In a big building adjoining the Gauntlet rested the prototype 'Mechs. These were uncoded machines that could be programmed to behave like any known 'Mech that a pilot might want to operate in practice. Today, it would be a Victor for Ardan, its computer-controlled reactions simulating every effect of weapons hits, heat buildup, damage, and so on.
In the dressing chamber, Ardan stripped off his uniform and donned the cooling vest and neck and shoulder pads. To his arms and legs, he attached the biofeedback patches that provided temperature control and monitored heat in his sensor helmet. Finally, he fitted the neurohelmet over his head, setting it in place over his neck and shoulder pads. The helmet was the key to piloting a 'Mech, feeding information on the pilot's sense of balance into the 'Mech's computer to keep it erect and balanced even during jumping, kicking, or dive-and-roll combat In return, the computer fed impulses back to the pilot through his helmet to keep him from being disoriented while locked up inside the head of a giant maneuvering machine.
To 'unlock' a neurohelmet, the pilot transmitted a special, brief series of motions or entered some word or number command into the onboard computer. This code was secret and different for each individual pilot and his 'Mech, and prevented anyone else from simply climbing in and taking over the machine. Failure to transmit the proper sequence could result in damage to the helmet or the wearer.
After pushing the signal button to warn the Gauntlet personnel that he was ready to make his run, Ardan climbed into the Victor and plugged his helmet into the cables connecting it to the 'Mech. He almost went through his coding sequence before catching himself. To operate the prototype 'Mechs of the Gauntlet, MechWarriors simply used 'open systems' that made the 'Mechs ready for immediate use.
As the big doors ground open, Ardan flexed the muscles of the 'Mech, lifted a ponderous foot, raised and lowered his arms. Good. The myomer muscles were working perfectly.
Now he could see the walls of the Gauntlet begin to glow, and his own body answered with a surge of adrenalin. The 'Mech's heat intensified it, as he strode out into the sunlight
Even after so many years, Ardan still found it strange to be transformed from a human on foot to a deadly, ponderous giant. The ‘Mech's height gave him a superb view of all his surroundings. What he was looking at, however, were the tiny glints of light that seemed to wink malevolently in the walls ahead of him. Those were the lasers and other simulator weapons readying themselves for a battle.
Ardan grinned. He needed a good fight. Now he could work off the uneasy fury he had felt these past months without hurting anything—or anyone—he cared for.
6
The towering walls of the Gauntlet were three times the height of the Victor. As Ardan approached them, cautiously and with every muscle tensed for a sudden spring to left or right, a laser spat at him with its red light. This was followed almost instantly by a stream of small rockets from a projectile weapon coming from his other side.
Blessing the Vic's jets, Ardan jumped high, letting the laser detonate the first of the rockets. The rest pocked the farther wall of the corridor as they exploded. He came down whirling, his own lasers raking the walls, taking out a row of weaponry set into the stone.
Testing every step, he moved forward again, using his sensors to seek out hidden mines. Many a 'Mech had been disabled after stepping on a concealed vibrabomb, but there was no knowing at exactly what weight/pressure the things might be set to explode. Ardan managed to stroll through the Gauntlet without triggering a single one, and he smiled, thinking how Sep would have bounded her way through, triggering a chain of explosions.
Just then, a laser beam seared the air, and he leaped and whirled, just barely dodging it. Every nerve alert, all his senses caught up in the death-game, Ardan moved through the perilous corridor in a series of spurts, jumps, quick turns, and ricochets. As he neared the end of it, a barrage of laser fire and rockets converged on the spot where he had just landed. He dived head-first, moved and sustained by his jets, then bounced, shoulder-first, off the rock of the wall.
Twisting desperately, he straightened to land on his feet He was sweating so hard now that only the pads of his helmet kept the perspiration from blinding him. His heart was pounding, too.
Ardan was feeling better than he had in weeks.
At another sudden spurt of laser light, he wheeled, sidestepping the blast Firing his own upper laser, he took out the enemy weapon. There was only one way he could think of to pass this last stretch, and that was to take it in one leap. Accurately. Without faltering. Should his own sense of balance be disturbed, he would also lose his ability to stabilize the huge machine.
All the while, he was drawing a deep breath, as if his own puny human lungs could assist the eighty-ton monster he manipulated. Then he launched himself into the air again, forcing the ‘Mech's immensity toward the light at the end of the corridor.
When he came down, it was nine meters too soon, still within the deadly walls of the Gauntlet. The vibrations set his teeth on edge, made his heart hammer even harder, but he willed himself steady. Gritting his teeth, Ardan rolled the Victor's body to its feet. It staggered, leaned against a wall. Heat seared even into his insulated compartment as he jerked the ‘Mech upright. Again he jumped forward...this time onto the clean dust beyond the Gauntlet.
He was soaked in sweat now, panting, battered, and aching. But he felt a satisfied exhaustion. Turning the huge machine back toward the building, he moved along the outside of the walled corridor.
When Ardan reached the big doors, four small figures were waiting there. "Good run!" yelled Jarlik, as Ardan piloted the 'Mech inside and opened his hatch.
As he had hoped, this last run through the Gauntlet had eased the tension making him irritable for weeks. Grinning down at his four comrades, Ardan made his way down.
"They've added a few things since last month," he said. "Watch that other end—the laser will kill you!"
"You made it pretty well," said Sep, her eyes twinkling. "It looked like you worked that 'Mech to its limits."
"Feel as if I've been boiled in oil, though," grumbled Ardan. "Let me take a shower and get into my uniform. Then I’ll take you all out for a last round of ale...on me."
Denek leaned against the wall, eyes wide, hands clasped to his chest. "You hear that? You HEAR that my friends? Ardan the tightwad has volunteered to buy the beer! Can you believe it?"
Fram nodded solemnly. "Just goes to show what it takes to get some people to shell out. Being assigned out to where he’ll probably get his buns blown to Kingdom come, then running the Gauntlet and almost getting shaken out of his boots. Some people are tough, let me tell you!"
In their merriment, Jarlik and Sep leaned against one another and whooped. It wasn't really that funny, of course, but all of them must have been feeling relieved that things were back to normal again.
They spent a festive evening together, all thought of Ardan's impending departure kept well below the surface. He had hoped to leave quickly, avoiding long goodbyes, but now he was glad for the chance to enjoy this last evening with his friends.
Sep kept looking at him strangely, however. In the few brief intervals when they could say a private word to one another, Ardan tried to get her to tell him what was bothering her, but she only shook her head.
"Later," she murmured.
It was, indeed, very much later when the four set out for the barracks together. Though not exactly inebriated, they were all rather elevated. It wasn't difficult for Ardan to contrive to lag behind, catching Sep's elbow to keep her with him.
"Now will you tell me what's bothering you? You kept looking at me sideways all evening. Tomorrow I move out of barracks into the ready-area, and we won't have another chance to talk. I want to know." He put his hands on his hips and glared at her, swaying a bit.
Sep turned to lean against a nearby wall of the barracks. "I just don't like it," she said. "As your second-in-command, I’ll be taking over your unit. That makes sense. But you shouldn't
be leaving. I don't think you have thought long enough about this step you're taking."
Though the ale had relaxed him, Ardan felt himself bristle with irritation. "I have thought about it!" he snapped.
"For two years! Would you have me mull it over for two more?"
"Yes, if that's what it takes to make you see the light. Ardan, you aren't a politician. Thank the Holy Roarer for that! But politicians are necessary. Have you thought any more about what I said to you the other day?"
"Sep, I understood perfectly well what you said. I just didn't agree with it." He found himself becoming angry. Why did she insist on bringing this up again, just when he had been so full of the pleasure of the evening?
"You can't see Hanse as he is, simply because he's your friend. You want him to be perfect. But are you perfect? Am I? Then why should he have to be? Hanse is a good ruler, who's doing a good job of keeping the Federated Suns together." She glared at him.
"Can you imagine what would happen if Maximilian Liao achieved his goals—took out Davion and assimilated the Federated Suns into his Capellan Confederation? Now there's a schemer...a user...a manipulator. And worse. You've seen worlds he's conquered before we retook them. Whatever he touches, Liao squeezes until it's dry."
Because he couldn't deny what Sep was saying, it made Ardan even angrier. He had seen those devastated planets, their people starved and degraded, left homeless, cropless, powerless.
"I'm trying to keep Hanse from becoming just like Liao," he insisted. "Power corrupts, woman. Don't you know that?"
"Hanse was born to power. His family has wielded it for generations without becoming corrupted. Why do you trust him so little?"
Sep had to yell those last words after him, for Ardan had turned on his heel, and was walking away quickly toward his quarters. Her voice rang in his ears, even after he had closed the door behind him and was standing inside, staring at the wall. He even felt a little ill.
"That's just the drink," he said aloud, and went to splash his face with cold water. It didn't help, though. The more he thought about Sep's words, the angrier he became.
Returning to his room, a touch to the light-button brightened the dim glow in the room to normal intensity. Only now did Ardan notice that on his bed, along with the small pack of personal items readied for his trip, was another bundle. It appeared to have been hastily wrapped, but was tied with a big scarlet bow. Lifting off the note attached, he read: "From C.S., J., D., and F. We hope this will be useful."
He tore off the tissue impatiently. Rolled in a light environment suit, he found a new knife, together with the sheath that would strap it to his calf. The knife was beautiful, its edge razor-keen, its haft leather-wrapped. The sheath was also a fine piece of work, soft and form-fitting, so as not to bind on the leg.
There was something else, too, a canister made to fit into the cockpit compartment where a MechWarrior kept personal and survival equipment. In it was a new set of collapsible field and camping gear.
Ardan stared down at the gifts. His friends knew that he would be issued fresh gear when he got to his destination. But this was the best obtainable, far better than government-issue. The knife would keep its edge for years, and would neither oxidize nor break. The other equipment was of the finest quality and would probably wear far longer than he would.
Though his old knife had been with him in so many battles, he had been lucky enough never to need it. No 'Mech he had piloted had ever been destroyed to the point where Ardan was forced to abandon it. But the time came to every warrior—if he lived long enough—when he had to take to the battlefield on his own, unshielded by his gigantic machine.
Ardan packed quickly, almost mechanically. Having done it so often, before so many battles, habit took over, leaving his mind free. His thoughts drifted in a mild haze.
Not drunken—he hadn't consumed that much—but somehow disconnected from the familiar concerns that had so preoccupied and upset him recently.
His mind moved backward in time to the last war, the last battle in which he had been engaged. It had been no major conflict The Draconis Combine had edged into Lyran territory. Under an existing treaty, House Davion had sent troops to aid Katrina Steiner in holding the group of worlds under attack. Ardan had been in command of a 'Mech unit assigned to root out an emplacement of enemy troops.
In memory, he felt beneath him the lumbering motion of his ‘Mech. He heard the thunder of his own weapons, the impact of laser beams and explosives against the armor of his Victor. A dedicated group, his men had plunged into the fray with gusto, intoxicated with battle.
The thud of his 'Mech's huge feet against the ground had not impinged upon him at the time. The effects of his weapons on the surrounding territory hadn't been noted. Only the effects that took out or disabled enemy troops and 'Mechs had caught his attention.
Not until his unit had stomped the Kurita forces flat and the battle was over had Ardan paused to look about him. That had been the most terrible moment in all his years as a professional warrior. It was the first time he had allowed himself to really see what toll the battle had taken on the land across which it raged. Where a forest had stood, shading a broad lake, he now saw a field of stubble. Even worse, the greenish-yellow waters of the lake were stained black and red, where both machines and men had died horribly. The surrounding croplands were trampled into dust and straw. Dead animals lay swelling in the sun...along with dead men, both his own and the enemy's.
Where a stone house surrounded by orchards had stood, only a few stones remained, and the fruit trees might never have existed. In the lane before the broken walls, there had been a child, crying...Though he shrank from the memory, Ardan could not forget how the child's entrails hung from a gaping wound in its belly. The shrieks of the toddler had carried even into the shielded space of his 'Mech. Even as he had moved to unlock his entry-port and go to the little boy's aid, laser fire had spurted, blasting the child into the dust
Ardan would never forget that blackened bit of flesh, lying in the crumbled stone and dirt. And that was exactly where he was headed once more.
He turned blindly and set the neat pack beside the door, knowing he would never again go blithely into battle, filled only with dreams of glory and adventure, as he had once. No...behind his alert warrior's eyes, his busy mind, he would always see that blasted child, that ruined valley.
Was he, then, so much better than Hanse? Hanse might be subtle and devious to get his way. But Ardan knew himself to be a destroyer.
7
Maximilian Liao stood at the wide window, gazing across the tropical garden shielded by the walls of his palace on Sian. Water mingled with trailing plants, exotic blossoms, and unusual birds to create an enthralling scene. Liao, however, barely noticed it
He was thinking hard, mentally organizing the sequence of events he was now committed to carrying out Hearing a step behind him, he turned to see Colonel Pavel Ridzik enter the room. A gruff and grizzled veteran of more than thirty years of 'Mech wars, Ridzik had served as de facto supreme commander ever since Liao's rise to power.
"Well, Pavel, what word from the front?"
"It is no longer a battlefront, my Lord," the red-bearded Ridzik replied. "We hold Stein's Folly. Not securely, but it is now pacified, except for a few scattered mopping-up operations."
"And our...other arrangements?"
"In hand. We will, I believe, stand a very good chance of catching Davion off-balance. If we can carry out the plan effectively, you will be several steps nearer your goal. How does it sound to you...First Lord of the Star League?" Even when he smiled, Ridzik looked menacing.
"If we can gain an ally in the enemy camp, we may shorten the process by a good deal. How are you coming with that?" asked Liao. "Have you sent agents out among the worlds controlled by Davion's brother-in-law, yet? Someone, somewhere, should be willing to sell out, in exchange for money and influence."
"That is also in hand. We have made some connections. Potentially valuable on
es. But it takes time, and time is now at a premium."
"Yes." Liao's expression was stern, hard. "Now we are involved with the most exquisite timing. We must estimate precisely the arrival of the Davion contingent. There is no doubt, I suppose, that he will counterattack?"
"None whatever. He has to, or else lose all credibility. And that is the one thing that has made him so solidly in control of the Federated Suns. He cannot afford to compromise it."
Ridzik moved to the side wall of- the big chamber and drew down a map. "Our spies inform us that Davion's troops are moving into position. A brigade has jumped from Ral to Hamlin and even now is awaiting recharge for its jump to Dragon's Field. Another large detachment of 'Mech units and infantry has already landed at Dragon's Field. They await the arrival of the rest of the force, as well as the headquarters group."
He tapped his long, bony finger on the map. "We have excellent intelligence capacity, which is what allowed us to take Stein's Folly and Redfield. The element of surprise is always valuable, and we used it well. Once Redfield had fallen, there was no way for Michael Hasek-Davion to hold onto Stein's Folly."
The Colonel paused and turned to look at his ruler. "After all, Michael is a weak man, with great ambitions. Certainly not one to be trusted with defense of a vulnerable border."
Liao frowned. "Will Hanse Davion accompany his commanders?" he asked. That might be...convenient."
"His Councillors will never allow it He may well come to one of the adjacent worlds, in order to be within easier logistical distance of the conflict. But no, he will not approach Stein's Folly or Dragon's Field. Not if his ministers have any judgment at all."
"A pity. It would be fine to remove all our obstacles in one sweeping motion. But let us do what we can with what we have."
Ridzik tapped the map again. "McCarron's Cavalry is in place, and detachments of the occupation units have now joined them, ready to strike. When Davion's main body arrives at Stein's Folly, there will be a terrible surprise waiting."
The sword and the dagger Page 5