Noton parted the curtains secluding his alcove. "Good evening, Baron von Summer," he said to the dark-haired, corpulent noble from the Lyran Commonwealth who sat waiting for him. With the Baron tonight was a female companion, a strikingly beautiful blond with ice-blue eyes. She smiled and extended her hand toward Noton. "I am Contessa Kym Sorenson, late of the Federated Suns." A diamond and ruby ring sparkled up at Noton. "I am pleased to meet you, Gray Noton."

He kissed her hand, noticing its velvety softness and the perfection of her manicure—right down to a nail polish color that exactly matched her eyes. "The pleasure is all mine, Contessa."

The Contessa stood up gracefully. Her blue satin blouse, which mimicked the double-breasted styling of Noton's tunic, had not been fastened all the way at the left shoulder. Gathered at the waist with a linked silver belt, it defined her lithe figure most flatteringly. She also wore silky black trousers and riding boots. Though the boots were not yet a fashion rage on Solaris as on other worlds, they looked enough like battle gear to give Noton pause. Is she a MechWarrior. ..

Despite the Contessa's grace of movement and choice of clothing, Noton answered his own question after a moment's reflection. She's no MechWarrior. Not with those hands.He frowned slightly as she moved toward the curtain. "You are leaving us?" he asked.

Enrico Lestrade, the Baron von Summer, added a mute protest and offered the Contessa his hand.

With her free hand, she flicked back her shoulder-length hair and smiled. "I will perhaps return another time, Mr. Noton." She reached out and squeezed Lestrade's right hand. "I assume that you and Enrico have some business to discuss, which I would not wish to interrupt. Until we meet again."

Noton held the curtain open for her. "I shall look forward to that time." He let the curtain fall behind her, and then turned on Enrico Lestrade. "You insist on a private meeting, but then bring a woman with you? No wonder your uncle prefers to keep you here on Solaris instead of on Summer! I'm surprised he didn't get you posted as a diplomat to Luthien." Noton paused, then added cruelly, "No, I expect he couldn't risk your starting a war with House Kurita, could he?"

The Baron stammered, then gained control over the flow of gibberish that had begun to spill from his mouth. "She knows nothing. You have become far too suspicious for your own good, Noton. The Contessa is newly arrived here. I met her at a party last night— a party thrown by the head of the Solaris Battle Commission—and she asked me about Valhalla. Could I pass up the chance to escort her here? No. Quite simply and absolutely, no." Seated in the corner, Lestrade glowered at Noton like a child refusing to eat his ashqua.

Noton frowned, too, and sat down in the large wooden chair at the head of the narrow table. Either you’re an incredible fool posted here to keep you from doing too much damage, or you’re hiding your own schemes behind this foolish facade. I will take steps to find out which it is.

Wooden planks formed the alcove into a three-sided box. Touching a button hidden beneath the table's edge, Noton activated the low hiss of a white-noise generator to assure him that no one would overhear any subsequent conversation. "How do you know she is harmless?"

Lestrade snorted derisively. "My dear Noton, after many a year of dealing with the bored daughters of rich industrialist fathers, I can spot one from a myriameter off. As it so happens, though, I have learned that she was booted out of the Federated Suns because she refused to join her father's business." The Baron smiled at Noton. "Her family made the engine in your ground car, in fact. You still do drive the Typhoon?"

Noton nodded. "Sorenson Mechanicals." He touched another button, and the wooden panel opposite him slid up to reveal a holovision viewscreen. "Steiner Stadium, fifth fight tonight." In response to his voice, the computer scanned through Valhalla's available library. Finally, after a blizzard of partial images stormed across the screen, there appeared the frozen image of a Riflemanfacing off against twin Vindicators.

Before the taped battle began to unfold, Noton added a command. "Display only the results."

Lestrade frowned. "A most uninteresting fight."

Noton grunted. More the fool, I begin to think. . .White lettering superimposed itself over the BattleMech images. Noton smiled. Fuh Teng had survived and would be able to fight in another month. He had lost his brother, however, and the battle, to Philip Capet. Beneath the official results, the computer added a footnote describing this as Capet's thirteenth straight victory in the Open Class, and the first time he'd failed to kill a Capellan opponent.

Lestrade sniffed. "He should have killed the other one. I lost because he did not."

Noton regarded Lestrade harshly. The chubby Baron's red shirt, black vest, and red pants made him look more like an actor from some heroic comedy than a nobleman. Suddenly exasperated with the man, Gray demanded, "What was so urgent that you asked for this meeting?"

"Some people," the Baron began—while Noton instantly substituted the names of Duke Frederick Steiner and Duke Aldo Lestrade—"believe that there might be ways of diverting a Jump-Ship from a particular course."

Noton frowned. Definitely the fool."If you're talking about stealing a JumpShip, stop right there." The ultimate example of lostech, JumpShips were vessels capable of instantaneous, 30 light-year leaps from star to star. And they were jealously guarded by anyone lucky enough to own one. "No one I know would dare steal a JumpShip. Especially since the Federated Suns began its anti-hijacking measures last year."

Lestrade wrinkled his nose. "Well, not actually a JumpShip. It's a DropShip they want. A DropShip with some special people aboard."

"Military DropShip?"

Lestrade shook his head. "No, just a DropShip."

Noton pondered the thought. Often enough, a passenger line or cargo hauler kept JumpShips at certain central jump points. DropShips—craft capable of traveling from space to a planet's surface—arrived insystem via one JumpShip and were then transferred to another outbound ship. Because a JumpShip generally required a week to recharge its Kearny-Fuchida jump drive, the relay system helped speed up the shuttle between stars.

Noton nodded. "That's more possible. What ship? Where?"

Lestrade smiled weakly. "I don't have that information yet. I know that the ship will be in the vicinity of Terra, so your contact would have to be near there to strike. We anticipate a two- or three-month leadtime on this."

"Good." Noton knew that despite the week-long waits between jumps and the seemingly leisurely pace of jump travel, any operation to hijack a DropShip full of passengers would require split-second timing. "It will be expensive."

Lestrade nodded and produced a little notebook from his vest pocket. "These people will pay an advance of up to sixty-thousand C-bills to cover operational costs .. ."

"Eighty-five thousand," Noton said.

Lestrade looked up as though Noton had stung him. "I'm only authorized to give you sixty-thousand."

"Get new authorization." Noton leaned forward. He knew that if these "people" were desperate enough to want to hijack a Drop-Ship, they'd be desperate enough to pay well for it. "I assume you want these certain passengers held for a certain amount of time. Preparing a place to hold a DropShip's worth of people will be costly. While you're talking to your people, tell them my cut of the operation will be fifty-thousand, up front, and my people will want a balance of three hundred thousand C-bills upon completion of the mission."