"Battletech.-.Jade.Phoenix.02.-.Bloodname" - читать интересную книгу автора (Battletech)

Diana liked the last thing Peri said, and she would not let go of it for days. "You cannot stop me, mother. You cannot stop me."
Peri knew then how true that was, and she knew it later, when she had stopped communicating with Diana so that the girl could go on to warrior training without any complications. Yet Peri could not sever the bond completely. Though Diana would never know it, Peri maintained close observation of her daughter's career as she persevered through cadet training and became the warrior she had vowed to become at the age of four.


1

He was the picture of frustration, and his name was Kael Pershaw. For two years, for too long, he had been base commander of Glory Station, the Clan Jade Falcon encampment on the planet Glory. To his mind, the assignment might just as well have been to an asteroid in the farthest reaches of the universe. Though Glory was within each of the five original Clan worlds, it was still at the outer edge of the globular cluster, all those worlds that had become part of the Clan Empire. The Jade Falcons had only recently won half of Glory, the other half still awaiting challenge.
Even the planet's name seemed absurd to Pershaw. In this dreary place, the only glorious thing about Glory was its air. It was breathable, without need for adaptive mechanisms or uncomfortable implants to filter dangerous gases into air fit for humans. Pershaw had already done enough unpleasant time on the less atmospherically pleasant places during the peripatetic phases of his military career.
How Glory had earned its name was a mystery. Its mountains did not rise high, its lakes rarely shimmered, and its vegetation was often runty and sparse. The one distinctive geographical feature was a major jungle area near Glory Station, but even it was repellent and dangerous. Pershaw rarely left the main encampment, preferring to send others, preferably members of the freeborn Trinaries, out to such dangerous areas. It was not cowardice, but rather the certainty that his talents did not require him to risk his life except in major arenas. Was that not what it meant to be commander of a base?
Perhaps even more absurd were the forces Kael Per-shaw could muster if another Clan demanded a Trial of Possession. Though his Cluster consisted of the usual four Trinaries, with three Stars each, only Striker Trinary was of any worth. Its complement of 15 true-born warriors and 75 of the genetically bred infantry known as Elementals was too small a force to undertake any Trial of Possession. The other three Trinaries had BattleMechs only, and were barely fit for garrison duty. Piloting those 'Mechs were older trueborn warriors (who had settled for demotion rather than volunteering to get themselves killed in honorable fashion) and freebirths. Pershaw did not know which was worse. To top it off, the 'Mechs were so outdated that these Trinaries would be more hindrance than help in battle.
"Could you stop working for at least a few minutes?" came a voice behind him. It was Lanja, the warrior who served as his coregn, or aide. He had chosen her from the ranks, where Lanja was, in fact, a skilled warrior in line to be a Trinary commander. Besides being Pershaw's personal aide, Star Commander Lanja commanded Striker Trinary's Elementals. In selecting her as aide, Pershaw had chosen well. In the field, she commanded her armor-suited infantry in perfect consort with Pershaw's BattleMechs. In garrison, her administrative skills were equally complementary. Lanja was shrewd, efficient, and—as he had discovered—sexually skillful. A sexual liaison was not so unusual between two people in such a close working relationship, but it was not always so delightful. He would regret her forced departure at the end of the current contract. Pershaw could not form a new contract with her until another coregn had served a minimum period of time.
Though Lanja towered at least two heads over her commander, she was shorter than most of the Elementals she commanded. Pershaw sometimes teased her about having freeborn genes.
"I will always stop working for you," he said now, standing up to gather her in his arms. Even through her stiffly starched warrior uniform, Pershaw thought he could feel the soft curves of Lanja's body underneath.
He knew that he and Lanja were unusually passionate for Clan lovers. Had he not chanced upon a disk of some old Terran romances in a Brian Cache, Pershaw might never have known that human love could be intense and romantic. As a Clansman, he could barely grasp the idea of romance, but his liaison with Lanja was probably deeper than any he had ever known before—in casual sibko alliances, in previous relationships with warrior women, and in other coregns. In its way, their relation was as fathomless as any in those fanciful tales of love.
But Kael Pershaw was a warrior above all, and he did not relish the idea of someone stumbling into his office to find him and Lanja locked in an embrace. Perhaps that was why he let her out of his arms sooner than he wanted to.
Lanja brushed back some of her dark hair, which looked even blacker against her emerald green Jade Falcon headband. "Something is bothering you," she said, and her brow furrowed with worry. "The usual things?"
"In a way. The stagnation, I suppose you would call it."
"Stagnation is a good word, especially with Blood Swamp so near the camp." Perhaps it was the mere thought of the swamp that made her brush away an imaginary insect. Blood Swamp was not its real name, which was long-forgotten. From the first days of Glory Station, warriors stationed there had been struck by the reddish glint, almost like long, bloody streaks, cast by the reflection of Glory's moon shining over the swamp.
"You will be transferred someday," Lanja said. "I am sure of it."
"I know. Relocation and redeployment are Clan ideals, but I am not due for a while. I wish to go now.
I want to be in a place where there is reason to be a warrior. I am tired of prodding troops with fake conflicts, just to keep their skills honed. They need real combat, and so do I."
"I had a dream that you were in combat. No, do not say it. My dreams. You do not believe in them. Even when you have seen them come true. Let us re-tire to the bedchamber. No, I do not mean to tempt you that way. It is just that your eyes look so very tired, like pools surrounded by dark earth."
"And are they stagnant, too?"
The remark made Lanja smile. "No, that they are not."
"Soon," Pershaw whispered. "We will go there soon. Just let me finish writing up some reports."
"They cannot wait?"
"It is only that I wanted to get this one about the brawl out of the way."
"The two Star Commanders? Bast and Jorge?"
' 'Exactly. What a blot on my command. That a free-birth could so easily defeat a trueborn in a foolish squabble."
"Foolish? As I recall Bast insulted Jorge."
"True. And if they were both trueborns that might not be a matter of shame. But Jorge soundly beat Bast—nearly broke his neck—while all those free-births stood cheering Jorge on. It was disgusting." Though Pershaw's face rarely registered emotion, this time the revulsion was obvious in his eyes and in the downturned corners of his mouth.
"Jorge is a fine warrior, freebirth or not," Lanja said softly. "I was not there, but I understand that he beat Bast rather convincingly."
"Nevertheless, Jorge should be intelligent enough to stay out of such a battle. I depend on freeborns understanding that I do not wish to have true/free conflicts in my command, and it is up to them to ... to ..."
"To stay in their place? To let themselves be trampled on by us trueborns? Not, in fact, to act like warriors at all?"
Pershaw smiled, a rare event that Lanja realized she
would have to treasure for a long while until it occurred again.
"I accept the criticism, Lanja. The truth is that I despise having any freeborns in my command. If I could, I would ship the lot of them somewhere else, and deal only with trueborns."
"I understand. But so long as you command even one freeborn, you must expect trouble, especially if he is as independent as this Jorge. Did you punish him this time?"
"I tried. But the surkai exonerated him."
Lanja's eyebrows raised. "Oh? I would not have expected Jorge to perform the rite of forgiveness successfully. His arrogance would—"
"I did not say that he performed the rite well. He was arrogant as ever. But I accepted it. I had to, quiaff?"
"AFF. And now you should forget it all."
"I cannot. Jorge is like a land mine. Step on him again and he will explode. There will be more trouble."
Lanja nodded. "Well, purge yourself for the moment with the report. Incidents like this will not look well on Jorge's codex."
Pershaw shrugged. "A freeborn's codex means next to nothing. Freeborns cannot become part of the gene pool, so it affects them little."
She touched his forehead. "You are thinking too much, Kael Pershaw. You need to rest. Join me soon."
She left the office. Pershaw labored over the report for a few minutes, but found it difficult to concentrate. Something had to change, he kept thinking.
But when the change did come, less than half a day later, he was surprised by it.
"How is a freebirth Star Commander different from a rock swine in a Clan uniform?"
"I do not know, Bast. How?"