As a result, he spent the entire transit glued to the video, watching the Solaris games. He'd finalized his plan seven hours ago. If there was a 'Mech to be purchased, or stolen, on Solaris, Rose was sure he would find it. At three past seven, exactly sixty-seven minutes after the DropShip set down, Rose left the customs area with his single black case.

Entering the spaceport's main terminal, he let the crowd sweep him along. Despite the hour, the terminal was packed. Following the icons, he pushed through the crowd to the taxi area, intending to give himself the luxury of a private cab to the hotel.

Rose's destination was The Imperial, a hotel located in the "international" sector of Solaris City. Despite its grand name, the hotel was only average except for the fine views offered by its south-facing rooms. That feature alone had made it one of the most popular inns in the capital.

The cab driver didn't try to talk during the trip down through the hills from the spaceport, which Rose appreciated. When they pulled into the hotel's circular drive, he paid the fare and tip in C-bills, earning a nod of thanks from the man. Rose had made his room reservation during the inbound flight, and so checking in did not take long. He also took the time to store his black gun case in a safe deposit box, sealing the lock with his left thumbprint. Then, instead of going up to his room as his exhausted body desired, he headed straight for the main doors.

It took several minutes to flag down a cab that would take him into Black Hills, the Davion sector of Solaris City, but eventually one showing the Davion flag on the aerial pulled over. Over the years Solaris City had become divided into six major quarters, one for each of the Great Houses that ruled the Inner Sphere, and the sixth being the international quarter that housed most of the public buildings and the relatively powerless local government.

Though most of Solaris City did not live up to the glamour some associated with the bloody 'Mech games, the metropolis was unique in the Inner Sphere. Each of the city's sectors reflected the national and cultural bias of one of the five different star empires, yet citizens from the different states lived side by side in multicultural harmony.

Rose's destination was Seventh Heaven, an infamous bar in the Davion sector. He used the brief respite of the cab ride to massage his neck and rub his eyes. Having been without sleep for more than forty hours, his body was slowing down.

The cab driver was confident and aggressive, making the trip in what seemed to be record time. When Rose paid him, the man seemed disgruntled that payment was in C-bills rather than Davion house script, but accepted the money just the same. By the time Rose got to the front door of the bar the cab was long gone.

Three hours later Rose still hadn't found what he was looking for. Six different bars and nothing to show for it but a throbbing headache and bloodshot eyes. The only satisfaction he felt was in observing how gloomy and squalid was the Black Hills sector, a grim contrast to the almighty Daviens' public image as paragons of virtue and defenders of civilization. He thought more people should see the crime, corruption, and violence of these slums lying in the shadow of the magnificent Black Hills.

He'd come to what he promised himself would be his last stop of the night—or the morning. The sign read The Pelican, and it was the haunt of elite MechWarriors and their friends.

Be that as it may, the Pelican was as wild as any bar Rose had ever visited. Towering trivid screens replayed the 'Mech matches of the day with full stereo sound. The place was brighter than most of its type, but not so light that Rose could see into all the corners. The noise and lights gave him an artificial jolt of energy as he mingled with the crowd. What little vigor he picked up, however, he quickly spent fighting his way to one of the secondary bars. The crowd was the usual mixture of avid game fans, MechWarriors, MechWarrior wannabes, groupies, and people just out for a good time. He saw some patrons trying to have conversations, but most seemed to be concentrating on the trivid. With effort he managed to make a space for himself at the bar and catch the bartender's attention.

"A bottle of Li Lung," he called out, and the young man behind the bar looked like he'd been shot.

"Easy going, ace," the bartender said in a low voice. "You're a little south of the river to ask for a bottle of that snake juice. Of course, if you really want Snake brew—" the bartender leaned across the slick surface and looked both ways—"ask again just a little louder and I'm sure one, or ten, or more patriotic customers will be happy to toss you all the way to Kobe." The young man smiled and straightened up. "Now, how about a nice bottle of Conner's Dark?"

Rose nodded silently and thanked the stars the noise level was loud enough to cover his mistake. He should have known better than to order a Kurita beer in the middle of Davion territory. He blamed it on the lack of sleep, but that was precious little consolation. Rose was still grinding his teeth at his stupidity when the beer arrived. This would definitely have to be the last stop. Any more and his fatigue could get him into real trouble.

"One warm Conner's, just the way you like it. At least, just the way you should like it if you were a real beer drinker."

"Thanks, and thanks. I'm not usually that stupid."

"Shot goes wide and it's a clean miss." The youth smiled at Rose's obvious confusion. "Lord, you must be new. Don't you listen to Ian Owans and Buck Blaylock? They're the number-one announcing team at F-C Broadcasting. It's what Buck always says when a 'Mech pilot misses an easy shot in the games. You know, 'No harm done, but you got lucky.' By the way, they call me Dillon."

"Rose." Jeremiah leaned across the bar and shook Dillon's hand. "Here's for the beer." Again Rose reached across and handed Dillon a twenty C-bill.

"C-bills? You must be new in town." Rose shrugged his shoulders and tried to smile. He was beginning to think his plans to get a new 'Mech were not going to work as smoothly as he'd hoped.

"Problem with C-bills?"

"Not really a problem." Dillon held the note to the light and examined the other side. "It's just that, well, you see ..." He reached under the bar and stashed the bill in a drawer. He squinted and began counting to himself as he made change. "It's just that C-bills are so . . ."

"Conspicuous?"

"Yeah, conspicuous. It's a dead giveaway that you're new in town and haven't learned to fit in yet."

"I see."

"It's not bad, really. It's just that most merchants in this quarter, and all the others, for that matter, would rather be paid in house script. National pride, and all that. Now, C-bills are the next best thing, but with that little affair up in Tukayyid last year, C-bills just aren't what they were."

Rose hadn't thought about it, but what the bartender said made perfect sense. Despite the fact that the Com Guards troops had stopped the Clans on Tukayyid, many people of the Inner Sphere still held a grudge against ComStar for its centuries of monopoly on interstellar communications. He'd been warned that nationalist feeling ran high on Solaris, but he hadn't really expected it would run this high.

"So you're suggesting I get some D-bills as soon as possible."

Dillon handed over the change and smiled. "I can see that a man of your obvious mental abilities doesn't need a humble bartender to tell him which way a 'Mech tumbles."

"Maybe not, but then again maybe there's something you can do to help me."