LE5739 - Falcon Rising, page 13
"Oh, shut up, Grelev! I might be stuck with you, but you may be dead before our relationship is terminated."
"One of us may be dead, sir."
At first Ravill was angered by the apparent insubordination, then he laughed. "This begins an ugly relationship, Grelev, quiaff?"
"Aff."
* * *
"One more delay and, I swear, I am going to give all this up and just return to the ranks, a normal, content, everyday warrior. Without a bloodname!"
Diana was rankling at the postponement of the competition for another few days. Joanna, seeing that the edge was already off for Diana, vowed to push her all the harder.
It might have been better if Diana could vent her rage with a few fist-fights or honor duels within the Circle of Equals. But saKhan Clees had endorsed the banning of them by the late House Leader. In a meeting the day before, Samantha Clees made it clear that Diana's behavior would be closely observed.
Joanna did not care much for Samantha Clees. But there were so many other Jade Falcons that Joanna despised that a mild dislike for any person in authority did not matter much to her.
As they were walking away from the saKhan's quarters, Diana had muttered that she felt as if she would spend the rest of her life waiting for this competition to begin. They had been waiting for months already, as the preceding competitions dragged on. Due to the plethora of bloodnames available, the sheer number of bloodname contests here and on Strana Mechty and elsewhere had become unwieldy and created a spectacle that had drawn hordes of merchants and opportunists to the periphery of the contests themselves.
Joanna detested the delays, too. They seemed to sap Diana's energy, make her irritable, and even affect her focus in training. Horse's joining the training team about two weeks ago had not seemed to improve matters. Today, in the training field, Joanna had had to put Diana through hell just to perform simple routines. In the simulator Diana had been defeated twice by inferior BattleMechs, something that rarely happened with a Mech Warrior as sharp, experienced, and well-trained as Diana.
And she was well-trained. Joanna had poured all the skill of her many years as a falconer into the training of Diana. She had never put any cadet through the hell she had created for Diana, even cadets whom she had deeply hated. And she did not even hate Diana. Over the years she had come to— what was the word?—like Diana? Well, for Joanna, like might be too strong a word. She could not imagine actually liking anybody. But she almost liked Diana. And Horse.
Sometimes she wondered if she had liked Aidan Pryde; He had interested her, that was certain. But liking him would have been too hard. She could not have liked him. It was curious, though, in all her years of coupling with various Jade Falcons, the only memories of the experience she ever recalled were her few nights with Aidan Pryde when he was a cadet. She had forced him to come to her, and he had not wanted to be there. His subdued defiance had been clear to her and had become part of the coupling itself. For a moment or two, as she remained in control but threatened, she had even liked coupling, an activity that was usually just a release of edginess for her.
Now, it seemed, Diana could not stop her threats to abandon the bloodname contest. It was becoming more annoying.
"You give up now and you know what will happen," Joanna said, with a rare calmness.
"You will kill me."
"Diana, you can bet on it."
"Fighting you would at least give me something to aspire to. This waiting around, without a real fight, does strange things to my mind. I cannot concentrate. I can hardly even think. I just want to go somewhere and, I do not know, beat up a tree or a concrete building or something."
Joanna nodded. "I know the feeling, Diana. I have lived with it for most of my warrior life."
"Another insult. Now you seem to say I am becoming like you."
Joanna shrugged. "If you wish to think so."
"Would you be honored—if I was like you, I mean?"
"Hardly."
"Nobody could be like Star Commander Joanna," came a new voice. Both women turned toward the doorway, where they saw the thick-bearded, thick-bodied Horse leaning against the doorway. "To be like her, Diana, you would have to be a paragon of rage. It would be harder than winning a bloodname, believe me."
"I know. I am just a bit rattled. It has been the waiting more than anything else that makes me edgy. Waiting and Joanna making me work like a demon."
Horse glanced at Joanna and said, "I can well believe that."
Joanna merely grunted.
"Ravill Pryde has been appointed Leader of House Pryde by the saKhan," she said after a long pause.
Horse's eyes widened. "Ravill Pryde House Leader? How—I mean, what about Risa Pryde?"
"She is dead. Died a natural death, actually, if you believe that."
"You mean, she just died? Died like that? Not in a battle or a fight or accident or—"
"Just died. Went to sleep, did not wake up."
"It happens, I guess. But I thought only solahmas died natural deaths, and then only rarely."
"Freeborns die naturally, I hear."
"Well, yes. I only meant warriors." Horse seemed disturbed. "I guess it means that we need another war."
"Good idea. Go create one, Horse."
Joanna, who had come as close to liking Risa Pryde as she came to liking anybody, recalled that she had noticed that the House Leader looked particularly tired during her training field visit and wondered if that had been a clue to her coming fate, an omen.
After a pause, Horse said, "Ravill Pryde will preside over the Trials of Bloodright? Specifically, at Diana's?"
"True."
"Hard to believe."
"Hard."
"I hope it is not an omen."
"Of what?"
"I don't know, but not anything good."
"Stop the contractions. You know I cannot stand them. Especially when we are threatened."
"Threatened? What about?"
"I am not sure. I guess I am the one thinking about omens now."
* * *
The news of Risa Pryde's death spread rapidly through Ironhold. Jade Falcons in all castes stopped to wonder how such a thing as a natural death to a warrior could even happen. They had to conclude that, once in a while, a disease slipped by all the preventives of Clan medical science or a heart simply stopped without any weaponry involved.
Nomad, drunk in a tech sector bar, delighted in the irony of the demise. Samantha, who had barely known Risa Pryde, was annoyed at the inconvenience of the warrior's passing. Back on Strana Mechty, Marthe Pryde found she did not remember Risa Pryde well.
After Samantha had left his quarters, Ravill Pryde realized that, ambitious as he was, he felt uncomfortable with the rise in position afforded him by Risa's death. This was not an honor, but a detour on his way up. As the saKhan had indicated, he would not hold the job long. He sincerely hoped that proved true.
But everyone got through the day with their occasional reflections on the passing of Risa Pryde and, the next day, only a few even thought of her. Even Ravill Pryde was too busy to care who had been responsible for thrusting him into the quagmire of his new Jade Falcon role.
14
Science Research and Education Center
Ironhold City, Ironhold
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space
19 February 3060
Etienne Balzac never raised his voice. As Scientist-General of the Jade Falcon scientist caste, he did not have to. He had subordinates who could do that for him. As he leaned toward Peri Watson, she thought she could detect a faint odor on his breath. A faint, chemical odor.
"Those children are not your concern," he said. "Nor is any other project to which you are not assigned."
The man had grown more bloated since she had last seen him. His complexion was paler than ever, perhaps due to his not leaving the Science Research and Education Center very often. He remained in this office and his own quarters nearby most of the time, studying all the projects going on within the scientist caste, while looking for more ways to consolidate his power.
"With all due respect, Scientist-General, I believe it is my concern. The genetics of Aidan Pryde must not be misused, and I believe that—"
"That is sufficient, Peri Watson. I do not know why you see conspiracies everywhere you look. There is no cooperation in some chain of secret projects among the scientists of different Clans. We barely communicate and then only to exchange useful information in open conferences, diplomatic missions at best. Anything we discover that is useful to all Clans is readily available to all. Jade Falcon scientists work for the good of the Clan and all Clans, that is all, quiaff? I take your silence as an act of insubordination."
He takes this general role too seriously, Peri thought. Even his office reflects that. Everything in its place. Materials on desktop neatly arranged in geometric pattern. The proper Clan history holos on the wall. Furniture suitable more to the stark demands of warriors.
"I am not insubordinate, Scientist-General. If I were not loyal to my Clan, I would not be here. As a scientist I wish to continue serving the Clan. I am currently between assignments, on research leave, and so I request formally to be assigned to Sibko Training Center 111."
Balzac turned away, returning to his neat and polished desk. "Request denied. Dismissed."
Peri noted the militaristic style of address. The man was too pompous for words.
"What assignment do you suggest?"
"You know the proper channels. Use them."
"I thought that you—"
"You were mistaken. I repeat, dismissed. The next time I say it, you will leave with a guard escort, Peri Watson."
"Very well," Peri said, knowing she had no other choice.
* * *
After she had left, Balzac thought for a long time, while staring at a painting of the battle of Tukayyid that he had positioned beside his desk. The artist's conception was intended to depict Aidan Pryde's final moments in that battle, the final event in the series that led to his enshrinement as a Jade Falcon hero. Balzac doubted that the real battle looked anything like this artist's version, with Pryde in his Timber Wolf, blue fire shooting from his lasers, enemy 'Mechs falling around him, Aidan's 'Mech itself a mountain towering over the action. Something about the Timber Wolf was off. It was a bit too tall, its width a bit too broad. Artist's license, Balzac decided, as he switched on his intercom and summoned the head of his guards, Olan.
* * *
The tall and thin Olan stood at ease before Balzac. Even in starched fatigues, the man looked disreputable. Well, he had been a bandit for some time.
"You will need to perform another elimination, Olan. I would like you to choose two of your best people for the job."
Olan nodded. He never talked much and when he did, it was only in a few words. "The target?" was what he now said.
"Named Peri Watson."
"The one who just left."
"Yes. But, remember, I cannot be connected to the deed, nor should the scientist caste be. I do not want you carrying any ID in case anything goes wrong."
"Naturally."
"Plan well, but do it soon."
"My duty."
"Dismissed."
Olan, expressionless, bowed and left the room. For a second or two Balzac regretted the necessity of the elimination. But soon he returned to his routine, intensely examining reports, commenting on progress, calling in various scientists working on various projects. Work was always his best palliative and, by the end of the day, he had forgotten about Peri Watson.
Keeping matters in compartments was his best qualification as Scientist-General. It had helped in his scheming to gain the office and it would continue to aid him in doing what few of his predecessors had accomplished, staying in office alive. He had seen early that, within the scientist caste, intrigue created success, and he had become skilled at intrigue. He was so skilled at it that few ever caught him doing it. It was clear, however, that Peri Watson had and, when he saw that, her fate was sealed.
15
Bloodname Plains
Ironhold
Kerensky Cluster, Clan Space
26 February 3060
Joanna, perturbed as ever, watched the tail end of the Grand Melee. She found the melee uninteresting, but she had no choice about being there. The Grand Melee was the beginning of the House Pryde bloodname Trials, after all. It was unlikely, but still possible, that Diana might have to face the winner of the melee somewhere along the way, and Joanna believed in knowing the most you can about your competition.
Generally, the Grand Melee sounded better than it turned out to be, at least to trained eyes like Joanna's. As a former falconer she could trace nearly all mistakes through simple observation. It was as if the BattleMech, the armored fighting machine that, with its limbs and at least the suggestion of a head, had a body language similar to its human pilot. What she saw in this sloppy Grand Melee was a pack of 'Mech pilots who, while they might be sturdy warriors in the heat of combat, had lost too much edge to compete well in a rule-bound trial. In such a contest she merely noted poor training, bad habits, eroded skills. Perhaps that was no more than could reasonably be expected. After all, these were the warriors no regular warrior wanted to sponsor and so did not represent the best of the breed.
For this melee she could not even pick a winner. Whoever survived among the many who competed, that warrior would almost certainly be defeated in the next round.
Standing next to Joanna now, as the Grand Melee wore down to a quartet of contestants almost blindly searching for each other across the ravaged plain, was Ravill Pryde. Ever since his appointment as House Leader, Ravill had looked even more surly and uncomfortable than ever.
She had felt Ravill's steady gaze on her even while not looking his way. She wondered what he saw—a wreck of a face under ever-graying hair?
Some of the younger warriors regularly exhibited their disgust at Joanna's age, and she had taught several of them painful lessons. However, as most other warriors noticed, she rarely showed her age in her walk or in the way she stood. At those times she could be mistaken for a much younger warrior. Her status as the hero-conquerer of the Wolf Clan legend, Natasha Kerensky, added to her image among the younger warriors and, she had heard, there were even a few who had formed a kind of cult that secretly honored her. She found that hard to accept and figured they must be other outcasts among warriors.
Suddenly Joanna was aware that Ravill had just addressed her.
"I am sorry, Oathmaster, my mind was elsewhere." She enjoyed addressing him as Oathmaster. It seemed to make the little ferret even more uneasy.
Ravill surprised her by grinning. "I merely observed that this melee's warriors could use a crash course from you in basic training."
"I have not trained a sibko in a decade."
Ravill nodded. "I know, but here on Ironhold your reputation as a falconer and combat hero is quite formidable, I have observed."
"I am honored, Oathmaster."
As she resumed her observation of the melee, watching the final pair of contestants maneuver their BattleMechs clumsily, almost as if their pilots realized that who won did not matter, Joanna thought, as she often did, of her anomalous position among warriors. She had proven herself as the best among unblooded warriors and longed for this long Trial of Bloodright to be over so she could return to a combat unit.
Marthe Pryde had promised her that, if she returned to the homeworlds for Diana's contest, she would not lose her position as a combat officer in the Jade Falcon occupation force. They had promised not to reassign her to a solahma unit in the homeworlds, but every day she spent away from the front lines made her more uneasy. Especially with Ravill Pryde here on Ironhold and now head of House Pryde. He wanted Joanna out of the Falcon Guards, his command, and he made no secret of that. Had she not ended up a hero in the second Twycross battle, she would have been shipped out long ago, reassigned to some shameful role.
"Well, that is over," Ravill said suddenly, and Joanna realized she had missed the whole finish of the Grand Melee. One of the warriors, the loser, was being carried away on a stretcher. From what Joanna could see, the warrior's leg was severely injured. A gaping wound revealed the mess inside, and Joanna could not help thinking how much uglier than the inside of a 'Mech leg, where a mass of twisted myomer fiber was usually the most inartistic damage.
"What did you think, Joanna?"
"A desultory display, not worthy of Jade Falcons."
Ravill nodded. "I agree. I hope to see better from here on in."
Joanna wondered if the carefully planned Clan eugenics program had somehow resulted in ever weakened generations of warriors. And the proof of that now stood before her. Ravill Pryde, a sort of genetic mutation as Jade Falcons went, with his mixture of Falcon and Wolf genes, was a brave enough warrior, but he seemed corrupted in some way she had never quite been able to define. There was definitely something different about him. Yet most others did not seem to see it. She wondered if the good warriors were being produced at the old rate. Why was she seeing fewer Aidan Prydes and more Ravills?
A few years back, the head of the Watch, Kael Pershaw, had sent her on a mission to investigate some genetic violations that his secret service had detected. Her spying had revealed that the scientist caste was regularly tampering with Clan genetics, sometimes even combining genes from different Clans.
When her mind dwelled on this subject, she decided that too many warriors had been killed in the costly and devastating battles that had been part of the Inner Sphere invasion. The ranks had, simply, been weakened. The genetic tamperings were irrelevant.
Diana would not have been allowed to compete but for the lack of eligible warriors. From Joanna's viewpoint, the current situation was pathetic. Had she encountered this same kind of field in her own days of competing, she would have strolled to a bloodname. Joanna did deserve a bloodname, and nobody knew that better than Joanna.
