The return of Carrie stopped the Minister's speech. She set small cerulean cups before each man, then poured the steaming, green-gray tea up to the brim of each. She set the teapot on the table, handle toward Teng, and centered the bowl of kinchabetween the two men.
Qua glanced at the bowl of plum-sized fruit and frowned. A thick, golden brown skin protected the kincha'ssweet flesh. He looked up, then jerked back as Teng shook a razor-edged stiletto from the sleeve of his black and silver silk jacket.
Teng bowed his head when he saw the Mandrinn's reaction. "Forgive me, excellency. I did not mean to startle you." He looked toward the curtain warding them from the other revelers in Valhalla. "This place, as you know, is in the heart of the Silesia sector of the City. I would never be molested here in Valhalla, but the same cannot be said for the streets between here and my home in Cathay. Solaris is something of a lawless world and—" he proffered the knife hilt-first—"a tungsten lawyer is most useful in negotiating differences of opinion."
Qua took the weapon in trembling fingers and used it to slice through the kincharind. He cut a small sliver from the fruit and closed his eyes as he touched it to his tongue. An expression of pure delight relaxed his features.
Teng smiled. Kinchahad become little more than a memory for many after the Free Worlds League took Shuen Wan, the only place where the fruit could be grown. Ever since Maximilian Liao had lost the world, he had considered consuming the fruit equivalent to treason. Teng was surprised that Qua took the liberty.
The ex-MechWarrior sipped his tea as Qua lovingly pared the kinchadown to its pit. "Minister, am I to assume from your remarks that you, or the Chancellor, would like me to instruct Capellan troops in the ways of defeating the Davion hordes?"
Qua's eyes snapped open, then darted around the alcove as he reoriented himself. "Ah, well, Citizen Teng, this is certainly a subject that has been discussed in the highest Maskirovka councils, but no conclusion has been reached."
Teng smiled to himself. That I believe. Justin wants me right here making bundles of money for him."Then what is it that you want?"
The Mandrinn smiled as politely as he could manage. "The Chancellor asks that you turn all the MechWarriors in your stable over to us to fight in the war. You realize, I am sure, what it would mean for the war effort. Here on Solaris, you are fortunate that the war does not touch you."
Teng narrowed his brown eyes. "I beg to differ with you, Mandrinn. The war does touch us here. Since hostilities began, the number of championship-caliber fighters on Solaris has dropped by 50 percent. That's part of the reason the Teng/Xiang stable has done so well. All our competition is off dying out of sight of the holovid cameras."
Qua blinked his eyes and stared at Teng with the look of disbelief that only a bureaucrat can master. "I don't understand. What are you telling me? Don't you know how much the war with the Federated Suns is hurting you? Don't you want to see the war end?"
Teng laughed aloud, slapping the table hard enough to make the kinchabowl bounce a few centimeters into the air. "Oh, by all the gods, I do want the war to end. Do you realize that my revenues have dropped by 30 percent since the war began? I'd worked a deal for distribution in the Draconis Combine, but now the damned Dragons won't allow the broadcast of fights in which Mech Warriors from House Davion, Steiner, or Kurita fight—and no one wants to watch fights between just Capellans and Leaguers. I just got a call from the current champion's manager. He said my bond of 50,000 C-bills would be forfeit if I didn't find Don Gilmore a suitable challenge within a month, but I've got no one capable of fighting him right now. And this damned Interdiction by ComStar just knocked my best market out of the picture. I've not got the numbers for June yet, but I'm betting my books will be hemorrhaging C-bills when I do. And now you want me to give you my warriors? Are you mad?"
Qua's face drained of blood, making him paler even then the meat of the kincha.His mouth hung agape, then his jaw closed and his black eyes became slits. "Need I remind you, Fuh Teng, that you are a Maskirovka operative. I have rank on you, and I could order you to turn those fighters over to me."
Fuh Teng stiffened. "Order me?" He folded his hands on the table, rubbing his thumbs together in irritation. "Have you not heard a word I've said, or haven't I made myself clear? Wake up, Mandrinn! The war is over. It's old news. This is the game world, and those of us who make our living here are used to picking winners and losers. Your side is definitely a loser."
Teng hit a switch at his end of the table and gave an order to the computer controlling the holovid display. "Patch in the political map of the Capellan Confederation, with the projections for the next wave of the Davion invasion."
At his command, the screen blanked, then flashed up a map of the Capellan Confederation. Each of the Davion invasion waves was overlaid in different shades of blue. The symbols designating several worlds in the Sarna Commonality flashed, indicating the local odds-makers' belief that they were next on the path to war.
Qua stared at the map like a teetotaler watching a beer-blast erupting in his own home. "This... this..." he sputtered, pointing a shaky finger at the screen. "This is treason!"
Fuh Teng shook his head slowly. "No, it's reality. The odds-makers say that the next Davion wave will come early in September, but my money is on August 15th to the 20th. Got two to one odds on that bet." Teng pointed to the Liao world closest to the center of the map. "Not only do I have money on how quickly Palos will fall, but I've arranged to have three cases of Palos champagne shipped here through the DavionISteiner military liaison office."
Qua slumped forward on the table. Teng patted the Mandrinn's left arm with is right hand. "Listen, old boy. I can fix it up for you here. You're a smart man. Forget your mission—the whole game will be up by the new year. I have a place for you here, in my organization."
Qua batted Teng's hand away. Turning toward the battle-promoter, his anger melted the mask of diplomacy he'd worn. "You pig! You filthy, gutter-dwelling pig! You'd put your personal profits and well-being above that of the Capellan Confederation." He picked up the knife Teng had given him earlier. "I'll kill you if you don't give me those fighters."
Teng drew back, then let a smile play across his lips. "This is your last chance to accept my offer, Mandrinn Qua. Refuse at your own peril."
Qua smiled with open joy. "I spit on your offer." He inched his way forward along the bench. "I will enjoy this."
Teng spun quickly from his chair toward the curtained alcove opening. Qua lunged at him, but missed and lay sprawled out over the table. The curtain slid aside and two men stood on either side of Fuh Teng with guns drawn and pointed at the Mandrinn.
On Fuh Teng's right, the taller one grinned. "Lyran Intelligence Corps, Mandrinn. You're under arrest for an attempt to coerce treason from a Lyran citizen, assault with intent to kill, and violation of a dozen immigration laws."
"You see," Fuh Teng said as the knife slipped from Qua's fingers and clattered against the floor. "I told you the war was over." Qua glared up at him venomously, and Teng added, "By the way, this was only business. The odds were six to one against you being angry enough to try to cut me, but I had confidence in you." He shrugged. "Remember, as within, so without. The Capellan Confederation is finished."
25
New Avalon
Cruets March, Federated Suns