Fortress Republic, page 32
part #18 of BattleTech : Mechwarrior Dark Age Series
“I don’t have to run anywhere anymore. I can just sit here and wait for trouble to come looking for me, apparently.”
“What!” She flapped her arms, hands grasping at the air like she would grab and shake the answers from him. “What happened now? Jules?”
He rocked forward, leaning into his desk with hands splayed across the smooth surface. He pressed himself up into a leaning stand, and looked his best friend straight in the eye. And saw that she knew. It was the news Julian had been dreading for months.
He nodded. “Harrison is dead. Levin wasn’t even going to inform me of that, apparently.”
“Want to go take Terra? We can do it.”
Almost, almost the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Julian’s mouth. “Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.”
Alive or dead, Harrison had left him a final charge. Levin’s offer of alliance firm or broken, Julian had also pledged himself to Ronel, at least for a time, as its defender. Insane or healthy, Caleb Hasek Sandoval Davion was First Prince. So much to weigh. So much to consider. And he would. Now that the wheels had been set in motion, there was no turning back. He would see it through to the end.
He reached forward and palmed off his computer.
But not today. “We have time,” Julian said.
DropShip First Sun, Tikonov
Outbound Federated Suns
“She made it away.”
Caleb nodded at the mirror, and his reflection nodded back. Maybe a split second late, but still in agreement.
The lavatory in the prince’s stateroom was nearly the size of a regular officer’s berth. All steel and chrome and plastic molded to resemble real marble tile. A fully encased shower cubicle large enough for two people to enjoy at once with floor-to-ceiling jets. Multiple sinks of deep red porcelain. A huge mirror of silvered ferroglass. When microgravity returned, all but useless. But while under the one-gravity burn of acceleration thrust, to be enjoyed.
Space. One of the greatest luxuries of space travel. He had plenty.
And didn’t want it.
Caleb leaned over one of the sinks. Right hand propped against the cold steel and porcelain. Left hand dipping into a sink of cold water, palming up thin handfuls and scrubbing it over the back of his neck in slow, measured gestures.
“She did. All reports are the same. Three outbound DropShips from New Hessen, all within a forty-eight hour period of Erik’s arrival and our . . . my rescue. Liao, every one of them. She (Danai) must have made rendezvous.”
If she hadn’t, there was no word from New Hessen of a captured warrior or new guerrilla activity. And Caleb had left very strict orders with Lord Faust and Brevet-Colonel Hedges that he should be sent word at once. No word of a discovered ’Mech. Same orders.
“She could have waited. Should have. I’d have let her ransom Yen-lo-wang off New Hessen.” His reflection looked at him with dark smudges under both eyes and a shadow of doubt flickering in their depths. “I would have!”
“Caleb?” Sterling McKenna called from within his stateroom. “Did you need something?”
He dropped his gaze to the water. Stirred it with two fingers, and then scrubbed a new handful over his face. Let the water drip back with tiny trickles and splashes.
“No,” he said. “No.” But he did not raise his gaze.
Softer, he said, “No, I didn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t. No point to that. I mean, she is Liao, and so not exactly human. By most Davion standards. But there was . . . something. Between us. That she encouraged and I was . . . powerless to help.” He leaned down, took up two large handfuls of water and scrubbed them over his face, trying to wash away the dark smudges. “Her fault.”
He scooped up more water, sipped it out of cupped palms and swished the cold wetness around in his mouth. The water stung his gums, drilled a deep ache into his teeth. Pushing himself back up, he looked again in the mirror.
A dark-eyed creature looked back at him with hollow, dead eyes and a snarl curling his lip.
Her fault.
Caleb spat his mouthful of water against the silvered glass, erasing that image. Thinking to wash it away and have done with the creature once and for all. Not there! Never again!
And as the water sheeted down, revealing once again his distorted reflection, Caleb saw that he was no longer alone. Finally! After six weeks apart, he breathed a sigh of relief to know that his friend had, in fact, survived New Hessen. One worry, at least, he could set aside. He would not be forced to face the trials ahead by himself.
Mason Lambert stared back out of the mirror, standing just behind him. Mason, who gave his childhood friend an encouraging nod and reached a gentle hand toward his shoulder.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Mason promised. “We’re just getting started.”
Contents
Acknowledgments BUILT ON QUICKSAND
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GOOD FENCES
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SOLITUDE
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Epilogue
Loren L. Coleman, Fortress Republic
