CnC Chpt 14

==Cat and Crescent - Chapter 14 -==
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===Parade of the Victors===
Deva City, Bingham Prefecture
Moab, Lyreton, Rimward Periphery
Friday, October 8th, 3024 
A broad central boulevard led through the center of Deva from the outskirts of the prefecture capital city to Mandrinn Crivoi's old Capellan-style palace. Inhabitants lined the street to watch the arrival of the Blue Crescent Rangers, and from his lofty perch inside Dark and Stormy, Remihel studied the crowd. Uncertainty appeared on every face. House Crivoi ruled Bingham Prefecture for almost a century and a half. Now that constant star had fallen without an heir to replace it.
 
This parade feels too much like the march of a conqueror, Remihel decided, and quietly hated this particular ceremony. But the mandrinns of Moab - those who remained - wanted a show of strength, and they'd agreed to pay the Rangers for the job. 
 
From an external standpoint, the Blue Crescent Rangers won it all. Mandrinn Crivoi lay dead in the burnt-out wreckage of his Javelin. Denis de Souza was a smear in the crushed cockpit of his Hunchback. Remihel also confirmed the demise of the other four Reavers. The dropship Vanua Levu and its crew negotiated their surrender. Two of Crivoi's UrbanMechs survived the battle.
To help offset the martial mood, the external speakers on all four mechs played a repetitive track of Capellan shamisen music, a bright tune that Stephen Wallace recommended to help reassure the locals. Whatever it takes, Remihel decided.
 
Deva boasted a population twice the size of the entire Barony of Blackfoot, but Remihel guessed at least half of the city's inhabitants lived in ramshackled slums sandwiched between the overgrown hills and the sandy beaches. Some worlds built resorts in locations like this, rather than industrial districts. Remihel saw very few cars, though motorbikes and three-wheeled auto-rickshaws crowded the side roads. Josie called them 'chingchees' and cheerfully reminisced about owning a red one.
 
"Mechs waiting at the palace," Wes reported. His battered Phoenix Hawk strode at the head of the short column. "A pair of Javelins. Looks like Mandrinn Yosef beat us here."
 
"As I prefer," Remihel said.
 
Yosef waited at the foot of his Javelin, standing alone in the middle of the palace courtyard. He was tall, athletic, with a dark olive complexion, a neat dark beard and mustache, and head shaven smooth. A company's worth of Gurkhas, in jungle green camouflage with broad-brimmed hats, stood in neat parade lines at the edge of the courtyard.
 
Remihel recognized the politics he needed to negotiate. The Blue Crescent Rangers now possessed more firepower and mech tonnage than anyone else on Moab. Mandrinn Yosef waited outside his mech to acknowledge this reality, and demonstrate implicit trust in the Rangers. But once Remihel and the other Rangers dismounted, the balance of power changed - the parading Gurkhas showed that clearly. Each party must trust the other, and Yosef takes the first step. Of course, Remihel thought, I still have a double helping of paranoia about this meeting.
 
"Three and Four," Remihel said, as the Rangers finally entered the palace grounds, "remain in your mechs until I order otherwise. Remember our signal words for speaking under duress."
 
"Acknowledged!" Wes replied.
 
Satisfied, Remihel halted Dark and Stormy so it faced Yosef's much smaller Fire Javelin. He popped the canopy and unrolled his rope egress ladder. Humid air wafted into the Marauder's cockpit, still laden with moisture from the recently-passed furaca, and Remihel appreciated that he'd taken the time to return to Hondo for a shower and change of clothes. Though by the end of the afternoon, he expected to reek once again from the tropical weather.
 
Upon reaching the ground, he threw Yosef a formal salute. "Remihel Greenbrier. Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Your Excellency."
 
"Tamir Yosef. Call me Tamir." The Mandrinn grinned and extended a hand for a firm shake. "The pleasure is mine, Baron."
 
Remihel noted the use of his noble title, which he'd avoided in all their earlier conversations. He's done his homework. "And you can call me Remihel."
 
Yosef paused, his attention drawn as Josie descended from her Griffin, followed a few moments later by her father. He bowed stiffly from the waist to Stephen. "Mechwarrior Wallace."
 
Stephen Wallace extended his mangled right hand. "Dispossessed."
 
It took a few moments for Yosef to compose himself enough to take Stephen's hand. "I learned this morning that you'd survived. I would have done more for you, if I'd known."
 
"Aye," Stephen said, somewhat reluctantly. He gestured toward his daughter, who waited at his side. "She tol' me ye got her clear of Crivoi's agents. An' there's nae greater service ye might 'ave done fer me. Ah'm in yer debt."
 
Yosef awkwardly nodded, then turned back to include Remihel in the conversation. "If all three of you could follow me inside, I have arranged a short Council meeting. I wish for you to be present."
 
"Lead on, Your Excellency," Remihel said.
 
As Remihel walked through the halls of Crivoi's palace, he once again lowered his opinion of the deceased mandrinn. Art lined the walls and marble imported from offworld covered the floor. One gaudy golden statue, two meters tall, portrayed Mandrinn Crivoi crushing a Stinger underfoot. He scoffed at the display. "How did Crivoi hire his mercenaries when all his money goes into this stupidly fancy house?"
 
Stephen answered. "He didnae care aboot that, Baron. Jus' raise th' taxes some more."
 
Remihel rolled his eyes. "Short-sighted idiot."
 
After a few more moments, Mandrinn Yosef led the way into an oversized conference room. Two seats at the table were already occupied, while portable holo-emitters showed live feeds of Moab's other mandrinns and mandrissas. 
 
Remihel looked around at the other holo-emitters, each of which displayed the name of the noble represented. Josie quickly leaned in close and whispered in Remihel's ear. "The man on the left is Mandrinn Quinton Liafiel, one of Yosef's allies. The man on the right... that's Wu-chinn Abadzhiev, one of Crivoi's allies. Technically."
 
"Technically?"
 
"Ally of convenience," Josie shrugged. "With Cassie dead, he's de facto in charge of the Council... but only long enough to elect a new Shonso."
 
Mandrinn Yosef took one of the chairs, indicating for Remihel, Josie, and Stephen to sit down behind him. Once Yosef reached his seat, Abadzhiev rose. "Now that Tamir's finally joined us we can begin."
 
Yosef instantly raised his hand. "I wish to declare that I bring guests before the Council. I request the floor."
 
Remihel didn't miss the look of exasperation that Abadzhiev gave his fellow nobleman. "Make it short, Yosef."
 
"I wish to present Baron Remihel Greenbrier, as my guest," Yosef said. "He is a Taurian noble and mercenary. I also wish to introduce - or rather, reintroduce - Mechwarrior Stephen Wallace, formerly in the employ of Jairo Crivoi. And finally, his daughter Josie, now serving as a mechwarrior for Baron Greenbrier."
 
"You wasted no time conjuring them from the woodwork, Tamir," Mandrinn Abadzhiev said. His eyes regarded everyone with a palpable mix of hostility and suspicion. Remihel took a few hasty seconds to analyze the nobleman's body-language. He looked intimidated - and he probably was, with his closest political ally now dead.
 
Remihel stepped forward to seize the initiative. "Your Excellency, while Mandrinn Yosef generously invited me to this Council, the 'conjuring' in fact was my work. Upon receiving my contract for the destruction of de Souza's Reavers, I intentionally recruited Miss Wallace. By happenstance, I landed my dropship atop Crivoi's secret political prison at Boca Grande, where we discovered and liberated Stephen Wallace, amongst others."
 
Mandrissa Lu, a distinguished-looking woman in her late fifties, leaned forward in interest. "Jairo informed us both members of the Wallace family were killed in the revolt two years ago. Have we independently verified their identities?"
 
Stephen Wallace rose from his seat. "Ah dinnae know what kinda evidence ye might want, yer excellency-"
 
"Objection withdrawn," Mandrissa Lu immediately said. "That accent is evidence enough for me."
 
Mandrinn Abadzhiev, still restless at his seat, raised a hand for silence. "Thank you for introducing your guests, Mandrinn Yosef. Now, shall we move on to our more important business?"
 
"By all means."
 
"Very well, then." Abadzhiev rose to address the other nobles, both present and virtual. "We've met four times now since the... untimely death... of Shanna Cassie Jalal-"
 
"Assassination!" Quinton Liafiel snapped. "Crivoi murdered her!"
 
"A claim which remains unproven," Abadzhiev said. "And despite accusations leveled against Mandrinn Yosef, Crivoi, and others - even myself, Quinton, lest you forget! - we're still no further into resolving our deadlock. Now Mandrinn Crivoi lies dead at the hands of these mercenaries. And we have another empty seat here in the Ruling Council."
Yosef rose from his seat. "Your Excellency, I have a proposal."
 
Abadzhiev frowned. "Of course you do, Tamir."
 
"I motion that we table the discussion of electing a new Shonso or Shanna for five local days," Yosef said. "In the intervening time-period, I propose that Cassie Jalal's husband be appointed regent for House Jalal pending the majority of their eldest daughter. Secondly, I propose that Stephen Wallace be named a mandrinn of Moab and appointed to rule Bingham Prefecture."
 
"I second the motion," Mandrissa Lu said immediately. Several more voices chimed up in support.
 
"Naw ye all wait just a wee minute-" Stephen said, shooting to his feet.
 
Remihel chuckled and sat back in his seat, wishing he had a root beer and a plate of snacks. This is about to get genuinely interesting.
 
It took Abadzhiev a few moments to regain order, pounding his palm on the table. "Quiet! Quiet! Order! One at a time. Yosef, continue."
 
"We can appoint a new mandrinn to fill an empty prefecture by a simple majority vote," Yosef said. "If we appoint a regent for Cassie Jalal's daughter, and fill Bingham Prefecture, we're back to twelve." He looked squarely at Abadzhiev. "I then wish to extend your excellency's emergency powers to allow further discussion about the appointment of a new Shanna."
 
"Why?" Abadzhiev snapped. "You're just going to suggest Lu again."
 
Yosef smiled. "Your Excellency, I believe we might reach a reasonable compromise."
 
Remihel studied the two men as they squared off. I wish I knew enough of Moabite politics to understand the nuances, he mused, watching the unspoken interplay. Or perhaps I'm glad I don't. I can leave in a few days and not bother with it ever again. It's great to be a mercenary...
 
Abadzhiev wavered first and allowed a vote. With ten votes - unanimous assent - the mandrinns named a regent for Cassie Jalal's young daughter. With eight votes, they nominated Stephen Wallace as the new mandrinn of Bingham. House Abadzhiev and House Dillon abstained.
 
"Mechwarrior Wallace," Abadzhiev said, turning to look at him, "do you wish to accept?"
 
Stephen stood and walked slowly forward. "Yer Excellencies, ah doon't wish tae question yer wisdom, but ah just spent most of twae years in a cell w'out windows. Ah dinnae want tae turn awa' yer generous offer, but ah need some time tae think aboot it."
 
"Take your time," Yosef said, although Remihel saw a sudden spike of tension in his body-language. He didn't plan for that possibility, Remihel guessed. He set up the vote and assured his allies, but didn't think someone might ever turn him down.
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===Methods of Courting===
 
The sun sank down toward the western sky, but red Lyreton continued its slow climb in the east, illuminating Moab with the reflected light. Not quite day, and not quite night, Remihel decided, as he walked toward the beach. The scorching daytime heat slowly broke, and the temperatures steadily dipped toward a mere hot. With Lyreton high overhead, the ocean surged up at high tide, climbing the sloped beach and hurling waves toward the stone breakwaters. To Remihel, it looked dangerous, though he spotted a number of locals surfing even at this late evening hour.
 
By Remihel's own request, the Blue Crescent Rangers left Deva for a smaller town to the south. They took over one of Mandrinn Crivoi's seaside villas on the southern end of the Phoeniecian Strip, a hundred-kilometer preserve of headlands and tropical beaches. Most of the Rangers didn't dare chance the ocean, and instead celebrated their liberty in the villa's swimming pool. To no one's surprise, they'd set up a raucous game of pool volleyball.
 
Remihel let them party. He mingled for a short time, but loud music soon drove him to the edges. After making his excuses, he found a staircase leading down to the beach.
 
"Hey Remi." 
 
Josie sat on the beach, far enough that the surf barely reached her. She wore a two-piece swimsuit, and Remihel found the view rather distracting. Judging by the bottle in her hand and its empty predecessor near her left foot, she'd sat here for quite awhile.
 
"Drinking alone?" he asked.
 
"No," she laughed. "You're here, aren't you?"
 
Remihel looked around. "Where's your dad?"
"Went to bed an hour ago. Want to join me instead?"
 
After a moment of hesitation, Remihel nodded and sat down. Gritty dark sand stuck to his hands. Josie's left knee hovered only a few centimeters from Remihel's right, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath when she hiccupped. 
 
"What is that you've got?"
 
"This? Oh, guava daiquiri," she said. "It's a local thing. Here, try it!"
 
Remihel reluctantly took a sip from the bottle. He couldn't pinpoint the exact taste - something with both fruit and berry tones. The contents of the bottle looked pink. "Very sweet," he admitted. "Pleasantly fruity taste."
 
"Better than the local gin," Josie said. "Can't stand that stuff!"
 
He checked the bottle and found it mostly full. "You probably shouldn't finish this tonight," he finally said.
 
"I can handle it!" Josie replied - though when she took the daiquiri back, she thought for a few moments and then set it down on the ground. "Maybe you're right, though. I'm, uh. Trying to cut back."
 
"I know." Remihel looked away, out toward the sea. "It's a good view. Wouldn't think a furaca blew through here just one day ago."
 
"Always happens that way. Things change fast on Moab." She paused. "The rest of the galaxy too, I guess."
 
"If your dad agrees to become the mandrinn of Bingham, I expect you'll see a lot more rapid changes."
 
"He's not going to accept."
 
Remihel looked back over at her. "Why not?"
 
"I... I think..." Josie reached for her bottle of daiquiri, paused, and then withdrew her hand. "He knows I'm not going to stay on Moab."
 
"You're not?"
 
"I plan to stay with the Rangers."
 
"You'd become mandrissa if you stayed here."
 
Josie shrugged. "And get dragged into the games of politics they play? Even the nice guys like Yosef and Lu play it. They've got to! If they don't..." She shook her head fiercely. "I don't want it."
 
Remihel met her gaze and made his decision. "If you don't want to be a mandrissa, what do you want, Josie?"
 
"I want..." she paused. "I want to have a clear head, because I can't think up the right words." She leaned toward him, and took a quick breath. "You're going to kiss me this time, right?"
 
"Unless the cats distract me."
 
"Better not be any cats," she laughed. He kissed her gently and felt a tremor in her lips. After a few moments, she slipped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer for a more energetic exchange.
 
When they finally broke contact, she sighed and closed her eyes. "I want to go surfing with you on the Phoenecian Strip. I want to share barbecue tacos and guava daiquiri at one of the churrascarias in Autazes or Aldeia market." She leaned forward and snagged another short kiss. "And I want that. More of that."
 
"I think," Remihel said, trying to clear his head, "I think I can help. Though I can't surf."
 
"Don't worry! I'll teach you." Josie opened her eyes again, but did not lean away. "I told you about Momma's Rules, but did I mention Daddy's Rule?"
 
"No?"
 
"There's just one," she said. "but it's important."
 
"Defeat him in single combat for the right to exist on the same planet as his beloved daughter?"
 
"No!" Josie giggled. "Look me in the eye and tell me yourself."
 
"Hm." Remihel thought about that for a moment. "I'd prefer single combat."
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===New Clothes, Potential new Job===
Deva City, Bingham Prefecture
Moab, Lyreton, Rimward Periphery
Saturday, October 9th, 3024 
Stephen Wallace sat motionless in the armchair. He stared at Remihel and Josie.
 
"Um, Da..." Josie prompted. "Can you say something?"
 
"Ach," he finally said. "Weel then." He sniffled, coughed, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. "Ah dinnae hae aught tae say against that."
 
"Remi and I discussed it last evening," Josie continued. "We aren't going to hurry things."
 
"And I'd like to introduce her to my family," Remihel added. "I want to hear their opinions, since I value their advice."
 
"Mm." It finally looked like Stephen began to shake off the shell-shock. "Weel then." He scratched his chin and sniffed again. "Ah suppose ye two can work it oot, then. An' it makes th' next question from me all th' easier."
 
"What question is that?" Remihel asked.
 
"Ah plan tae tell Yosef ah won't be mandrinn o' Bingham," Stephen said. "Ah dinnae want it." He held up the stump of his left arm, and a savage look crossed his face. "This ain't half of what fecking Moab cast me. Ah'm doon with this place. I dinnae want more o' these dafty intrigues."
 
"I certainly understand that," Remihel agreed.
 
"So ah need tae fine myself a braw new job," Stephen continued. "An' tae me, it looks like ye need tae get yerself an XO fer the Rangers."
 
"Ooh!" Josie said. Her eyes lit up with excitement.
 
Remihel thought for a few moments. "I might have an opening."
 
"An' ah hae the experience."
 
Remihel grinned. "Should I point out that you tried to depose your previous employer?"
 
Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Ach, really? Ye want tae go there, laddy?"
 
"Nay, ah doon't think ah need tae bring th' matter oop," Remihel said, imitating Stephen's Northwind accent.
 
Stephen simply shook his head and sighed. "Dinnae do that. Ye sound like a eejit FedRat tryin' to order scotch from a Steiner pub."
 
"That bad? I thought I nailed it."
 
"Nae even close."
 
"Hm. I guess I'll work on it. You're sure you don't want to be the mandrinn of Bingham?"
 
"Ah'm sure, laddie." Stephen nodded toward his daughter. "Moab dinnae suit my fancy at th' moment, an' my Teacup seems tae think ye might be worth followin' around."
 
"Well, you're hired," Remihel said. "Give you the rank of Subaltern. Sorry, I don't remember what it pays."
 
The buzz and chime of Remihel's wristcomp interrupted the conversation. Remihel thought briefly about turning it off, but the tune indicated a high-priority message from Captain Harwood. After a few moments of reluctance, Remihel tapped the screen. "Yes?"
 
"Sorry to bother you," Harwood said, "but I just received a message for you from the dropship Diving Bird, in Moab orbit. You want me to forward the text?"
 
"Yes. Thank you, Captain." Remihel tried to keep his voice calm, but he felt his pulse rise. Is this what I think it might be? "Send it to my wristcomp."
 
"Done."
 
Once Harwood terminated the call, Remihel hastily skimmed the message as it scrolled across the screen of his wristcomp. "Josie," he said. "Out of curiosity... did we get you a Rangers uniform yet?"
 
She blinked. "No. But I can get one. Why?"
 
"I just received an invitation to talk with a potential client," Remihel said. He looked up, quietly celebrating his success. "A rich Canopian lady named Ana Maria Centrella."
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Chapter 14