Without preamble, the Colonel said, “You recall a few days ago when we talked about that potential client from Alkalurops that I mentioned an option clause in your earlier contract.”

“Yes, sir,” L. J. said, remaining at stiff attention.

“It seems your earlier client has contacted us about activating that option. Were you aware of a pair of murders that occurred around the time of your raid?”

“I believe the planetary Governor and Legate were murdered just before we landed.”

“Yes,” the Colonel said, turning to Major Thomas. “I asked our legal staff to examine our duty in such circumstances. Unfortunately, he finds no governing legal precedent. Amadeus assures me it has no impact on our contractual obligations.”

“I wonder what a first-year-cadet Honor Court might say,” L. J. risked. Legal and contractual finagling must have some honor.

The Colonel glowered at L. J. in step with the portrait behind him. “I had similar thoughts. Sadly, my duty to the regiment goes beyond what one dreams about in school. We have a contract, and our client has asked for the full six-month extension.”

“Six months, sir? The raid took barely three months, even with that long drop interval,” L. J. said, allowing a frown on his face for the Colonel to see.

“Yes, initially I found that interesting as well.”

“Is it another raiding contract?”

“No, Loren. We just received the full contract language, and this time he wants you to seize and hold.”

“The contract allows for that change of scope?”

Now cousin Amadeus had the good grace to fidget. “It seems that sections of the fine print are new language,” the Colonel said with a scowl directed at the civilian.

“New language is popping up in all the contracts,” Amadeus complained. “‘Conditions beyond the client’s control,’ ‘rising emergencies,’ ‘acts of God,’ no less. Until court rulings define this new language, we can’t be sure what it means.”

“Then take it to court and find out what it means,” L. J. suggested, “what with two murders out there.”

“This language is so vague as to allow any interpretation.” Major Thomas gave Amadeus a glare with more wattage than most battlefield lasers. “I discussed these clauses with the legal staffs at several other regiments. They don’t want us taking into court language so vague it clearly favors the client. Sorry, Loren, you just have to suck it up.”

L. J. relaxed his stance and considered the situation. Whoever the client was, he was capable of cold-blooded murder. L. J. didn’t much care for sharing a planet with him for six months. Then again, he had not met the client during the last contract. With luck, he wouldn’t for the next six months. But the regiment owed him.

L. J. stiffened back to full attention. “I was given the last contract because it was something new. I take it that your giving me command of a seize-and-hold expresses the regiment’s full confidence in my command ability.” There—swallow that, Colonel.

The Colonel slowly stood, eyed L. J., then scowled at the other two present. “No, Major, your selection for this command reflects my confidence in no way. My accounts manager tells me that his fine print requires that the commander of the previous raid command this operation. My legal assistant is no help at all. He says I must accept the crap-for-language that this civilian reviewed and told me I could sign.

“Major, I am not happy with any of the three men in my office. You, at least, will be out of my sight for the next six months.” He turned to Major Thomas and Amadeus. “You other two will be around to irritate me. But you can take my word on this to the bank with your final paycheck. If there is another snafu the likes of this, I will personally have the best lawyer on Galatea review both of your employment contracts and terminate them. Am I understood?”

Their affirmations came back machine-gun fast. Even Amadeus was on his lazy feet, in haste to get out of the room.

“Look on the bright side,” Major Thomas said once they were outside.

“There’s a bright side?” L. J. asked.

“You’ve got a second independent command.”

“Yeah,” Amadeus agreed, “if he doesn’t get his throat slit.”

7

Steerage-Class Accommodations

DropShip Good Sense to Stay Home III

En route from Galatea to Alkalurops

29 May 3134

Grace may have paid for the tickets, but the MechWarriors selected their own accommodations. Betsy and Syn tossed their duffels into one cabin, leaving Grace with Victoria. Ben and Chato took one room, Sven and George another. That left Danny and Jobe together with young Sean. “You can’t bunk that lad with Danny,” Victoria insisted, beginning Grace’s indepth education on the people she’d hired.

“It’s either them or one of the other two cabins with guys,” Grace said, not willing to share her room with the youngster.

“You don’t think Sean and I are lovers,” Victoria snapped. “He’s young enough to be my son.”

“Yes, he is,” Grace said. “And you two are close enough to be mother and son,” she said, leaving it at that.

“He’s just a kid who deserves better than he’s getting. And maybe I do act like a mother hen,” the older woman said, taking a seat on the bunk across from Grace’s. “I’ve met a lot of MechWarrior wanna-bes, but never anyone as determined as Sean. He’d make a great staff officer, but he wants to fight ’Mechs.”

“Is he good in a ’Mech?” Grace asked.

Victoria settled on the bunk. “Poor kid almost tripped his ’Mech over its own feet the first time they put him in one. Got dizzy from the height and lost his lunch. He looked so pathetic as they dragged him from the cockpit. They wanted to wash him out despite his sim scores. He was in tears begging for another chance. I said I’d help—give him a hand.”

The woman stared at the ceiling. “The Clans raise kids without them ever knowing their parents. That harshness is supposed to make the kids stronger. I wonder if it isn’t harder on the parents. The race’s survival for millions of years has depended on us women mothering the next generation to manhood.”

Victoria turned her gaze on Grace. “You have children?”

“Not yet. I suppose in time.”

“There won’t be any time for me. So, yes, I’ve helped Sean as his own mother might have if she hadn’t died. And we both ended up on the street just before all hell broke out with this HPG failure. Him because he was untried and stuttered, and me… Well, me because I’m me.”

Which was another question entirely, to examine some other time. “Once the ship steadies on 1G, want to go for a run?”

“I’m in. And maybe I can rescue Sean from Danny’s clutches for some solid physical training. If Sean’s not careful, Danny will give him an education in all the wrong things.”

An hour later Grace and Victoria went running. Ben was also out in gym shorts and a towel. Good-looking man, Grace allowed. George Stillwell joined them, and Grace showed them aft to a trail among the huge containers.

The second day’s run was with Ben alone. The man set a fast pace, but not so quick that Grace couldn’t ask about Victoria. “Paths do not always lead where they should,” the albino said. “Victoria is a superb ’Mech handler. An expert eye for the right target at the essential moment. However, she is not one to socialize. Danny told me that she once attended a dinner and kept the same glass of scotch in her hand all evening—untouched. She does not drink, nor does she carouse. While she does not judge those who do, I know that Danny feels the hot breath of guilt every time he sees her. Their banter is light, but there is true steel at the heart of it. With things the way they were before the HPG went down, that was enough to put Victoria Birdwell on the outside looking in.”