Warning lights flared across the Wolfhound'sconsole as the medium lasers blasted armor from the 'Mech's right side. Dan waited to see whether the arming lights for his weapons would die out because of damage, but none blinked or wavered. The lasers had only destroyed armor.
"All weapons, fire!" The computer drew four lines on Dan's display, focusing through and beyond the Archer'svisual image. Morgan's 'Mech, which had begun to pivot, stopped dead. Its arms dropped to its sides, dangling like lynched renegades from the Archer'shunched shoulders.
Morgan's calm voice crackled into Dan's neurohelmet. "Fancy shooting, Dan. You skewered the reactor ..."
"Y-yes, sir." Nervous sweat stung his eyes.
"So, Dan, how to you like your Wolfhound!"
The young Kell Hound swallowed as Morgan's reassuringly warm voice melted some of the fear in his guts. "Fine, Colonel. I like it very much." The analytical side of Dan's mind shunted aside the last races of fear. "I'll miss my Valkyrie'sjump jets, but the added weaponry and armor make this a prime battler."
Morgan's pleasure survived the transmission intact. "Good, Dan. I'm pleased you like it. How long until you feel comfortable in it?"
Dan swallowed. Do you mean as long as I don't have to fight with you?"Uh, I'm not sure. A month. Maybe more." Dan hesitated. "There are still some things I want Clovis to explain."
"Better make it a month," Morgan said grimly. "We don't have much more than that before we have to travel to the wedding." The Colonel's warmth returned, however, when he added, "You did well, Captain. Take it in."
* * *
Later, Dan hunched over Clovis as both of them stared in disbelief at the battletape's replay. He pointed to the screen as his targeting crosshairs refused to acknowledge the Archerbeneath them. "See that, Clovis? What in hell is going on?"
The dwarf shook his head. He rewound the tape, then slowed the image. He turned to his left and projected the scanner's data feed to the computer on another monitor. Carefully, gently, he advanced the battletape centimeter by centimeter. As each image shifted on the picture screen, Clovis glanced at the raw data scrolling across the computer monitor.
He leaned back with a deep sigh. "Dan, I just don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? You programmed the Wolfhound.You have to know!"
The dwarf shrugged. "I've never seen anything like it, Dan."
Dan was angry, not at Clovis, but at the memory. "Well I have, Clovis. In combat. I've seen it in combat." Dan turned and slammed his fist against the wall. "I saw it twelve years ago on Mallory's World, then twice more on Styx." He turned back and pointed accusingly at the battletape's flickering image. "Now I see it here." His shoulders slumped. "Tell me something,Clovis."
Clovis raised his hands and opened them. "I can tell you this, Dan," he said slowly, pointing to the data feed. "The passive sensors, like your Starlight sensors, can pick up photons bouncing off the Archer.That's why you could see him or, at least, that's why I think you could see him. The other sensors, like magscan or infrared, either don't get data back when they send out a signal, or the computer fails to interpret it when it comes in." Clovis shrugged helplessly. "That's about all I can tell from such a brief look. But I want to do more thorough checking. Maybe cross-correlate all this with Morgan's EEG and EKG readout from the fight."
Dan frowned. None of it made any sense. "In simple terms, Clovis, what are you telling me?"
"What I'm telling you, Captain, is that for all intents and purposes, on the battlefield, the computer does not believe Morgan Kell exists."
Book III
Doublé
24
In-system, Terra
14 August 3028
Duke Michael Hasek-Davion stared through his DropShip cabin's big, round viewport at the blue-white ball that was his destination. Dozens and dozens of other DropShips—most spherical like the OverlordClass bearing the Duke, but a few aero-dynamically constructed as well—were all rushing in toward the planet.
The Duke meditated on the world they were approaching. For centuries, DropShips and JumpShips have carried mankind away from this modest little planet. Terra is neither as large as others man has settled, nor is it as rich in minerals or life, yet it alone has produced a sentient species. That makes it very special, indeed.
The door to his cabin irised open with a hiss, bringing a small, slender man with thinning brown hair into the small room. Michael turned slowly, while the other man seemed to wince with discomfort with his every step. "You summoned me, My Lord?"
Michael nodded, secretly exulting in the weight of his long, black braid against his spine. Poor Count Vitios. A man as slight as you is poorly endowed to endure travel at much more than 1 G, but I wish to arrive early. Besides, the exercise will put some tone into your muscles."Indeed, I did."
Vitios sank gratefully into the deeply cushioned chair that Duke Michael indicated. "How may I be of service, Lord?"
The small man's embarrassment at his weakness flashed over his pinched face while Michael clasped his hands behind his back and effortlessly paced before the viewport. "I wish to reassure myself that you will do nothing foolish on Terra."
The Count froze for half a second, then forced a smile. "Duke Michael, whatever do you mean?"
Michael returned the smile with a crafty one of his own. "Anton, I know you too well not to realize that you must have some sort of contingency plan for this opportunity. I know, though it has been a dozen years since the battle on Verio, that you still mourn your wife and children." Michael lifted his hand with palm out to forestall the Count's reply. "No one thinks you less a man for such open devotion, and many admire you for it."
Michael turned his back to his visitor and watched the Drop-Ships crawl along at a snail’s-pace in their path toward Terra. "I watched the holovids of Justin Allard's trial and saw how your prosecution revealed him to be the Liao agent he has so openly become of late. Yet your desire for revenge still runs deep and hot. This is good."
"I would do nothing to embarrass you, My Lord."
Smiling, Michael turned again toward the Count. "I know that, but I would not wish to see you caught foolishly in some situation that could hurt your crusade."
The Count frowned. "I understand very well, Duke Michael, the ComStar directive instructing no one to carry weaponry of any sort to the wedding. ComStar will screen all baggage and personnel before anyone or anything can leave the Savannah Spaceport quarantine area, and again before they enter the compound. Though I am not invited to the wedding and will stay in Savannah with the rest of the household staff, I have no intention of trying to smuggle in a weapon."
Michael nodded curtly. "And well that you do not. ComStar has made it no secret that they will interdict the flow of messages to and from any House violating the wedding's security. An interdiction would leave one deaf and blind."
Count Vitios narrowed his eyes. "I would guess, then, My Lord, that you mean to speak to me about another subject?"