"But they destroyed Turtle Bay," said Masters. "They used atomics."
"In their opinion, the civilians of Turtle Bay deserved it. The Clans believed they were defending themselves after they had already won. A civilian is never allowed to raise a hand to a warrior in Clan society."
Thomas started to say, "Well, I am not a Clansman—"
Arian cut him off. "Not yet. Not yet. But I see potential in you." He added quickly,"I do not mean that as a fault. Not completely. There is much to admire about the Clans." Everyone at the table looked at him. "It's true that I hate them for destroying so much of what I loved. But they had their laws, their principles, their ideals, and they lived by them. Tell me, Captain-General, is it easy to live by strict laws?"
"Not at all."
"No. Because sometimes we must do what our hearts tell us we must not."
"Yes."
"I do not think the Clans wanted to destroy Turtle Bay. I think they were very confused when the civilians refused to surrender. But they had their laws, and the laws must be followed, or the price paid. Think about this, Captain-General, as you lead your Knights of the Inner Sphere." Arian stood. "May we have safe passage back to the Old City?"
"Of course," Thomas said with a wave of his hand. He stared down at the wooden table, lost in thought. Then he looked at Arian. "Precentor Martial?"
"Yes?"
"Your 'Mechs already have hold of the city. By remaining in it, you will have an excellent defensive position."
"And if you come for us, and there is a fight, Portent will be flattened."
"Exactly."
Precentor Starling smiled. "Good for us, bad for you. I don't think your ideals will allow you to take such an action, eh, Marik?"
"Precentor Martial, I am told the Clans invaded cities, in complete contrast with our traditions."
"That is true."
"Did they want to do it, or was that also a decision foisted on them by the defenders?"
Now it was Arian's turn to look down. "I don't believe they wanted to, actually. I know the press said otherwise, that it was in their blood to attack cities, but . . ." He paused.
"Yes," Thomas prodded softly.
"They had no choice. We chose to defend from the cities. We dug our 'Mechs in. They had to come get us." Arian's voice cracked slightly. "I don't think they would have . . . You know, the thing is, I didn't think they'd try it. That was the thing. I didn't think they'd try to dig us out." He raised his eyes to Thomas, and the two of them stared intently at each other.
"I may have to study these Clans more closely," said Thomas.
"You may," answered Arian.
"I can't let you, the countess, Hsiang—simply take over a planet."
"I know."
"I will come for you and your 'Mechs."
Arian touched his shoulder once more. He swayed a bit, and Masters almost thought he was drunk. "You won't have to."
"What?" Starling exclaimed.
Arian turned to him. "You heard him. He'll come for us. We won't dig in. We'll fight on the plains."
"That's absurd," said the countess. "We have him. He can't succeed."
"I won't take that chance. The people of Portent deserve better."
"I insist we hold our position," Starling said.
"Sir, I am in charge of our forces, and I will make military decisions as I see fit. At the moment it's an even battle. When the Regulan 'Mechs show up, we'll outnumber the Knights of the Inner Sphere. We can wait in the city until they arrive, because Sir Masters would rather not fight in the city." He looked at Thomas, and Thomas nodded.
"But once the Regulan 'Mechs arrive he'll be forced into action. He cannot afford to let the Regulan 'Mechs into the city, and he'll charge them as they cross the plain toward Portent. At that time we will also charge and flank the Knights. We will win, but we will not fight in the city."
Before anyone else could speak, he left.
Starling ran after him, then the countess and Hsiang got up and followed more slowly.
"Your people, I believe, have my 'Mech," Masters said to Deraa. "I'd like to have it back."
"Of course, Sir Masters." Deraa got up from the table, and Roush followed him toward the cargo bay door.
"I can't believe he said he'd clear the city," Maid Kris said, almost to herself.
"He is a good man," answered Thomas. "I don't think he's seen his fill of war. Just certain kinds of war."
She stood, her eyes set on a distant thought, and left without a word.
When everyone was out of earshot, Masters said to Thomas, "Sir, the Precentor Martial is correct. When the Word of Blake 'Mechs are combined with the Regulan 'Mechs, they will outnumber us."
"Yes. I know."
"Something is happening between Deraa and Roush," he said to Thomas. From here they could see Deraa and Roush in silhouette, standing together at the doors leading outside. They were arguing—or rather Roush was arguing, and Deraa was letting him. Then Deraa laughed, threw his hands up at Roush and walked off.
"Yes."
"Do you . . . ?"
"I have no idea. I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
"Are you all right?"
"Not really. It's not every day one has one's ideal plan compared to the blueprint of monsters."
"The Clans may not be monsters."
Thomas smiled ruefully. "But it is so good to have monsters around. They let one feel so much better about oneself."
* * *
Later, Masters traveled with Deraa in an AT out into the farmlands. The stars shone clearly, and he thought of all the people on all the worlds circling all the stars. Once no one had lived on any world other than Terra. That idea always startled him. Humanity had worked so hard to get where it was, had overcome so many difficulties. But humanity was still its own worst enemy. There seemed to be no easy way around that. After Arian had compared them to the Clans, the ideal plan he and Thomas had concocted seemed dangerous now.
Deraa informed him that Regulan technicians had repaired the 'Mech and it was, from what he understood, ready to go. This information worried Masters. Had it been sabotaged? "No, no," Deraa laughed, "They were planning to use it. It's fine."
The Phoenix Hawk stood ready and waiting in a clearing amid a forest of Gibson's great trees.
Masters stripped down to his cooling vest and shorts, climbed the rungs, and slipped into the cockpit. It had been more than two weeks since he'd last sat inside his 'Mech, and the command couch felt good against his flesh. Correct. His. He had his controls and he knew how to use them. But then he remembered Spinard, and knew he had to be careful. True life remained outside the 'Mech. The Phoenix Hawk was a tool and not his life. Could that be the difference between him and a Clan warrior? Did they have lives outside of fighting? If he were ever to meet a Clansman one day, his questions might be answered.
He fitted the neurohelmet over his head, pressed the sensors in place, and started the 'Mech's engines. He looked down to wave at Deraa, but the man was already gone. Then he spotted the AT moving deeper into the woods. Masters thought briefly about following to see if he could discover the meaning of the man's mysterious grin at Roush during the meeting, but he knew there was no way to shadow someone in a 'Mech.
He had a long walk ahead of him, and had to beat the Regulans back to Portent. He pushed the throttle forward and began to make his way through the forest.
* * *
Thomas decided it was more important to set the battlefield according to their strengths and weaknesses. The Knights moved out of the starport, despite its value, and took up positions on the plain. Three days had passed since the summit. It was now morning, and Gibson's chill night air had given way to a warm breeze. The Knights' BattleMechs were arrayed around the plain like a manmade mirror of the giant, yellow forests in the distance.
Scouts reported that the Regulan 'Mechs were closing.
At the feet of the 'Mechs walked Techs, Mech-Warriors, and staff, still continuing the fin
al checks on ammunition and energy supplies.
Masters looked around for Maid Kris, whom he had not seen since the day before. Indeed, it seemed that no one from the GFL was present. They must have taken seriously Thomas' statement that they would not participate.
Soon trumpets began to blare, signaling the approach of the Regulans. All around the massive encampment the Knights ran to their 'Mechs.
An intense energy ran through the Knights, though no one put the feeling into words.
It would not be an easy battle, but as Masters climbed up his 'Mech, it occurred to him that it had been years since he'd experienced the kinship that had sprung up among the Knights in the last three days. For years the MechWarrior had become more and more a well-trained tool, put into a 'Mech to move a weapons platform around. But no more. These men and woman were the elite, skilled warriors chosen by Thomas Marik to work together. He treated them with a respect that had been lost in the rush for body counts and statistics.
His own dark concerns about the odds lightened as he settled into his Phoenix Hawk. They might be outnumbered 'Mech to 'Mech, but it was still the individual pilot that mattered. And as it stood, they had the Word of Blake and Regulus 'Mechs completely outclassed.
Masters looked over to Thomas, who was making his way slowly and methodically up his Archer. He wished his friend didn't feel compelled to enter the combat, but he saw little likelihood of arguing him out of it. Last night Thomas had told him simply, "This is the way it is done."
When Thomas reached the Archer's cockpit, he looked over to Masters and shouted, "Beautiful morning, eh?"
Masters looked around. It was a beautiful morning, the sky a perfect, thin blue. In the distance the massive yellow forests. To the north, the sprawling metropolis of Portent, with the Old Walls still tall and impenetrable. He called back,"Yes, a fine morning."
"It would be a shame for you not to see it through to sunset. Don't die on me, Sir Masters."
"Nor you on me, Captain-General."
"Excellent! Now that we've promised to live through the fight, I suppose it's time to start." Thomas stepped into the cockpit and pulled the hatch shut.
Masters reached out to shut the hatch of his own 'Mech, thinking, How can I die today? But even if I do, we'll live on in memory as people tell the story over and over again of the glorious idiocy of our idealistic goals.
* * *
Masters punched up his long-range screen, which showed him two Regulan lances making their way toward Portent from the north end of the plain. He opened a frequency that could be picked up by both sides. "Colonel Roush," he said.
"Yes, Masters," Roush sounded annoyed.
"I salute you, sir."
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."
Flipping back to the Marik channel, Masters heard Thomas saying, "This is Archer One. God speed, my knights. Masters' Lance, Vern's Lance, Sequord's Lance, take the Regulan approach." From the south the Word of Blake 'Mechs began to pour out of Portent. "All other lances follow me toward the Word of Blake line."
With that the 'Mechs of both sides, dozens of them, charged one another.
24
Plains of Portent, Gibson
Principality of Gibson, Free Worlds League
3 March 3055
Masters had Knights Gainard, Sullivan, and Osaka in his lance. As their 'Mechs ran across the plain, he said, "Let's keep the shots tight on the targets I pick. We've got to reduce their numbers as quickly as possible, and that means concentrating fire from the start."
"Phoenix Hawk One, this is Vulcan Three. I've got a Word of Blake lance coming in."
"All right, they're going to try to support. Let's go for the biggest 'Mech in the bunch."
On his monitor, Masters saw the 'Mechs charging toward them as miniature machines only about fifteen centimeters tall. But they quickly grew in size as the two fronts rushed toward each other. He gripped his joystick and brought the cross hairs over the distant targets. The lock numbers flashed on and off as he tried to align the cross hairs. Chatter began filling the headset, low voices from other lances. "All right, Masters' Lance, I spy a Word of Blake Ostroc that I want gone. It's coded Blue Five on the screen."
"Check."
"Check."
"All, right. Got it."
Masters punched up a computer outline of the Mech's configuration on his display, then said, "It's got almost everything loaded in the torso. Let's keep slamming that until it collapses."
He dropped the cross hairs toward the Ostroc, and found the shot blocked momentarily by a Regulan Firestarter. The Blake and Regulan 'Mechs seemed to be maneuvering into each other's way. Even though they had the numbers, it didn't look as if they were going to work well together. "They're bunching up. Fine. We'll take the shots. If you hit anything in front of the target, that'll do for now."
His finger hovered around the blue thumb button, which was now configured for his large laser. He held the joystick as steadily as possible, the lock numbers slipping in and out.
And then the cross hairs glowed bright yellow. As Masters squeezed down on the trigger, a bright red flash of energy shot out of the massive pistol in his Phoenix Hawk's right hand. The laser bolt slammed into the Ostroc's chest. It was the first shot of the battle, but it sparked a quick succession of shots from both sides. Large lasers fired orange and red beams between the two forces, cutting so thick through the air that it was soon impossible to determine which beams were going which way.
Then long-range missiles, grouped in packs of five, ten, and fifteen, shot across the distance between the 'Mechs, from Marik to Word of Blake and Regulus, and from Blake and Regulus back. Their smoky trails arced through the air like dark rainbows.
Some missiles crashed into the ground, ripping up huge craters of dirt. Other missiles and lasers slammed into 'Mechs, ripping armor from legs, arms, heads, and torsos.
Masters felt the Phoenix Hawk's heat rise markedly after his large laser shot. Still, even combined with full acceleration, his heat sinks could dissipate all the excess heat as long as he didn't fire. Rather than risk burning his 'Mech out, he decided to wait the few moments it would take for the heat to drop down to safe levels.
Meanwhile, Gainard, Sullivan, and Osaka all took their shots at the Ostroc. The shots all hit true, four long-range missiles and two autocannon shells. The Ostroc's front torso turned charcoal black as the blasts ripped off the first layer of armor and dug deep into the 'Mech's core.
A series of blasts rocked Masters"Mech and threw him back and forth, his body straining against the straps. Seeing smoke billow out from the Phoenix Hawk's right shoulder, he was about to check his damage display when he saw another five-pack of long-range missiles coming toward him. Their arcs brought them in on dead strikes to the same arm.
Masters pressed the green thumb trigger and his anti-missile system kicked in, sending a spray of small shells out around his 'Mech. The shells smacked into the missiles, sending them off course or detonating them in the air.
He punched another button and the heat gauge popped up on the screen. The situation wasn't great, 20 percent higher than was safe, but he wanted that Ostroc. Bringing up the cross hairs, he got a lock almost immediately; very little room remained between the two clashing sides. He squeezed the blue button again, and once more the large laser fired into the Ostroc's chest. The other Mech Warriors in his lance immediately followed up his shot with autocannon and laser fire. A fiery red explosion ripped through the Ostroc's chest.
"He's up but useless," shouted Gainard.
"All right. Let's move along to another target!"
A laser blast flashed just outside Masters' cockpit, and warning lights for his right arm blinked on and off. Punching up his status display, he saw that the anti-missile system had been rendered inoperable.
"Down the missile defense," he noted for the group.
Osaka came on. "I've almost—" There came the sound of static, and then he continued, "I've lost my right missile launcher.
"
"Noted. Let's keep it tight."
The two sides loomed up at each other, now passing within meters. Seeing a chance to get a good hook in at a Word of Blake Wasp, Masters sent the Phoenix Hawk's left hand smashing into the small 'Mech's cockpit. As the Wasp wobbled slightly, Masters stopped short and spun his 'Mech around. At such exceedingly close range he found an easy shot on the Wasp's back and pulled his red finger trigger. Red bolts from his medium pulse laser and two short-range missiles rushed out of his 'Mech's arms and slammed into the Wasp's back, shredding its back torso armor all the way to the interior. Then he rushed forward to get behind the Wasp and finish it off.
Shocks from missile and cannon blasts rocked his 'Mech as he moved, but none of the shots seemed to go deep. The Wasp, aware that Masters was coming for him, turned around quickly and brought up its arms to fire.
Past the Wasp, Masters saw Gainard battling a Centurion.
"Gainard?"
"Masters, great to hear from you."
"There's a Wasp at your three, butt-naked on the back."
"Check."
The Wasp raised its medium laser and fired nearly point-blank into the Phoenix Hawk's chest. The beam cut armor, but didn't go internal. On the other side Gainard's Vulcan whirled and fired its large pulse laser into the Wasp's back. The Wasp's motions came to a complete stop, it teetered for a moment, then fell over.
"Nicely done," Masters said.
"Wouldn't have happened without your help, sir."
He looked down at the screen and saw Osaka and Sullivan being attacked by two Wolverines. "Sullivan? Osaka? Are you clear?"
"Get here as soon as you can, sir," Sullivan said.
The Centurion fired into Gainard's Vulcan, and sent sparks running up and down the Vulcan's left arm. Masters targeted the Centurion, and pushed the blue thumb burton. The large laser beam glanced off the Centurion's torso, doing little damage, but grabbing its attention. It immediately turned toward Masters' Phoenix Hawk.
"Damn," he said, then slapped the configuration switch to make the blue button trigger the large laser and both pulse lasers. Ignoring the heat buildup he thumbed the trigger again. The pulse beams hit, but the large laser went wide.
Ideal War Page 21