Time to uncover some secrets.
15.
Overlord-Ca"cla.s.s DropShip Breaker of Waves Near Orbit, Adhafera Prefecture VII, The Republic 15 July 3134 Gacrux and its mining concerns. Ryde and its chemical industry. Konstance and natural gas. More came to mind as easily as letting fly a salvo of missiles.
Sha Clarke floated a hairbreadth above his perch on the wall of the Ritual Chamber. Gazed at the map of the Inner Sphere. Pinpointed worlds on which his Aimag had secured glory for Clan Sea Fox; ignored those where failure had occurred. His cool eyes roved over hundreds of light-years. Tracking, cataloging, evaluating. He knew any ovKhan who looked at the Inner Sphere displayed in the Ritual Chamber did the same, could not help it.
Yet unlike his fellow leaders, in the apparently random position of victories and losses, he saw a pattern a decade and more in the building. A grand design that would benefit Beta Aimag and Spina Khanatea"not simply benefit, elevatea"them to their rightful place, allow them to bask in the praise and glory they gained, not have it siphoned off to benefit those Khanates that could not carry their own weight.
Sha felt a rumble build within his belly, ignored the familiar ache generated by the dayas fasting. He clenched his stomach muscles to disrupt the sound before it carried to the other three occupants of the chamber; it would be aunseemly.
Refocusing his eyes on the sides of the chamber deck, he studied the final two Trial of Bloodright contestants. His cold smile barely moved his lips; both were from Beta Aimag. The fourth occupant of the chamber, Jet Sennet, stood on his own platform, but the Oathmaster did not officiate for the final pairing. Petras absence created a presence all its own.
Sha slowly shook his head, furrowed his brows. Why did Petr have to be so rash? There could be no doubt the man was brilliant. He had taken Delta Aimag from relative obscurity among Spina Khanateas Aimags to a level where it competed regularly with Beta for the most glory. Yet the man who singlehandedly accomplished that task could still be too rash. Still held to antiquated loyalties that bound him, bound them all. If only he could be made to see the possibilities outside such boundaries, Sha knew he and Petr would be unstoppable, a combination that by negotiations or force of arms would shake the Inner Sphere to its core, reshape it to their vision.
The Bloodmaster entered, pulling the senses like blood in the water.
The Bloodmaster stood gracefully just inside a hatch reserved for her entrance alone, her accoutrements strapped with casual familiarity around her person. Though she wore the same single-suit as the others, her features were hidden by a remnant of another agea"a ceremonial mask made from the head of a sea fox, its teeth bared and snarling. The mask jutted into the chamber, bringing the essence of their totem to this most sacred ceremony.
Rocking forward onto her toes to break her magnetic slipsa hold on the deck, she flexed her leg muscles and took flight toward the center of the dome. As the Bloodmaster reached the central platform, she elegantly grasped a column, slid into the spot previously occupied by the water funnel and tucked her feet under a holding bar. With the ease of long years, she began to a.s.semble the tools of her trade.
Though Sha had witnessed the final pairing of a Trial of Bloodright several times, it never ceased to fascinate him. He found exquisite beauty in the perfection of her craft. Mastering the ritual took most of her life and cost the Bloodmaster her name and ident.i.ty, but allowed a scientist to reach the vaunted position of officiating to the warriors of Clan Sea Fox. Though she was not a warrior or merchant, Sha gave her his deepest respect by bowing like the Sea Fox as she entered, his suit pulling taunt across the smooth muscles of his body.
Such dedication deserved nothing less.
The Bloodmaster first pulled out a malleable gourd taken from the sh.o.r.es of Doken on Twycross, filled with the waters where the sea fox thrived, and left it hanging in the air, slightly to her right.
Next, from a back pouch she pulled out a clear polymer funnel, a meter and a half long, with the open end less than a half meter and the tapered end just large enough to allow the Bloodright coin to pa.s.s through; she set it spinning rapidly directly in front of her.
Finally, she pulled out a half-meter-long opaque beaker, with a large bottom surface and a throat opening slightly larger than that of the funnel end; she set it spinning to her left, opening aligned with the funnel end.
With everything in place the Bloodmaster turned, and a keening voice boomed out across the chamber; the voice of the sea fox calling across the oceans of Twycross; across the oceans of the void; across the oceans of time and distance to demand only the finest, only the worthiest warriors present themselves.
Sha watched with satisfaction as the two Beta Aimag warriors immediately arrowed toward the domeas center. With equal skill and alacrity, they arrived at the platform as one, grasped poles for support and tucked feet under their own holding bars; the three formed a tripod, with the spinning objects in the center.
Another savage cry tore through the chamber, setting off echoes that bounced and soared; no words were spoken here, for these warriors no longer needed to prove their worthiness to occupy their positionsa"those claims were made plain by their previous four wins. Both warriors extended their arms beneath the spinning funnel, presenting their Bloodright coins.
The Bloodmaster plucked each coin from their exposed palms like a striking viper. Grasping a coin between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, she held them up for all to seea"as though showing the universe at large their worthinessa"before drawing her hands palm down toward her chest. She then flipped her hands from palm down to up and released the coins. As the coins floated into the large funnel opening, her hands were already moving toward the gourd. The coins entered the funnel and began to strike the sides and ricochet within, and the Bloodmaster squeezed the gourd, at the same time setting it spinning in place.
With a speed and grace only a sea fox might surpa.s.s, the Bloodmaster moved without any apparent use of her magnetic slips to stand at the end of the funnel. The water from the gourd shot in a single, pure stream into the funnel, where the coins already had spun down more than a meter within; their movements increased, becoming more frantic as they reached the narrowing end. The stream of water jetted past, snagging both coins, sending them tumbling toward the funnel end. The stream shot out the back of the funnel toward the waiting beaker. At almost the exact instant the water began to enter the beaker, the first coin emerged. In a move Sha likened to the blurred strike of a particle projector cannon, the Bloodmaster snagged the first coin from the stream in her right hand without redirecting a single drop of water; a moment later her left hand snagged the other coin in similar fashion.
As the stream of water from the gourd terminated and the last of it began the journey through the funnel to its ultimate resting place in the beaker, the Bloodmaster turned to the waiting warriors, held their coins out for them to see.
Jard, on the left, immediately spoke up. aI will fight unaugmented, Bloodmaster.a Without any hesitation, Bek responded, aI choose to fight here, now.a Both bowed deeply to the Bloodmaster, who in turn dipped her head in acknowledgment; with the efficiency shead shown throughout the entire ceremony, she contained the last of the liquid (as far as Sha could tell from this distance, not a drop went uncounted for) and stowed her articles.
With another bow of her head, she grasped the struts of the platform and pushed off, sailing feet first toward her hatch; Sha tore his eyes away from the Bloodmaster as the warriors immediately began maneuvering.
Sha knew Bek would win almost before the Bloodmaster left the chamber. Though Jard, like all Fox Clansmen, knew how to maneuver in microgravity, Bek reveled in it. He immediately clamped both magnetic slips down to the floor, squatted to grasp the holding bar with his right hand and jerked his feet backward, pulling them completely out of his shoes and leaving him barefoot.
Before Jardas face could do more than register his surprise, Bek yanked on the holding bar and shot forwarda"an eel through water coming for its prey. His outstretched left hand hit like a hammer blow against the side of Jardas face, eliciting a grunt. Yet Jard would not lose so quickly; he let the momentum of the blow push him out and away from the platform with enough energy to reach the wall; as Sha himself discovered early in his microgravity training, no velocity, and no purchase to regain it, meant defeat.
As the two closed on the chamber wall and rebounded back for another pa.s.s at each other, Shaas mind was distracted to its previous line of thought. If only he could change Petras way of thinking. No, changing it would not be enough. Sha would need to completely turn it on its ear.
Shifting his gaze away from the unfolding combat (though Jard landed a solid blow of his own, Bekas return thrust sent droplets of blood cascading through the chamber), Sha fixed his eyes once more on the map of the Inner Sphere; on The Republic of the Sphere; on Prefecture VII.
A matter of semantics, perhaps.
Then again, semantics were what divided them from spheroids, kept them from falling back to barbarity and honorlessness. Yes, Petr brought great honor and glory to his Aimag, but only because he worked to bring honor to himself. As he had told Petr during their combat, such thinking would eventually bring a man down, bring down his Aimag and the Clan as a whole. Bringing honor to the Aimag for the sake of the Aimaga true honor lay in such currents.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sha saw Bek slice down to the bottom deck, landing on his hands, right by the bulkhead. He used the momentum to somersault into the bulkhead, where he drove off after a half-twist for realignment and vectored back in toward Jarda"an aeros.p.a.ce fighter lining up for another blistering pa.s.s with charged particle cannons and loaded ballistic weapons. Sha nodded absentminded approval at their silence, despite the hard blows that continued to purple flesh and tear bleeding wounds.
Sha focused on a train of thought only he could drive. It went beyond trying to change Petras idea of outdated loyalties; it required trying to change the very way in which he lived.
Like this trial, Shaas own trial continued. Yet this new phase would be much more difficult than the last: not simply defeating Petra"that victory could never be in doubta"but defeating his very character.
A genuine smile (as genuine as any for Sha) curved his lips in unaccustomed tautness. Could there be any greater challenge? To change the very essence of another person? Of another warrior?
Sha crouched and hunkered lefta"the cool metal of the platform a welcome sensation after the heat generated by the combatantsa"as Jard sailed through the s.p.a.ce his head had occupied a moment before, piling into the bulkhead with terrific force. The metal actually vibrated with the force of the impacta"the signal the trial was over.
Sha glanced at the body of Jard as it slowly floated away from him, limbs askew and blood bubbling up from the crushed nose.
Of course, defeat was always an option. Yes, if only death would make Petr see, then so it would be, regardless of the lost resource.
16.
Beta Aimag Hospice, Near Halifax Vanderfox, Adhafera Prefecture VII, The Republic 18 July 3134 His skin did not feel like his own.
Petr swam up through a lake of malaise, his whole body and mind fighting against his indomitable will. Memories, like bubbles, rose to the surface around him. Each exploding in a miniature display of subconscious/conscious pyrotechnicsa"a sound-and-light kaleidoscope show only seen, only known, only heard by him.
Yet the bubbles did not proceed in any orderly fashion. Percolated by his rage, they swirled into an unknowable pattern, strobing memories from years past with those of recent design.
Petr tried vainly to roll over and crush the spheres The scent of blood clotting in the nose of an eight-year-old, his first combat lessons begun. The shiv-trainer suspended in the air, a revolving G.o.d whose features never changed, never altered, whether handing out praise or a thrashing. The girl, with flashing eyes, short brown hair and heaving chest; triumphant smile; knuckle-sc.r.a.ped left fist, smeared with his blood; defeat, a bitter taste worse than any blow.
though the pain became a living ent.i.ty when fed A n.o.ble hall on a forgotten world. Strange, slightly noxious scents flooding the rooma"alien, local food. The viscount preparing it himself, only a loincloth covering his newly shaven body; his loss requiring that no hair be left to mark his manhood. The rump, with tail lashed around several vegetablesa"apples?a"of a local dago, spit fried, served to Petr by the viscountas own handa"victory sweet, supple, hard.
by such movements, yet he needed to Brown hair grown longer, heaving chest now b.r.e.a.s.t.s; a sibkin, a friend. Eyes flashing ecstasy, sweat slicked bodies moving as Mech Warrior and aMech; becoming one on this battlefield; used and taken, given and gifted. Rhythm building, tongue, teeth and screams. Pain and loss forgotten in an endless flash of primordial need; spent, panting, bodies entwined, an embrace of love aof death.
stop the cycle, or fall once more into the abyss of his own Laser fire punching holes in his armor. Muscles still learning, still straining to manhandle the thirty-ton aMech. A cheek two years from stubble slams into the neurohelmet; flotsam and jetsam of his subconscious explode around him, dragging him to defeat. Clenching joysticks, baring teeth, he pushes back, back against the odds. Success on his tongue, not the tang of his own blood sliding back, down, slicking each taste bud with his own mortality.
making.
Bubbles, bubbles, bubblesa his bubbles. His life. His memories. His defeats and victories. Petr realized it did not matter that they arose in such disconcerting numbers or such coalescing confusion. They were his.
Taking a deep breath, Petr relaxed. Felt the cool sheets under his skin, sunlight across his exposed left leg, the soft, warm breeze redolent with the scent of another monster storm waiting to be unleashed; scents of flora and fauna tickling his nose, still alien though he had been downside for weeks. He sucked in another deep breath until he felt his ribs creak with the paina and pulled his memories within, where they burst like a decompressed chamber.
aAnd how are you this morning?a Petr wanted to keep his eyes closed, but realized it would do no good; the witch would know he no longer slept. He cracked his eyelids, felt the not completely unpleasant light fill his vision.
aThat is right. I know you are awake. You might as well open them farther.a It just did not seem right. Such a soft, comforting voicea"not to mention her appealing looks of blue eyes, milk chocolate shoulder-length hair and freckled facea"should not belong to the witch; he knew her name, but refused to remember it. The savashri simply would not leave him be. Leave him alone. Leave him to wallow in his own pity. Witch!
aWhat, no words this morning? No cursing or whining?a aI do not whine,a Petr said. Promptly began coughing lightly, his throat still scorched from the fire and heat.
aAh, so you can speak today.a Petr turned his head away, frustrated. What would a medico know of his disgrace? Of the pain that bit infinitely deeper than any wound or broken bone?
She hummed while checking her monitors; he tried to ignore her, but found it impossible. After his small victory over himself, Petr once more became powerless. He knew full well she strove to raise his spirits, to heal his physical and emotional wounds. Yet she could not know (he would not tell!) that her constant haranguing, her constant pushing to move him out of bed, to flex his muscles and stretch his flesha"his minda"only drove him deeper into himself.
He had suffered the most humiliating defeat possible: he had survived. And now he lay there, nursed back to a gross semblance of life he no longer cared to hold on to. He closed his eyes, but he could almost predict where her footfalls would echo next in the small room, where her ministrations would take her, in a path as surely determined as a hypersonic Gauss round slung from a aMech.
aYou have a visitor today.a aYou can tell Jesup I do not wish to see him.a aHas Jesup ever asked permission to see you?a The tone of disapproval in her voice lightened Petras mood a crack.
aI suppose not. Then who?a aovKhan Sha Clarke.a For a moment Petr could not breathe. Her words were a firebomb that detonated within the small confines of the room, sucking all oxygen to itself, making it impossible to breathe, to talk. He could barely discern the soft beep of the monitoring equipment through the blood pounding in his head; the headache almost surged back. He restrained a gaspa"refused to allow her to see such weaknessa"though he brought his bandaged right arm up to the swaddled portion of his head.
aAre you okay?a Her concern had no effect on his anger, rising hot and viscous as molten lead.
aWhat do you think?a She never gave him the courtesy of his t.i.tlea"a right he tried to enforce but lost. Another defeat to inferiority. What was he becoming?
aI think you need rest more than company. I will tell ovKhan Clarke to return another day.a Combat ensued within. The cool embrace of silence and the morbidness of his own thoughts, or the contemptuous twist to Shaas mouth at such weakness? After all, the surat had already defeated him. What possible additional humiliation could simply allowing the nurse to exert her authority bring? None.
If that was true, why did his rage then burn hotter? It sat like a four-ton broken gyro within him, crushing weight and chaotic tumble bringing vertigo and nausea. He tried hiding, only to see himself reflected in the broken shards of a million spheres within. He had to face this. Though he would gladly die at this moment, he would not die in weakness. Not in front of Sha.
He pushed himself up against the inclined bed, pulled the covers from his swollen and bandaged chest, careful to move his right arm as little as possible.
aWhat are you doing?a the witch said, a crack in her facade showing real emotion for once. Concern? True concern?
He swung one leg out over the side of the bed and gripped the edge of the mattress with his left hand as bats fluttered wings through his vision. For a moment, he almost gave in, almost dove back to the cool depths of his own void. He suddenly missed the caress of his hair on his shoulders, knew it all had been shaved away after it burned off in the inferno of his c.o.c.kpit. The right side of his head would never grow hair again.
Cold eyes beckoned, mocked, cajoled. What days of the witchas humming and Jesupas endless, futile banter failed to accomplish, the arrival of Shaas spectral form achieved.
He swung the other leg out and down, until bare toes met unyielding, cold tiles; they talked about wanting you up and around as quickly as possible, yet they made the floor as unwelcoming as possible. The thought quirked his lips in a tiny smile.
aovKhan, you must stop. Please. You will hurt yourself.a His smile widened; she called him ovKhan. The first time since he arrived. The first.
He unclenched fingers to wave away her concerns. Thought about trying for the chair only three steps distant, but it suddenly felt like the gulf between stars, and his Kearny-Fuchida jump drive absolutely remained broken. This would have to do.
aShow my guest in,a he said softly. Whether because of the tone of his voice or the expression in his eyes, she immediately withdrew. He allowed himself to show his pain for the first time that day. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply through his nose and tried to forget about his body. To forget about what Sha would see, the leverage he would instantly have, upon entering.
Petr was a mess. The final firefight broke into his c.o.c.kpit. A residual lance of photons slashed into his right arm, severing muscles and flash-boiling flesh all along the arm and chest, up onto his neck and most of the right side of his skull; his hair caught fire and burned away, further scarring his head.
As ovKhan, he could order the extravagance of new skin to be grown to replace the scarred, puckered mess of his scalp; he could be made new, as though his defeat never occurred. Yet something stayed his hand. Something pulled him out of his delirium long enough to order them not to automatically travel that road. He still couldnat articulate what had happened, but he felt its importance. Somethinga Sha walked into the room.
No gloating. No sarcastic smile. No satisfaction. Just his endless cool exterior. A face devoid of any emotiona"not even a flicker at seeing Petras conditiona"and eyes as frigid as the depths of s.p.a.ce.
Anything wouldave been better. Any emotion at all. But this nothinga Petr fought to control his rage. Losing control would do no good here, only make him lose more ground.
aYou are up?a Sha said, his voice impossibly neutral. Almost inhumanly neutral.
Does he actually practice? aAff.a Silence. Hot eyes met cold and a silence sharp enough to shatter ferrogla.s.s stretched for several long minutes. Neither was willing to speak first. Surprisingly, Sha finally broke the silence with a barely perceptible nod; Petr didnat for a moment believe head won anything.
What was the new angle? There had to be an angle.
aIt is good to see you up. Clan Sea Fox has need of such warriors. Such leaders.a aDid you not say you would remove such leaders as I, quiaff?a Petr flexed his leg and b.u.t.t muscles to ease his discomfort, kept his shoulder as immobile as possible.
Sha, who stood only a single step inside the room, slowly shook his head; his eyes never once left Petras.
aNeg, ovKhan, those are not my words, but yours in my mouth. I know your body has been ravaged, but we know it will heal. I only hope your mind has not been compromised. I hope it will heal properly as well.a Petr barked in harsh laughter. aMy mind has never been better, Sha. Never. Those were the words you spoke. Are you denying them now?a aI have never needed to deny my own words.a Silence. Fire and ice. The minutes once more stretched and Petr began to suspect Shaas strategy. Wear me down. Drag the conversation out as long as possible. Force me to show weakness. A very good strategy. He dug deep, launched his own attack.
aaThat is why you will ultimately be brought down.a Those are your words, quiaff?a Those cool, frosty eyes. aAff.a aThen how could I be putting words in your mouth?a aBecause you a.s.sumed I would be the one to do it.a aAnd you will not?a aI did not say that either.a aYou are not saying a whole lot.a aWhen important words need to be spoken, they are usually few in number.a Petr barked another laugh, used it to cover while resettling his shoulders, licking his lips against the pain. The dryness. He needed a drink.
aYou are starting to sound like a philosopher. Warrior. Merchant. Philosopher. Who knew I would have such guests today?a aAny great warrior is a philosopher, ovKhan. I would think you of all people would know that truth,a Sha replied. aThe Founder understood it when he forged us. House Kurita and their bushido code know it. Are their warriors not poets and artisans as well? You can do much worse than be a philosopher. Especially when the philosophy you find leads you down a better path.a aYou still did not answer my question, Sha. Are you trying to lead me down a different path? A better path?a Petr smiled very unpleasantly.
aThe answer, ovKhan Kalasa, already should have found you. I did not say I personally would remove you. I said that if you persisted in your selfishness, you would be removed. It is inevitable. As inexorable as the pull of gravity. The eventual death of stars. Our eventual demise as well.a aBoth? You are not immortal?a The sarcasm practically dripped off the walls.
aI have never entertained such grand thoughts, ovKhan. I am as much dust as the next warrior. I only hope to leave Spina Khanate with more glory and power than before. Better off.a aDo you not mean Clan Sea Fox?a Petr probed.
aMechs could shatter against such silence. Fire and ice.
aThey are the same, quiaff?a Sha finally spoke.
aAff. Yet I do not believe that to be the case for you, Sha. You accuse me of selfishness, yet you are the hypocrite. You are every bit as selfish as you accuse me of being. Clan Sea Fox is the whole, not Spina Khanate. Certainly not Beta Aimag.a For the first time Petr could remember, something moved in the bleak arctic wastes of Shaas eyes. Head scored somehow.
aYou accuse me of not knowing a thing about you, ovKhan.a Sha began again; if Petr had scored, it didnat show in his voice. aI would return the sentiment.a aYou would destroy Clan leaders. What more is there to know?a Sha took a single step toward him, the soft soles of his boots whispering on the cool tiles as he stopped again, right hand upraised slightly, as though entreating. Not Sha.
aovKhan, if I feel you have violated Clan law or traditions, I can call you out in a Trial of Grievance, quiaff?a aAffa though not exactly.a aAh, you see. Not so cut and dried. I can call you out by strict adherence to Clan law, but that is never really the case. Your own subordinates would call you out. And generally, you do not have a cadet calling out too far above his station, or an ovKhan too high above his own.a Petr nodded his head. Why were they having a discussion about something they both knew all too well?
aNot to mention, if I do move too far above my station or too far out of my purview, in all likelihood a newly acquired subordinate will rise to challenge me and I will not survive the sheer numbers, quiaff?a aAff. That is so a warrior cannot challenge his Khan for a decision he simply cannot fathoma"it would bog down the Clan in pettiness.a Petr explained.
aExactly. So what do you do when you see that exact situation occurring? Leaders who do not lead all to glory, but sit like fat House Leaders, piling up the glories others reap.a Shaas gaze was becoming more intent.
aAre you discussing a hypothetical situation?a aWhatever way you wish to think about it. Real, hypothetical, I want an answer. If you see such injustice, but know that our traditions actually hold us to certain behaviors in this situation, what do you do?a aNothing.a Sha lowered his hand and leaned forward slightly, as though attempting to gaze into Petras soul; for a moment Petr felt sure a cold breeze scratched his face and made him swallow reflexively with the inability to breathe such cold air.
aYou see an injustice you feel cannot be addressed in the standard Clan way and you do nothing?a aExactly.a aThen what about our fight? Was that the standard way?a Anger finally boiled to the surface. He violently shook his head and winced painfully at the jabs of fire in his shoulder and the pinp.r.i.c.ks ignited along his skull. He closed his eyes, felt sweat spring out along his brow and quickly begin to slide down his shaven scalp to his neck.
Wished for a drink of water as he rubbed his tongue, rough as sandpaper, along his lips (refused to ask for a gla.s.s; no weakness in front of Sha!) and spoke, slowly, with great deliberation; he could not afford to be angry right now. aI did not fire on you after you took my aMechas arm. I took yours.a aIf that is the way you wish to remember it, so be it. But I would wager you are lying to yourself. You are not the type to sit back and allow something you do not agree with to occur if you can do something about it.a Petr opened his mouth to voice flat denial and the sound died unborn. If he truly saw injustice, would he do nothing? Would he stand back and say it did not concern him? He hated to admit it, but Sha was right. Aff. He would do something.
He tried to not look directly at Sha, but the man knew his thoughts. Oh, he knew, though he kept his surat face as impenetrable as aMech armor.
aWhy did we originally change our name to Clan Diamond Shark?a Petras head swirled with such a strange segue. aUm, what?a He hated sounding so stupid; he suddenly couldnat seem to wrangle his thoughts. Were the meds wearing off?