46
Highlander Encampment
Belgorod, Terra
Prefecture X
April 3134; local spring
The day after the great battle, Will Elliot was back at the table in the Sergeants’ Mess, writing another letter home.
Dear Mother–[he wrote]
By the time this reaches you, everyone on Northwind will probably know that our Countess has done it again, and beaten the Steel Wolves in a big battle here on Terra.
My friends and I are well; all we had to do this time was keep our heads down and let the tanks and BattleMechs do the hard work.
Lexa McIntosh came up to the table with a mug of tea and a sandwich and sat down next to him. She glanced over at the letter and shook her head. “Oh, Will, Will. Didn’t they ever tell you that lying was a sin?”
“She’s my mother,” he said. “Do you think I’m going to tell her what it was really like?”
“You’ve got a point there.” Lexa took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “She’d just get after you to leave the infantry and come back home.”
“I could do that, you know. When my enlistment’s up.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know yet,” Will said. “I’m thinking about it.”
The question was one that had been occupying his mind off and on for some time now—ever since the dinner in Kildare with his sister and her family, if not before. Sometimes, he missed the mountains of Northwind with an almost physical pain, and there were days when the constant press and presence of his fellow soldiers was enough to make his head hurt. At times like that, all he wanted out of life was to be alone somewhere above the timberline in Red Ledge Pass, with snow on the ground and a clean wind blowing. But he wasn’t certain he could feel the peace there like he used to. He was a different person now, in too many ways.
He set the problem aside and turned back to his letter.
You’ll be happy to know that we won’t have to worry about the Steel Wolves again for a long time. Anastasia Kerensky was badly wounded near the end of the battle, and that took the heart right out of them. When our Countess offered them the chance to get aboard their DropShips and go home for good, they took it.
He didn’t really believe that Anastasia Kerensky was going to stay defeated for all that long. After fighting against her and her armies in three campaigns, Will knew better than that. She’d go home to Tigress, yes, but as soon as she was patched up and back in fighting trim, she’d have the Steel Wolves out making trouble somewhere.
The Countess of Northwind apparently agreed with him. She’d already announced that there was going to be another big recruitment drive once they got home to Northwind, with promotions and reenlistment bonuses for any experienced troopers who chose to stay in. That was something else Will hadn’t told his mother yet.
He was still trying to think of what to write next—something about the fight between Tara Campbell and Ezekiel Crow, he thought; Ruthie’s children would think it was exciting, and his mother would be happy because he wasn’t anywhere in it—when Jock Gordon entered the mess.
“What’s the news of the day?” Jock asked, coming over to join Will and Lexa.
“Our Will here is telling his mother all about the great battle, and how we brought a picnic basket and watched it from the sidelines.”
“I told you,” said Will. “She’s my mother. She gets upset about things.”
Jock nodded in understanding. “Will’s right. You don’t want to worry your mother.”
Lexa looked from one of them to the other. “The two of you are a pair, do you know that?”
“Aye,” said Jock. “But you love us.”
Will let them tease at each other, and went back to his letter.
I don’t know what stories you may have heard about the Paladin that came to help us on Northwind last year—how he turned traitor and abandoned us when the Wolves landed in the city—but I can say that the whole truth is even worse, or at least what I’ve heard of it. He was a wicked man, but our Countess dealt with him the same way she did with the Steel Wolves. I saw what was left of his BattleMech, after the fighting was over, and she’d chopped it into pieces.
Lexa broke off her chaffering with Jock to glance again over Will’s shoulder.
“Just goes to show,” she said. “Never make an enemy of a girl who rides a Hatchetman ’Mech.”
“Are you writing this letter, or am I?” Will demanded in mostly mock indignation.
“I’ve got an interest,” she said. “I’m thinking of stealing some of it for myself. There’s still one or two old flames and partners in crime back home in Barra Station who might be interested.”
“You’re not planning on going home and telling them yourself?” he asked her curiously.
Lexa shook her head. “Not me. I’m taking the Countess’s bonus and signing on for another hitch. Join the infantry and see The Republic.”
“Most of it’s mud,” he said.
“Nah. Some of it’s under three feet of snow, and the rest of it’s desert. But what the hell, it’s home.”
Will, smiling, took up his pen again, realizing that he had in fact, come to a decision.
I’ll be visiting you on leave as soon as the regiment gets back from Terra, but I won’t be staying. I’m going to keep on with the army instead.
Somebody has to keep Northwind safe from people like Anastasia Kerensky and Ezekiel Crow, and right now, it’s us.
Epilogue
Garden of Earthly Delights
Belgorod DropPort, Terra
Prefecture X
May 3134; local summer
The foyer of the Garden of Earthly Delights was smoky and dim. A man entered and paused at the doorway to speak with the bouncer.
“I want to talk to Suvorov,” he said.
“No one here by that name,” the bouncer replied.
“Give him this,” the man said. He held up a ring—Footfall work, done in red gold etched with an elaborate pattern. “Tell him I’ll be in the bar.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man walked on in. He wore a dark coat with a high collar, despite the warm air outside the Garden of Earthly Delights and the overheated atmosphere within, and a hat that he did not bother to remove. The turned-up collar and the overshadowing hat brim weren’t enough to hide the mass of heavy bandages that covered the entire right side of his face and neck.
“A whiskey,” the man said, sitting on a stool in the bar. The bar was, if possible, even dimmer than the foyer. The drink came. He paid, but didn’t touch it.
A little while later, resplendent in a white suit, Suvorov himself slid onto an adjacent bar stool.
“You remind me of a man,” Suvorov said.
“Many people say that,” the other replied. “They’re all wrong.”
“Ah. I understand. What can I do for you tonight?”
“I need passage off Terra. With a new set of papers.”
“I see. Such things are likely expensive.”
“I believe you hold some funds in trust for a man who is not coming back for them.”
Suvorov raised a finger. The bartender brought him wine mixed with sparkling water.
“I could just keep those funds,” he said. “Since you say the man isn’t coming back.”
He sipped, watching for a reaction.