Текст книги "Falcon Guard"

Автор книги: Роберт Торстон

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

2

As always in battle, Diana faced her adversary with a stare as grim as it was threatening. It was a pose she had developed long, long ago, even before becoming a warrior. She had assumed this look in her early childhood games, which she had tried to model on her mother's tales of her warrior father. Diana always played her father's part, pretending pots and other utensils were parts of a BattleMech. Then, with proper battle shrieks, she would run after the other village children. Diana always won, for most of the children had neither her ambition nor, for that matter, her tenacity.

Those childhood games had borne significant fruit. Diana knew she would never be satisfied with any caste less than warrior. Even though she was not trueborn, she knew she must become a Clan warrior. It was that fierce conviction that had taken her with ease through training and her first warrior assignments. Unlike many other freeborns, she simply accepted her inferior rank in Clan society, easily ignoring the cruel remarks the trues often hurled at her. The word freebirth,a curse among warriors, did not ordinarily inspire her to seek retribution, as it did so many other freeborns.

She had two goals in life: to be a fine warrior and to find her father. Her skills in the first she had already proven time and again. As for the second, Diana was content that she would achieve it in time.

Now she stood poised in an improvised shipboard Circle of Equals, facing off against—of all people—another dedicated freeborn warrior. The several trueborns who had joined the observers at the outer rim of the circle seemed amused by the sight of two frees going at one another. They shouted encouragement now to one, now to the other warrior, always peppering their cheers with scornful insults. As usual, Diana noticed the condescension, but did not let it affect her. If she were a trueborn standing outside the circle, she would be shouting the same insulting remarks.

Her opponent, a stocky, muscular warrior named Trader (the nickname deriving from his origin as the son of a merchant), growled at her in the traditional manner of honor duels. His challenge had come over the right to pilot the Warhawkthat had become available when its regular pilot took ill during the interstellar journey to the Jade Falcon corridor of the invasion of the Inner Sphere. The 'Mech assignment would normally have fallen to Diana because the Star's new commander had claimed her Timber Wolf.

After hearing the assignment, Trader had stepped forward to claim that his seniority and longer battle record made him more deserving to pilot the Warhawk.While acknowledging privately that Trader's fighting prowess was enviable, Diana could not, as a Clan warrior, merely acquiesce and back down. No, the two of them must battle it out for the 'Mech.

The new commander had insisted that the contestants bid their way into the Circle of Equals. Diana had cut off the batchall immediately with her bid that she would meet Trader with no other weapons but her gloved hands. The bid drew some admiration because the tall, slim Diana seemed no match for the shorter but definitely more muscular Trader.

At the signal to begin, Trader gave a great yell that seemed to bounce off the DropShip's walls, then charged like a wild boar straight for Diana. He landed the first two blows, one to Diana's midsection, knocking some of the wind out of her, and a punishing punch to the left side of her face. That one drew immediate blood and sent her reeling backward. Her low kick in response was ineffectual, connecting with nothing. If anything, the effect was comical.

* * *

Joanna watched with some pleasure the brawling between the two freeborn members of her new Star. Though she hated this new assignment, she had mellowed with the years and could accept it with more aplomb than she might have in the past. Yet the demotion to Star Commander had definitely raised her ire. It was like wearing the dark band, the special ribbon that denoted shame in Clan warrior culture. The lower rank was like an eternal dark band, for the shame would not end on any specified date, as did the punishment of the dark band. Her chances of ever climbing back up the ladder of rank were almost nil. Her chances of ever being a Star Captain again were remote. Reaching Star Colonel would be well-nigh impossible.

So what could Joanna do but perform her appointed task as well as possible? There was at least some service in it, especially the job of whipping into shape an undisciplined group like the new lot they had saddled her with this time. Like all Clan warriors, Joanna was committed to the goals of the Inner Sphere invasion, especially the dream of restoring the Star League. It was the Clans' almost sacred covenant that they would conquer and replace the corrupt, decadent governments that had destroyed the Star League centuries before. That was the word of the great Kerenskys, which was good enough for Joanna and nearly all the rest of the invading force.

She admired something about this Diana. Perhaps it was the pride showing in the young warrior's eyes, or her confident stance, or the fierceness of her demeanor. Joanna could not be sure, for it was so unusual for her not to roundly dislike the newer warriors.

As Clan warriors went, Diana was an impressive specimen, Joanna decided. She might also have been judged beautiful in those old cultures that cared for such rubbish. The young woman's olive skin was just dark enough to suggest mystery, while her dark eyes under strongly arched eyebrows said there would never be a solution to that mystery. Her black hair shone with red highlights, a subtlety like the dark red of her lips. A slight "flaw," a bump in her otherwise well-shaped nose seemed to add to the overall striking effect of her angular face.

Joanna was disappointed when the other warrior, a typically repulsive freeborn named Trader, took the immediate advantage in the Circle of Equals contest. He kept hitting Diana hard, at one point nearly sending her over the edge of the circle, which would have meant Diana's instant defeat. Though Diana remained on her feet and within the Circle, the jabs she dispatched with her left hand were useless.

Joanna almost yelled to her to use her right, or at least to try for a harder punch. Instead Diana spun out of the way of Trader's new assault and rushed back to the center of the circle, where she turned to face the charging and ready-for-the-kill Trader. As he came up to her, gloved fists flailing, Diana knocked him off-balance with a hard jab to the center of his nose. Then, as he fought to regain his balance, she delivered a solid blow, finally using her right hand. There was a flash, something on the right-hand glove catching the light.

It was a good punch, Joanna thought, but hardly a disabling one. Yet Trader's eyes flickered, then closed, and he fell forward onto his face. Diana stood over him the requisite amount of time, then declared herself the victor before strolling to where Joanna stood at the edge of the Circle of Equals. At that moment, realizing the meaning of the flash of light during the punch, Joanna's expression was transforming from relative calm to pronounced anger.

Diana casually removed her gloves as she stepped over the circle and came to stand before Joanna, ready to accept the prize of the Warhawk,the final stage of the contest. Instead of beginning the ritual words, Joanna reached out and snatched the gloves from Diana's hands. The younger warrior did not so much as blink at her commander's actions.

Joanna examined the gloves. "I thought so," she said, holding up the right-hand glove. Those closest to her could see that the glove bore five metal studs arranged in a star pattern at the middle of the knuckle line. Joanna now recalled that Diana had not only connected with the side of Trader's face, she had seemed to rub the blow in, obviously to further punish with the studs. No wonder the man had gone unconscious.

Joanna pointed silently to the glove's enhancement, and Diana shrugged. "I bid gloves as the only requirement of the battle," she said. "No specifications were made about the gloves, nor was it in any way limited whose gloves I could use."

"But you stole these gloves from me, freebirth!"

Diana again showed not a flicker of reaction at the insulting term. "I return them to you now, as I intended. Whether or not I stole them, I leave to others to judge."

"You think you can get off with Trinary punishment?"

"That would seem proper under the circumstances, Star Commander Joanna."

"Yes, it would, but instead I invoke command privilege and will order the punishment here and now. The two of us will return to the circle now, and you will battle me, Mech Warrior Diana. As in your bid, no weapons for this battle. And no gloves. Bare-handed. And we will dispense with the rule that makes any warrior who crosses the line of the circle the automatic loser. There will be no such rule. The winner in our battle will be the one who is left standing. Agreed, MechWarrior Diana?"

"Well-bargained and done, Star Commander."

As Joanna followed this graceful, seemingly unruffled warrior back in to the Circle of Equals, she wondered briefly whether challenging a strong young warrior barely out of the cadet ranks to an honor duel was the smartest thing for an old, and perhaps fading, warrior to do.

3

For the first time in Joanna's memory, the codex bracelet on her right wrist felt heavy. It was as if the combined weight of all her years of combat and 'Mech piloting had suddenly accumulated into the small circlet where a series of Oathmasters had recorded her achievements as well as her failures, like the shame of the Falcon Guard defeat on Twycross. Shame that she bore despite having been a member of the Guards for only twenty-four hours and without even a unit to command. Perhaps it was only the weight of Twycross, after all, that made her wrist feel as though the bracelet were made of solid lead.

The warriors around the circle buzzed with excitement. It was not often that a ranking officer went into the Circle of Equals with a new warrior. It was the regulars who usually fought these battles, with the few curious officers standing coolly outside the circle, making sure the rules were followed.

But this officer-MechWarrior battle was special. The Star Commander was new among them, and the fact that she had been demoted because of Twycross made her an unknown quantity. Would she display the ferocity of the reputation that had preceded her? Or had Twycross shaken her confidence, as defeat sometimes did to a warrior? In their minds this Circle of Equals conflict was a test for Joanna as well as Diana. A few of them sent each other the hand signals that signified discreet betting on the event's outcome. If Joanna had bothered to read the betting signs going around the circle, she would have seen that the odds favored her by about two-to-one. It was better that she took no note of it. Any odds that gave this inexperienced warrior a chance to beat her were an insult to Joanna.

"Are you ready, MechWarrior Diana?" Joanna asked. "Yes."

"You do not wish to invoke surkai?"

"Neg."

"Good. Then prepare yourself for extreme pain."

Joanna spoke the last three words while leaping at Diana. Diana, accustomed to an opponent shuffling his feet, feinting, sending glares, or making some other slight move before going on the attack, was taken completely by surprise. Joanna had her tightly by the throat, choking off air for a moment, then sneeringly releasing her grip and hurling her sideways onto the ground. Diana landed on her side. As the Star Commander had promised, extreme pain surged through her body from the impact of her landing. Though she was up quickly, Diana felt a throbbing in her shoulder. Each throb made her want to flinch with pain, but she would show no sign to this arrogant officer.

Diana did not have much time to think about the pain, for Joanna was on her again, this time coming at her in a crouch, grabbing the younger warrior's midsection and wrestling her to the ground. Falling backward, Diana realized that Joanna was merely employing standard wrestling maneuvers, ones they taught in the first weeks of training. But whycould she use them to such advantage? Moves that Diana might easily have countered in another young warrior became tricky when this old crone applied them.

The only good thing at the moment was that the pain in her stomach somewhat relieved that of her shoulder, or was she merely dividing the pain by dividing her concentration?

Joanna, holding down Diana's shoulders and staring into her eyes, could easily have declared victory because she had the young warrior pinned. Diana's legs thrust out futilely behind Joanna.

But before Joanna could speak, she saw something familiar in the struggling warrior's eyes. At first it was a flash, a sign that Diana would never capitulate, then Joanna saw another face, that of another young warrior from another time. It was something in this young woman's eyes, and now that Joanna looked more carefully, it was in her facial features, too. This Diana, this freebirth, bore an uncanny resemblance to the warrior Joanna had defeated in his first day of training and whose life had become so intimately connected with hers at certain points. Then he had been cadet Aidan. Now he was Star Colonel Aidan Pryde.

The revelation made Joanna rise up, releasing Diana from the pin, but then she clasped her hands together and, in a harsh sweeping arc, swung them at Diana's head. The hands hit with a stunning impact, and Diana fell backward, dazed.

Joanna looked around at the spectators beyond the line. Though they tried, in the Clan manner, to seem detached, it was obvious that the sudden brutality of Joanna's blow shocked some of them.

Looking down at the fallen warrior, whose eyes were now shut, Joanna thought that except for the greater delicacy of the features, she might have been looking at Aidan.

Diana did not give away with the slightest pre-movement the blow she now delivered. Kicking upward, she caught Joanna between the legs, the force of the blow lifting the old warrior slightly. Diana scrambled away from Joanna, who leaped at her with a growl of fury. Her timing off, Joanna smashed her face against the hard metal DropShip flooring instead of connecting with her prey. Before Joanna could get up, Diana had jumped onto her back and pushed her back down. Again Joanna's head smashed against the floor, and she was nearly overcome with dizziness.

Most warriors would have given up at that moment, but Joanna never gave up, would never give up. Helpless, she could not stop Diana from grabbing her hair from behind and slamming her head down against the metal floor again. Then, sensing a slight relaxation in Diana's grip right after the impact, Joanna twisted her torso enough to throw her elbow back at Diana's lowered head. She made contact, which further loosened her opponent's grip. Bellowing her special battle cry, Joanna twisted her body around and, with a magnificent effort, dislodged Diana, who fell sideways, rolled, and was back on her feet again instantly.

Diana did not give Joanna a second to recover. She ran straight at her. Dizzied by the banging to her head, Joanna was not sure who was coming at her. At first it looked like Aidan—not Aidan as he had been the last time she had seen him, but Aidan as a young cadet. Then the image seemed to switch back to Diana. Then to Aidan. Then again to Diana.

Whoever it was, the warrior was upon her, trying to ram her backward. The shuffling of Joanna's feet as she tried to stay upright struck some of the spectators as comical. When they laughed, the sound made her furious.

She pushed what looked like Diana away, and what looked like Aidan did a little stumbling dance. Shaking her head in an effort to throw off her grogginess, Joanna charged what looked like Aidan, but it was Diana who sidestepped her. Joanna quickly adjusted to Diana's quick move, grabbing Aidan's arm and wrenching it toward her. Joanna seized the head, not sure whose head it was anymore, and twisted it violently. Not enough to kill, but enough to cause a pain that would linger for some time.

Yes, enough.

Her opponent fell, dazed again, but this time finally helpless.

Looking down at the fallen warrior, Joanna was again seeing a double exposure of Diana, Aidan, Diana, and again Aidan. It was all she could do to walk without stumbling out of the Circle of Equals, but walk she did, past all those warriors who saw that their new commander might be old but could still outfight even the best of them.

4

"We are both pretty banged up, quiaff."Joanna asked.

"Are we? I can see you are, Star Commander. I did not look into any reflective surface. I rarely do."

They were in Joanna's quarters. Diana's cheek showed a large, ugly bruise where Joanna had struck her, and along the other side of her face were a couple of cuts. Joanna had glanced in a mirror, and saw she was worse off than Diana. One eye was black and her forehead was both bruised and cut. One side of her upper lip was slightly swollen, and tiny spots of blood had dried and caked around her nostrils. Overall, not a good appearance at all for a commanding officer.

The quarters were like every room in which Joanna had ever lived. She had never seen much use for neatness, especially when the place to which she was assigned was only temporary, as were all places for warriors. And this one, after all, was only a DropShip compartment.

Clothing was strewn all over the room, which was stained and dirty. When Joanna nodded for Diana to take a seat, the young warrior had to remove a tunic and boots from the chair, and deposit them onto an already crowded table.

"Would you like a fusionnaire, MechWarrior Diana?"

"I doubt it. What is a fusionnaire?"

"A drink. Very potent. I do not know what is in it. I have it packaged and sent to me on a regular basis. Sure you would not like a dose of it?"

"I have no liking for any substance that calms, releases, allows for fantasies, or sends one into a stupor."

There was an arrogant stubbornness in the way Diana held her head while giving her list of undesirable states that reminded Joanna of Aidan holding his head in the same way with the same boldness.

"I understand your feeling completely," Joanna said, "but I do not agree. I need to lose my awareness once in a while." She took a strong sip of the drink. "I wonder about what you said a moment ago—that you never look in a mirror."

"Not never. Sometimes we see ourselves when we do not intend to. I just never look by intention, unless of course there is a practical need."

"But why? It cannot be hard for you to examine yourself. By most standards I am aware of you would be considered beautiful."

"Would I? That is interesting, but ultimately useless to me."

"Useless?"

"I have always wanted to be a warrior. As a freeborn, that is not an easy goal. People often attempted to discourage me from it. But I continued, was accepted into training, qualified in the Trial, and am now serving. I have many skills, which I have demonstrated, plus others I am eager to test. There is not much need for beauty in all that, is there?"

Joanna took another sip of the fusionnaire. Tasting especially harsh, the drink was going to her head quicker than usual. The fight with Diana had undoubtedly weakened her resistance to the drink. She would have to settle for only one. But, she thought, staring down into the volatile liquid, she would make the most of the one.

"Truth to tell, Diana, you are quite right. There is not much need for beauty in the ranks of Clan warriors. Here your looks are no more than a painting in a museum or a statue in a square. We admire you, but ours is not the kind of culture that places emphasis on beauty, after all."

"I am glad of that."

"But I should tell you that beauty like yours does have its uses in some circles. In political ones particularly. Among Clansmen who have forgotten the meaning of their lives, and who encourage a certain decadence."

"That is detestable, and I do not believe it exists."

"I notice that you do not have the freeborn love of contractions."

"I have resolved to be a warrior and to speak like one as well. Star Commander, if I may speak frankly?"

"As a warrior would. Proceed, MechWarrior Diana."

"I have been told about my beauty before. There were some who, well, wanted things from me because of it. I am not as free with coupling as others. Even in my cadet days. The others in my training unit respected that. Out here in the war zone, there is not as much respect. Perhaps I would have more experience with coupling if the other did not always have to mention my looks beforehand. But once someone speaks to me of that, I wish only to hit that someone and certainly not do anything more."

"Your honor duel with Trader was about that, quiaff?"

"Neg. Trader is a fine warrior, too. He wanted the BattleMech assignment. He would always choose a 'Mech over a sexual partner. I like him. I was sorry to have to fight him."

Diana straightened her back, holding it stiffly away from the back of the chair. When the younger woman looked off to the side, Joanna recalled several moments when Aidan had glanced aside in the same way, with the same tilt of the head and a duplicate indifference in his eyes. Diana's words and her resemblance to Aidan made Joanna want to take a big swallow of her fusionnaire. So she did.

The drink was gone. She should not have a second one, not with her head spinning the way it was now. She poured the second one and took several guarded sips.

"Star Commander Joanna, did you call me to your quarters for this discussion?"

Joanna shook her head. The movement made it ache. She blinked a couple of times before responding. "I had no purpose in calling you here, except to praise your tenacity in battling me in the Circle of Equals."

"Your praise pleases me." Diana did not show a bit of pleasure in her face, although her voice was softer.

"And there is another reason, which I should keep secret, but this fusionnaire is doing its job. It often loosens tongues." She took another large swallow of the drink. "You look like someone I once knew. Another warrior."

Diana nodded. "And his name was Aidan."

The statement astonished Joanna, who was not an easy person to astonish. "You know?"

"I have known since I was a small child. My mother told me his name. She held back much of my father's history, and hers, but she was honest in every other way."

An idea occurred to Joanna. "And what was hername, your mother?"

"Peri. She is a—"

"I know all about her, too. I was their falconer. I trained both of them."

Diana stood up suddenly, anger in the way she held her body if not in her face. "Then you are the one who came to Tokasha and took my father away, quiaff?"

"Aff. I was ordered to. Now you look as if you would like to fight me again."

Diana's body relaxed. "No, you are right, it is not worth fighting about. But you were part of the story my mother told me. She never mentioned your name."

"There have been times, MechWarrior Diana, when I wished I had not caught up with your father and brought him back. In some way that event has affected the course of my life, too. But that is irrelevant. Your father went on to become a warrior and a Bloodnamed officer. Do you seek him?"

"Once I intended to. But now I wish only to fight in this war."

"I know, I know. You are consistent, at least. If I were able to communicate with your father, would you want me to inform him about you?"

Diana seemed to consider the question for a moment. "No," she said. "If anyone tells him, it should be me."

Joanna toasted her with the fusionnaire, then drained it. "I salute you, MechWarrior Diana. I have to tell you that I despised your father, but I have seen him fight bravely and well. From what you showed today in the Circle of Equals, you may be quite like him. Now you must leave."

Diana obeyed the order without further comment. Once she was gone, Joanna allowed the darkness to overcome her. She fell, drunk, onto her bed, and passed out. In her frenetic dreams, images of Aidan and Diana kept flying toward her face and back and forth in front of it, sometimes one changing into the other, sometimes the two blending together. Several times she screamed out at the disembodied faces, cursing and vowing that she would kill both father and daughter.