Текст книги " Lethal Heritage "

Kommandant Victor Steiner-Davion adjusted the picture of his family on the corner of his desk. Taken about a year and a half before he left the New Avalon Military Academy to return to the Nagelring, it represented the last time the whole family had been together. Victor, his father, and his hulking brother Peter stood in the back row. His mother sat in front of Hanse, with Katherine on her right, Arthur on her left, and little Yvonne sitting at her feet. Victor centered the portrait between his data monitor and the lamp clamped onto the right side of the desk, then leaned back in his chair to study its effect.

With a frown, he leaned forward to shift the picture back to the other side of the walnut desk. Is having this picture going to rub it in that I've got a battalion command because of who I am? Renny and the others in my class graduated Leftenants and have lance commands. I'm a Kommandant and get to oversee a whole battalion. The damnable thing is I know I can handle this responsibility, provided I get the chance. I want to be treated like everyone else in the Federated Commonwealth's Armed Forces, but it just ain't going to happen that way.

A light knock sounded on his door, pulling Victor back to reality. He quickly twisted the picture so its back was to the door, then straightened his uniform. "Enter."

A slender, sandy-haired man stepped into the room and snapped Victor a quick salute. "Hauptmann Galen Cox reporting, sir."

Victor quickly stood, cursing himself for not having done so before Cox entered the room, and returned the salute crisply. He noticed the Hauptmann's restless blue eyes taking in everything, but Cox's face gave no clue to his thoughts. Extending his hand, Victor greeted his visitor warmly. "I am pleased to meet you, Hauptmann Cox. I am Victor Steiner-Davion."

Cox met Victor's firm grip and pumped his arm strongly. It was not a contest of strength, but a comradely welcome that pleased Victor. No need to prove himself stronger than me, yet no desire to toady up, either. Good. I like that.

Victor waved Cox to one of the two yellow leather chairs across from his desk, but the Hauptmann demurred. "Is there something I can do for you, Hauptmann?" Victor asked.

"I'm reporting for duty, Kommandant. I am your aide."

Victor pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Hauptmann, don't take this as an insult or any reflection upon you or the impression you've created, but I already told Leftenant-General Hawksworth I don't want an aide." Victor pointed through the open door toward the other Kommandant offices further down the hall. "Just like the others, I'll make due with a clerk."

Cox nodded easily, but Victor knew the man had not surrendered. "Begging your pardon, sir, but the Kommandant is not like the others."

"An accident of birth does not make me different, Hauptmann. I will not have an aide just because I am the Archon's son. Do you understand that?"

The Hauptmann dipped his blond head again and turned from Victor. For a moment, Victor thought he had won– which surprised him—but then he saw Cox close the office door. Victor smiled to himself. Now we're into the trenches.

Cox again appraised Victor openly. "Permission to speak frankly, Kommandant."

Victor extended his hands palms-up. "Have at it, Mr. Cox."

"When I said you were not like the others, I was not referring to your lineage. If we assigned an officer to every blue-blood in the AFFC, we'd double the size of the officer corps and drop its efficiency by an order of magnitude. And, just for your information, Leftenant-General Hawksworth had nothing to do with my being here. He respected your wishes and made them known to the rest of the officers here."

Victor leaned forward on his desk. "If the General has not assigned you to me, and if you're not here because of my bloodlines, what the hell is going on?"

Cox's grin grew wider. "I was selected by the regiment's officers to be your aide."

"What!" Victor sank backdown in his chair. "Since when did the army become a democracy?"

"Since officers fresh from the Academy are given a battalion command." Cox's grin faded as his look became stern. "Being out here on the Periphery is a joke to people back on Tharkad. Hell, you probably didn't want to be assigned here—which makes you exactlylike most of the other officers in this outfit. Most of our lance commanders are fresh from school, just like you, and they're full of that graduation glow. For them, this assignment is a chance to show their potential so they can win a more glamorous assignment like guarding the Draconis border or kicking around some Free Worlders."

Victor felt his face flush as he recalled how he'd protested his assignment.

Cox moved toward the chair Victor had indicated earlier, but stepped behind it and rested his hands on its back. "Most Leftenants are easy to straighten out. We get into an engagement with pirates or bandits or a Rasalhague raiding party and step them through the fight. If they don't freeze up or faint at the first exchange, we give them orders and they execute them. That first fight is always rough on them, and generally rougher on the men and women they command, but they survive it if they listen and do what they are told. It's sort of military Darwinism in action."

Cox met Victor's stare head-on. "You, on the other hand, have a battalion to command. That puts more than thirty-five Mech Warriors in your hands during a battle. There'll be confusion and there'll be chaos. If you can't handle it, people will die." Cox shrugged. "People don't want to die, so here I am."

Victor found himself sitting with his legs crossed and his arms folded around his chest. "And if I issue an order dismissing you as my aide?"

Cox's grin returned. "I think you'll find that order will get lost in the electronic shuffle around here."

Looking up, Victor felt himself being infected by Cox's contagious grin. I want to be angry and insulted, but that'll just prove I need the keeper I've been saddled with. I appreciate the regiment's concern, and what's more, I can understand their reluctance to follow an unproven commander into battle. I must earn their respect, so if I want to be treated normally, I guess I have to start now.

Victor chewed his lower lip for a moment. "So I'm stuck with you, whether I like it or not. Is that it, Hauptmann?"

Cox's grin became broader.

"Then I better like it." Victor stood and thrust his hand forward. "Pleased to have you as my aide, Hauptmann Cox."

Cox again shook his hand strongly. "Glad to be with you, Highness."

Victor waved off the honorific. "This is the AFFC, Hauptmann. Address me by rank or as Victor."

"Yes, sir, Kommandant."

Victor settled back into his chair. "How did they happen to select you for my aide, Mr. Cox?" He saw a strange spark in Cox's eyes, but theHauptmann smothered it before Victor could identify it. He could guess, though. "This wasn't meant to be your command, was it? My appointment didn't rob you of a battalion command, did it?"

Cox shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't think so, or if it did, it was the best-kept secret on base. I got this position because I volunteered for it."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "You volunteered to nursemaid me? Why would you do that?"

Cox stretched out in the chair. "Well, when we got the news that you were coming to take over Kommandant Sykes's battalion, lots of people started grousing. You know how it works—one guy talks to another and he talks to someone else. All of a sudden What started out as a minor irritation becomes a crisis. It's like the story of the MechWarrior who needs to borrow an actuator-wrench to make a repair on his BattleMech. As he's walking back to the supply depot through a rainstorm, he becomes convinced that the Tech won't lend him the wrench. The more he thinks about it, the more worked up he gets. When he finally gets to the depot and finds the Tech, he screams, 'I don't want your damned actuator-wrench anyway!' "

Victor chuckled lightly. "I don't want your damned actuator-wrench anyway! It's been a while since my cousin Morgan Hasek-Davion told me that story, but I understand the situation completely. They had me built up into a monster that was going to get them all killed."

"But only after you'd transformed this unit into a bunch of kiss-ass courtiers waiting on you hand and foot," Cox said with a devilish glint in his eyes. Even as Victor winced, Cox continued. "Anyway, I thought that was getting out of hand, so I looked up your school and service file. Scores on exams never stopped a particle beam, but yours looked good enough to deflect a few. I figured if you were going to get a chance to live up to all that potential, someone would have to cut you some slack." He sat up tall. "Galen the Knife, that's me."

That, Galen Cox, means more to me than you will ever know.Victor smiled and felt, for the first time since entering the Nagelring, that just a bit of the weight on his shoulders had been removed. "Thanks, Galen. I'll do all I can to be worthy of your trust."

"You'll do better than that, Kommandant," the blond man said, rising to leave, "I've read your file, remember? I hope like hell the rest of us can keep up with you ..."

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