"You don't have a service record. Most stables probably passed you off as a 'Mechbunny or ghost." Rose simply stared at her. "That's wannabe or spy to you out-of-towners. Either way, only a desperate manager would touch you, a guy like Warwick."

"And if I'd arrived a month ago?"

"No problem."

Rose slammed the table and rocked both bottles. Only a quick grab by Jaryl saved her beer from spilling all over her and the table.

"Sorry," he said. "What about next week, when most of the battles have been decided? Can I get a 'Mech then?"

"Probably, but still not for sure. Most of the stables have you pegged either as idle rich or trouble. Either way, a tech is only going to sell to you if he's willing to risk their anger or if the profits are so good he can't pass up the opportunity. Until the major stables figure out who you are and what kind of trouble you're going to be, you're dispossessed."

"I'm nobody to these guys. Why do they want to make my life so damn rough?"

"Because they can. You can get a 'Mech. You're just going to have to wait a while to do it. In two or three months most of the stable owners will have forgotten about you."

Rose could only growl and slam the table again. "I leave in ten days."

"Then you leave without a 'Mech." Rose didn't want to believe her, but thinking over the past few days, he realized Jaryl was right. Few, if any, of the locals would talk with him, and those who did seemed on edge. The Pelican was the only place in town where he felt even halfway welcome, and that was mostly because of Dillon. There had to be a way to get a 'Mech, but he couldn't guess what it might be. He concentrated on spinning his empty bottle until he realized he was ignoring his companion. Looking over at Jaryl, he saw that she was engrossed in the trivid on the main floor. Rose followed her eyes and watched as the Stalkerand the Bansheecaught sight of one another for the first time in the fight.

The orange and gray Stalkerlet fly with every missile it had. The black Banshee,seemingly surprised by the encounter, triggered both its PPCs, but the blast of the missiles and the suddenness of the Stalker'sattack made both shots go wide. As the smoke cleared, Rose could see how good a shot was the Stalkerpilot. He'd targeted all four flights of missiles at the Banshee'storso, blasting away armor and threatening the 'Mech's delicate interior.

The Bansheeattempted to back around a corner, but the Stalkerpressed its advantage. Rose wondered where they were fighting. The announcer was practically screaming in his ear, but the volume didn't help his comprehension. Jaryl was studying the fight intently, yet without the air of bloodlust that had gripped the rest of The Pelican's patrons. The spectacle held everyone in the room in its thrall.

As Rose turned back to the trivid the Stalkercontinued to close with the Banshee,which had fired its shoulder-mounted missile rack, but made only scattered hits along the Stalker'sleft leg. In return the Stalkerdelivered a single large laser into the Banshee'salready-damaged right torso, melting rivulets of plasteel and setting off a series of minor explosions inside.

Rose knew the battle was already decided, but the Bansheefought on and the Stalkercontinued to press its advantage. Viewers unconsciously edged closer to the trivid, sensing a kill as the Bansheeattempted to fight on.

As it staggered back, the Bansheefired its pair of front-mounted medium lasers and one of its PPCs. Rose saw the pilot also attempt to line up the Gauss rifle, but the Stalkerpilot was keeping well to the right of its humanoid enemy, preferring to take the laser and PPC fire as the Banshee'sheat rose. Again the Bansheepilot had aimed low, succeeding in hitting, but not damaging, the powerful legs of the Stalker,which were driving toward the nearly stationary Banshee.Rose turned away with a slow, sad shake of his head, knowing what would come next.

The Stalkercontinued to fire its medium lasers as it collided with the Banshee,driving its armored snout into the battered center torso of its foe. Picked up off its feet and driven backward, the Bansheefolded around the Stalker.As the force of the blow slowed the Stalker,the Bansheeuncurled from around the other 'Mech and flew backward, its remaining PPC firing blindly through the air in a slow, graceful arc. As the Stalkerfought to regain control, the Bansheelanded on its hip, then rolled onto its back, whiplashing its head against the ferrocrete floor.

Sparks flew along the back of the fallen 'Mech as the Stalkersucceeded in maintaining its balance by staggering into the nearby wall. Although the 'Mech punched completely through the wall, it succeeded in remaining upright. With only a slight wobble, the Stalkerapproached its fallen foe.

Rose was still shaking his head when he glanced over to Jaryl, catching, by accident, the face of a man just a few steps away. Shoulders relaxed, feet slightly spread, he was standing near one of The Pelican's several fire doors. Rose stared for a moment before realizing who he was seeing. Jaryl, with the man to her blind side, did not realize that Rose was looking past her and continued to watch the combat.

As Rose met the man's eyes across the roomful of humans mesmerized by the destruction of the Banshee,Scoggins drew a gyrojet pistol from his jacket and aimed it at Rose's table. Rose was halfway across the table when the shot hit Jaryl in the side of the head. As flying bits of blood and bone blinded Rose, the murderer crashed through the door and escaped into the night.

9

Solaris City , Solaris

4 August 3054

Six hours after the shooting, The Pelican stood silent and vacant except for Rose, Dillon, and a Lieutenant Viets of the Federated Commonwealth Police Department. As Dillon went over what little he knew of Jaryl's too short life, Rose sat in what was becoming his customary seat, silently sipping a Conner's, his first since the shooting. With ill-concealed contempt Rose watched the policewoman work. She was beautiful, if somewhat short for Rose's taste, but he had long ago learned never to judge a woman by appearance, either for good or bad. In another circumstance he might have been impressed with her soft features and athletic body, but tonight she was just another officer. An officer he did not care to be around. An officer who, for six hours, had done nothing but ask questions, covering the same ground over and over.

As the adrenaline wore off, Rose went numb from the shock. He was no stranger to death in most of its grisly forms, but he had never been this close to the work of an assassin. The juxtaposition was almost too much for him. People had been laughing and having a good time. People weren't killed the way Jaryl was killed. They died on the battlefield, or in some accident, or at home in bed.

The situation started to play on his nerves before his professionalism and experience took hold and glued him together. Jaryl was a soldier, wasn't she? Not like any he'd ever met, but then most of what he'd been experiencing on Solaris was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. Life in the Com Guards had certainly been more straightforward, if not easier. Dogma and duty his lance-mates had called it, the Twin Dees.

Rose had been questioned for only an hour by Lieutenant Viets. She obviously hadn't learned much, or else she didn't like what she'd learned because she'd ordered the bar closed and made everyone go home. Dillon had howled like a wounded animal when she threw everyone out. He continued to mumble about the lost profits while shaking a weary head. When the questioning was done, Rose drifted back to the bar to sort out his thoughts. Most of the police left within the next few hours after wandering in and out in twos and threes to take evidence, tri-vids, and whatever else police did at the scene of a murder.