy broadcast stations this morning. What you didn't see were the numerous smaller factories circling this world at high speed. With the computers here in our command center, we track all of them and supply their energy needs by beaming microwaves up to them."
Vebber pushed open a door and waved his guests into the dark, cavernous command center. In the backlight from hundreds of display terminals, Andrew saw a legion of technicians moving around the room. He whistled involuntarily. "This looks like the cockpit on a JumpShip, only a hundred times larger."
Vebber smiled and pointed down over rows and rows of technicians seated at command modules. They sat facing a wall on which was projected a map of the whole planet, with the trajectories of various satellite factories plotted over it in glowing detail. "On that map, we track all factories, communication satellites, and incoming ships. We know where everything is at any time."
Morgan moved to the nearest station, smiling down at the friendly looking man at the post. "From here, you track factories and feed them power?"
Vebber nodded, patting his hair into place. "We make sure each plant gets the power it needs. This requires delicate work as it passes from energy zone to energy zone. We power down one feed at a rate inverse to the powering up of the next feed so there's not an overload."
Andrew frowned. "Why track satellites? They all have their own reactors on board, don't they?"
Vebber smiled condescendingly but massaged his right hand nervously. "True, Captain. They do not require our power. If, however, they got caught in one of our energy feeds, well,"—he made his hands fly away from each other in a mock explosion— "our insurance carriers would be upset with us."
Morgan turned toward Vebber. "Your equipment is good enough to track a satellite? I mean, you could hit it with a microwave beam if you wanted to?"
Vebber glowed under Morgan's attention. "Yes, Highness. Easily. In fact, our equipment is good enough to hit a dinner plate up to 400,000 kilometers away with no focal distortion or waver."
Morgan smiled. '"Then you could hit a DropShip running into the atmosphere on a raid."
Vebber stiffened. "No, Highness. That could never happen."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Even if I wanted it to happen, Mr. Vebber?"
The plant owner shook his head. "No, Highness. I would not permit it."
Morgan smile slowly and cruelly. "Even if I gave you an order, Mr. Vebber?"
Vebber's jowls trembled as he shook his head. "No, Highness. This is a privately held firm, and you cannot give orders here."
Morgan's smile died, replaced by a darkening look of anger. "If I order it, Mr. Vebber, you will do it!" Morgan pointed back at the map. "If Liao invaders are burning their way into this atmosphere, you will do it!"
Vebber's jaw dropped and, for a moment, Andrew thought the administrator had seen the light. The hope died at Vebber's derisive reply. "You're not Hanse Davion, and you're certainly not your father. I take no orders from you."
Morgan looked down at the man sitting at the command station. "What's your name?"
Swiveling his chair about to face Vebber, the operator adjusted his glasses. "Lyekiz, Highness. Tim Lyekiz."
Morgan unholstered his pistol and charged it with a metallic snap. "You could use your station here to hit a Liao ship coming insystem, right?"
Lyekiz nodded.
Morgan looked up at Vebber. "And you'd do it if I told you to, right?”
“Yes, sir."
Morgan raised the gun and aimed at Vebber. "Then we have no need for Mr. Vebber, do we?" Lyekiz grinned. "No, sir."
Vebber's eyes popped wide open as he stared down the bore of Morgan's pistol. Sweat beaded on his brow, then coursed down his face. Strands of hair splayed down over his forehead as Vebber's mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe air. For a moment, Vebber looked as though he might faint, then some color returned to his ashen face and a low, slightly mad laughter rolled from his throat.