by Andrew Keith
Just as he'd refused to fire on the VTOL before it got away.
"I'd also advise you to limit the use of your jump jets for a while," the astech continued. He gestured toward the Griffin's left ankle joint. "We picked up some stress in the joint. You probably came down a little too hard on it when you made that jump up to the roof. That's a job for a full repair crew, and it'd take you off the line for about a week. Major McCall passed the word not to take any 'Mech out of service for anything short of a major fault until further notice, so you'll just have to live with it until he says otherwise."
Clay nodded vaguely, barely hearing the man. If he'd known there'd been no hostages on the VTOL, he could have knocked it out while it was still on the helipad. Instead he'd hesitated again, and Governor DeVries had escaped. Any further mischief the man stirred up now would be Davis Clay's fault, pure and simple.
No wonder he'd been passed over for a Mech Warrior's berth time and again. When it came down to a real life-or-death situation, every decision he always seemed to make was the wrong decision.
He went through the motions of consulting with the crew chief, but inside Clay knew all too well that it was pointless. Even if some of the cadets were tapped for combat against the Free Skye invaders, he knew his own prospects for ever piloting a 'Mech again were bleak.
And in one part of him, one shameful corner of his mind that his father would never have understood or forgiven, he actually felt relieved.
* * *
It felt good to be back in Legion grays again.
Caitlin DeVries climbed down from the back seat of the UVAC as it set down at the Dunkeld maglev station, then turned to take her kit bag from'Cadet D'Angelo. She was just heading for the emelt platform when Major King called her back.
He was sitting in the front passenger seat of the air-cushion utility vehicle, dressed in ordinary tech coveralls and checking a list on his computer board. He seemed relieved to be back in his usual role as the Legion's chief technical officer. "Get your Centurion powered up first, Cadet," King ordered. "Then I want you to turn it over to Cadet Galleno."
"Sir? I thought Galleno was bringing in the Archer."
King shook his head. "Galleno's never handled anything bigger than fifty tons before. You've logged a few hours on the Archer, so I'd rather have you bring her in."
She nodded. "Yes, Major."
"Good. Let me know if you run into any problems. Dismissed."
Caitlin saluted and turned away, hurrying across the open platform toward the last of the flat-topped emelt cars in the maglev train that had arrived in Dunkeld less than an hour before. The train had brought the second contingent of 'Mechs from the cadet company's base at Brander, five more fighting machines added to the Legion's slim assets around the capital. In addition to her Centurion and Alex Carlyle's Archer, the load included D'Angelo's Wolverine, Hideyoshi Naito's Crusader, and the Panther assigned to Cadet Wemyss. Now that he had died in the attack on the Residence, the cadet company's recon lance was in need of a new leader.
Caitlin stopped dead in her tracks. What was she thinking of? If the Legion somehow managed to pull itself together and mount a defense against von Bulow's invasion fleet, there'd be more important things on Major McCall's mind than filling out the cadet TO and E. The cadets probably wouldn't be calling any of those 'Mechs their own from now on. More experienced pilots would be taking them into battle, leaving the cadets on the sidelines.
If they fought at all. Thanks to her father, that didn't look very likely. Major McCall had ordered defensive preparations resumed as soon as the fighting was over around the Residence, but she'd been hearing even veteran legionnaires talking about the futility of putting up any resistance. Certainly the Planetary Guard weren't going to help now.
McCall would probably have to negotiate terms with von Bulow, and they'd end up harsher than the ones her father had agreed to.
Caitlin reached the emelt car that held her Centurion strapped down in a prone position. A technical team was already working on the reactor and troubleshooting the power circuitry. One of them waved casually and came to meet her. Astech Sergeant Stewart was her regular crew chief, and had arrived on the emelt with the Centurion. He gave Caitlin a hand up to the car, then led her across to the cockpit hatch without comment. Stewart was a quiet man, never inclined to speech unless he had something to say, but he was one of the best technicians at Brander. There was talk that he was being groomed for a technical officer's commission.
Stewart lifted the hatch open and took Caitlin's kit bag while she levered herself into the cockpit. With the 'Mech lying prone, it was hard to move around in the cockpit area, but she finally managed to squeeze herself into the command couch and then reach back and up to take the bag from Stewart. He swung the hatch shut and dogged it manually from the outside.
Caitlin looked up through the canopy for a long moment. The view showed nothing but sky, but in her mind's eye she was seeing the tableau in de Villar's quarters when she'd burst in and killed Walthers. Another crime to lay at her father's door. Walthers and O'Leary and the rest of the professional mercs in the bodyguard had run wild, and though she doubted her father had played much part in events right at the end, those had been his men. And it had been Roger DeVries' decision to abandon the planet's rightful landholders in favor of von Bulow that had set in motion the whole sad train of events.
McCall and King had both been lavish in praising her actions, but Caitlin knew there were plenty of other legionnaires who suspected her loyalties now. Even Alex Carlyle had been distant when they'd met outside de Villar's quarters just after the fight, and that had hurt worst of all. They'd been teamed together in the cadet command lance since the day Caitlin had joined, and the bond between lance mates was supposed to be too tight to permit such doubts.
She'd turned her back on her father out of loyalty to the Legion, but now it seemed she was losing them both.
Caitlin DeVries shoved the thought aside. For the moment she still had her duty, and she'd do it until the end. It was all she had left.
She strapped herself into the seat, snapped her cooling vest's power cord into the side of the couch, then pressed the four sensor pads than would connect her neurohelmet to her chest and thighs. Finally, she reached behind the headrest of her seat and found the neurohelmet tucked back into its receptacle. Pulling it out and up, she fitted it carefully over her head and shoulders, then attached the other ends of the sensor plugs into the neck of the helmet. With everything in place, she touched the power stud and felt a tingle in her skull as the neurohelmet came alive.
Now it was time to recite the code sequence that the 'Mech's onboard computer had been programmed to recognize and accept. Her birthdate . . . her mother's . . . her father's . . . Without the proper code, the computer's defenses would lock her out of the 'Mech controls altogether. Then it would take a half-dozen technicians and another hour or more to clear the program and start from scratch, as they'd already be doing with the Archer to override Alex's Carlyle's ID coding. When the authorization was confirmed, the control boards in front of and above her seat came to life.
Caitlin next punched in the order for a full system's diagnostic, and reported the start-up to Sergeant Stewart over her commlink. She half-turned in the seat to check the cockpit life-support readouts, and that made her think of her kit bag wedged under the front of the seat, out of the way. In battle conditions, she would have stripped down to her shorts, shoes, and the cooling vest in the bag. But today the heat buildup shouldn't be enough to require it. She corrected the air flow inside the cockpit instead, then turned her attention back to the computer readout to check the progress of the diagnostic.
Outside, the technical team was releasing the straps that secured the 'Mech to the bed of the emelt car. Caitlin double-checked the computer readout, gave a single, satisfied nod, and reached for the controls. Raising a prone BattleMech was supposed to be one of the single toughest maneuvers a pilot could attempt, but it was child's play
next to the problem that occupied most of her thoughts right now.
Winning back the trust her father's actions had cost her.
* * *
Alex Carlyle was feeling like an outsider as the discussion in the conference room unfolded. With the fighting over and done, the senior staff had reconvened in the Castle Hill command center to consider the situation once more. With planetfall for the first Free Skye ships expected in less than twenty-four hours, things were looking grim.
McCall, as the Legion's senior surviving officer, had already put some defensive measures in motion, but it seemed as if they'd been talking to no good purpose for hours on end. And Alex had little enough to contribute here. There wasn't much for an aide to do, and even less for a cadet MechWarrior.
"The governor's treason has changed everything," Captain Simms was saying gloomily. "I mean, we had a chance when we thought we could present a unified front. But if the Planetary Guard and the whole damned civil administration are going to turn on us, I don't see how we can put up much of a fight."
"I agree," Vargas chimed in. "How can we defend a planet that doesn't want defending?"
"Aye, the bluidy Sassenach bastard has put us in a fell spot!" Davis McCall said. "Tae think he would gae behind our backs tae deal wi' the enemy!"
"With the resources we've got on hand, I don't think even the colonel could mount much of a defense," Major Owens said quietly. "Even if we had the cooperation of the locals. Without it, I just don't know what we can hope to accomplish."
"I dinna want tae just gie up," McCall said, frowning. "What aboot the plans we were working on before? Is there nae hope tae any of them?"
Owens grunted noncommittally and touched a stud on the table in front of him. Curtains moved aside to reveal a floor-to-ceiling monitor screen, which lit up to display a map of the continent of Scotia, showing population centers and the maglev rail lines.
"An invader could put down almost anywhere, of course," Owens said. "But practical strategy would demand an initial attack against an area that could support long-term operations. That means a population center where supplies can be assembled and stored, with at least rudimentary spaceport facilities and good logistical links to other targets in the area. This is no lightning raid, to touch down anywhere, make the strike, and then run for home. But by the same token they don't have enough lift capacity in those DropShips to support a full-fledged invasion effort entirely from space."
He paused, favoring McCall with a challenging look. MechWarriors had the reputation for being unconcerned about the essential but unglamorous military science of logistics, while Owens was known for his devotion to such matters. It was one reason he was on the Legion staff. "Their ideal move would be to take Dunkeld itself, and that's what they were probably counting on when they got DeVries to cooperate. But it would be a chancy move without on-planet support of some kind. A gusty CO might try it just for the sheer surprise value ..."
"Not von Bulow," Ross said. "No one's ever accused him of being a military genius. He likes the slow but steady approach."
Owens cleared his throat. "Then the logical plan would be to hit an outlying area and then move along the maglev lines to strike at the capital." He manipulated the map controls on the table in front of him. "They won't want to fight a campaign through the mountains, though they might choose a base in a mountainous area and strike into the plains of Buchan or Atholl from there. I'd say we can safely eliminate Invertay and the other towns of Strathtay and Moray as landing sites. The same for Pentland, Mar, and Glencoe . . . they all have significant mountain barriers blocking an advance on Dunkeld. Kelso and Eastport are also unlikely because of the distances involved."
A number of cities and towns vanished from the map. "That leaves us with . . . maybe five possibles. Arbroath is closest to us here, and the terrain the attackers would have to cross is favorable. On the other hand, even a cursory look will show von Bulow that the maglev line out that way is in rotten shape for cargo transport. You'll remember we had to tear it up pretty thoroughly when we took out Thane Somerled, and the new thane hasn't seen fit to finish repairs yet."
"I think he's more concerned with rebuilding the rest of the infrastructure in Buchan. Two consecutive years of famine . . ." Simms trailed off with a shrug.
"All the more reason why Arbroath's not a good choice," Owens said with a nod. "It'd be damned hard to gather supplies in Buchan these days, and I think they're going to need as many local sources of food and other supplies as they can get."
"Will they necessarily know that, Major?" Alex ventured hesitantly. "Just how good is their intel likely to be?"
"Very good. You can bank on it, Cadet." Owens fixed him with a steely stare. "If Ryan and Richard Steiner have been planning this move for any time at all, you can be sure they've had plenty of scouts checking us out already. That merchant ship that passed through the system last week, now. I bet it carried a few observant passengers . . . probably picked up some new ones here with lots of useful items of information." He looked back at the computerized notes on the terminal in front of him. "If I can continue. . . ? Yes. I doubt Arbroath as a target, and Scone as well. It's too far away from Dunkeld to make a good supply base for a major campaign. But I don't rule either one out entirely. More likely, though, are these three. Halidon and Loch Sheol were both major mining centers in the early days of the Glengarry colony. Both have very good port facilities, though neither one has seen much use lately. A good crew of techs could have them up and running in a few days, though."
"They're both in pretty rugged country," Captain Dumont observed.
"But if they could get in quick and take control of the passes, the terrain would be as much to their advantage as ours," Owens responded. "The only thing that would make it dicey is if we were there in any strength."
"It seems tae me, laddie, that yon von Bulow mayna want tae tak that risk, either," McCall rumbled. " 'Tis nae a good idea tae rely on enemy blunders, but we canna forget that he's planning a campaign against the Gray Death, and that might be enough tae make him a wee bit overcautious. 'Twouldn't be the first time we were overestimated."
There were scattered chuckles around the table. Even Owens permitted himself a tiny smile. "True enough, Mac," he acknowledged.
"That's four possible sites, and none of them given much chance," Dumont observed languidly. "Don't tell me you think we'll keep the bastards up in orbit by sheer force of reputation?"
Some fresh chuckles answered the sally. Owens answered him by setting one of the town symbols on the map to blinking. "The other site I could think of is Coltbridge," he said, going on as if Dumont hadn't interrupted. "There's no major port facility, but it's a damned good emelt terminal, and the flat terrain would do well enough for a wilderness landing. Coltbridge is one of the closest sites of all to Dunkeld, and even if von Bulow couldn't grab the port fast enough to offset their logistics problems they could probably set up all the port facilities they'd need around the initial landing area in fairly short order."
Alex stirred uneasily. "Forgive me, sir, if I'm asking a stupid question," he began slowly. "But doesn't this boil down to a case of just not being able to tell which site to cover? I mean, Coltbridge is good in some ways, and so are Halidon and Loch Sheol. Or von Bulow might just as well decide to set down in Strathtay or Moray and risk a longer campaign. I don't see how we can really predict where they're going to land."
"He's right," Simms said. "With all due respect, Major, your fancy calculations lead exactly nowhere. We've got less than a day left, half the locals stirred up against us, and a good chunk of the Legion ready to give up to boot. If we can't predict where the bad guys are coming in, we might as well just forget it."
Owens shrugged. "Well, maybe you're right. If I had to, I'd vote for Coltbridge, but it's a pretty thin line."
"But—" Alex started to say.
Freya de Villar spoke up at the same time. She'd insisted on attending the meeting, but had sat through it silent and wit
hdrawn. Now she cut in with a voice as cold as a glacier. "Are you saying that everything that's happened was for nothing?" she asked. Her tone was even, but taut with suppressed emotion. "I can't accept that. My husband and my son died a few hours ago, and I'm not about to go along with any decision that says their deaths didn't count for anything."
No one answered her for a long time. Then McCall cleared his throat. "I agree," he said slowly. " 'Tis nae what the Legion stands for, tae turn tail the noo."
That brought a dozen simultaneous responses from around the table, everyone trying to take the floor. McCall's voice cut through it all. "Enough! this isna getting us anywhere!" When some of the noise subsided he went on. "I think we need tae tak a wee break. Reconvene in five minutes."
Alex stood up as the hubbub erupted anew. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly oppressive, and he wanted nothing more than an excuse to get away from it, if only for a few minutes.
McCall gave him just that as he gestured for his aide to join him. The Caledonian had found a seat in a quiet corner of the next room, and he watched Alex with a critical eye as the cadet sat down. "Sir?" Alex ventured after a long, awkward silence.
"Ye had something ye wanted tae add back there, laddie," McCall said.
Alex nodded. "Just ... a thought, an idea, I guess. We can't predict where they'll land, but it seems to me we could be ready for them by persuading them to land exactly where we want."
"By pretending the governor won, is that it?" McCall leaned forward, his face taking on an intense expression Alex had rarely seen.
"Yes, sir. Major Owens said it himself. Von Bulow wants to take the capital, but he wouldn't be likely to land here unless he thought he had some local help. It wouldn't take much effort to persuade him he still had it. We don't have Governor DeVries, but we could surely find someone who could pretend to be sympathetic. Maybe we could claim the governor died in the fighting, but that the Guardsmen put down the cadets who led the attack." He hesitated "Maybe Caitlin could speak in his behalf. She'd be in their intelligence files."