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Raul accepted his new drink from the waitress, tipping her heavily. He turned back to the conversation with renewed interest. Tassa Kay had said something remarkably similar to him after their last tangle with the Steel Wolves, and in a few short days Powers had proven himself of sharp mind and instincts as well. His battlefield analyses were always spot-on. “I’d like to know why you say that, Sir Powers.”
“So would I,” Tassa agreed slowly, drawn back to the table and to Powers as if against her will.
The Knight-Errant had carried over his own tall glass. He sipped at what looked like pale, iced coffee, and Raul could only guess what it really was. Setting his drink back to the table, Powers traced the smooth line of his chin with one finger. “I don’t know as much as I’d like about the i
“In the Clans,” Powers continued slowly, as if dredging up each memory from deep inside, “a warrior is judged mainly on their own accomplishments, but they can also carry a heavy burden of shame or great expectations from previous generations. Star Colonel Torrent is more than a rising star among the Steel Wolves. He comes from Bloodname stock that is most revered among every Clan. Kerensky. General Aleksandr Kerensky led seventy… eighty percent of the Star League army into exile back in 2784. He was the Great Father to his son, Nicholas, the Founder of the Clans. Nicholas organized them into a warrior society unlike anything Humanity had ever seen.
“A later descendant, Ulric Kerensky, led all the Clans at one point as their ilKhan—supreme war chief. His efforts on behalf of the I
“You’re saying that Torrent has a lot to live up to,” Diago summed up in his usual sparse style. “Beyond the usual need to prove himself.”
Powers shrugged. “I’m saying that you should try to imagine yourself descended from Anastasias Focht or Victor Steiner-Davion. The son of Genghis Khan, Erwin Rommel, Michael Cameron, or Takashi Kurita. You start so close to the top, but it’s also a very long fall if you miss.”
Major Chautec shook his head. “So we wait around for him to grow into his role as Dictator-General of the I
“Maybe we’re waiting for the return of Devlin Stone,” Raul said quietly to himself. Not quiet enough, though, as half the heads at the table swung around toward him. He hadn’t realized until voicing the idea how strongly he believed in Stone’s return. “Well, wasn’t that the promise?” he asked the Knight. “When we need him, he will return?”
“Ye-es,” Powers agreed hesitantly. “But do we truly need him—or want him—to save us from our own weakness?” The Knight Errant gazed over Raul’s head. “We need our father because we are afraid of the dark? I think Devlin Stone would be sorely disappointed.”
Raul had not considered such an argument, and found it compelling. But how much of that was the words, and how much the man behind them? And did it matter? Powers knew how to command, and he knew how to create alliances as well as friendships. Raul could see himself putting his trust in this man.
Others were not so charitable. Major Chautec set his stein down hard on the table, wiped froth from his upper lip. “So we sit back and wait for Torrent to gnaw our bones clean and maybe choke on a splinter. Wonderful. Well, if he’s going to scavenge among our forces, I say we should seriously think about returning the favor.”
“We do not need to,” Tassa said. “Not in the same way, at least. Torrent’s warriors are more than content to join our side, according to Star Commander Yulri.”
Raul’s new drink sat untouched on the table. Yulri was the prisoner Tassa claimed out of the fallen Blackhawk. Raul remembered Powers’ first meeting with the man, watching as Yulri all but swore his allegiance to the warrior who had bested him in combat.
Powers had looked at a loss at the time, though now he showed no regret for having denied the man’s petition without prejudice. “True. The taking of bondsmen is another tradition Kal Radick seems to have revived.” Powers picked up his drink, but simply cradled it in his hands. “Eventually, such prisoners expect to earn their way back to warrior status. And there is no loss of honor. Yulri seems to believe that he belongs to you,” he winked at Tassa. “But I’m not comfortable with the practice.” He hesitated, just for a second. Then he continued, his voice strong, “In truth, I’m not entirely comfortable with giving the man over to you.”
Tassa responded to his blunt statement with an honest shrug. “Why not? I already have two Condor tank crews who are routinely assigned to me at their request. Are you concerned that I will start my own army and take Achernar with a bare lance of men?”
“No. But such…” he trailed off, looking for the right word, “such recruits could do a great deal of damage if they decide to break against us at the wrong moment.”
Tassa scoffed. “I can keep them in line.”
“Yes, but will you put your Ryoken up as a bond on their loyalty?” The Knight Errant sat forward, suddenly very intent on the other MechWarrior. His gray eyes were sharp as splintered slate, and stared unblinking into Tassa’s pause. From comrade to commander just that fast, Raul noted.
“I will put myself up as a guarantee,” Tassa finally said, rolling with the change. “The Ryoken goes where I go.”
“You’re asking me to put a lot of faith in your word of honor, Tassa Kay. Do you have anyone who can vouchsafe your loyalty?”
To her credit, Tassa never once looked in Raul’s direction. Not a glance or even a partial shift in the line of her shoulders. But he felt the question that hung between them. Raul knew she waited for his decision, and his alone. “I will,” he said, speaking up before he could think better of it or argue himself out of the gut-sense call.
Powers raised an eyebrow. “You know Tassa Kay well enough for that, Captain Ortega?” The tone of his voice—a timbre of expectancy—made Raul think that Powers had been waiting for the junior MechWarrior to speak as well.
“I don’t know her at all, Sir Powers, except that she’s about the best damned partner you could ask for in a battle. And if I can trust her with my back on the field, I can give her my support here.” He shrugged, feeling the burden of Powers’ judgment weighing on his shoulders. “And like she said, what can she really do with one lance?”
Kyle Powers seemed less interested in Tassa Kay and more in Raul, as if he could measure the other man’s depth of devotion and empathy in a single glance. “All right, Tassa Kay.” The judgment came down slowly, and with almost ceremonial reverence. “You can have your man. But he does not get anything better than medium armor.”
“He will be a technician on my ’Mech for at least a week,” she said, dismissing any concerns. She tugged at the dark forelock hanging down from her widow’s peak. “Then maybe I will find him an infantry battlesuit.”