Cassius stepped into the study. Mouse remained behind him.
“You wanted me?”
Storm cased the clarinet, adjusted his eyepatch, nodded.
“Yes. My sons are protecting me again, Cassius.”
“Uhm?” Cassius was a curiosity in the family. Not
only was he second in command, he was both Storm’s
father-in-law and son-in-law. Storm had married his daughter
Frieda. Cassius’s second wife was Storm’s oldest
daughter, by a woman long dead. The Storms and their captains were
bound together by convolute, almost incestuous relationships.
“There’s a yacht coming in,” Storm said.
“A cruiser is chasing her. Both ships show Richard’s
IFF. The boys have activated the mine fields against
them.”
Cassius’s cold face turned colder still. He met
Storm’s gaze, frowned, rose on his toes, said, “Michael
Dee. Again.”
“And my boys are determined to keep him away from
me.”
Cassius kept his counsel as to the wisdom of their effort. He
asked, “He’s coming back? After kidnapping Pollyanna?
He has more gall than I thought.”
Storm chuckled. He killed it when Cassius frowned. “Right.
It’s no laughing matter.”
Pollyanna Eight was the wife of his son Lucifer. They had not
been married long. The match was a disaster. To understate, the
girl was not Lucifer’s type.
Lucifer was one of Storm’s favorite children, despite his
efforts to complicate his father’s life. Lucifer’s
talents were musical and poetic. He did not have the good sense to
pursue them. He wanted to be a soldier.
Storm did not want his children to follow in his footsteps. His
profession was a dead end, an historical/social anomaly that would
soon correct itself. He saw no future or glamour in his trade. But
he could not deny the boys if they chose to remain with the
Legion.
Several had become key members of his staff.
Of the men who had created the Legion only a handful survived.
Grim old Cassius. The spooky brothers Wulf and Helmut Darksword. A
few sergeants. His father, Boris, and his father’s brothers
and brothers of his own—William, Howard. Verge, and so many
more—all had found their deaths-without-resurrection.
The family aged and grew weaker. And the enemy behind the night
grew stronger . . . Storm grunted. Enough of
this. He was becoming the plaything of his own obsession with
fate.
“He’s bringing her back, Cassius.” Storm,
smiled secretively.
Pollyanna was an adventuress. She had married Lucifer more to
get close to men like Storm than out of any affection for the poet.
Michael had had no trouble manipulating her unsatisfied lust for
action.
“But, you see, when he added it all up he was more scared
of me than he thought. I caught up with him on The Big Rock Candy
Mountain three weeks ago. We had a long talk, just him and me. I
think the knife did the trick. He’s vain about his face. And
he still worries about Fearchild.”
Mouse did his best to remain small. His father’s gaze had
passed over him several times, a little frown clicking on and off
each time. There would be an explosion eventually.
“You? Tortured? Dee?” Cassius could not express his
incredulity as a sentence. “You’re sure this
isn’t something he’s cooked up to boost his
ratings?”
Storm smiled. His smile was a cruel thing. Mouse did not like
it. It reminded him that his father had a side that was almost
inhuman.
“Centuries together, Cassius. And still you don’t
understand me. Of course Michael has an angle. That’s his
nature. And why do you think torture is out of character for me? I
promised Michael I would protect him. All that means, and he knows
it, is that I won’t kill him myself. And I won’t let
him be killed with my knowledge.”
“But . . . ”
“When he crosses me I still have options. I showed him
that on The Mountain.”
Mouse shuddered as a narrow, wicked smile of understanding
captured Cassius’s lips. Cassius could not fathom the bond
between the half-brothers. It pleased him that Storm had
circumvented its limitations.
Cassius was amused whenever a Dee came to grief. He had his
grievances. Fearchild was still paying for the hand. These are truly cruel men, Mouse thought, half-surprised. My own
people. I never really realized . . .
He had been gone too long. He had forgotten their dark
sides.
“To business,” Cassius said. “If Michael has
Pollyanna, and Richard is after him, there’ll be shooting. We
belong down in Combat.”
“I was about to suggest that we go there.” Storm
rose. “Before my idiot sons rid me of this plague called
Michael Dee.” He laughed. He had paraphrased Lucifer, who had
stolen the line from Henry II, speaking of Becket. “And poor
pretty Pollyanna along with him.” Poor Lucifer, Mouse thought. He’ll be the only real loser
if he manages to keep Michael from docking.
Storm whistled. “Geri! Freki! Here!” The dogs ceased
their restless pacing, crowded him expectantly. They were free to
range the Fortress, but did so only in the company of their
master.
Storm donned the long grey uniform cloak he affected, took a
ravenshrike on one arm, strode off. Cassius trailed him by a
half-step. Mouse hurried along behind them. The dogs ranged ahead,
searching for the trouble they would never find.
“Mouse,” Storm growled, stopping suddenly.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I sent for him,” Cassius replied in that cold
metallic voice. Mouse shuddered. He was imagining it, of course,
but Cassius sounded so deadly unemotional and
lifeless . . . “I contacted my friends in
Luna Command. They arranged it. The
situation . . . ”
“The situation is such that I don’t want him here,
Cassius. He has a chance to go his own direction. For God’s
sake, let him grab it. Too many of my children are caught in this
trap already.”
Cassius turned as Storm resumed walking. “Wait in my
office. Mouse. I’ll bring him around.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mouse began to feel what his father felt. An air of doom
permeated the Fortress. A sense that great things were about to
happen hung over them all. His father did not want him involved.
Cassius thought he belonged. Mouse was shaken. A clash of wills
between the two was inconceivable, yet his presence might
precipitate one.
How could the Fortress be in danger? Combat simulation models
suggested that only Confederation Navy had the strength to crack
it. His father and Cassius got along well with the distant
government.
Alone in the Colonel’s inner office he began to brood. He
realized he was mimicking his father. And he could not stop.
Was it Michael Dee?
The foreboding was almost palpable.
Cassius stepped into the study. Mouse remained behind him.
“You wanted me?”
Storm cased the clarinet, adjusted his eyepatch, nodded.
“Yes. My sons are protecting me again, Cassius.”
“Uhm?” Cassius was a curiosity in the family. Not
only was he second in command, he was both Storm’s
father-in-law and son-in-law. Storm had married his daughter
Frieda. Cassius’s second wife was Storm’s oldest
daughter, by a woman long dead. The Storms and their captains were
bound together by convolute, almost incestuous relationships.
“There’s a yacht coming in,” Storm said.
“A cruiser is chasing her. Both ships show Richard’s
IFF. The boys have activated the mine fields against
them.”
Cassius’s cold face turned colder still. He met
Storm’s gaze, frowned, rose on his toes, said, “Michael
Dee. Again.”
“And my boys are determined to keep him away from
me.”
Cassius kept his counsel as to the wisdom of their effort. He
asked, “He’s coming back? After kidnapping Pollyanna?
He has more gall than I thought.”
Storm chuckled. He killed it when Cassius frowned. “Right.
It’s no laughing matter.”
Pollyanna Eight was the wife of his son Lucifer. They had not
been married long. The match was a disaster. To understate, the
girl was not Lucifer’s type.
Lucifer was one of Storm’s favorite children, despite his
efforts to complicate his father’s life. Lucifer’s
talents were musical and poetic. He did not have the good sense to
pursue them. He wanted to be a soldier.
Storm did not want his children to follow in his footsteps. His
profession was a dead end, an historical/social anomaly that would
soon correct itself. He saw no future or glamour in his trade. But
he could not deny the boys if they chose to remain with the
Legion.
Several had become key members of his staff.
Of the men who had created the Legion only a handful survived.
Grim old Cassius. The spooky brothers Wulf and Helmut Darksword. A
few sergeants. His father, Boris, and his father’s brothers
and brothers of his own—William, Howard. Verge, and so many
more—all had found their deaths-without-resurrection.
The family aged and grew weaker. And the enemy behind the night
grew stronger . . . Storm grunted. Enough of
this. He was becoming the plaything of his own obsession with
fate.
“He’s bringing her back, Cassius.” Storm,
smiled secretively.
Pollyanna was an adventuress. She had married Lucifer more to
get close to men like Storm than out of any affection for the poet.
Michael had had no trouble manipulating her unsatisfied lust for
action.
“But, you see, when he added it all up he was more scared
of me than he thought. I caught up with him on The Big Rock Candy
Mountain three weeks ago. We had a long talk, just him and me. I
think the knife did the trick. He’s vain about his face. And
he still worries about Fearchild.”
Mouse did his best to remain small. His father’s gaze had
passed over him several times, a little frown clicking on and off
each time. There would be an explosion eventually.
“You? Tortured? Dee?” Cassius could not express his
incredulity as a sentence. “You’re sure this
isn’t something he’s cooked up to boost his
ratings?”
Storm smiled. His smile was a cruel thing. Mouse did not like
it. It reminded him that his father had a side that was almost
inhuman.
“Centuries together, Cassius. And still you don’t
understand me. Of course Michael has an angle. That’s his
nature. And why do you think torture is out of character for me? I
promised Michael I would protect him. All that means, and he knows
it, is that I won’t kill him myself. And I won’t let
him be killed with my knowledge.”
“But . . . ”
“When he crosses me I still have options. I showed him
that on The Mountain.”
Mouse shuddered as a narrow, wicked smile of understanding
captured Cassius’s lips. Cassius could not fathom the bond
between the half-brothers. It pleased him that Storm had
circumvented its limitations.
Cassius was amused whenever a Dee came to grief. He had his
grievances. Fearchild was still paying for the hand. These are truly cruel men, Mouse thought, half-surprised. My own
people. I never really realized . . .
He had been gone too long. He had forgotten their dark
sides.
“To business,” Cassius said. “If Michael has
Pollyanna, and Richard is after him, there’ll be shooting. We
belong down in Combat.”
“I was about to suggest that we go there.” Storm
rose. “Before my idiot sons rid me of this plague called
Michael Dee.” He laughed. He had paraphrased Lucifer, who had
stolen the line from Henry II, speaking of Becket. “And poor
pretty Pollyanna along with him.” Poor Lucifer, Mouse thought. He’ll be the only real loser
if he manages to keep Michael from docking.
Storm whistled. “Geri! Freki! Here!” The dogs ceased
their restless pacing, crowded him expectantly. They were free to
range the Fortress, but did so only in the company of their
master.
Storm donned the long grey uniform cloak he affected, took a
ravenshrike on one arm, strode off. Cassius trailed him by a
half-step. Mouse hurried along behind them. The dogs ranged ahead,
searching for the trouble they would never find.
“Mouse,” Storm growled, stopping suddenly.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I sent for him,” Cassius replied in that cold
metallic voice. Mouse shuddered. He was imagining it, of course,
but Cassius sounded so deadly unemotional and
lifeless . . . “I contacted my friends in
Luna Command. They arranged it. The
situation . . . ”
“The situation is such that I don’t want him here,
Cassius. He has a chance to go his own direction. For God’s
sake, let him grab it. Too many of my children are caught in this
trap already.”
Cassius turned as Storm resumed walking. “Wait in my
office. Mouse. I’ll bring him around.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mouse began to feel what his father felt. An air of doom
permeated the Fortress. A sense that great things were about to
happen hung over them all. His father did not want him involved.
Cassius thought he belonged. Mouse was shaken. A clash of wills
between the two was inconceivable, yet his presence might
precipitate one.
How could the Fortress be in danger? Combat simulation models
suggested that only Confederation Navy had the strength to crack
it. His father and Cassius got along well with the distant
government.
Alone in the Colonel’s inner office he began to brood. He
realized he was mimicking his father. And he could not stop.
Was it Michael Dee?
The foreboding was almost palpable.