Текст книги "Riposte"

Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole

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28

ComStar First Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra

18 August 3028

 

Akira Brahe ignored the guide's droning voice and selected a table as far from the Acolyte as possible. He moved toward the corner of the rooftop patio and set his box lunch down on the table. Leaning against the railing that surrounded the patio, he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun. It feels so good to breathe the salt air and feel the sun's warmth.He exhaled deeply, letting all tension flow from his body.

"Excuse me," a feminine voice interrupted. "But may I join you?"

Akira forced a pleasant smile to his face, but it became more genuine as he opened his eyes and turned to the dark-haired woman. He nodded and waved her to the bench opposite him. "Please be seated."

"Thank you." Dressed in white slacks and a blue-and-white striped sailor jersey, she looked perfectly at home against the oceanscape background. The young woman extended her hand to him with a smile. "My name is Riva."

Akira shook her hand, then bowed. "I am Akira." He slipped onto the bench at his side of the table. "You are from . . . ?"

"The Federated Suns." She looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind that I came to sit with you." She glanced back at the other tour members gathered at tables nearer the ComStar guide. "I didn't realize this tour would be a geriatric attraction."

Akira smiled. "Though I acknowledge our elders as living storehouses of knowledge and tradition," he said in low, conspiratorial tones, "I do not want to spend all my time with them, either."

"The worst of it," said Riva, "is their curiosity. I've been asked so many questions about myself this morning that I feel like a terrorist under interrogation. No more. Your learning where I'm from is the last bit of information I'm giving out." She met his frown with a friendly smile. "Everyone here is being so careful about who they're seen with or what they say that I've decided to give up worrying about it."

Akira narrowed his eyes. "I'm not certain I follow you."

Riva slid her thumbnail through the tape holding down the lid of her box lunch. "Last night, I saw you arrive with the Coordinator. You wore a uniform, so I know you are a MechWarrior. Where are you stationed?"

Akira stiffened slightly. "That, of course, is something I cannot tell you."

Riva nodded. "If your posting is a secret, I respect that." With a gesture of the thumb, she indicated some of the people behind her. "It's just that so many of them seem to think of themselves as spies, when they're all just amateurs." She frowned as she dug through her box lunch. "If any of them had half a brain, they could find out what they want to know without having to ask a single question."

"How so?" Akira opened his own lunch, which immediately released the scent of pickled ginger.

Riva winked at him. "Well, first off, if I'd not seen you in a uniform last night, this little lunch ComStar packed for you would tell me you're from the Draconis Combine. Smells like some kind of sushito me."

Akira nodded. "Rice rolls and teka-maki."He tapped at the side of her box lunch. "And what is ComStar's idea of a typical Federated Suns repast?"

Riva shrugged unenthusiastically. "Quillarand peanut butter sandwich, with a naranjion the side."

The sea breeze carried the screams of hungry sea gulls to the picnickers. Looking up at the white birds floating on the sea winds, Akira said, "I think they would accept our lunches if we do not want them."

Riva smiled, but waved away the suggestion. "Tell you what. I'll give you half my sandwich for some of your sushi."

Akira shook his head. "All or nothing—I hate sushi."

"We split the naranjil"

"Deal."

"Great!" Riva plucked the purplish citrus fruit from her lunch box, setting it directly in the middle of the table. She then slid her lunch over to Akira.

He passed his sushito Riva, then pulled the sandwich from the box, and carefully removed its petrochem wrap. As he bit into it, a dollop of yellow-green quillaroozed from the sandwich, but Akira managed to catch it in his right hand before it dripped onto his clothes.

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he chewed and chewed to clear his mouth of food so he could speak. Riva pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her amusement at his discomfort, but it showed clearly enough in her dimples and blue eyes. Finally, after scraping the roof of his mouth with his tongue, Akira swallowed and felt himself blushing.

Embarrassed, he glanced down at his food. "Forgive me."

Riva slid her left hand onto the back of his right fist. "I'm the one who should ask pardon." She ducked her head in order to see his eyes. "Really, Akira. I apologize." She grinned sheepishly. "I was glad you took the sandwich because I'd never have gotten a quillarstain out of these slacks."

Akira looked up. "As I meant to explain, when I had the chance, I do not normally play with my food, but having quillaron my clothes would be cause for a report."

Riva shook her head. "Your father wouldn't write you up for that, would he?"

How much does she know?Akira narrowed his eyes. "I would feel obliged to write myself up for sloppy appearance."

Riva's expression told him she understood the necessary wording of his answer. "Sorry, Akira. I'm doing what I accused others of doing. I asked because you arrived with Yorinaga Kurita. He's fascinated me ever since I read Mitchell's book about Mallory's World. My brother was there ..."

Akira nodded. "A fair exchange, I think, Riva. I am Akira Brahe, and Yorinaga Kurita is my father."

Riva wiped her hands on her napkin. "I am Riva Allard and my brother is Daniel Allard of the Kell Hounds."

Akira closed his eyes. As vast as is the universe, we move in tiny circles."And your father is Quintus Allard?"

Riva hung her head with resignation. "You can start treating me like a leper now." Her hand retreated from his.

Akira again frowned. "I don't follow you . . ."

Riva shrugged. "Many people assume I'm a conduit straight to my father." She summoned a weak smile. "I nearly gave one Marik Captain a heart attack when I told him who I was."

Akira shifted his right hand to cover her left and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I know something of what you describe, for I earned similar treatment when acquaintances discovered my father's identity." He winked at her. "Let us finish our lunch and direct our detective skills toward the others or"—he paused for dramatic effect—"to uncovering ComStar's deepest and darkest secrets."

Riva rolled her eyes skyward. "Like, what do ComStar Acolytes do when they can't find a quote from Blake to justify their actions?"

Akira shrugged. "It's bound to be more interesting than the rest of this tour."

"O.K. It's a deal." She laughed, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Who knows ... we might even learn something about ComStar in the process."

Seeing the ComStar Acolyte trying to hustle his group together again, the two young people rejoined the others as they descended a broad spiraling staircase that would take them beneath the island's surface. Opening his arms to take in the entire building, the guide smiled. "All this is devoted to the work of training our personnel. Everything from classrooms to individual meditation cells are contained in this facility. Now if you will follow me, I will show you how an average ComStar recruit passes his or her time during the day."

Akira and Riva hung back. Riva looked over the stair's railing and stared into the spiral's dim depths. "I wonder how far down it goes?"

Akira shrugged. "Not that far." He pointed to four robed figures climbing the stairs from below. "See? None of them are wearing rebreathing devices."

Riva wrinkled her nose. "That's true, but they walk funny."

Akira glanced back down at the men. Though their robes effectively hid their limbs, their strides did appear exaggerated. It was strange, too, for the only time he'd ever seen people walk like that was after an extended run in a 'Mech simulator. When a bitter scent wafted up from the advancing figures, he turned back to Riva and grabbed her arm. "Do you smell that?"

She frowned, then sniffed twice. "Burned ashqua."

Akira nodded. 'Mech coolant, an odor he knew all too well. He glanced back over his shoulder as the Acolytes approached their level. Whispering harshly, he pulled Riva to him. "Slap me, hard." Cupping her head in his hands, he kissed her forcefully.

Riva's right hand rocketed up, spinning Akira with a thunder-crack slap. The tall MechWarrior reeled away from her and crashed heavily into the ComStar Acolytes. He grabbed at their robes, and they supported him without anyone spilling to the ground. Straightening up, he pressed his left hand to the hot red mark on his face.

Riva graced him with a withering glare, then turned on her heel and stalked off with her nose in the air. Stunned to silence, the ComStar Acolytes stared after her. Once she had vanished from sight around a corner, they let Akira drop to the cold marble floor and laughed heartily.

Akira rolled to his feet. "Who does she think she is? She can't do that to the Combine's finest Jump Troop Commander." He turned to stalk after her, but one of the Acolytes grabbed his wrist.

"The Peace of Blake be with you, sir." The Acolyte wiped sweat from his brow. "Why don't you leave her alone? That slap hit you harder than an autocannon round. As far as you're concerned, why not just consider her a Firestarter.Got it?"

Akira nodded sheepishly. "Hai, wakarimas."

The Acolyte smiled sympathetically. "Look, it will be best if you rejoin the tour. And keep your hands to yourself."

Akira rounded the corner and found Riva waiting for him, excitement written all over her face. "What did you learn?"

Akira rubbed his cheek. "I learned never to kiss you."

Riva stood on her toes and kissed his reddened cheek. "You learned never to surprise me. What else did you learn?"

Akira shook his head. "I'm not sure." He opened his hands. "I want to do some more checking before I say anything."

Riva looked disappointed, but she never seemed to be at a loss. "I'll accept that on one condition."

"Name it."

She smiled. "You tell me what you know when you confirm it."

Akira nodded. I know I felt cooling vests hidden beneath the robes of those Acolytes. That leads me to only one conclusion, but it's one that defies all reason.An icy foreboding seemed to flood his gut. Who would believe that poor, pacifistic ComStar is training their own MechWarriors?

29

ComStar Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra

18 August 3028

Warm sea water rushed up the sandy beaches and tickled Dan and Jeana's toes as they walked hand-in-hand along the shore. The setting sun stretched their shadows far out in front of them. Dan raised Jeana's hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

"You're still a very good listener."

Jeana smiled. "I guess you're just such an interesting speaker."

Dan shook his head. "We've been together all day and you've listened to my whole life story." He stopped and faced her. "But you've barely said anything about yourself." It feels as though you trust me, but you do not. Who are you ?

Jeana glanced past his shoulder. "Look, Dan! Dolphins!"

Dan spun around. The dying sun burned red-gold highlights on the wet gray dolphins as they came up to breathe, then dove for food. There were so sleek and beautiful. Dan smiled as he watched the trio swim along the shore and then out toward deeper water once more.

"Again you manage to deflect me," he said, turning back to Jeana. "I feel so close to you that little things shouldn't matter, but I don't even know your surname." He sighed helplessly and looked down.

Jeana took his hands in hers and kissed him on the lips. "The feeling is very mutual, Dan." She looked up at him imploringly. "There is so much I want to share with you, but I cannot." She chewed her lower lip. "I can't even tell you my full name."

She tried to pull her hands away, but he held onto them firmly. "Names are just labels. If you can, tell me about you. Tell me what you do. Tell me if you're happy."

Jeana nodded and led Dan to a dry section of beach that was above the high-water line but below the sea grasses. She knelt and drew him down to face her. "There's not much I can tell– but it's not because I don't trust you."

Dan nodded confidently. "I know."

Jeana smiled and caressed the side of his face. "I am close to Melissa Steiner, but my duties are hard to define. I do a little bit of everything, yet nothing in a routine sort of way." She fell silent momentarily as she remembered something. "The work is not hard, though it can be demanding and require long hours."

"You'll not have any problems because you spent the day with me, will you?"

Jeana shook her head. "No. Melissa has more than enough people here to attend her. During the wedding, I can just be myself. But afterward, it's back to work."

Dan narrowed his eyes. Babysitting the Archon-Designate is quite a change from being a MechWarrior. I suppose, though, after theSilver Eagle incident, that the Archon felt it necessary."Do you like the work?"

Without hesitation or reservation, Jeana nodded and smiled. "Though I wouldn't have thought it possible, this has turned into the most satisfying job I could ever imagine."

"Good." Dan raised her right hand and kissed the palm. Smiling, he sniffed gently at the perfume she'd sprayed on her wrist. "What is that scent? It reminds me of night-blooming furanciaon Ciotat, but not quite."

Jeana's light laugh sounded a perfect accompaniment to the tenor crash of waves along the beach. "It's a fragrance created specially for Melissa by a cosmetic consortium on Eutin. They call it Nocturne,but they market a similar blend under another name for sale to the public." Jeana leaned forward, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "Melissa says she hates the scent so much she wouldn't be caught dead wearing it. So she gave the whole supply to me because I dolike it."

"And so do I ... on you." Dan leaned forward to kiss Jeana gently on the lips. Pulling him closer with hands around his neck, she deepened their kiss. Dan gathered her into his arms, and hugged her fiercely.

They remained in each other's arms, oblivious to all else until the alarm on Dan's watch started to beep. "Just a reminder about the reception hosted by the Free Worlds League tonight," he said, hitting a button to cut off the sound. "Shall we go together?"

Jeana pulled back, shaking her head. "No. I don't think so."

Confused and disappointed, Dan could not keep the feelings from his face or his voice. "Oh, I'm sorry ... I thought..."

Jeana pressed a hand to his lips and looked into his blue eyes. "Today, being with you has meant more to me than you will ever know, Daniel Allard." She kissed him quickly. "I don't want this day to end, not yet, not tonight."

She took his hand, leading him up the beach toward the sandy path to her bungalow. "There will be other receptions, Daniel Allard, and I would be proud to attend them with you. But tonight, my love, I want you all to myself. . . ."

30

ComStar First Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra

18 August 3028

Kneeling at the side of his bed, Akira Brahe slid his valise from under the bed, then hoisted it up onto the quilt-covered mattress. After carefully opening the polybaux case, he let it lie flat on the bed while he pulled the cloth lining away from a long hinge holding together the two silvery metal halves of the case.

Casting a nervous glance at the door, he assured himself that it was, indeed, locked and bolted it. I could get into deep trouble for this, but only a fool travels unarmed at an enemy's invitation.Akira shivered. Until this afternoon, I'd not considered ComStar the major threat here . . .

Akira pulled a multi-bladed pocket knife from the shaving kit on his nightstand, and flipped open its screwdriver blade. He ran his thumb over the triangular wedge cut into the blade to make it a two-pronged fork. Smiling, he fit the blade into the specially shaped screws along the hinge edge.

When the last screw was out, he laid it carefully with the others in the bottom of the case and flipped the hinge plate. From its hiding place between the hinge and the polybaux rim of the suitcase, Akira pulled a thin, paper-wrapped metal strip. The punctured holes down its center matched the location of the hinge screws. The bedside light flashed off the razor edge of the blackened blade as he stripped away the paper covering.

Akira refastened all but two of the screws, closed the case, and slid it back under the bed. He crossed the room to his chest of drawers, from which he pulled a thick leather belt and a clothes brush. He tossed them onto the bed beside the blade. After only a moment's hesitation, he removed his shirt and pulled on a thick black sweater over his naked torso.

Returning to the bed, Akira separated the belt buckle from the belt. An oblong oval of bronze with a lotus pattern worked in the center, the decorative buckle had been styled after a 16th-century Japanese swordguard. Akira slid it into place on the blade's tang and secured it with one of the two screws left from the suitcase.

Then he freed the wooden handle from the head of the clothes brush and screwed it into the blade's tang to form a hilt. Satisfied at last that he'd gotten it set as tightly as possible against the guard, he used the last suitcase screw to fasten it securely. Finally, Akira used the sword's keen edge to slice through the stitching holding the belt's two layers of leather together at the buckle end. The long blade slid home into its sheath without even a whisper.

After stripping the black laces from a pair of shoes, Akira studied the crudely drawn map of the ComStar training facility he'd made upon returning from the tour. As the group left the building, he'd studied the approaches and slowly worked out a plan for returning there without being seen. By soaking his black woolen sweater and pants in water, he would get a slight margin of protection from infrared scanners. Akira frowned, wondering whether it would be enough.

He traced his pencil-marked route with a slender finger. Come in from the sea on the south side and look for openings.Akira remembered the look of pride on the guide's face as he recounted the dozen construction projects undertaken in the past two centuries to expand ComStar's facilities. The accompanying slides, taken from the air, had shown the expansion and often included natural additions to the beaches surrounding the island.

Except in the area south of the training facility. There the shoreline had pushed out about fifty meters over the years, with the last big move coming when the training building was erected. But cliffs were not supposed to expand the way beaches do.

Akira shook his head as he used the shoelace to fashion a strap for the sheath. Why should I find it so difficult to believe that ComStar is training MechWarriors? The guide reminded us that Terra became ComStar's neutral headquarters after Jerome Blake planned and executed a 'Mech assault on the planet. Some even claim that he paid off the 'Mech regiments who helped him with vast amounts of spare parts, but who can say if what he gave away was only a drop in the bucket? Terra was, after all, the capital of the Star League. Who knows what ComStar actually found here?

Akira pulled his shaving kit into his lap, and lifted a small flashlight and a worn piece of chalk from it, which he shoved into his left front pocket along with the pocket knife he'd used before. Now he shut off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. After waiting with eyes closed for thirty heartbeats, he opened his eyes again, and they adjusted readily to the light cast by the white sliver of Terra's only moon.

He swung the sword onto his back—the hilt rising at his left shoulder—and walked around the bed to the arcadia doors. Using a strip of knitted black cloth that he pulled from his pocket, Akira made a mask by wrapping the strip around his face and head until only his eyes and a thin strip of flesh around them showed. Lastly, he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, opened the door, and moved out into the shadows.

He became part of the night, slipping from inky patches of shadow to low hillsides covered with long stalks of wind-whipped sea grass. The crash of waves on the beach and the rustling of leaves swallowed what few sounds Akira actually did make during his journey. Where the entrance to a canal cut across the beach, he slipped into the water and waded through to the other side.

Moving with exaggerated caution and care, it took him half an hour to cross 500 meters of uninhabited beach, but Akira surrendered himself to his sense of the night and moved with it. He only took conscious note of things that were out of the ordinary. Other than a few guests hurrying to attend the Marik-sponsored reception, there was little to attract his attention.

Guided only by feel, Akira worked up along the rocky face forming the south shore. The climb was not difficult for him, except when he had to backtrack once after running out of handholds for pulling himself up. Compared to the cliffsides on his grandfather's estate on Rasalhague, this ten-meter edifice was nothing. After finally pulling himself up over the top, Akira lay there quietly to listen and regain his strength.

While lying there, he recalled his map. ComStar or not, when they extended this spit of land and built beneath it, they had to provide for ventilation. With luck, I can find a vent large enough to slip through. If not, I'll have to try some of the tricks I learned for getting unauthorized supplies from the Eleventh Vegan Legion's depot. If they work here on Terra, I'll be into the building's restricted areas tomorrow.

Having heard nothing suspicious while resting at the cliff-edge, Akira proceeded to work his way inland through the thick, tangled undergrowth. His desire to move as quietly as possible made it difficult going, but it was not long before he found a grate-covered cement cylinder jutting about half a meter out from a low rise.

He took a deep whiff of the moist air pouring from the opening. Mech coolant!He smiled approvingly. Vented out here, it mixes with the ocean breezes and no one can detect it. One of the MechWarriors must have had a vest leak this afternoon, or been working on his 'Mech earlier.

Cupping the flashlight in his hands to partially hide its beam, Akira peered closely at the four bolts securing the grate to the vent. He smiled and fished out his pocket knife. Salt air and warm weather had done their work on the bolts, and so Akira made short work of them with a few strong strokes of the knife's hacksaw blade.

Shifting the sword around to his belly, he then lowered himself feet first into the diagonally set shaft. Though more narrow and confining than a 'Mech cockpit, it held no terrors for Akira. With this tight a fit, I can easily climb back up.He lifted the grate back into place, then slid down into the darkness.

At a depth of about seven meters, his shaft intersected another tunnel of roughly double its diameter. Akira dropped into it and crouched. Taking a small piece of chalk from his pocket, he marked his tunnel with a triangle pointing toward the surface. Then he looked both up and back along the tunnel, before choosing to head south toward the ocean.

Akira moved carefully on through the ventilation tunnel, using the flashlight only when absolutely necessary. When he did, he kept the burst of light short so that it would not interfere with his nightvision. Twelve meters in, the main shaft began to slant down at a sharp angle, with another shaft moving laterally off to the west.

Akira stopped. The air's moister coming from down there. Apparently, the ComStar training facility does extend beneath the ocean.Reluctant to head down the shaft for fear it might become too steep or slick for him to climb back out, Akira cut west along the tunnel he visualized as running roughly parallel to the cliff face.

Ten meters in, he saw light pouring from a vent. His heart pounded as he forced himself to inch down the tunnel. Straining to hear the sounds coming from below, he soon identified voices, whose words he valiantly tried to discern and their meaning decipher. Then he reached the vent itself.

Akira's heart leaped to his throat. I've died and gone to Valhalla.Dumbfounded, he stared at the scene below. By the Dragon's blood! It's either Valhalla or the Universe's own hell...

Stretching back through the cavernous chamber below him, rank after rank of BattleMechs confronted Akira. Grouped by weight, with the lightest 'Mechs nearest the walls and working inward to the titanic assault 'Mechs in the center, the war machines stood in neat, orderly lines like soldiers at attention. Dwarfed by their charges, Techs and astechs in yellow Acolyte robes moved repair and maintenance equipment over and around the 'Mechs.

Akira tried to wet his lips, but his mouth had gone utterly dry. The long lines of 'Mechs receded so deeply into the room that he could barely make out the back rows. Each machine gleamed white except for the ComStar logo emblazoned in gold upon its chest.

Akira rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but he could not deny the reality of this legion of BattleMechs under ComStar's arms. His heart sank. My father may believe he saw the Yellow Bird when he fought Morgan Kell, but he was mistaken. It's this—this horde of 'Mechs that will be the Dragon's death.Staring at the nearest machines, he saw that these were not even battlefield salvage. If any of these 'Mechs have ever seen battle, I'll gladly defend the Lyran border all by myself.

Badly shaken, Akira crawled back through the tunnels to the vent shaft, erasing his chalk marks as he went. Wedging his knees, elbows, and back against the tunnel walls, letting the sword hang across his chest again, he slowly nudged his way up to the surface. At the exit, Akira moved the grate off the tunnel and lowered it to the ground. He uncoiled himself from the cramped shaft, then straightened up to stretch his weary muscles.

The garrote dropped around Akira's throat and jerked him backward as his assailant tried to pull it tight. Because it caught on the sword's hilt, the garrote failed to crush Akira's windpipe cleanly, giving him a chance to react to the ambush. The Mech-Warrior clawed at the wire with his right hand as he drove his left elbow back into his assailant's chest. Akira heard ribs pop with the second blow. As the garrote slackened slightly, he grabbed it in both hands and pulled. Ducking quickly then, he bent forward and flipped his attacker over his head.

Even before his assailant hit the ground, Akira had wrapped his left hand around the sword's sheath and pulled it free of his body. Though his attention was focused on the person lying before him, he caught a flash of something moving on his left as he started to draw the blade. Emerging from the brush, another attacker lunged forward with a metallic truncheon just shorter than the sword. Pivoting to the left, Akira made a weak attempt at parrying the blow with his half-drawn blade, but utterly failed to stop the attack.

The truncheon jabbed him in the left armpit, exploding fiery agony through every nerve on that side of his body. The electric jolt threw Akira halfway across the small clearing like a toy discarded by an angry child. The MechWarrior rolled to a stop in a crumpled heap, his sword lost somewhere in the underbrush.

Stun-stick. Feels like half my body is on fire.He lay on his back gasping for air as a third individual joined the first two. Each wore a helmet with full, dark visor that gave no clue to the wearer's identity. Their dark uniforms had padding at the elbows and knees but no rank or branch insignia that Akira could make out as they swam into focus. Because all three were tall and powerfully built, he had first assumed they were all male. Without seeing their faces or some other clue, he realized that there was really no way to determine any of their sex.

His first attacker rewound the garrote around gloved hands. When he turned to speak to the latest arrival, his voice buzzed like an insect's because of computer modulation. "He is mine to kill, Captain."

The figure with the stun-stick shook his head. "No." He pointed the stun-stick at Akira. "I struck. I hit. The kill is mine."

The garroter hugged his left elbow to his broken ribs. "But he laid hands upon my person."

The Captain nodded to the man with the garrote. As that one moved to finish the job he'd begun earlier, Akira kicked up with his right foot. He dealt the garroter a crushing blow to the groin, then struck again, propelling his attacker aside into the dark brush. The modulator translated the man's screams into harsh, flat croaks as he stumbled around in the undergrowth. There followed the sound of a great crash and then the croaking ceased.

Akira, half-paralyzed, glared at the remaining pair of guards. "I will not die easily."

"Suit yourself, infidel." As the man with the stun-stick started toward Akira, another shadow figure detached itself from the night-darkened undergrowth. He locked one hand on the ComStar guard's chin and the other on the back of his helmet. Yanking back and twisting savagely, the shadowman jerked the guard off his feet, snapping the man's neck like a dry twig.

The ComStar Captain turned toward the shadowman, drawing a neural whip and telescoping its blade out to full length. The lean shadowman dropped into a low crouch as the whip's electric hum sliced through the night. Using the whip blade like a fencing foil, the Captain feinted twice at his victim and Akira could feel the ComStar man's confidence growing.

Then a smaller man appeared at the Captain's back. "No way, Morgan. You had the other one." Cracking his knuckles, the new man laughed easily. "This one is mine . . . Let's see what he's got."