Andrew shook his head. The Aragon Borderers were really reluctant to give anything to a “March recruit troop” like ours, but we’ll show them… “We make do with what we are given. Orders understood, Leftenant?”
“Roger, sir. Out.”
Andrew smiled as he mentally estimated where the enemy ’Mechs had to be. Your raiding days are over, Major Xong.
Andrew punched a button on his command console, bringing his combat computer on line and filling his primary monitor with a display outlining the Centurion’s weapons systems. Good. Both the autocannon in the right arm and the LRM launcher in the chest are operational. Andrew glanced at the lower section of the monitor. And the torso-mounted medium lasers fore and aft check out as well. Now if I could only get some targeting assist.
Andrew looked out through the Centurion’s broad viewing canopy. Beyond it, he saw a warped landscape of reddish brown frozen lava flows and half-melted purple hillsides. Pale yellow vapors twisted from sulfurous geysers, rising through the thick, brown soup, belching out steam in fetid gouts.
Xong knew what he was doing when he brought the remnants of Freemont’s Cuirassiers First Battalion into the Hellfire Mountains. The volcanoes and springs make this place too hot for infrared scans to be effective, and the sulfur vapors hamper radar and magscans. Makes targeting all guess and luck.
Andrew moved his Centurion down a hillside toward the narrow valley running between jagged peaks. The mountains had been formed when whole sections of the planet’s crust had thrust upward. Waiting for Xong’s raiders, Andrew had spent hours studying the broad geological striations that raked the mountains.
Freemont’s Cuirassiers had a single battalion defending Hunan when the second wave of the Davion invasion landed the Aragon Borderers on the world. Led by Major Sidney Xong, the Cuirassiers fought a hard series of battles against the Borderers, but could not defeat a whole regiment. Xong finally fled with the unit’s survivors into the Hellfire Mountains. Traveling up and down the chain, the raiders struck at targets and harassed the Davion garrison.
Andrew moved into the narrow valley his command had nicknamed the “Slot.” Because of you, Major, my men were pulled from R & R to spend a week waiting for you in this hellhole. It’s time to get this over and done with. With your people running captured Marauders, I don’t expect this to be easy, but we’re prepared for you.
Under normal circumstances, Andrew would have considered Delta Company’s mission something close to suicidal. Massing seventy-five tons, Marauders were powerhouses. Each of the jutting claws on these birdlike ’Mechs packed a PPC and a medium laser. Augmenting that formidable weaponry, the Marauder also had a torso-mounted autocannon. Aside from problems with overheating, the Marauder had proved itself as one of the deadliest ’Mechs in the armies of the Successor States.
Intelligence sources estimate your Marauders are all out of autocannon ammo. What’s more, the heat in this place makes a Marauder less than effective, and we know your ’Mechs took some damage in the early fighting. I can only hope you’ve been hurt enough…
Down a slight grade from his position, through the swirling mist, Andrew saw the first dark, hunched silhouette drifting toward him. He extended the Centurion’s right arm toward it. With the touch of a button on the command console, Andrew flipped open the hatch coverings over the ten LRM launch tubes in his Centurion’s chest.
He shifted his scanners over to starlight. The light amplification system brightened the picture appreciably, giving him a better view of the shuffling, crablike Marauders. Fifty more meters and it’s over. Andrew adjusted the joystick in his left hand, dropping a gold crosshairs on the lead ’Mech’s low silhouette. Sulfur mist foils computer lock, but the valley there brackets the Marauders. If I miss one, I’ll hit another.
The first Marauder pilot stopped short as he saw Andrew’s Centurion standing tall in the pass’s narrowest point. As the Marauder’s right claw moved forward, Andrew punched the combat joystick’s button. The Centurion twisted slightly back to the left as the missiles launched themselves on jets of bright yellow fire.
Eight of the missiles corkscrewed through the vapors, exploding against the Marauder’s left arm and leg. The blasts shivered armor from each limb, adding yet deeper scars to those already won in battle, but failed to destroy anything vital. The Marauder recoiled with the impact, but Andrew knew well that the action had come from the pilot’s reaction to the explosions instead of any problem with the deadly ’Mech.
Like an actor in some ancient holovid Western drama, the Marauder raised its right claw to fire the PPC housed there, and Andrew reacted instantly. Almost without conscious thought, he swung the Centurion’s right arm into line with his foe. His right hand caressed the autocannon’s firing button, triggering a burst even as the enemy’s PPC coils glowed blue.
The autocannon’s slugs shot down the PPC’s muzzle as the awesome weapon gathered energy for its terrible beam. The projectiles shattered the magnetic coils that focused the particle beam, and freed the power vortex in a brilliant azure flare. Fire shot from the Marauder’s wrist, peeling back armor and blasting through the titano-magnesium ’Mech bones. A half-second after the explosion’s thunder shot reached Andrew’s Centurion, its violence shaking the massive war machine, the Marauder’s claw fell smoking to the ground.
Suddenly, the valley behind the Marauder erupted in a flood of incandescent golds and fiery reds. Missile barrages launched from Delta Company’s hidden lances arced down into the valley. The missiles shot in at the Liao Marauders like Palosian stingers aiming for bare flesh. Each blast froze the Marauders in a stroboscopic montage of flame and destruction.
Andrew nodded grimly as the Marauder pilots sprang into action. They’re good, or they wouldn’t have survived this long. They’re also tired and—what was the word Craon used? Sloppy.
The Marauders charged up the valley’s gravel-strewn slopes to close with their attackers. Their PPCs might not function well at close range, but the medium lasers in their claws certainly did. Because of its sheer size, the Marauder was also fearsome in close combat because it could crush the limbs and head of lighter ’Mechs with one swat of its claw.
The Jenners of Cat and Bull’s-eye Lances moved from cover, giving the Marauders their first glimpse of the enemy. Fighting hard against gravity to rush their massive machines up the slopes, the Marauders did not even attempt to shoot at the lighter ’Mechs. Delta Company’s pilots, on the other hand, gave the Marauder pilots no slack.
The Jenner’s stubby wings locked down toward the Marauders and shot ruby red lances of cohesive light at its enemies. The energy bolts seared deep scars into the Marauders’ pockmarked ceramic armor, and steaming bits of it dropped onto the hillsides. One laser shot through a chink in a Marauder’s torso armor, half-melting one of the ’Mech’s gyrostabilizers and causing the pilot to miss his next step. The Marauder stumbled, then tumbled backward, heels over head down to the valley.
Seeing the Marauders enter what he and his men had deemed the “kill zone,” Andrew punched a button on his command console. Opening a tactical channel through to his men, he growled a low order. “Arm the mines now!”
As the leading Marauder planted its ponderous metal foot on the hillside barely ten meters from the crest, a fireball ignited beneath the giant foot, then rose up to consume it. Unbalanced by the explosion, the pilot tried valiantly to steady herself. She pressed the shattered limb into the ground again, but it failed to hold. The Marauder toppled over and triggered another mine that ripped a huge hole in the Mech’s torso as it somersaulted down the slope. The ’Mech slid the rest of the way down the hill in a cloud of yellow dust, then lay very still on the valley floor.
Andrew set his radio to broadcast over the full range of frequencies available to Mechs. “It’s your choice, Cuirassiers. You’re in the middle of a live minefield. My mission is to stop you, but that doesn’t mean you all have to die. I’d just as soon save you and my people, but it’s a choice only you
can make.”
After a moment or two of silence, a cultured voice answered his call. “I am Major Xong. You will honor all the Ares Conventions as they pertain to prisoners of war?”
Andrew smiled. “Each and every provision, Major.”
“And our ’Mechs?”
Andrew heard the chill in the major’s voice. No one in his command wanted to be Dispossessed, but no one was foolish enough to give enemy troops weapons, or allow them to keep the same. Andrew chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then answered slowly. “Well, Major, as I understand it, your unit is made up of captured Davion Marauders. I doubt the Prince will write you a thank-you note for keeping them in good condition, and you won’t be able to keep them while you’re being processed, but I imagine you could get them back. It all depends on how cooperative you are. That may seem a faint hope right now, but I’d say it’s a damn sight better than any other prospect you currently face.”
Xong’s reply came after a moment’s reflection. “Your logic, like your trap, seems inescapable. Before I make a final decision, I would know your name and that of your unit.”
Andrew grinned. “I’m Captain Andrew Redburn and this is Delta Company.”
“Ah, Redburn. You and your people took Cochraine’s Goliaths. This makes my choice easier. If you would be so kind, Captain, I would like to offer the surrender of Freemont’s Cuirassiers, First Battalion, Kuo Company.”
Redburn nodded solemnly. “Welcome to peacetime, Major.”
Andrew watched as the last of Xong’s MechWarriors boarded the air skimmer sent out by the Aragon Borderers. Thank God the major was reasonable. It could have gotten nasty otherwise.
Robert Craon’s voice buzzed into his neurohelmet. “Why didn’t you tell him, Captain?”
Andrew shrugged even though Craon could not see. “No reason. He made an honorable and intelligent choice. I can respect that—he chose the life of his people over honor. I can’t see the value in pointing out that we fooled him, can you?”
Craon’s voice, drained of mischievous enthusiasm, answered slowly. “I guess not, sir.”
“Good, Robert. Remember that.” Andrew chuckled evilly. “And, Leftenant, would you be so kind as to stick around and supervise the Borderers’ sappers when they come out to recover those other four mines. Waste not, want not…”
Chapter 45
COMSTAR FIRST CIRCUIT COMPOUND
HILTON HEAD ISLAND
NORTH AMERICA, TERRA
15 NOVEMBER 3028
Myndo Waterly took pleasure in the way Primus Julian Tiepolo grimaced as she made her motion. She also noted the shocked look on Precentor Tharkad’s face and the sour look stealing over the Precentor of New Avalon’s features. No allies here, but no serious competition, either. She shot a covert glance at Villius Tejh’s closed face. Is Precentor Sian with me or not?
The Primus folded his hands into the broad sleeves of his tan robe. “You have heard the motion made by Precentor Dieron. She moves that we place House Davion, its allies, vassals, and agents under a complete and total interdiction.” The Primus’s head came up like a vulture scanning the area where it has been feeding on a carcass. “Precentor Tharkad.”
Ulthar Everson balled his fists. “Primus, fellow precentors, this motion is clearly without basis in fact. We have no reason to cut off House Davion. They have done nothing against ComStar directly that would justify our interdicting services to them. I would also add that doing so would destroy our ability to listen in on Davion’s orders and plans.”
Myndo laughed aloud. “Forgive me Primus, but Precentor Tharkad’s logic is grossly flawed. He argues that we should not strangle the wolf at our door because then we would no longer be able to locate him by his howls. What good is it to monitor Davion’s messages piecemeal when his intent is so clearly obvious? He means to conquer the whole of the Successor States!”
Julian Tiepolo shook his head. “That is clear and utter nonsense, Precentor Dieron. He has neither the resources nor the mandate to carry on a sustained war of that sort.”
Myndo lifted her head, which flashed with gold highlights. “Oh, and I am to believe your predictions, Primus? Not six years ago, did you not tell me, in your private audience chamber, while Hanse Davion and Katrina Steiner signed their treaty, that we would see no change in the Davion-Liao border in our lifetimes?” Myndo pointed to the holographic projection of the Capellan Confederation on the room’s rear wall. “Davion’s first wave severed Tikonov from the Confederation’s body, and his second strike enlarged the cut. As a fortuneteller, Primus, you lack true sight.”
Precentor Sian nodded to Myndo with respect, but opposed her with his remarks. “It may well be true that the Primus misjudged the Fox, but I feel you now misjudge the situation. If we pass your motion, information will no longer flow from Michael Hasek-Davion to the Maskirovka. This would place House Liao in very great difficulties.”
Myndo frowned at him. “Duke Michael’s information has hardly helped them so far. Better yet, my bill would prevent Alexi Malenkov from sending more information out about Liao’s operations to his superiors in Davion’s Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations. How is it that months ago, when I thought we should have voted interdiction to punish House Liao, you said it would lead to Liao’s military collapse, but you do not see the same thing happening now?”
Huthrin Vandel, Precentor of New Avalon, smiled like a crocodile. “Had you, Precentor Dieron, spent as much time as Precentor Sian and I pouring over the communications going to and from New Avalon to the troops, you would realize that very few orders are going out.” Vandel smiled and smoothed back his greasy black hair with his right hand. “Apparently Prince Hanse realizes how costly the war could become in terms of ComStar fees, and he has issued orders that went out physically to all of his commands. Indeed, only Hanse’s small circle of advisors knew for certain that he would actually send his troops into the Confederation. The invasion, once it started, was virtually self-contained. Such things had worked during the previous two Galahad exercises. Now it’s for real.”
Precentor Tharkad gave Myndo no time to reply. “You still have not stated why we should interdict House Davion. Forget that we have no substantive reason to oppose the Fox. What has he done that prompts you to ask so urgently for interdiction?”
Are you blind, or just too stupid to see? Myndo pointed at the map again. “Hanse Davion will conquer the Tikonov Commonality and add it to his Federated Suns. Once he controls its industrial worlds such as New Hessen, Aldebaran, and Tikonov, Davion will emerge as the most powerful of the five Successor Lords.”
Myndo shook her head, her golden curls tumbling over the shoulders of her red robe. “Your own Lyran Commonwealth has been tricked into attacking the Draconis Combine. The war has stalemated there—with some gains for the Commonwealth, granted—but it serves only to drain resources from both states.”
Vandel chuckled, and Precentor Tharkad indicated with a nod that he might speak. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much. You could not be upset that the Draconis Combine was blooded, could you?”
Myndo’s nostrils flared. “You arrogant, insolent idiot! Were I only upset about a nation getting bloodied in this battle, I’d not be here. I would have resigned my position and would be helping with the war effort. But, you’re wrong. Nationalism has nothing to do with this. You should remember that you belong to ComStar, not to the Davion court. The success of the Federated Suns is not our success. It is our doom!”
“How is it that, Precentor Dieron?” The Primus’s question cut off any reply that Precentor New Avalon may have intended. “The Word of Blake predicts just these sorts of wars. The Combine fights on both fronts, as does the Federated Suns. The Lyran Commonwealth has hit the Combine and even struck at a couple of House Marik worlds.” The Primus shrugged slightly. “House Marik, thanks to Davion’s insurgents, still fights within itself, but this is not in opposition to the Word of Blake. Blake says that through such wars and destruction a
s this, ComStar will be able to fulfill its mission.”
Myndo nodded wearily. “I know that, Primus, and I daresay that I understand the Word of Blake more deeply than any of my fellows in this room, with the possible exception of you. Yes, the Blessed Blake spoke of the wars that would fragment mankind. The key concept is fragment. I see no fragmentation occurring because of Davion’s war.”
Precentor Sian shook his head. “Precentor Dieron, I fear that it is the boldness of the Prince’s plan and its initial success that daunt you. Consider, if you will, that this war is only into its fourth month. The logistics were planned very well for its start, but no one could plan against each and every eventuality that would crop up in the plan. Davion’s troops are already on a tether, and it grows shorter each day.”
Myndo narrowed her eyes. “He’s winning the war, dammit. If there is a tether, I see no evidence of the slack being taken up. I see Hanse Davion spitting on Maximilian Liao’s grave.”
Villius Tejh did not let her protest slow him down in the least. “The Davion forces have recovered some supplies, but those were stores meant to sustain battalions, not Regimental Combat Teams. Those stores do nothing to replenish the quantity of materials Davion is spending in this operation. The tether, then, is Davion’s line of supply. I am certain that as soon as they can sort out the reports flooding in from the fronts, Liao’s crisis team will hit on that fact, and then will deal with it.”
Precentor New Avalon nodded in agreement. “I would also point out to Precentor Dieron, in an effort to calm her anxieties, that no Capellan March troops have been committed to this invasion. Without Duke Michael’s support, there is no way possible that Hanse Davion can conquer the whole of the Capellan Confederation. Likewise, because of Michael’s lust for the throne, Hanse cannot afford to weaken the Crucis March too much—and the invasion involves Crucis March troops almost exclusively—for this would give Duke Michael a chance to stage a revolt and depose Hanse Davion.”
Warrior: Riposte (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Two): BattleTech Legends, #58 Page 31