Binding Force

by Loren L. Coleman

  But it could only end one way. The Atlas, with its twenty tons of armor, had incredible staying power. It reached out with long-range missiles and its Gauss rifle, with large and medium lasers, missing more often than not, but every hit leaving Aris that much more vulnerable. Already Ty could see the gaping holes showing up in the Wraith’s protective armor. Soon the Atlas would hit something critical—engine shielding or the gyro or possibly a leg actuator—and Aris would be at its mercy.

  Ty Wu Non had already lost too many warriors to see Aris fall in front of his eyes. He stabbed down on one of his thumb triggers, sending a full flight of twenty long-range missiles from the Charger’s torso-mounted launcher. His right torso kicked back under the sudden thrust of the launching missiles. Before his computer could even register any hits, Ty kicked his ’Mech into running speed and closed on the Atlas.

  Eighty tons of charging assault ’Mech would give Fallon something to think about.

  Over half the missiles found their mark, scattering across the right arm and torso of the Atlas. The death’s head swung around, as if searching for the machine that would dare engage it, though its sensors undoubtedly told Fallon everything she needed to know. It was the distraction Aris had needed. He slipped in behind the monstrous machine and burned away at its weaker rear armor while Ty triggered his four medium pulse lasers and continued to draw attention to himself.

  The Gauss slug caught his Charger in the right torso, followed by a large laser hit that chewed through to his internal structure, burning out his Artemis fire-control system and one of his medium pulse lasers. The second large laser missed low, and the emerald darts of the Atlas’ mediums were ineffective against his left arm. Ty Wu Non fought his control sticks and rode out the damage. The Atlas looked large in his viewscreen. Then came the shock of impact, followed by a sickening squeal and crunch as armor plates rubbed and crushed against one another.

  Sensors screamed at him for attention, and his damage schematic showed the Charger outlined in red all over. Ty held no illusions that he would keep the 80-ton ’Mech upright after such a collision, and surrendered to gravity while working the control sticks to lighten the fall.

  The Charger bounced heavily against the ground and its cover of broad-leafed plants, which left a green smear across his viewscreen. Ty bounced around against his restraining straps, his head whipping from one side to another. Everything blurred from the violent shaking, and then faded to black.

  * * *

  Running and the constant discharge of his lasers had edged Aris’ heat up into the lower part of the red band. Sweat poured freely down the side of his face and ran down his arms and legs. The hot air squeezed at his lungs and scratched his throat. He welcomed the thought of rain as the large drops began to slap against his viewscreen, though locked inside his cockpit he wouldn’t be able to take any relief from it.

  Ty Wu Non happened by at just the right time. Aris’ Wraith had only lost a jump jet, but his ’Mech had only about three total tons of armor left, and it was only a matter of time before a Gauss slug or large laser beam put an end to him. He had already hit the other three remote detonators, making sure the cancer within the House died before he did. When the Atlas turned away to meet the Charger, Aris breathed a heavy sigh of relief and moved around to worry at the assault machine’s rear armor.

  The collision between the two assault ’Mechs almost caught him unprepared. He had not thought Ty Wu Non would place himself in such jeopardy, going point-blank with the Atlas’ destructive power and then intentionally slamming his ’Mech into the larger machine. Aris saw it coming only at the last second and managed to move out of the way as both Atlas and Charger fell and rolled over the terrain where he’d just been standing.

  Ty Wu Non’s Charger hit the ground hard, with less control over its bouncing than the Atlas. Aris was concerned for his battalion commander, but he knew that wouldn’t help the other man any. He ran his Wraith up to the Atlas, which was struggling to regain its feet. He jerked repeatedly on his main trigger, pumping the scarlet beams of all three of his lasers into the enemy ’Mech again and again.

  The Atlas didn’t seem affected. Rivulets of molten armor poured from its arms, legs, and torso, and its left side was literally caved in. It rose slowly but steadily to its feet, the death’s head grin centered on Aris’ Wraith.

  Then the scarlet darts from Aris’ large pulse laser found the smashed left torso of the Atlas. Burning its way through the final shards of armor, the laser cut into the ammunition storage for the assault ’Mech’s long-range missiles. Fire and gray smoke erupted from the torso as the missiles cooked off. Most of it was channeled out the back of the Atlas by the CASE construction, but few pilots could maintain control against the raw force of such an explosion. Not to mention that it would ruin the Atlas’ bulky extralight engine. The Atlas twisted to the left and dove into the ground with its right shoulder forward.

  It didn’t move again.

  “Nicely done,” a malicious voice whispered in Aris’ ear. “Pity you won’t live to enjoy the victory.”

  Aris recognized the voice of Karl Bartlett, even through the radio filters. He glanced quickly at his control panel, thinking that the Hiritsu commnet might have been breached or sold to the SMM by Chan before yesterday. But the scanner told him that Bartlett was simply transmitting on an open frequency with no scrambling. Was the man mad, stopping to talk in the middle of battle?

  The Blackjack OmniMech stood on top of the levee, barely one hundred meters directly ahead but catching Aris with his Wraith’s arms lowered. If Aris tried to bring weapons to bear, one salvo from the LB-X autocannon would rip his ’Mech open like a soldier falling on a grenade.

  “The battle is over at this end of the field,” Bartlett said. “You may very well own the day, Aris Sung. But you won’t see the end of it. I couldn’t find Chan, but you will do.”

  Aris had been tensing up, preparing to make a move that would spoil Bartlett’s aim. The Blackjack didn’t look good. Fire and black smoke poured from three different places on its front. Perhaps it wouldn’t be able to track him effectively. He was about to chance it when he noticed the blur of movement against the side of the levee, moving up toward the Omni. Infantry, he thought at first, until he realized that the figure wore only shorts, T-shirt, and a cooling vest. He adjusted the image on one of his auxiliary monitors, tightening the shot until recognition sparked. Terry Chan! Alive and moving in with a grapple rod.

  Aris hesitated, muscles tensed and screaming for the release of action. If he fired now, Chan would be caught between the two ’Mechs. If he waited, she might not try to intervene until after Bartlett had reduced his Wraith to scrap metal. Time to test your own beliefs, Aris challenged himself. He had guaranteed Ty Wu Non that Terry Chan’s desire to serve House Hiritsu would outweigh whatever animosity she felt for Aris or Ty or anyone else. It had been the fundamental argument for trusting her group as a suicide squad, though Aris had hedged his bets by planting the explosive charges on their fusion engines. This time, though, he didn’t have that safety net. All or nothing, he told himself. How much do you believe in the binding force of House Hiritsu?

  Aris released his control sticks and settled back, waiting for vindication or a fiery death.

  * * *

  One of the infantrymen had carried an extra grapple rod, another a second demo pack. Terry Chan had broken from them as they moved off to track a slow-moving Bandersnatch, continuing in the direction she’d seen the Blackjack heading. The rain increased, now falling in a light curtain of heavy but widely spaced drops. It would soon be pouring hard, cutting visibility down to mere meters, and before then she had to find Bartlett. It was the driving thought that kept her moving, the desire to perform this one last service to House Hiritsu. It warmed her and lent her strength.

  She found the Omni as it climbed the levee to preside over the final moments of Aris Sung. She had missed Ty Wu Non’s charge, but something stirred inside her at the sight of the Wra
ith standing up to the Atlas. She knew that Aris Sung would protect to the death the fallen Charger lying sprawled on the ground behind him. And the sight stirred something inside Terry that years of hatred for the young warrior and her secret dissatisfaction with Virginia York’s and then Ty Wu Non’s rule had been unable to crash. She laughed out loud when the Atlas finally fell before Aris’ light weaponry.

  But now the Blackjack stood dominant, ready to tear Aris apart but holding off. Gloating, Terry wondered? Drawing out the one moment of victory in an otherwise obvious defeat? She moved up the side of the levee, readying the grapple rod.

  The charge kicked against her shoulder, propelling the adhesive ball almost straight up as Terry angled for the OmniMech’s head. It struck what would have been the forehead on a man, sticking fast. Terry slipped her foot into the loop and thumbed the retract button, riding the wire up toward the cockpit.

  She remembered the holo of Aris Sung performing a similar maneuver years ago, bluffing a MechWarrior with a first-aid pack. Aris had been willing to risk his life to buy his House Master a few more minutes in which to escape. Now here she was, aping his tactic in order to get that final kill. But where Aris might have been able to flee had the bluff not worked, Terry Chan did not have that luxury and she knew it.

  This was a one-way ride.

  A wave of heat warned her to curl up protectively as the grapple rod pulled her up past a rent belching flames in the Omni’s torso. Pain seared her bare arms and legs, and for a second she was unable to breathe. Terry almost lost her grip then, but ragged determination saw her through. Then there was a jolt as the rod hit its limit switch and stopped reeling in wire.

  Terry Chan opened her eyes to find herself bumping up against the cockpit viewscreen. Karl Bartlett stared through the broken screen with a wide-eyed, incredulous expression. Terry reached down and pulled the activation ring on the demo pack that hung from her belt. Smoke teared her eyes and threatened to smother her. Flames still licked at her feet. But Terry Chan was beyond pain and discomfort as she unhooked the demo pack from her belt, drew her arm back, and then rammed the entire package through a broken section of the viewscreen.

  Shards of the clear, high-impact plastic broke off, some slicing into her arm, but she held tight until sure the pack was inside the cockpit. Only then did she drop it, the tan-colored pack tumbling off the main control panel and falling to the floor. Karl Bartlett screamed in fear and sudden panic, trying to reach for the package at his feet. Then he straightened up, locking eyes with Terry Chan.

  Terry, who had been counting off the seconds, smiled as he reached for the emergency ejection controls. Too late. Fire filled the cockpit and blew out the viewscreen.

  30

  Hotel Lampur, Mahabohdi Spaceport

  Mahabohdi, Kaifeng

  Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March

  4 August 3058

  The Hotel Lampur had been chosen for its convenience to the spaceport, where House Hiritsu had made its headquarters. Li Wynn had recommended it, the suggestion properly advanced through Aris Sung. Li was off packing now, preparing to move aboard the Lao-Tzu for safety. The young thief was actually too old to join the Warrior House, but Aris had guaranteed him passage offworld and help settling in one of the larger cities on Randar.

  Aris leaned up against the wall just inside the hotel ballroom’s open double doors, arms crossed in impatience as he waited for the presentation to begin. Other House warriors sat or strolled about the large room. Two Hiritsu infantrymen stood guard at the ballroom entrance, and two at the large room’s only window. Members of the House wore their green and black dress uniforms and either a sidearm or ceremonial katana sword, except for the sentries, who dressed more functionally and carried assault rifles.

  A single camera crew had been allowed in, though the signal would be sent to every major network for broadcast. Their equipment was set up at the edge of the large dance floor. Leftenant Ellen Harris stood at a podium on the stage, having been brought down from the recharge station. The gauntlet-and-katana insignia of House Liao and the Capellan Confederation decorated the front of the podium. Somewhere back in the stage wings, Aris knew, another pair of infantrymen watched over Ellen Harris’ two children.

  Ty Wu Non had privately guaranteed his company leaders, Aris included, that he would never hurt the children. But it wasn’t important for Leftenant Harris to know that. Ty wanted the presentation to go flawlessly, which meant keeping a strong hold over her. Aris still disagreed with such tactics, but that was only his opinion and he kept it to himself. Ty Wu Non would be House Master, and the will of the House Master…

  Just now Battalion Commander Non stood off to one side with Leftenant-General Cynthia Fallon. The battle hadn’t lasted much past the death of Major Karl Bartlett. The Kaifeng SMM, decimated almost to the last ’Mech, had never recovered from the initial Hiritsu feint and rearward attack. The mercenary forces, Jacob’s Juggernauts and elements of Ace Darwin’s WhipIts, had fared better. They’d reacted faster to the changing threats, managing to organize a single counter-attack that Raven Clearwater’s lance had blunted. In the end, the mercs had requested standard terms of withdrawal and awarded the day to House Hiritsu.

  Aris Sung and Ty Wu Non, together, had pulled Cynthia Fallon from her broken Atlas. Initially she thought to be very uncooperative. Then Aris had showed her the accumulated evidence, including some private tapes made by Terry Chan of her conversations with the leftenant-general and Major Karl Bartlett, that would prove conclusively that the Kaifeng SMM—and Fallon in particular—had conspired with members of House Hiritsu. Aris could lay the entire blame for the Dragon Boat Festival attack at her feet. Treason. Violation of the Ares Conventions. It would ruin the Kaifeng SMM, and give the Sarna Supremacy’s interstellar relations a black eye as well. Under that kind of political threat, the leftenant-general had calmly folded her hand and agreed to cooperate.

  The battle for Kaifeng was over. Only the formalities, and a private vow, remained.

  “I have been asked to make a formal statement on behalf of the Kaifeng SMM,” Leftenant Harris said. Her voice calm and reassuring, she was the perfect spokesperson.

  Aris nodded his approval as the formalities of surrender were begun. Then he shoved himself away from the wall and drifted silently out the door. Statements by Cynthia Fallon and then Ty Wu Non would follow, all aimed at easing the transition to Capellan rule.

  Aris estimated he had thirty minutes.

  * * *

  Ty Wu Non noticed Aris Sung taking his leave and the barest trace of a frown creased his brow. It seemed strange that the younger MechWarrior would not stay for the formal surrender of Kaifeng. Aris had been instrumental in arranging the ceremony—indeed, the entire victory—and it was only fitting he be present. But then Ty knew that for all his years as Aris’ Mentor he still did not know him as well as he should.

  Aris had come to the House with a lot of raw potential, potential that Ty himself would surely have wasted with a single cut of a blade if not for House Master York’s protection of his charge. And then Virginia York had assigned Ty as Aris’ Mentor, making sure that Aris never got too comfortable within the family structure of House Hiritsu. Ty could now recognize Virginia York’s subtle hand in Aris Sung, just as he could see his own harder influence. Insight and action. A good mix. Had this been House Master York’s plan all along—to prepare for Ty someone he could rely on to temper his own harsh impulses?

  Ty Wu Non would be watching Aris Sung very carefully.

  * * *

  All MechWarrior company and lance leaders, except for the duty lance, had been ordered to remain on hand until after formal surrender. Aris found Senior Company Leader Thom Lindell staring out the window of one of the many second-floor rooms reserved for the use of House Hiritsu officers in the hotel. Lindell was alone, as Aris had expected. Thom Lindell was a man of solitude; in victory… or defeat.

  Aris let the door shut behind him with a soft snick of its latch. Lindell
never looked around, his attention riveted on the street below. When he spoke, it was with the most neutral of whispers. “I’ve been expecting you, Aris Sung. Though perhaps not so soon as this.”

  Aris shrugged first one shoulder and then the other from under his half-cape, then unfastened the clasp to let the cape fall to the floor directly behind him. It did not surprise him that Thorn Lindell had guessed his approach. “Your name did not appear on the list of friendly ’Mechs that Terry Chan was to transmit to Bartlett.”

  Lindell nodded once, still looking out the window. “You must have removed it. Terry thought that she’d somehow misskeyed the entry.”

  “She wasn’t that inefficient.”

  Lindell’s voice never wavered an octave. “True. But when faced with the alternative, that you shielded me—.” He broke off.

  Aris understood perfectly well. It would not have made sense to Terry Chan that Aris would protect Thom Lindell from the same justice meted out to her and the others. “Terry didn’t know you as well as she thought. You would have never walked into your death as they did, no matter how honorable an end it was. You would have fought the entire way, and torn the House apart in doing so.” Aris felt a flush spread along the base of his scalp as he spoke the accusation out loud.

  “What prompts this lack of respect for my personal honor?” Lindell asked. Still there was no deviation from the usual monotone—no anger or curiosity, just a simple question to be answered.

  “You killed House Master York,” he said evenly.