Twilight of the clans III: the hunters

by Thomas S. Gressman

  Believing he had only seconds to live, Stano yanked the yellow and black-striped ejection handle.

  For a brief, horror-stricken moment, nothing happened. Then, with a roar, the young trooper was rocketed skyward, away from his disabled 'Mech.

  Stano's Lance Sergeant, Willis Rexer, rushed his Watchman onto the field just as the kid tumbled to the ground. The fall must have stunned the rookie, because he made no attempt to cut away from his rapidly collapsing rescue chute or to get to his feet to get away from the battle raging around him. The crackle of gunfire yanked the sergeant's attention away from his fallen trooper.

  The Dervish loomed large in Rexer's viewscreen. A pair of short-range missiles shot past his 'Mech's hunched shoulders to explode among the variform elms of the forest. The Sergeant replied with a trio of laser bolts. As the rest of his lance came up alongside him, Rexer closed with his opponent, and, in short order, reduced the 55-ton machine to smoldering junk.

  * * *

  "Courtyard, this is Talon One." The Invisible Truth's communications system crackled as it decompressed and replayed the short-burst transmission sent by the Light Horse officer commanding the attack on the pirate base. "STATREP: Objective secure. Talon suffered five casualties, one KIA. Three 'Mechs damaged, but repairable, one questionable. Seven enemy 'Mechs destroyed. Fifteen PW's taken." Captain Izzat paused for a moment. "Forty-five refugees secured, and in our hands. Sir, it's a mess down here. These pirate bastards were using the refugees from the Clan occupied zones as slaves. Most of them are sick, starving ... We're doing the best we can for them, but I don't know if it's going to be enough."

  Not all of the pirates' captives were wounded or at death's door because of mistreatment. But Captain Izzat was a soldier on site, one who was used to seeing prisoners treated decently. So appalled was he by the condition of the prisoners that he gave in to unintentional exaggeration. In truth, only a few prisoners were at death's door from injury or abuse, and only one or two of those were likely to die regardless of medical care. Izzat was merely voicing his frustration that some of them needed a full sick bay, and all he had on hand were a couple of combat medics.

  Morgan glanced at Redburn and Winston, who had gathered on the Invisible Truth's bridge to follow the progress of the battle. Redburn's face was impassive, but there was a tightness around Winston's dark eyes.

  "Very well, Talon One," Morgan said. "See to the needs of the refugees. Secure the prisoners, and prepare them for transfer to the flagship."

  Morgan could feel Winston's eyes boring into the back of his head as he passed his next order.

  "Captain Izzat, make sure you document everything you've seen and done in that compound for possible use as evidence in a summary court martial against the pirates."

  It took nearly twenty minutes for the message and reply to bounce between the flagship and the distant planet. During that time, both Morgan and Ariana Winston carefully avoided the subject of the pirates themselves, confining their talk to the treatment and disposition of the refugees.

  "Cavalier, say again?"

  Morgan repeated the order, and twenty minutes later received confirmation from the Light Horse officer. Returning the headset to the communications technician, he steeled himself to face Winston.

  "Well, Marshal," she said, her voice raw, "it looks like you got the grounds for your court martials."

  Before Morgan could reply, she snapped an angry salute, turned on her heel, and stormed off the bridge.

  * * *

  Several hours later, the Hussar thudded into the Invisible Truth's number two docking collar. When the access tunnel irised open, fifteen dejected-looking pirates were herded into the cavernous cargo bay by sullen-looking Light Horse infantrymen. As soon as a squad of Com Guard security troops took charge of the prisoners, the mercenaries returned to their DropShip and departed. During the entire operation, none of the Light Horsemen had spoken a word more than was absolutely necessary. The proposed fate of the captive pirates had obviously spread throughout the fleet. The Eridani troopers, with their deeply ingrained tradition of treating captured foemen with decency and fairness, were understandably angry at the thought of executing prisoners of war. The fact that these prisoners were bandits—little more than common criminals—seemed to have little bearing on the matter.

  It took several days for Morgan to complete his interviews with the captured pirates. So large was the task that Andrew Redburn and Regis Grandi were called into assist him. Ordinarily, as Morgan's second, Ariana Winston would have been part of the board of inquiry. But she refused. Soon after leaving the Invisible Truth for the Light Horse command ship Gettysburg, she had sent a message explaining the reason behind her refusal.

  "Under any other circumstances, and if it was anybody but you," she gritted out between clenched teeth, "I would have ordered my troops to disregard your orders. But we are the Eridani Light Horse, and that name still means something. We agreed to take part in this operation. Since you are the task force commander, we will follow your instructions in military matters to the letter. However, we will have no more part in the 'disposition' of the prisoners."

  Morgan tried to mollify Winston by informing her of Redburn's plan to maroon those pirates not convicted by the court martial. All he got for his efforts was a baleful stare.

  "You think that makes a difference?" she said, then broke the connection without waiting for an answer.

  * * *

  The court martial was convened and concluded in two days. With Grandi, Redburn, and Commodore Beresick making up the tribunal, four of the prisoners were found guilty of piracy, theft, murder, and other crimes. For these crimes, the court martial ordained a punishment of death.

  In short order, and with no fanfare, the condemned men were executed, and their bodies were consigned to space. The rest of the pirates, convicted of lesser crimes, were to be marooned. In some ways, this was a far harsher sentence than that received by their leaders. These men would be set down on an uninhabited planet, with just enough supplies and equipment to try to survive. If they managed to eke out a living from the wilderness, it would only be through hardship and toil.

  While the proceedings were underway, Ariana Winston spoke only once with the flagship, In that communique, she asked that the Light Horse be relieved of security duty for the water collection teams. Her anger barely concealed beneath the stiff formal language, Winston explained that she did not want her men to have any further reminders of what was taking place aboard the flagship.

  In an effort to make peace with her, Morgan agreed, replacing the Light Horse troops with the First Kathil Uhlans.

  Later that day, he summoned Andrew Redburn to his flag office. For the first time since the operation had begun, Redburn noticed how drawn and weary his friend's face had become.

  "Tell me something, Andy. What do you think is really eating Winston?"

  Redburn leaned back in his chair, taking a few moments to formulate his answer.

  "Well, I can't say for certain. I can only guess. I'd have to put it down to the reason the Light Horse was selected for this mission. They have a tight grip on the past, all the way back to the Star League.

  "Have you ever taken a good look at some of their troops? I mean, a real close look? Their Fiftieth Battalion wears that red unit patch to remind them of the massacre on Sendai, remember? Two thousand dependents, men, women and children, wiped out, murdered by Jimjiro Kurita.

  "Now, here you are, asking them to countenance the execution of prisoners. I'm not saying what we're doing is wrong, but think of it this way. After living your entire life with a tradition that protects noncombatants and prisoners-of-war, it's hard to put that aside, even for pirates, even for a couple of real bastards who deserve to die."

  Redburn leaned forward and said, with a sigh, "She'll probably come around in a while. For now, I'd leave her alone."

  * * *

  Winston's principled withdrawal was not the end of the troubles Morgan had to face ov
er the court martial and execution of the pirate leaders. Shortly after his conversation with Redburn, he received a visit from Paul Masters.

  "Marshal Hasek-Davion," the Knights commander said, plunging in without preamble. "Are the rumors true? Have you really executed prisoners?"

  God save me from idealists. Morgan pushed the thought aside as he turned to face the other man.

  "Yes, Colonel Masters. I did order the execution of four prisoners. The men were the leaders of a pirate band that preyed upon refugees fleeing from the Clan occupation zones. They were tried and convicted of murder and piracy by a court martial, and executed according to the universal code of military justice. The remaining pirates, those convicted of lesser crimes, will be marooned in the next suitable system."

  Masters stopped short, taken aback by the annoyed directness of Morgan's answer. He was not put off stride for long.

  "Sir, I appreciate the fact that this is a military operation. I further appreciate the fact that you are the commanding officer of this military operation. Your right to convene a court martial is not at issue here.

  "I am not calling the integrity of the proceedings into question. I have no doubt that the hearing was fair, and the sentence just. But, sir, I must protest the fact that the majority of the command staff was not informed of those proceedings until they were over. An action with such far-reaching consequences should have included representatives of all the units involved in this task force.

  "Marshal Hasek-Davion, with all due respect, I must caution you, sir, in the strongest possible terms, do not undertake any further such actions without at least formally advising each of the unit commanders of your intentions.

  "This is a cooperative effort," Masters said stiffly. "We expect you to cooperate."

  22

  Battle Cruiser ISS Invisible Truth

  Unnamed Star System

  Deep Periphery

  15 December 3059 1810 Hours

  Morgan's hearing returned to normal as the Invisible Truth phased in from the nothingness of hyperspace. The task force had come four jumps, a hundred twenty light years, past the system named Meribah by the Explorer Corps scouts who had first located it. Meribah, the Marshal knew, was a Biblical word. It was the name for the place where Moses drew water from the rock. Like so many of the places in the Old Testament, Meribah had another name, Massah. The words meant "Quarreling" and "Testing." He also knew that, because Moses failed his test at Meribah, he was forbidden to enter the promised land.

  It wasn't exactly a quarrel he had going with Ariana Winston, but it had taken more then Redburn's "little while" for her to "come around." Almost two full weeks, in fact. She had studiously avoided Morgan except for essential discussions on troop readiness, fighter rotation schedules, and other military matters, but even those contacts were strained.

  Though there were some on the command staff who viewed Winston's withdrawal as an ill-tempered sulk, Morgan knew differently. She was understandably angry—not because the Meribah pirates had been tried and executed; she understood the necessity of military justice. Her anger was the result of forty-seven years of living with the Light Horse principles of fair and humane treatment of prisoners being brought up hard against the realities of a new era of modern warfare, in which the only dictum was kill-or-be-killed. Morgan felt some of that turmoil as well. Even in light of the restored Star League, and all that it promised, the harsh realities of total war had to be faced. The Meribah incident was simply the first test of the task force's join-or-die policy—a policy no one had fully understood till it came time to implement it.

  Morgan made every effort to restore the friendly relationship he'd shared with Winston, but to no avail. She simply refused to acknowledge any statement or question that did not directly concern task force operations.

  Then, one morning two weeks ago, Morgan made a disparaging remark concerning the poor quality of the coffee provided for the staff meeting.

  "Some longshoreman must have gotten mixed up over coffee and cordite," Winston said, as though nothing had ever been wrong between them. Then she took a second sip of the murky, black liquid, shuddered, and pushed her cup away. "Graagh. On second thought, cordite would taste better than this stuff."

  It wasn't much, but after two weeks of strained relations, it was a beginning. Morgan had been afraid that the incident at Meribah might have opened a permanent rift between Winston and himself. That would not have boded well for either the mission or for Morgan personally.

  Any further musings were cut short when a shout from the Truth's communications officer rang across the bridge.

  "Sir, Ranger reports contact with a number of unidentified starships. Captain Winslow requests instructions."

  "What?" Morgan yelled in surprise above the sudden clamor sparked by the alarm. "Show me."

  In response to his command, four tiny images flared scarlet as they floated above the floor of the holotank.

  "Can you identify?"

  "No, sir." The sensor tech was punching in commands as rapidly as he could, trying to coax more resolution out of the Truth's scanners. "The nearest friendly vessel is the Ranger. Captain Winslow reports she is unable to identify the bogies."

  "Dammit all," Morgan cursed. "Sound General Quarters. Gun crews to their stations. Prepare to launch fighters."

  The sounding of an alert as the task force phased in at a new system had become almost a routine measure. This time, it was different. The klaxon had barely begun to sound when the gun stations began to report in. Somehow, the men and women of Task Force Serpent had sensed that this alert was the real thing. Commodore Beresick reported "all stations manned and ready" in just under four minutes, a full fifteen seconds faster than the previous record.

  "Marshal," the commtech called. "Ranger reports positive ID on the bogies. Now classifying target vessels as bandits."

  The identification codes floating next to the images of the enemy ships flickered and changed. The largest of the figures, now obviously a WarShip, bore the label CNGRSS.

  "Sir, Ranger IDs the bandits as one Congress Class frigate, two Whirlwind destroyers, and one Invader Class transport. Ranger is still too far away from the target vessels to get a positive Clan affiliation. Captain Winslow reports bandits may be attempting to furl their sails in preparation for jump."

  "All right. Commodore Beresick, this is your bailiwick. You have command, sir," Morgan said. "I'll try to stay out of your way."

  Beresick nodded, then barked out orders.

  "Commodore has the conn. Rostock will remain with the transports. All other WarShips will initiate a high-G burn to close with the bandits. Transports will detach their designated Fleet Defense DropShips. The FDDs will come into formation with the WarShips.

  "Let's get 'em, boys and girls."

  * * *

  Major Michael Ryan rubbed the small, painful bump on his skull, right above the hairline. When the alarm came through, he had been sound asleep in his bunk aboard the Haruna. Startled into wakefulness, he had attempted to vault from his bunk. Mercifully, his rank gave him the privilege of a semi-private cabin, and his bunkmate, the Haruna's chief gunnery officer, was on duty. The sheets had gotten tangled around Ryan's ankles, turning his graceful leap into a headlong sprawl. His metal-framed desk chair broke his fall by striking him a glancing blow to the forehead.

  Swearing like a rejected courtesan, he disentangled himself, resisting the impulse to spend a few moments ripping the sheets to shreds. At last, he bolted from the room, snatching his "jump kit" from the tiny closet next to the door on the way out. Barefoot and clad only in track shorts, he darted across the corridor to catch the lift down to his action station.

  By the time the elevator jerked to a halt on Deck Ten of the frigate, Ryan had put on his olive drab jumpsuit, struggling into the garment with difficulty in the crowded lift car. His feet were still bare as he ran through the accessway into the Haruna's number two cargo hold. The cavernous space was dimly lit by a series of fluoresce
nt strips set into the overhead, a dozen meters above.

  "Konban wa, Major," Gunjin Carlotta Sior called as she watched his dramatic, if not dignified, entrance.

  "Talk to me, Bill. What's going on?"

  Tai-i William Culp, Team Five's blond-haired, blue-eyed leader, was switching the bay's intercom to standby when Ryan arrived.

  "We've been ordered to 'action stations; boarding,' Major." A native of Sternwerde displaced by Clan Ghost Bear's invasion of that planet, Culp had a feral expression on his thin, pale face, a look enhanced by the weak illumination of the bay. "They tell me we've run into a Clan flotilla, and Beresick is moving to engage them. The TOO said you were supposed to check in as soon as you got here."

  Ryan reached past his subordinate and keyed the communicator.

  "Bridge, Tactical Officer."

  "Commander, this is Major Ryan. What do you want us to do?"

  "Sho-sa," Lieutenant Commander Masahiro Kobayashi said. The Haruna's Tactical Operations Officer was an old-line DCMS officer. He had resisted the idea of supplanting a long-standing system of rank to fit in with the idea of a coalition force, or a renewed Star League. "Get your teams ready to get aboard the Bisan. The orders are to prepare to launch a boarding action."

  "Got it." Ryan smiled as he broke the connection. Ko-bayashi was a hidebound prig, who considered the Draconis Elite Strike Teams to be a necessary evil, one step above the filthy, honorless nekekami. Ryan enjoyed yanking the naval officer's chain whenever possible. His satisfaction showed on his face as he turned to his troops.

  "Okay, suit up."

  Thirty commandos scattered across the cargo bay. Along with the others of his command, Ryan approached an odd, boxy module, where Simon Nisimura, his personal suit tech, awaited him. At first, the idea of having a technician assigned to him had struck Ryan as strange. But the first time he tried to struggle into his Kage suit without the tech's help, he learned the value of an expert assistant.