But seeing this room, Nelson saw that fanciful idea exploded faster than a back-shot Rifleman.He couldn't prove it, of course, but this room bore too much resemblance to those he'd seen in many a late-night holovid he'd watched while stationed up and down the Federated Commonwealth. Granting that this Red Corsair wasClan, and that the role had been specifically chosen for some reason, it made sense that whoever had put together the sham would use holovids as source material. Where else would a Clanner go for information about the ways of people of the Inner Sphere?
And that, he decided, was why the picture didn't fit the frame.
The Red Corsair looked at him. "You think too much."
"Does it matter what I think?"
She grabbed him by the right wrist and twisted the manacle until it bit into his flesh. "Do you know what this is?"
"I had heard that when the Clans take a bondsman, they bind his right wrist with a bondcord."
"And when a bondsman is accepted into a different caste, the bondcord is cut in a ceremony." She let his hand fall down to his side, and he felt blood begin to rush back into the flesh. "Steel does not cut."
"Then I am a slave?"
She shook her head. "You are a prize of war. If I thought you had value, I would ransom you."
"It appears, then, that I will remain a prize. No one will pay for a maimed warrior."
The Red Corsair's eyes flashed with a light that might have been amusement. "Oh, I know they would not pay for your hand." She reached out and lightly cuffed his right temple. "On the other hand, they would pay handsomely for your thoughts. Tell me what you have decided about us. Do not lie. I will know if you do."
"You have more loot in this cabin than was offloaded from Pasig." Nelson glanced away as she began unlacing the cooling vest. "The equipment, the personnel, and the speech of everyone I have met here tell me that you are all Clan. All the slaves in the group with me are from Kooken's Pleasure Pit, so I assume you took no slaves before that. The supplies you bring up from the world are enough to feed the slaves, so I also assume we can be jettisoned into space as situations demand it."
She shrugged her way out of the cooling vest. Muscles rippled on her stomach and a droplet of sweat coursed down between her breasts. "Your powers of observation are to be commended." She turned away from him—not out of modesty, he was certain—to reach into a closet for a short kimono of amethyst silk. "You have drawn conclusions about us, quiaff?"she asked, pulling the kimono closed and knotting it with a golden sash.
"I have."
Her hair rippled down in a veil as she bent to unfasten the clasps of her boots. "Tell me."
"Your 'Mechs are configured with energy weapons and made to look like those a bandit group would use. Your demands for munitions are low. You are prepared for extended operations in areas where resupply could be a problem."
She stepped out of the boots and put them in the closet. Reaching under the kimono's hem, she snaked off the thigh-length spandex shorts she had been wearing and tossed them into the closet before closing it. "From this you have decided. . . ?"
Nelson shook his head. "I know only that you are engaged in raiding."
The Red Corsair looked hard at him. Then her eyes narrowed as she allowed herself a self-satisfied grin. "Very well. You know too much to be freed, but not enough that I must kill you. I will keep you until I break you."
Nelson suddenly felt himself the mouse to her cat. "Breaking me will not be hard."
"You underestimate yourself." She focused distantly for a second, then nodded. "I will begin by having them regrow your fingers, I think."
Nelson frowned but said nothing.
"Do you know why? Not so I can take them again, I assure you. If it was at Wotan that you lost them, I might have been the one who did it to you," She smiled broadly at that thought, but Nelson restrained his immediate angry response. "No, I will start the regrowth because it is something you desire and for which you will be grateful, but it is me you will have to thank. But with all the rest I will do to you, that sense of gratitude will strike sparks off your hatred for me until someday it will burn you alive."
Later, when he returned to the holding pen, Nelson flopped down on his bunk. From across the narrow aisle, Spider tapped him on the shoulder and drew a question mark in the dimly lit air.
Nelson stabbed a thumb into the center of his chest, described a quick circle with a flick of his wrist, then pointed with two fingers at the external hull. He nodded once, confidently, then let his head sink back against the mushy pillow.
Spider winked at him and nodded twice, letting Nelson know he'd gotten the message, even with the accent problem.
Nelson stared up at the black bulkhead above him. It's decided. When the opportunity presents itself, I'm out of here.
4
Arc-Royal
Donegal March, Federated Commonwealth
15 April 3055
Victor Davion did not take it as a good sign that he arrived at the small meeting room only to find Phelan already seated behind the computer terminal at the far end of the table. Hovering over his shoulder like a ghost was a white-robed ComStar Precentor, who nodded to the Prince. They had not yet met, but Victor knew this was Special Liaison Klaus Hettig, the official representative of Anastasius Focht, Precentor Martial of ComStar. Focht was the one who had issued the actual invitation to the meeting, Victor's true reason for coming to Arc-Royal.
The Prince stretched, then headed directly for the insulated pitcher of coffee on the table beside the door. He glanced at a sweet pastry while pouring himself a cup, but his stomach flip-flopped at the thought of that much sugar so early in the morning. He was tired, the toll of travel finally catching up with him, but even the promise of an energy boost could not make the idea of food appealing.
Phelan looked up from the keyboard, his green eyes bright. "Good morning, Highness. I've been reviewing some of the reports from Pasig. Your sources are verythorough. My compliments."
My sources?Victor frowned. "That information is in files that your father assured me would be secure."
The Clan Khan smiled far too easily. "And they probably are, from most people. But, remember, I spent most of my youth here." He patted the computer console. "I know ways into this computer system that no one else even dreams exist."
The ComStar Precentor moved away from Phelan and checked the room's door. "Khan Phelan is correct. Your information is excellent—up to a standard to which ComStar might also aspire."
Right! ComStar controls communication between the stars and actuallysent the messages that provided the data in the files Phelan has cracked. I'd be a fool if I thought ComStar had not already gone over them and supplemented them with their own material.The Prince nodded and sat down at the opposite end of the table. He dimly recalled that the charges against Phelan during his honor trial at the Nagelring had involved his using the Nagelring's computers to break into the Department of Defense's computers to steal information. Victor sipped his coffee and immediately felt the weight of sleep lifting from his brain. "Having the Kell Hounds' computer system compromised by a member of the Wolf Clan is not comforting, though your assessment of our data does soften the blow, Precentor."