The night sky over Labrea was cloudy, dull, and it matched Star Commander Gavin's mood perfectly. As he walked through the nearly-empty streets of St. Vincent, his boots crunching stray rubbish from an overturned garbage can, Gavin couldn't help grumbling to himself about the sheer inactivity he had faced recently.
Stravag politics, stravag Wolves, and stravag anything else keeping us on this planet! After being assigned to the prestigious Sixth Jaguar Dragoons, Gavin had spent the past several months doing nothing but cooling his heels on Labrea. The heavy pistol mounted on his gunbelt slapped repeatedly against his thigh as Gavin continued to double-time his way down the street. A cool breeze, brought on by the unusual cold front hanging over St. Vincent, snaked its way along the empty street to bite around Gavin's armored uniform jacket and through his fatigues. The weather wasn't helping, either. The only good thing about the dark weather was the brilliant way his Night Gyr lit up during daily maneuvers. The sight of the massive 'mech shrouded in the brilliant light display of its laser heat sinks was almost worth the lack of combat Labrea was suffering from.
Word had come through the grapevine that a new ilKhan was being elected on Strana Mechty. Gavin was sincerely hoping that would be the case. A new ilKhan meant a resumed invasion. Since Lincoln Osis once commanded the Sixth, any invasion while he was Khan –maybe even ilKhan– meant the Sixth would see plenty of action.
Gavin had decided long ago that the only reason he supported the crusader cause was because it gave the Clans more opportunities to fight and win honor and glory. What more could a Warrior want? Certainly not a new, and presumably peaceful Star League. What most of humanity considered a golden age, even what the Clans considered a golden age, was to Gavin's mind a time that a true Warrior, bred to fight and win, dreaded.
Thinking was not something many of his fellow warriors spent time doing. Certainly not much thinking of this sort. Gavin always kept his thoughts –his private personal, non-warrior related thoughts– to himself. The other warriors might consider him strange or even treasonous if they knew what he was thinking.
Up ahead, a stream of light from an unshuttered window and an ajar door announced to the entire deserted street that here, at least, was human activity. Bored out of his mind, and tired of being chilled by the wind, Gavin decided to go inside, even if the place was full of dirty freebirths.
The signs on the door and above the window proclaimed this establishment to be a highly reputable one, a restaurant that some of the higher-echelon warriors occasionally frequented and one that was run personally by a merchant casteman from the clan homeworlds. As Gavin stepped in the door he noticed that the place was practically deserted, with the exception of a couple that looked to be Gavin's own age in a corner booth, busily staring into each other's eyes. One of the staff lounged about in a chair by a tall lectern with a few pages on it. The main dining hall was practically deserted, and the small stage in the center was taken up by a massive black shape that stood on three legs. It had a kind of hood that was raised up from the main body at an angle, and a bench sat at one end of the thing. Just as bored as before, Gavin was about to leave –the waiter had not even noticed him yet– when a shapely woman in a long, dark-blue, sparkling dress walked out of a side door and up onto the stage.
Maybe there is some point to staying in this place after all. Gavin walked over to the maitre-d and spoke.
"One. By the stage." The attendant turned and jumped, startled by this Clan warrior who bore the insignia of a Star Commander, was wearing a heavy pistol, and had just walked out of what was turning into a stormy night.
"Y-yes, er… aff, sir. Would sir like a list of our wines ah… quiaff?" Gavin sighed. The wine list was fine, but the waiter could get annoying quickly.
"Aff."
"This way, please." Gavin followed the waiter to a small, round table by the stage. Gavin sat down, looked at the empty chair opposite him, and back to the waiter.
"Ah… will you have anything to drink?"
"Water. I will have something later." The poor agitated waiter gulped nervously, then handed the elegantly decorated menu to Gavin.
"Our soups tonight are Naranji, Vegetable, and French Onion. I will be back in a few minutes for your order." The waiter walked off at an extremely brisk pace, probably glad to be able to get away. Gavin turned his attention to the woman on stage.
She had made a trip back to the side door to retrieve an electronic reader with an screen at least three times the normal size, and several chips for the reader. She sat down on the bench, flipped on the reader, inserted one of the chips, made a few adjustments to the reader, slid the front of the object up to reveal some kind of primitive keyboard, and touched the keys.
A slow, solemn, haunting sound drifted into the air as the lights dimmed and spotlights illuminated the stage. In the extra light, the woman's long, brunette, straight hair shined and the deep blue shade of her dress shimmered brilliantly. Her thin, strapped dress flaunted a slight build, but with some curves and a well-toned frame that, although it was weak compared to Gavin's muscular build, conveyed its own sense of strength. Although she played with her back to him, Gavin could still see her strong hands and long fingers as they danced up and down the keys. The air itself was heavy with the flow, the rise and the fall of the music. Gavin tilted back in his chair so he could see the screen of her reader. It was covered with a series of lines, which full of filled and hollowed dots connected and separated at certain intervals. At the top of the screen were the only words: "Claire de Lune, Debussy" and some kind of number. Gavin also noticed that her feet, clad in some kind of high-heeled dress shoes, were working a series of pedals mounted on the lower part of the instrument. Gavin also could not help but notice her shapely calves and the graceful way this woman played her music.
The waiter returned with a glass of water. Gavin took one look at the menu, found the largest serving of meat available, grilled Hypa Cattle, ordered a side and some Timbaqui Dark, and returned his attention to the woman, and her music.
Gavin had never heard anything like the music, or the instrument, this woman played. It was deep. It was rich. It gave him a rush of energy, of passion, similar to the pleasure found during coupling. But this music struck him in a different way, it was a different kind of pleasure and a different kind of sensation.
It was a sensation that was deep and powerful, one that overmatched most of the feelings Gavin had come across during his life. The music was as large and deep as the depths of space and it took him off the small empty restaurant on Labrea and into a grand world where sound and tone ruled above all. The melodies and harmonies washed over Gavin like a tidal wave, uprooting his perspective of reality and catching his mind up in a current as graceful as it was powerful.
The Timbaqui Dark was excellent, the steak was perfectly prepared, and Gavin considered the time well-spent. When the woman finally finished playing, Gavin found himself suffering from an inordinate amount of questions. He asked the most sensible one.
"I am unfamiliar with this instrument. What is it?" The woman, apparently surprised by the question, turned around on the bench to address her unknown questioner. She was more surprised by who had asked the question, a clan 'mechwarrior.
"Excuse me?"
"This instrument. I have never seen its like before." She sighed. His unfamiliarity with the instrument seemed to depress her. She shut the cover on the instrument and leaned back onto it, crossing her legs as she did so.
"I'm… I am sorry to say that it is not surprising. Not many people, even from around here, recognize a Grand Piano when they see one. People today are used to seeing electro-synths. Acoustic instruments, like this one, are kind of rare."
"It is a… Grand Piano?"
"Right. Acoustic pianos in general are hard to find, but Grands, the best ones made, are even harder to find."
"I see. That was enjoyable. I have not heard such music played before."
"Most of it is really old. Ancient terran composers. In fact, four-fifths of this music was written before the invention of the fusion engine. Probably half of it was written before electricity was used." Gavin's eyes widened. That was beyond ancient.
"I had no idea. How old is the instrument… the piano?"
"It is several hundred years old. I have no idea when it was made, but quite possibly before the succession wars. Maybe even before the Star League." She uncrossed her legs and stood up from the bench, and walked down the stage steps to the dining floor. "Do you play an instrument, or are you just interested because you… have never seen a piano before?"
"Music… I am interested in it, but I have never heard the kind of music you played. I have a small composition system, but not much time to use it, and none of my efforts have been successful." She looked surprised at his last comment.
"I can stay and talk if you like…" She probably thought that sitting down with a clan warrior to talk about music was one of the less likely situations one might come across.
"You may sit, if it does not detain you from other duties." She smiled and sat down opposite him. "I am Star Commander Gavin."
"My name is Rika. I am the resident pianist here." Among other things, Gavin noticed the v-cut of her dress and the way her brown eyes sparkled.
"Where did you learn this instrument? It was difficult, quiaff?" She smiled again, her red lips parting to show off dazzling white teeth.
"I grew up on Labrea. My parents inherited a piano from some relative who died, and decided that someone should learn to play it. I was the only one in the family who actually enjoyed the piano, so they paid for my lessons." Rika's memories of her childhood, and of family life, put Gavin off somewhat. He was a trueborn warrior, and the life of the average freebirth, even one as skilled an artist as this Rika, was repugnant to him. "I practiced hard enough, and played long enough, and worked until I was able to play like I can today."
"How did you gain access to the music? You said it was very old, and finding something so archaic must have been extremely difficult, quiaff?" Despite his inner voice screaming that he was conversing with a member of the lower castes, Gavin found himself unable to get out of the conversation. He was fascinated by this piano, and this piano player, as well as the music she played.
"Archives of old music can be found on most worlds. Real pianos are rare, and they are very difficult to transport, and they also take quite a bit of time, and skill, to tune. Electro-synths do not have the feel of a piano, but they are capable of generating a large number of reasonably accurate sounds. They also need little tuning or maintenance. A good ear can tell the difference between an electro-synth and the real instrument, but if you are interested in music, you might want to get one." Gavin was torn between the possibilities of this conversation. One part of him dismissed musical performance as pedestrian, below the notice of a warrior and not worth the time and effort. Another part of him wanted to be able to create the same kind of wonderful sensation Rika had so flawlessly woven from the ivory keys of the piano.
I have no use for this. I am a Clan 'Mechwarrior. I was bred to fight, not to play some instrument.
This is one of the few things in life other than combat and coupling that I have enjoyed. I am already a collector of music. Why should I not engage in music as I willingly engage in the other things that make my life enjoyable?
"I think, Rika, that music may be a pursuit worthy of my interest. I must go now, but is there another time which I may see you? I wish to know more about this." Rika, already taken aback by Gavin's interest in music, decided that the situation was so entirely surreal that she might as well grab for the unexpected.
"I play here most nights. Would next week, at this time, be good?"
"Absolutely. I will be here in one week, unless other duties require my presence. One can never tell when raiders may strike, or when a trial will come up. I have enjoyed speaking with you, Rika." Gavin rose from the table. "I look forward to next week."
The weather, although it was still miserable, did not detract from Gavin's mood as he exited the restaurant. Debussy, Beethoven, Liszt, and many others ran round and round through his head in a euphonious swirl of sound, shortening the return walk through the city to the garrison base. The long trip to the outskirts of the town gave Gavin plenty of time to ruminate on his thoughts, and to let Rika's music play around in his head. Gavin even caught himself humming one of the pieces Rika had played as he walked up the steps to the main barracks.
The building resembled a structure he had seen once or twice in the inner sphere, a parking garage. The only difference was that this building had windows instead of an open floor. But comparisons remained. The ferrocrete was unpainted, and the building seemed to be nothing more than an uninspired square jutting out of the ground. Although it was an example of solid construction and clean lines, Gavin felt that the building better conveyed rigidity and sterility instead of strength. Although he knew it was not wonderful to look at, Gavin felt the issue a moot point because it was virtually impossible to see the exterior of the building from the inside.
Of course, the inside of the building was done up in traditional Smoke Jaguar décor as well. The main lobby, flanked by a pair of guards, was strewn with stiff and uncomfortable gray furniture, its only virtue its ability to have anything spilled on it and look no worse than before. The whitewashed walls had to make do with only a 'mech holo, a Timberwolf, for decoration. Gavin noted that it was probably the C variant, based on the pair of lasers mounted in one arm and the autocannon in the other.
The guards acknowledged Gavin's presence and stood aside for him. Their moves were sloppy and inefficient. Their uniforms were messy, and their boots unpolished. In the two guardsmen, Gavin saw a disturbing lack of readiness, a lack of pride, a dearth of the values the Clans held dear. On the other hand, he would have expected such an attitude from lowly infantrymen, possibly Solahama infantrymen. Gavin stormed past the two guards, his mind upon the state of his clan.
The Smoke Jaguars had always been aggressive. They favored the frontal assault, the quick, fierce strike. The Jaguar's spring that brings the enemy down. The Jaguar's claws that rend the enemy's heart. The Jaguar's taste for the enemy's hot blood. But recently Gavin had noticed a change in the Smoke Jaguars. Perhaps it was the influence of the great Leo Showers and the long political fight for the Great Crusade that had caused the Jaguars to pay as much attention to politics as they did to battles. Perhaps it was the failings of the previous generation, as so many of his sibkin and instructors had insisted, that had made the Jaguars stumble. But Gavin had talked to some of the warriors who had returned from Luthien and Tukkayid, and they spoke at length of those disastrous battles. One of these supposedly weak, disgraced warriors had downed five 'mechs and an equal number of vehicles before his Stormcrow was ripped to shreds by a Com Guard Shootist. Gavin heard tale upon tale of low ammunition, of Jaguar warriors holding their ground while vastly outnumbered, of inner sphere opponents that fought bravely and savagely, of traps and tactics and situations that these supposedly weak warriors had faced and fought through.
Gavin remembered why he had remained a warrior. It had been so long ago, and he had been seven years of age.
"Scum! Weak, pathetic trash! There is not a Jaguar among you! Work harder, you insects, before I kill you all and save our enemies the trouble!" The Kit Master, Star Commander Wark, stormed around the Sibko practice area in a rage. "Clumsy maneuvers! Weak attacks! You are the most cowardly pack of Kits I have ever seen! You would disgrace freebirths the way you wield your weapons!" Wark grabbed the rounded, wooden sword from the nearest Kit he could find and backhanded the unfortunate Jeanna to the ground. "All of you stop and pay attention! The sword is wielded smoothly! You must be strong to attack, and stronger to counterattack! You must be the striking Jaguar! Swords are used with finesse and skill! Form two lines, one on each side of the field, in equal numbers!"
The Jaguar Kits, not wishing to offend their trainer any more, swiftly complied.
"Face each other! The Kit directly opposite yourself is your opponent! Now spread out!" Gavin glanced across to the other line. Malcolm faced him. Malcolm was one of the taller and more aggressive cadets, and he and Gavin had never really liked each other. The taller boy laced the air with his heavy wooden sword in anticipation. Gavin prepared himself for a difficult, and quite possibly losing, battle.
"The Kit that loses his sword, falls down, or takes five direct hits is the loser! The losers will go over there," Wark indicated a series of benches at the side of the practice area, "and watch the winners fight, and perhaps learn something about swordplay from them! Any Cadet who lies about taking a hit is not worthy of the name of the Jaguar, and I will deal with any such stravag severely! Now, Kits!" Wark's voice dropped to a low growl. "Fight your savashiri hearts out!"
Most of the children charged each other, two sides meeting in a cacophonous clacking of wood on wood. A few more cautious kits, like Gavin, closed more slowly with their opponents. Gavin advanced cautiously towards Malcolm, who was literally sprinting towards the shorter boy. Malcolm's jet-black hair blew crazily as he finally reached Gavin and aimed a devastating blow at him. The move was so obvious that Gavin saw it coming a meter and a half before Malcolm reached him, but it was still barely enough time for him to dodge the swift wooden arc of Malcolm's sword. The breeze from the massive down-slash ruffled Gavin's short brown-blonde hair and the whistle and crack of the sword as it hit the ground assaulted Gavin's ear.
Then Malcolm leapt back, shaking his right hand and yelping, his sword in his left hand. Acting on sheer reflex, Gavin had managed to strike his foe across the hand while he dodged. Malcolm came charging back, launching a furious set of attacks that Gavin found easy to deflect. By focusing on his enemy's torso, he could see where Malcolm was going to go and when he was going to attack, and could prepare himself for the other boy's powerful blows. He was half-expecting the taller boy's sword to shatter in his hand.
Malcolm continued his attacks, his swift, powerful strokes aimed furiously at his smaller sibmate. Gavin concentrated on dodging Malcolm's heavier blows and deflecting the lighter ones. The battle was becoming easy, Gavin almost felt like he was watching another Gavin fight Malcolm, he realized he had little to fear. Gavin swept his sword around and into Malcolm's thrusting passado. The attack deflected, Gavin followed through with his blade and was rewarded with the hollow thump of wood on flesh. Malcolm's next attack went wide as Gavin directed the oncoming sword up with a tap from his own weapon, then landed a solid hit on Malcolm's thigh. Malcolm charged directly into Gavin, ensuring that both Kits would have difficulty landing a solid hit on their opponent. The taller boy bent low and hit Gavin hard on the knee. The blow hurt, or it should have, but he was too focused on the task at hand. Gavin whipped his sword down in a short arc that landed soundly on Malcolm's head, then he spun to the left and delivered a blow to the taller boy's back. Malcolm pitched forward, disoriented from the head shot, his black hair suddenly aged from the dust of the ground.
"Five! That is five hits, Malcolm! You are done!"
Gavin found himself in perfect position, sword at the ready, well-prepared for any attack from Malcolm, covered in sweat, breathing hard, and riding a surge of energy that made his limbs quiver with excitement and energy. He had defeated Malcolm by five to one. But what Gavin remembered most about that day was the rush and joy of battle, the defeat of an enemy at his hands.
Gavin snapped out of his reverie and found himself standing in an en garde position, with his hands clasped around an imaginary sword, outside the door to his room. Silently laughing at himself, he keyed the code to his quarters and stepped into a drastically changed room.
His small music set was just as it had been, his computer and desk still against the wall where it normally was. All of his files and documents were in order, nothing in the room had been altered or changed, except for the bed.
The metal-framed, hard-as-a-rock bed still occupied its normal position. However, the bed dipped drastically in the center, as if there were some great strain placed on it. And indeed there was.
The naked woman that lay on top of his bed was sensuous and muscular. From her well defined arms to her large breasts and massive legs, she emphasized both strength and beauty. She was also asleep. Although her head lay on his pillow, her feet were hanging at least twenty centimeters, if not more, off the end of the bed. She was an Elemental, genetically bred to operate a suit of powered armor. Her enhanced size and strength enabled her to use the armor to its full potential, she was bred for combat just like Gavin was, but hers was a different kind of fight.
Gavin walked over to his small closet, let his jacket drop to the ground, and took off his shirt. As he opened the closet door, it let out a harsh grating noise that flashed pain through his ears and awoke the sleeping giantess from her slumber. She whirled up from the bed, her massive body little more than a blur, ready for anything.
"I did not intend to interrupt your sleep in this manner." She smiled, relaxing her guard stance.
"You are Star Commander Gavin, quiaff?"
"Aff. I am afraid I do not know you well."
"I am Point Commander Aniya, with Trinary Elemental. I meant to be awake to introduce myself, but you were late in returning to your quarters."
"I was not aware you would be here. Had I know otherwise, there would have been little to detain me from arriving here at my normal time."
"'Mechwarrior Kera recommended you. She said you would not mind the intrusion." Gavin smiled at this remark. He had seen a lot of Kera lately. He undid his boots and unclipped the gunbelt around his waist. Aniya walked over to him and began massaging his bare back as he continued to undress himself. Finally, he turned around and stood on his toes as she bent her head down to kiss him. The problem with coupling with Elementals, Gavin thought for a second, is that their size makes them almost as difficult to couple with as to fight unaugmented.
Gavin flipped off the lights and as the darkness fell upon him, a faint strain of Rika's music flowed softly through his head. As he and Aniya made love, the music slowly began to grow and grow, until it reached its passionate crescendo long into Labrea's night.