Only two pictures had been hung on the walls. One was a shot of her first BattleMech, an old ZEU-6S Zeus, with Nondi as a young lieutenant standing atop one metal-shod foot. The other was a glamour painting of Katrina Steiner, Nondi's young niece and the Archon of the Lyran Alliance. Though Katrina was a Steiner-Davion by name and ruler of the Federated Suns as well, to Nondi's way of thinking Katrina would always be a Steiner first and proud champion of the Lyran state.
As evidenced by the holographic message ComStar had recently delivered by priority routing.
Katrina's face filled the three-dimensional viewer, the close-up so lifelike that Nondi could pick out the actual brush strokes of the light touch of blue shadow applied to Katrina's eyelids. Her long, gold-blond hair hung in a thick braid over her right shoulder. Ice blue eyes, hard and penetrating, stared out from the screen. It was almost as if Katrina was in the room, though the message had originated half a day prior and hundreds of light years away.
"I have already ordered the Com Guard Fifty-sixth Division off Solaris, preventing my brother from using them to win a public relations coup by quelling the riots. It would be just his way, using an ostentatious display of force to command the situation. All under the pretense of keeping the peace"—Katrina's tight-lipped frown deepened—"though seen and trumpeted by his supporters as a successful challenge to my rule."
That could not be allowed to happen—not on a Lyran world! Nondi had little use for Victor Davion, to the point that she refused him the honor of his mother's maiden name.
Katrina's message continued. "I had hoped that our forces on planet and the Silesia stables could restore order on their own, but many of my missives to the stable owners have gone undelivered or perhaps even ignored." Katrina's eyes tightened at the idea of being slighted.
But worse, Nondi knew, was the fact that Katrina had no direct control over the situation. She was currently on New Avalon occupying the throne she had assumed during Victor's long absence from the Inner Sphere, unable to return to the Lyran Alliance.
"The riots have turned into a bloody conflict, covered by some of the most prominent journalists of the entire Inner Sphere, and the unrest is spreading to other worlds via these reports and news footage. I will not have this in my realm! Circumstances force me to remain here on New Avalon, ready to deal with any move on my brother's part to reclaim the throne, so I expect you to safeguard my people of the Alliance. Put an end to the riots, dear Aunt, and make an example of those responsible. By whatever means necessary."
The image winked out in an eyeblink, at first leaving a fathomless darkness on the holovid monitor that was quickly replaced by the Lyran Alliance crest. Nondi leaned forward eagerly, pulling a glass touch pad from its slot just under the marble desktop. The facsimile of a keyboard had been etched into the glass. As she stabbed at the keys, the Lyran crest dissolved, and her monitor came to life with new data.
Displayed before her was the table of organization and equipment of the Lyran Alliance Armed Forces. The simplest move was to send forces from the Freedom Theater roster. But whom to send? This mission couldn't be trusted to a unit of less than certain loyalty to Katrina. The threat was too great. Solaris VII had always been a problem waiting to happen. That the disaster should come now, when public sentiment was building for Katrina's dethroned brother, was timing of the worst possible order. Small hints of unrest had even surfaced here on Tharkad—Tharkad, for the love of the Archon!—with the underground tabloid The Federated Son stirring the normally calm waters.
Scanning the data before her, Nondi searched out the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards, the only unit based near Solaris that Nondi emphatically trusted. The unit, however, was currently on Wyatt and a few lights years too distant to make a timely arrival. Katrina wanted— needed—the riots stopped before the flames of unrest burst into the uncontrollable fire of civil war.
Nondi silently cursed her own lack of foresight. Why hadn't she garrisoned Solaris VII with Lyran troops?
Falling back to her second tier of choices, she came upon a stroke of good fortune. The Thirty-second Lyran Guards were currently garrisoned on New Kyoto, with one battalion just returning from training exercises on Hyde in the Cavannaugh Theater. Her sources labeled the Thirty-second as neutral in any possible power struggle between Victor and Katrina, but under the command of Leutenant-General Gustav Van Buren, Nondi would worry less. Gustav was old-school Lyran and could be counted upon for sterling advice. And his troops were green. Hardly the kind to upset the chain of command by going rogue, and perhaps idealistic enough to turn the situation around on Solaris VII.
What truly tipped the scales was the fact that they were due to arrive back in the New Kyoto system in six hours. That placed them already at a jump point, saving the six days of travel time it would normally take to get there from a planet's surface. Nondi would order the unit to commandeer a ready JumpShip, to which they would transfer their DropShip and travel to Solaris near instantaneously. Because the Solaris system was so well traveled, there would be any number of known intermediary jump points at which to arrive, further saving travel time.
"Thirty-six hours," she said aloud, figuring up the total travel time. "I can have them on the ground in thirty-six hours." Her voice echoed off the barren walls of the office, a reminder of the solitude that came with high command. But it was all for the good of the Lyran people. Her people, and Katrina's.
One battalion might not be enough to put down the fighting, not when any given stable could call upon almost as many 'Mechs. Nondi would back them up with the Seventeenth Arcturan shortly after the Thirty-second's arrival. In the meantime, Leutnant-General Van Buren could do what Nondi needed done, the thing about which Katrina was most adamant. Make an example of those responsible.
"A fire needs heat, fuel, and oxygen," Nondi said to herself. "Remove one component, and the others are harmless. That is what I will do. Send Gustav and the Thirty-second to smother the fuel source.
"To crush the forces hiding in the Black Hills."
Ashes Ashes All fall down ...
17
Star League Park, International Zone
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance
19 August 3062
The Star League Park, a wide expanse of grounds in the International Zone, had once been a rare island of calm and beauty in an otherwise gray and oppressive cityscape. Filled with trees and flowering plants that thrived in terminally wet environments, the place was a riot of color year round, making the gardens one of the few Solaris tourist attractions not centered around the arenas. An extensive network of roofed walkways allowed access to all areas of the park in any weather, while covered cook-out grills and picnic tables were set up for those who wanted to spend the whole day in peaceful respose. No betting terminals here. No monuments to past Champions or favorite BattleMech designs. Just a place to restore body and soul.
But not anymore.
Michael Searcy walked his Pillager through the destruction left by the battle that had occurred here earlier that day. He passed shattered walkways, fire-gutted alcoves, and trees toppled or uprooted. He saw crushed flower beds, lawns torn up by the lumbering tread of BattleMechs, and armor fragments glittering silver among the wet greenery. He came upon amputated 'Mech limbs and an odd assortment of blasted-off equipment, which marked the path of the running battle. Every so often he even encountered the corpse of a fallen BattleMech, the once-powerful machine now a monument to the violence that had claimed Solaris City. At least until the salvage crews arrived.
The battle had begun just south of the river in the Black Hills district, the Thirty-second Guard engaging a joint force of Starlight and Overlord Stables—Federated Suns and Lyran!—working together. The hard fighting had leveled two city blocks and killed both the Thirty-second Guard commander and his Atlas. With the loss of their commanding officer, the Lyrans had retreated south to the International Zone, a path that took them directly into the Star Lea
gue Park. From the evidence, Michael counted no less than three rear-guard actions, all failed.
Why Overlord Stables had sided against the regular Alliance troops, Michael still didn't know. Had the Overlord 'Warriors defected? Had Karl returned with this force? With the discovery of each new 'Mech corpse, Michael dreaded the possibility that it might be Karl's Cestus.
Along with the story of this battle, Michael now understood why the Guard force that had attacked the Black Hills earlier today was smaller than predicted. No one doubted that the unit would be spoiling for Davion blood or that they didn't know that the Black Hills base was in Boreal Reach arena. From the moment news came of their landing, Michael had been expecting an attack by the full battalion.
Instead of coming at him directly, however, two Guard lances and armor support had first paraded through the Black Hills, laying waste to streets and property with no regard for the occupants. Or even whether the neighborhood might be a supporter of Katrina Steiner. Julian Nero had characterized the unit as a neutral force here to enforce martial law, but they weren't acting like it. Michael and his people had beat them back.
He tread far more carefully now, wary of the people who still huddled under the roofed walks or wandered the grounds in shock at what they'd witnessed. A few, however, were snapping pictures, while others shot footage with holocams. News crews were also on the scene, probably arriving on the heels of the paramedics. The reporters had people climbing up onto fallen BattleMechs to pose while giving interviews, though Michael wondered what more there was to say amid the devastation.
He noticed the accusatory glares some of the civilians threw him. They seemed to know who he was, which was no surprise. Who wouldn't recognize Stormin' Michael Searcy after the way the media had hyped his involvement in the struggle? The hostile stares made him feel ashamed even though none of this was his fault.
Isn't it? Karl's voice whispered at the back of Michael's mind.
The swath of destruction continued to the southern edge of the park, where it broke through another thick stand of trees and continued into the International Zone's administrative district just beyond. Most of the ferrocrete buildings were still standing, though none had escaped unscathed. The Council Hall, however, was a pile of rubble, collapsed into a mess of brick and plaster. One fluted marble column still stood a lonely sentry, holding up a small piece of what had once been a marvelous marble and granite overhang. Michael waded into the ruin, then stopped short at the sight of the General Court building, half of which was piled in the street like some improbable snowdrift.
Half buried in the rubble, lying on its back, was Karl's Cestus.
An emptiness welled up in the pit of Michael's stomach. Though the comet-and-stars insignia of Starlight Stables was partially hidden by debris, the Mech's blue and silver color scheme was Starlight all the way. And on the lower right leg, half-covered by the spill of bricks, was the crest of Solaris VII—a torch held aloft in a 'Mech's hand. Karl, one of the few Solaran natives who'd worked his way up in the games, was the only Starlight 'Warrior who displayed that crest.
The upper half of the Cestus also protruded from the spill, mangled almost beyond recognition. Armor had been breached in several places, and a mess of half-scorched myomer musculature hung from its right side. The right shoulder was similarly ruined, with a half-melted actuator visible through a large rent. The 'Mech's rounded cockpit crest had caved in over several places, and the ferroglass canopy itself had been punctured. From the looks of it, by light autocannon fire.
Approaching slowly, he thought about his last meeting with Karl, and how he hadn't even returned his friend's goodbye! He hadn't dreamed that it might be a final farewell, but what did that matter now? Standing over the Cestus, Michael got a look into the 'Mech's cockpit. Empty! A small hope blossomed that maybe Karl had gotten out alive, perhaps recovered by his own forces or taken prisoner.
Because he'd been expecting the whole battalion to attack, Michael had been forced to pull in his sentry 'Mechs to be ready for the assault. If not for that, he might have been alerted to Karl's return and been on hand to guard his friend's back. Whose call had that been, his or Drew Hasek-Davion's? Was Michael really calling the shots or was Karl right in saying he was little more than a puppet on a string?
Misting rain dropped a soft gray shroud over Solaris City, and tiny rivulets beaded down his cockpit canopy. Standing in the ruins, shaken by the sight of his one true friend's ruined 'Mech, Michael knew that Karl had been right about one thing for sure. This wasn't a game. Not anymore.
This was about as real as it could get.
* * *
The overhead florescents were dark. The only lighting in Michael's office came from the wall screen that switched between different channels at irregular intervals. He sat slumped in a chair, one hand rubbing at the side of his face and the other cradling a remote with his thumb poised over the channel-changer. A feather-touch blackened the screen, throwing the room into complete darkness for a split second before the next station came up.
In a way, it reminded him of his fight against Victor Vandergriff in the Coliseum, but now it was bright snatches of holovid reports that periodically lit up the shadows. DARK. Then—Tanya Oshia of the Kobe Information Network rained down scathing indictments against Garrett for his headhunter tactics. The body count of Kobe Mech Warriors fallen to the Smoke Jaguar renegade had mounted to eleven. "The intentional destruction of the Dragon Arch, the gateway to Kobe, is just one more casualty in the Clan warrior's pogrom against anything Combine-related, and—"
DARK. Then—". . . about what the point spread suggested would happen." The bookmaking channel. Clips of battle footage bought, borrowed or lifted from the regular news channels played out in silence as the hidden announcer continued to cover the betting. A scrolling tape at the bottom of the screen showed the payoffs on today's favorite wagers. "Tomorrow's favorites so far cover a new drive from Montenegro across the Solaris River and deep into Cathay, with four-to-one guaranteeing they reach the Jungle. Eight gets you three if a Kobe Mech Warrior manages to put down Garrett, the Smoking Jaguar. Eight returning five if they kill him. Any Silesia-Black Hills match-up pays even money for now. If you plan to wager on a better tomorrow, the odds might give you an incredible return when considering that today we—"
Another feather-touch to the channel tab, and DARK. Then—". . . found Stormin' Michael Searcy at the site of this afternoon's defeat of the Thirty-second Lyran Guard." Mason Wells, the old handicapper himself, was framed against a shot of Michael's Pillager moving through the Star League Park. "The Lyran assault caused an estimated fourteen million D-Bills in damage to the Black Hills. The cost in lives lost is still being tallied. Searcy's Pillager, the same 'Mech used in the interrupted Coliseum match against Victor Vandergriff, shows remarkably little damage after such a brutal engagement, which only testifies—"
That Michael hadn't been there for the fighting! He stabbed at the feather-touch contact again, switching stations.
The next two channels, Solaris Broadcasting Corporation affiliates, were off the air. A test pattern ran in their place.
"There is no such thing as bad publicity," a voice said from somewhere behind Michael, startling him. "At least, not on Solaris VII."
Glancing back over his shoulder, Michael saw Drew Hasek-Davion silhouetted in the open office door. "I wasn't even there for the fight," he said, voice low. "Yet every station has segued from that fight to me, as if trying to tie me to it."
Drew moved further into the room. Against the flickering shades of gray as the picture changed on the wall screen, he looked washed out in his light-colored suit. "You are a leader, Michael. I've told you that from the beginning."
"You told me a lot of things," Michael said, leaving the rest of his thought hanging unspoken in the air: Not all of them true.
"I told you that Karl Edward was jealous and would betray you when the time was right. He knew two days ago that Starlight Stables was bringing the b
ulk of its warriors over from their west coast facility. He knew it when you and he argued here in this room, but he never told you."
Michael couldn't help glancing about suspiciously. Was the office bugged? Or had Garrett been outside the entire time, then gone to report back to his master? "I wouldn't listen," he said, defending Karl.
"You believe he would have told you that a combined force from Starlight and Overlord Stables meant to take control of the Black Hills? To take control away from you, dear boy?"
Away from us, Michael knew he meant to say. It would ruin the plans of one Drew Hasek-Davion. He brushed the contacts again.
DARK. Then—Julian Nero, full front to the camera and a picture playing behind him of a 'Mech battle. ". . . and two abridged companies of the Thirty-second Lyran Guards—two lances left to each—fought their way through the Black Hills' southern reach. Here you can see Aubry Larsen's Penetrator leading a company formed from Blackstar Stables and Federation Police 'Mechs in a flanking attempt to catch the Guard before they could reach the relative safety of Cathay."
An attempt Michael knew had failed, though the hard fighting cost four BattleMechs and one life from each side. And by all reports Michael had read, the Thirty-second lost another 'Mech and its pilot once they got inside Cathay.
Nero frowned as the battle footage froze to catch Aubry's Penetrator giving the coup de grace on a fallen Lyran Scarabus. "Two Lyran MechWarriors died in that attempt to bring relief forces over to Silesia. Our field journalist met with Victor Vandergriff at Skye Tiger Mall, who had this to say."
The video cut to Skye Tiger Mall, panning over an assortment of partially salvaged BattleMechs. They had been arranged so that crests from Starlight, Blackstar, and even one from Gemini Stables could be seen. Black Hills stables, every one.
LE5790 - Illusions Of Victory Page 17