BattleTech : Mechwarrior - Dark Age 02 - A Call to Arms (2003)

by Loren L. Coleman

  Raul caught himself smiling, warmed by the Knight Errant's care for men with whom he had never served.

  "I'm afraid I have to agree with MechWarrior Kay," Powers said, returning with his chair, seating himself between Major Chautec and Clark Diago. "Star Colonel Torrent is a trueborn. He's also of the Kerensky Bloodname. That makes him a most dangerous adversary."

  Raul accepted his new drink from the waitress, tipping her heavily. He turned back to the conversation with renewed interest. Tassa Kay had said something remarkably similar to him after their last tangle with the Steel Wolves, and in a few short days Powers had proven himself of sharp mind and instincts as well. His battlefield analyses were always spot-on. "I'd like to know why you say that, Sir Powers."

  "So would I," Tassa agreed slowly, drawn back to the table and to Powers as if against her will.

  The Knight-Errant had carried over his own tall glass. He sipped at what looked like pale, iced coffee, and Raul could only guess what it really was. Setting his drink back to the table, Powers traced the smooth line of his chin with one finger. "I don't know as much as I'd like about the inner workings of the Steel Wolves. Kal Radick is much more a student of history than I am, and he seems to be truly invested in returning the faction toward true Clan Wolf traditions and ambitions. But I remember some of the history behind our expatriate Clan population, and I've been forced to learn a great deal more since the Blackout.

  "In the Clans," Powers continued slowly, as if dredging up each memory from deep inside, "a warrior is judged mainly on their own accomplishments, but they can also carry a heavy burden of shame or great expectations from previous generations. Star Colonel Torrent is more than a rising star among the Steel Wolves. He comes from Bloodname stock that is most revered among every Clan.

  Kerensky. General Aleksandr Kerensky led seventy . . . eighty percent of the Star League army into exile back in 2784. He was the Great Father to his son, Nicholas, the Founder of the Clans. Nicholas organized them into a warrior society unlike anything Humanity had ever seen.

  "A later descendant, Ulric Kerensky, led all the Clans at one point as their ilKhan-supreme war chief. His efforts on behalf of the Inner Sphere fractured Clan Wolf, although Katya Kerensky reconciled many of the outcasts when she joined Devlin Stone's reformation. And of course, the greatest outcast of them all was Natasha Kerensky-they called her the Black Widow and she was one of the greatest Mech Warriors and mercenary officers ever known to the Inner Sphere. She eventually returned to the Clans and was even elected saKhan of Clan Wolf for a time. To a martial people who believe that at thirty years of age you are looking past your prime, her sixty-year career is the stuff of legend."

  "You're saying that Torrent has a lot to live up to," Diago summed up in his usual sparse style.

  "Beyond the usual need to prove himself."

  Powers shrugged. "I'm saying that you should try to imagine yourself descended from Anastasias Focht or Victor Steiner-Davion. The son of Genghis Khan, Erwin Rommel, Michael Cameron, or Takashi Kurita. You start so close to the top, but it's also a very long fall if you miss."

  Major Chautec shook his head. "So we wait around for him to grow into his role as Dictator- General of the Inner Sphere? Or to prop up Kal Radick into that title? Maybe we should hit him with everything we have, now, and be done with him or us. What are we waiting for?"

  "Maybe we're waiting for the return of Devlin Stone," Raul said quietly to himself. Not quiet enough, though, as half the heads at the table swung around toward him. He hadn't realized until voicing the idea how strongly he believed in Stone's return. "Well, wasn't that the promise?" he asked the Knight. "When we need him, he will return?"

  "Ye-es," Powers agreed hesitantly. "But do we truly need him-or want him-to save us from our own weakness?" The Knight Errant gazed over Raul's head. "We need our father because we are afraid of the dark? I think Devlin Stone would be sorely disappointed."

  Raul had not considered such an argument, and found it compelling. But how much of that was the words, and how much the man behind them? And did it matter? Powers knew how to command, and he knew how to create alliances as well as friendships. Raul could see himself putting his trust in this man.

  Others were not so charitable. Major Chautec set his stein down hard on the table, wiped froth from his upper lip. "So we sit back and wait for Torrent to gnaw our bones clean and maybe choke on a splinter. Wonderful. Well, if he's going to scavenge among our forces, I say we should seriously think about returning the favor."

  "We do not need to," Tassa said. "Not in the same way, at least. Torrent's warriors are more than content to join our side, according to Star Commander Yulri."

  Raul's new drink sat untouched on the table. Yulri was the prisoner Tassa claimed out of the fallen Blackhawk. Raul remembered Powers' first meeting with the man, watching as Yulri all but swore his allegiance to the warrior who had bested him in combat.

  Powers had looked at a loss at the time, though now he showed no regret for having denied the man's petition without prejudice. "True. The taking of bondsmen is another tradition Kal Radick seems to have revived." Powers picked up his drink, but simply cradled it in his hands. "Eventually, such prisoners expect to earn their way back to warrior status. And there is no loss of honor. Yulri seems to believe that he belongs to you," he winked at Tassa. "But I'm not comfortable with the practice." He hesitated, just for a second. Then he continued, his voice strong, "In truth, I'm not entirely comfortable with giving the man over to you."

  Tassa responded to his blunt statement with an honest shrug. "Why not? I already have two Condor tank crews who are routinely assigned to me at their request. Are you concerned that I will start my own army and take Achernar with a bare lance of men?"

  "No. But such . . ." he trailed off, looking for the right word, "such recruits could do a great deal of damage if they decide to break against us at the wrong moment."

  Tassa scoffed. "I can keep them in line."

  "Yes, but will you put your Ryoken up as a bond on their loyalty?" The Knight Errant sat forward, suddenly very intent on the other MechWarrior. His gray eyes were sharp as splintered slate, and stared unblinking into Tassa's pause. From comrade to commander just that fast, Raul noted.

  "I will put myself up as a guarantee," Tassa finally said, rolling with the change. "The Ryoken goes where I go."

  "You're asking me to put a lot of faith in your word of honor, Tassa Kay. Do you have anyone who can vouchsafe your loyalty?"

  To her credit, Tassa never once looked in Raul's direction. Not a glance or even a partial shift in the line of her shoulders. But he felt the question that hung between them. Raul knew she waited for his decision, and his alone. "I will," he said, speaking up before he could think better of it or argue himself out of the gut-sense call.

  Powers raised an eyebrow. "You know Tassa Kay well enough for that, Captain Ortega?" The tone of his voice-a timbre of expectancy-made Raul think that Powers had been waiting for the junior MechWarrior to speak as well.

  "I don't know her at all, Sir Powers, except that she's about the best damned partner you could ask for in a battle. And if I can trust her with my back on the field, I can give her my support here." He shrugged, feeling the burden of Powers' judgment weighing on his shoulders. "And like she said, what can she really do with one lance?"

  Kyle Powers seemed less interested in Tassa Kay and more in Raul, as if he could measure the other man's depth of devotion and empathy in a single glance. "All right, Tassa Kay." The judgment came down slowly, and with almost ceremonial reverence. "You can have your man. But he does not get anything better than medium armor."

  "He will be a technician on my 'Mech for at least a week," she said, dismissing any concerns.

  She tugged at the dark forelock hanging down from her widow's peak. "Then maybe I will find him an infantry battlesuit."

  Raul shuddered, trying to imagine giving up his Legionnaire for one of the tinman suits enjoyed by ground soldiers. Now tha
t was desperation.

  Clark Diago thought so as well, though along another train of thought. "You're pretty trusting, giving the enemy access to your Ryoken."

  "I can use someone else with knowledge of cutting-edge technology to oversee repairs.

  Besides," she shrugged, rising, "I think we are all pretty trusting to give Sandoval access to our plans and stockpiles." She threw down the last of her drink, then set the glass on the table and used it to hold down her bar payment of crumpled bills. Without another word she left, gracefully weaving among tables and scattered chairs on a path toward the O-club door.

  Most of the men watched her departure. More used to Tassa's cryptic personality, Raul shrugged it aside. Moreover, the same uneasy feeling had plagued him as well, ever since the staff briefing on Powers' arrival. How could the militia embrace one wayward faction even while fighting off another? "She's right," he said, then asked the question out loud for the opinions of the others.

  "The Swordsworn aren't acting nearly as predatory as the Steel Wolves," Chautec said. Then, hedging, he added, "Yet."

  "Enemy of our enemy," Jeffrey McDaniels said with a casual shrug. "It's not like we're going to suddenly side with Aaron Sandoval when this is all over."

  Powers offered nothing at all, staring at the table but obviously alert to the conversation. Raul pressed forward. "But we are choosing sides," he pointed out. "With all due respect, Sir Powers, we've given the Swordsworn legitimacy, and I'm not so certain that's a good thing."

  The Knight-Errant glanced up. A shadow of doubt flickered in his gray eyes just for a second, enough for Raul to be sure it had been there, and then was suppressed. The MechWarrior felt certain he had been meant to see it.

  "I'm not so certain either, Raul." Powers voice betrayed nothing of his own doubts, though. He had made his decision, and was standing by it. "It's a terrible answer to a worse question, though. And the Swordsworn have helped keep Achernar free, haven't they?"

  Raul stood, abandoned his melting margarita. "No sir," he said with a sad shake of his head. "I think they were just here first."

  He gave the Knight and then Major Chautec a respectful nod, and clapped Jeffrey on the shoulder as he stepped away and followed Tassa's path to the door. He paused there to look back.

  Powers already had the table turned back toward an upbeat mood, encouraging Jeffrey McDaniels to recount another tale. The Knight Errant glanced his way, once, and saluted him with a noncommittal nod. Raul pushed his way outside.

  Tassa waited, standing in a large patch of evening shade, letting the dry, evening breeze tug at her dark red hair. Somehow Raul had been certain he'd catch up with her, though she looked surprised to see him. "Not staying for the party?"

  "You know," he said, answering her in a roundabout way, "you have a knack for throwing water on other people's fire."

  Tassa shrugged, not agreeing or not caring. Likely the latter. "I need to get Yulri out of dock

  Can you give me a hand?"

  "It's going to take Sir Powers's authority, likely countersigned by Colonel Blaire, to do that."

  Raul shook his head. "No way he'll get to it before morning, so relax, Tassa."

  Hands on her hips and a jaunty tilt to her head, Tassa swung around to regard Raul with a poisoned stare. "You do not like the idea of freeing the prisoner either, do you?" She quickly doused her flare of temper, though. "Still don't trust me?"

  Raul shrugged. "I don't know you," he said. "But I'm trying."

  "Yes. Sometimes you are very trying."

  If that wasn't theAtlas calling the Jupiter overpowered . . . Raul shrugged, stared up into the pale blue sky. Achernar's evenings were often mild and beautiful. Only a touch of the day's heat remained. He suddenly doubted his decision to walk out on the O-club, but wasn't about to go back inside. "You know," he said with hesitant strength, gaining momentum as he talked, "it's still early, and I left my third drink sitting on the table."

  "What of it?" Tassa Kay asked warily.

  Another brief itch of guilt, which Raul ignored, having pushed this far already. "So, I have a bottle of whiskey stashed in my room," he told her. "It's not reserve label, but it's true Glengarry stock."

  Tassa considered it for all of ten seconds. "One condition. None of this ridiculous four drink limit."

  He doubted that Tassa missed him wince at the headache he'd have in the morning, but nodded anyway. "Deal," he agreed.

  And Raul would deal with whatever the Fates had in mind for him tomorrow, he promised. Just so long as they didn't call a military alert this evening.

  12 - Bait and Switch

  Sirens' Pass

  Achernar

  1 March 3133

  The last high peaks of the Tanager Mountains, the ones that anchored the short march down toward the Taibek Hills, had swallowed Achernar's sun not quite an hour before. A pale sky hung over valleys and narrow clefts now being drowned in shadow. Sirens' Pass, the last-or the first-major break in the Tanagers, which faded down into the B'her farming valley, swam in an artificial twilight.

  The perfect place for an ambush.

  Erik Sandoval-Groell waited with his forces inside the lower pass, hands sweat-slick on his Hatchetman's dead control sticks. Reaching into the storage under his seat, he fished out a pair of neoleather gloves and pulled them on with determined tugs. Better. He wouldn't let anything betray him here. Not damp hands, and certainly not second thoughts. Five days before he had set himself to watching for a chance to ratchet up tensions between the Steel Wolves and the Republic forces on Achernar. Now was that time. There was no turning back.

  Outside, a violent wind cut through the pass, howling and wailing as it brushed past the dark shafts that were an old Taibek Mining venture. The mine openings were such an obvious ambush site that Erik had ordered them left clear. Five MiningMech conversions and his own BattleMech crouched against cold rock, concealed on precarious ledges or half buried in ancient tailings. They would hit first.

  And soon.

  Through his sweating ferroglass shield, Erik watched as Steel Wolf infantry concluded their sweep of the first few shaft entrances, calling them clear and scrambling to the next set of dark openings even as the main patrol worked their way down out of the knife-edged Tanager Mountains. A converted ForestryMech led the way, flanked by two JES strategic missile carriers. A line of supply and support vehicles trailed behind them in column formation, ready to rape the B'her valley agrocombines of foodstock and machinery, and at sound military positions several infantry carriers and light armor paced the column.

  The JES's slowed a bit, no doubt on alert with magres imaging throwing back so many metal-lode returns. Ore, abandoned dump carts, an old drilling rig-there was too much clutter for them to read solid outlines and Erik's forces had been in place long enough for thermal shadows to cool on everything except his Hatchetman's fusion engine. That took them several critical seconds.

  He saw the carriers finally react to his presence, accelerating forward and swiveling their turrets against his position. Trembling with pent-up adrenaline, Erik banked the BattleMech's fusion fires to life, checked that he was selected to force-wide comms and ordered, "Now, hit them now!"

  Priorities had been assigned earlier. His quartet of missile-equipped conversions rained fire and destruction down on the lead ForestryMech, Erik not wanting to take any chances against the design.

  His ultra-class autocannon hammered out eighty-mil slugs at double any normal rate of fire, chewing through armor with good-sized bites as the ForestryMech raced for the cover of a large pile of tailings.

  Erik's final IndustrialMech conversion ended the Steel Wolf Mech's flight, spending its banked capacitor charge through a power amplifier to light off a large laser. A ruby beam stuttered a half- powered lance into the ForestryMech's left arm, severing the autocannon at its elbow joint. The modified IndustrialMech toppled awkwardly, crashed to the valley floor, and skid out of sight behind the tailings.

  Standing the Hatchetm
an up from its crouch, Erik called for his infantry and armor as blossoms of fire erupted all around him. The JES carriers peppered his location with long-ranged missiles, throwing enough ordnance up-slope to trigger a possible rockslide. Erik rode out the jostling, trusting the regenerative feedback loop created between his neurohelmet and the Hatchetman's massive gyroscopic stabilizer to keep him upright, then throttled forward into a careful down-slope walk. His autocannon barked out more hot metal, and the torso-mounted extended-range laser stabbed several megajoules of scarlet energy into the lead Big Jess carrier. Not enough to do any real damage. Didn't have to be.

  While dismissing the mine shaft entrances from his earlier plans, what Erik had counted on was that the infantry would miss the blind draw-a narrow cleft in the pass's south wall which opened up into a fair-sized canyon, and inside which he had hidden a heavy complement of armored vehicles.

  A pair of SM1 Destroyers barreled out of the blind canyon, leading Erik's flanking charge as they struck into the forward head of the column. Long licks of fire and smoke burst from their assault- class autocannons, ripping into a Joust tracked vehicle that lay directly in their path. The Joust's engine erupted, bursting the side armor and blowing the turret skyward on a column of greasy fire. The scrapped mass of metal fell hard on the side of one SM1, grounding its skirt in a long, dragging scrape.

  It rebounded, and both Destroyers wheeled over to race for the rear of the column, spending thousands of rounds into lightly armored support vehicles on their way.