One by one, the men faded away into the jungle. After a few dozen meters, they were joined by two more black-clad figures. One braced a Blazer rifle on his right hip and gripped the straps of a small bulky rucksack with his free hand. The other figure cradled a heavy laser rifle. The high-power electronic sight fitted to the weapon's upper receiver revealed its purpose—a sniper's weapon. This was the gun that had neutralized the wall-walking sentry.
Ryan nodded his greeting to the sniper team and motioned them into line. The pair joined their comrades. Quickly and silently, the team faded into the jungle, keeping each other in sight by means of the sophisticated sensor packages mounted in their helmet visors. The helmets, whose visors were constructed of a seemingly opaque red plastic, were outfitted with light amplification gear, thermal imagers, and nearly every type of sensor that could be crammed into their two-kilo mass.
Five kilometers and five hours later, the team, which had been picking its way through the difficult terrain of the overgrown jungle, arrived at a small clearing. The commandos spread out rapidly, searching the perimeter of the glade for signs of a hostile presence. When none was discovered, Ryan spoke for the first time.
"O.K., we're clear. Hollis, call 'em in."
The team's commo-op pulled a small collection of gear from his ruck. A few moments later, he had assembled the components into a powerful directional transmitter. Then he spoke a few quick words into a pencil mike attached to the transmitter.
"Attic, this is Trawler. Request dust-off."
The touch of a few controls compressed the seven-word message into a data package that could be transmitted in less than a tenth of a second, and sent it burning skyward. "OK," the commo-op said, nodding. "Now we wait."
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, a gray-painted KR-61 Long Range Shuttle skimmed in low over the treetops. Even before its landing gear touched the grass in the clearing, the black-clad figures had dashed out of their concealed positions. In less than thirty seconds, all eight had rushed across the intervening space and darted through the open cargo hatch.
As the last man lunged aboard, Ryan hammered his fist against the bulkhead separating the cargo hold from the ship's control desk.
"That's it! Go! Go! Go!"
A harsh whine filled the tiny space as the ramp began to close. Before it was fully secured, the ship tilted sharply upward. The pilot lifted the craft clear of the ground. The roar of vertical-take-off thrusters tortured the ears of the passengers, despite noise-attenuation circuits built into their helmets.
Normally, the KR-61 was used to ferry eight tons of cargo in its tiny hold. Eight people, plus their equipment, made for cramped conditions. The shuttle was smaller than any normal DropShip, and her Pitban 300a drive system made her faster than most other small spacecraft. She had been selected by the operational planners for exactly those characteristics.
As the inertia of a high-speed boost lifted, Tai-i Michael Ryan released the seals on his sneaksuit and removed the heavy helmet and visor. Rolling his head, he stretched his neck muscles. The aching sinews that had supported the almost two-kilo mass of helmet and sensor array for the past thirty-six hours began to relax. Looking around the narrow cargo hold, he felt a sense of pride in the six men and two women jammed in beside him.
These eight warriors had accomplished what no other Draconis Elite Strike Team ever had. They had made a HALO jump onto a Clan-occupied world. The High-Altitude-Low-Opening parachute drop had allowed the DEST team to land undetected a few kilometers away from the Jaguar base. Once on the ground, they had penetrated a Clan installation, sabotaged the enemy's sensor and communication arrays, left nasty little surprises on the main gyro housings of a Binary of assault OmniMechs, and exfiltrated again, all without a single friendly casualty.
Ryan smiled to himself, imagining the shock of the Smoke Jaguar pilots the next time they tried to start up their machines. The instant the 'Mech's computer sent an interface signal to the massive gyroscope, the small charge of pentaglycerine would detonate. The prepackaged shaped charges would send a high-velocity explosion into the gyro housing, shattering the delicate equipment that provided a BattleMech with its balance. The image of the toppling 'Mechs brought a hard grin to Ryan's face. The damage, although repairable, would take the Clan techs at least four hours. And he knew that the Jaguars wouldn't have four hours.
At first, Ryan had thought it was foolish to simply damage the OmniMechs rather than to destroy them. Then the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery briefer had told him the purpose of the raid. Intelligence sources reported that the Jaguars were fielding upgraded versions of their standard OmniMechs. The DCMS wanted a look at these new machines. They also knew that replacement 'Mechs were shipped in from beyond the Periphery, through Bangor, before being deployed to front-line units.
The higher-ups at DCMS command had decided on a two-phase operation. Draconis Elite Strike Team Six, under Tai-i Ryan, had entered the Bangor system "piggybacked" on a commercial JumpShip. While the ship was recharging, the team's long-range shuttle detached, taking shelter in the thin asteroid belt occupying the system's number three orbit. Once the transport jumped outsystem again, and the hubbub died down, the shuttle crept into position for an orbital HALO drop.
As soon as the troopers started their long fall toward the planet's surface, the shuttle slipped away to hide among the asteroids. Once on the ground, the DEST team sabotaged the central communications and sensor facility at Reega, seat of the Jaguars' occupation force government. They also rendered the new 'Mechs unusable without destroying them, and exfiltrated, just as the real raid was being launched.
"Ryan-san?" The shuttle pilot's voice broke across Ryan's musings. "There they go, sir."
Ryan squeezed through the narrow hatch and onto the tiny flight deck.
Through the ship's viewscreens, he saw the reason the Clanners wouldn't have four hours to swap out the damaged gyros. At greater than two hundred kilometers, it was impossible to make out individual ships, but he could see the nova-bright drive flares of four Leopard Class DropShips burning hard for Bangor's surface. Ryan didn't know what unit was being sent to raid the planet, and he didn't care. His part of the operation was over. He and his team had cleared the way for the raiding force to arrive on-planet with no warning. They had also crippled the defenders' most powerful weapons. Now it was up to the 'Mech pilots, those high-and-mighty armor jockeys who claimed to have a monopoly on the warrior spirit of the Draconis Combine, men who never saw their enemy except through the armored viewscreen of a multi-ton pile of armor and weapons.
No, Ryan told himself, as he watched the distant Drop-Ships streaking toward the planet below, if anyone in the Draconis Combine knows what it is to be a warrior, it is the men and women of DEST.
2
DEST Tactical Command Center
Pesht, Pesht Military District
Draconis Combine
22 August 3058
1505 hours
"Tai-i Ryan, describe your method of entry."
Michael Ryan shook his head slightly, unable to hide the small gesture of impatience. His team had been debriefed by the on-site intelligence officer as soon as the KR-61 had docked with the JumpShip Damascus. He had gone over the material again with a second Internal Security Force officer when the ship stopped to recharge at Maldonado. Now, here they were, at the DEST HQ on Pesht, being quizzed by yet a third ISF officer, this one wearing the collar flashes of a Sho-sa. The nametape sewn above the officer's left breast pocket read Leshko, but Ryan doubted it was the name he was born with. ISF officers changed their identities as often as ordinary people changed their socks.
Ryan knew he was bound by the code of duty to continue answering questions until hell freezes over, but it was still hard to understand this need for confirmation and reconfirmation of the facts. He and his team were warriors. Warriors of a special stripe. Few were chosen for DEST, and even fewer survived the grueling training. DEST commandos had no rivals in the I
nner Sphere, and were reserved for only the most important missions. Why would anyone doubt what he had to say?
Ryan was proud, and justifiably so, of the feat his team had accomplished on Bangor. They had penetrated an enemy camp, sabotaged his most powerful weapons, and escaped undetected. Nevertheless, he struggled to maintain a polite, formal tone of voice with his inquisitor. Proud he might be, an elite warrior he might be, but that did not excuse him from the unquestioning obedience required of any Combine soldier.
"We approached the facility from the south," he said. "Sior and Carter set up their position on a low hillock about one kilometer from the wall. My team approached the wall in sneak suits and got ready to climb. An Elemental stopped for a rest right above our position. Lance Corporal Sior fired a single shot, neutralizing the sentry. Then we went up and over the wall, using standard issue climbing-claws."
This last was not, strictly speaking true. Ryan's team had found the Combine-issue climbing claws uncomfortable, and also discovered that they often bent or broke under the weight of a fully loaded trooper. Instead they'd used commercially made climbing gear intended for civilian rock climbers and ninja-wannabes. Ryan neglected to mention this fact, knowing it would only generate a reprimand for deviating even slightly from Combine military policy. The mission was complete—a success—what good would it do to draw down criticism now?
"Once over the wall, the team paired up and headed for their respective assignments. Raiko and Wu disabled the communications and sensor systems by destroying the antenna arrays. Hollis and Akida set booby traps on what our diagrams identified as warriors' barracks. Tanabe and I rigged the charges on the 'Mechs. Private Nakamura remained on top of the wall, covering the compound with his light machine gun."
The debriefer nodded as he tapped notes into his data-pad. "Go on."
"Hai." Ryan ran his hand through his thick, straight black hair. "Tanabe and I planted quarter-kilo shaped charges on the gyro housings of the target 'Mechs. The detonator circuits were attached to the cables leading to the neurohelmet interface. As soon as we finished, we exfiltrated."
"Did you engage any hostiles?"
"Aside from the sentry neutralized by Corporal Sior, we did not engage the enemy."
"Tai-i, your report states that Talon Sergeant Raiko and Private Wu were carrying a captured briefcase when they reached the team rally point." Leshko gave Ryan an up-and-under look without lifting his eyes from his computer screen. "Why was that case so important that they could not leave it behind for the follow-on forces?"
"Sir, it is a well-known principle in warfare that no plan of battle survives contact with the enemy." Ryan's irritation flared briefly into annoyance. He was one of the few men of non-Japanese descent to be given command of a Draconis Elite Strike Team. He had been carefully schooled in the subtleties of Combine society, particularly where it touched on the military. Still, he couldn't help but chafe at times under the weight of the ponderous command structure of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery. He usually put his attitude down to his occidental heritage.
"During the course of his assignment, Raiko discovered a concealed safe in an office adjoining the communication/sensor center," Ryan continued. "He investigated the safe and found the briefcase, which held both hardcopy and datachip copies of the blueprints, maintenance manuals, and technical readouts of the 'Mechs we were sent to sabotage. He decided that the case was too valuable to leave.
"Had we left that case for the ground-pounders, they'd probably have missed it. Since we were under orders to maintain strict radio silence until we sent the pick-up beacon, we were not able to communicate with the follow-ons. Even if we'd been free to contact them, we were not informed of their tactical or command frequencies. Raiko decided that the value of the case's contents outweighed the increased risk in capturing it." Ryan finished with an impatient snap of his head.
Sho-sa Leshko's head came up sharply at Ryan's outburst. Yes, Ryan had snarled at a superior officer, but the officer had questioned the authority of an on-site commander.
Each of them had breached the rigid code of military protocol that bound every warrior of the DCMS. For a moment, the two men glared at each other. Then Leshko dropped his eyes, as though reviewing the data displayed on the laptop's LCD screen.
"You're right, of course, Tai-i," Leshko muttered. "The data you retrieved was invaluable."
"Hai, Sho-sa." Ryan lapsed into the formal Japanese of the Combine. "Sumimasen, I should not have raised my voice."
"Shigataga-nai, Ryan-san." Leshko followed suit, saying that Ryan's outburst didn't matter. "What matters is that you completed your mission in a satisfactory manner. My report will so state."
"Arigato." Ryan inclined his head in the ghost of a bow. In his own mind, however, a brief prayer echoed.
The Dragon save me from bureaucratic fools.
As in every other case when a soldier expressed that fervent wish, nobody answered.
* * *
Half an hour later, Ryan was again summoned to the Command Center.
He'd been riding the thin edge of exhaustion by the time he and his team arrived on Pesht. The journey from Bangor had taken just over a week, but most of his time had been taken up in writing reports, answering de-briefer's questions, and the like. After speaking with Sho-sa Leshko, Ryan had assumed he was finished explaining his team's highly successful, but relatively routine mission. He'd only just lain down on his bunk when the intercom let forth its sharp, unpleasant buzz.
Giri, duty, demanded that he answer the summons promptly, but fatigue had begun to take its toll on his temper, and his manners. He got up, pulled on his clothes, and took the lift to the Command Center.
By the time he reached its steel doors, he had mastered himself and was able to calmly enter the room that had by now become all too familiar.
"Tai-i Michael Ryan reporting as ordered," he snapped, bringing his hand up in a rigid salute.
His salute was returned not by Sho-sa Leshko nor by his immediate superior, Sho-sa Martin Chisei, both of whom were present, but by Sho-sho Hideki Ishmaru, the new commanding officer of the entire DEST program.
Ishmaru's presence took Ryan by surprise, putting him on his guard. The Sho-sho had taken over the leadership of the Draconis Elite Strike Teams following Tai-sho Hohiro Kiguri's death during the treachery. Ryan had heard the rumors surrounding Kiguri's involvement in the shameful assassination attempt on Coordinator Theodore Kurita during the Coordinator's Birthday celebration a few months earlier. Ryan knew that Ishmaru was, by reputation, an excellent administrator, a ruthless warrior, and fanatically loyal to the Kurita family. Still, on a personal level, the man was an unknown quantity. That uncertainty left Ryan with an uneasy feeling regarding Ishmaru's presence.
"Konnichi-wa, Tai-i Ryan." Ishmaru's greeting was cold and formal. "Is there a problem?"
"Konnichi-wa, Sho-sho Ishmaru-sama." Ryan stopped short and bowed, barely remembering to wish his commander a good afternoon in return. "No, Sho-sho, there is no problem."
"I am glad. It is not good when problems arise between junior officers and their superiors, neh?" Ishmaru's curt reply carried with it a thinly veiled threat, one Ryan could not miss.
Without waiting for Ryan's answer, Ishmaru plunged ahead.
"I realize your team has just come out of the field, but I have an important mission that cannot wait. It comes straight from the Coordinator."
Ryan almost forgot himself, but his training won out and he maintained a stone face as he listened to the most fateful words he'd ever heard since becoming one of the hand-picked members of DEST.
"You, Sho-sa Chisei, and Team Six are to report to the spaceport this evening at seventeen hundred hours. You will be shipping out on a kind of diplomatic mission. Your men should take along their dress uniforms, in addition to their regular gear. For the purposes of this assignment, your team will assume the cover of the personal security detail for a high Combine military official. Your loyalty to the Combine has
been firmly established, Ryan-san, as has your team's. I am sure you can appreciate the position this places you in? Very few DEST teams have survived the recent loyalty inquiry intact. Yours did. That makes you and your men very valuable to the Combine. Yours is one of the few teams into whose hands we can still entrust the lives and safety of our highest-ranking officers."
Ryan felt the weariness drain out of him, to be replaced by a sense of pride. Here would be another opportunity for his team to serve the Dragon. It had been only a few weeks since the shameful attempt upon the Coordinator's life by Tai-sho commander Hohiro Kiguri, aided and abetted by other renegade DEST members and even members of the Otomo, the Coordinator's personal bodyguard. For Ryan and all other loyal DEST men and women, the conspiracy was a stain on their honor. Most had become even more eager to serve the Combine, hoping that loyalty and service might erase the blot. Sho-sho Ishmaru noticed the subtle change in Ryan's stance and nodded approvingly as he went on speaking.
"You will be met in transit by several other DCMS officers. When you arrive at your destination, you are to lend your support and expertise in the planning of a special military operation. As a field operative, your input will be most useful."
"Hai, Sho-sho, wakarimas." Ryan bowed again. "May I ask the Sho-sho who we will be guarding, and what our destination is?"
"Of course, Tai-i." Ishmaru smiled for the first time since Ryan had entered the room. "You will be escorting Coordinator Theodore Kurita to Tharkad."
3
Fort Telemar
Kikuyu, Tamar March
Lyran Alliance
14 December 3058
Twilight of the clans III: the hunters Page 2