Most gave up, but others continued to trail along in the Pillager's wake. Michael continued up Danning Street, then turned onto Marx Way eight short blocks from the Davion arena. The battalion remained a respectful distance behind him, at times disappearing completely in the shadow of larger buildings. Only the security lance remained at tight quarters, having become his official escort through the streets and right up to the titanic gray ferrocrete bunker that was Boreal Reach.
Two companies of Black Hills Combined Militia guarded the approach, formed up into a five-tier, triangular phalanx. Aubry Larsen's Dragon Fire stood out in front like an arrowhead aimed straight at Michael.
After scanning an array of channels, the Pillager's communications equipment centered in on Larsen's voice transmitting over the Blackstar Stables general frequency. "I'd have bet real money against you coming back, Michael. Hasek-Davion was sure you would, though." Her transmission wasn't coming in on the coded channel, which meant she wanted her words intercepted by the media. "And he's always right, isn't he?"
Michael grinned without humor, readying himself to play the game. "It appears so," he said. The security lance fanned out to either side of him, while Karl led the battalion up to within a half-kilometer. "Though I've heard several interesting rumors concerning my current relations with Blackstar Stables."
"You defected, Michael. Abandoned us for Starlight and Overlord—Overlord!—right when we needed you most."
"It had to be done to bring in Starlight and Overlord," he admitted calmly. "It was-the only way we'd ever end the fighting."
She laughed scornfully. "At thte expense of Blackstar and the Davion sector?"
Michael was jubilant. Aubry had just given him the opening he needed to play his ace in the hole.
Right on cue came the voice of Adam Kristof over the commline. "Most people would say that ending the violence would be worth any price. Especially those who've been put out of their homes. Or are you saying, Ms. Larsen, that Drew Hasek-Davion doesn't want the fighting stopped?"
The accusation left her speechless for a long five seconds, then, "Who is this?" she demanded.
Kristof identified himself, and Michael smiled at how well the pieces were falling into place. Adam Kristof had been in charge of one of the news teams reporting on Karl's fight against Garrett. Michael had brought him along, leaving the Sun Times van well protected back among the Starlight contingent, and by Karl in particular. He'd wanted to be prepared for any chance to ram his own media support down Hasek-Davion's throat.
With any luck, now Drew would choke on it.
Michael keyed his transmitter, keeping up the pressure. "So what do you intend to do now, Aubry?"
"Nothing," she said calmly.
Nothing? Michael had expected the full-out assault Hasek-Davion threatened him with several days before, including the revelation of Michael's own dubious history and blame for causing the riots.
"So long as you don't try to force your way into Boreal Reach," she went on, voice calm and even, "I've been instructed to let you proceed toward Silesia. Whatever your reasons."
"The reason is to end the fighting," Karl said quickly. "Any way we can."
"So you say. And by your bringing along a small Lyran contingent, the Silesians might believe it as well."
Listening to her, Michael began to wonder if this might be another trap Drew had set in his path.
Kristof tried again. "Shouldn't Hasek-Davion also be concerned about trying to end the violence?"
"Of course he should. And he does!" She paused. "But not when other matters are more pressing. Such as the rumor of the Lyran Alliance landing another battalion at the spaceport this afternoon. No green unit this time, though. The Seventeenth Arcturan. We have more immediate interests than trying to force a resolution with Silesia. Or should Drew Hasek-Davion not concern himself with the defense of Federated Suns' citizens?" Her voice ran to smooth poison as she threw Kristof's own words back at him.
A chill ran up Michael's spine. How had he missed such a rumor, when he'd been leading the Black Hills militia only a few days before and had still been in the intelligence loop just last night? Hasek-Davion couldn't have isolated him from this information. From what he knew, that battalion of the Thirty-second Lyran Guard had already been in transit and conveniently routed to Solaris VII. Could another unit have been brought in so quickly?
"That's news to me," Kristof said to him privately, "but it's possible. Depends on how desperate they were to move in military troops and whether they had a ready JumpShip and didn't mind risking another jump into the system's gravity."
A couple of strong ifs that depended on how desperate Katrina Steiner was to put down a challenge to her power. Especially if her dethroned brother could benefit from her defeat.
"A full battalion, even an assault company with armor support, might be enough to retake the warehouses," Karl said, obviously worried for the small force left behind to guard the site. "Especially if they drop with aerospace assets this time. We left only a skeleton force to garrison the spaceport."
And Michael had stripped the sector's western border of its picket patrols, adding them to his force. If new forces did arrive and targeted the Black Hills with the same ferocity as the first wave, they would lack sufficient defense. He could send those pickets back again, perhaps split off another few lances . . .
There it was, the hand of Drew Hasek-Davion hiding in plain sight while manipulating various pieces on the game board. Michael cursed hinr silently. Even without moving directly against Michael, Drew had still managed to diminish him in the eyes of others. Especially if the report was true and Michael could be blamed for weakening the Black Hills' defense. He couldn't afford not to accept the report as true and split off forces to prepare. That would put his remaining force at greater risk in Silesia, where the Blackstar master would no doubt have more surprises waiting.
The reach of Hasek-Davion was long indeed.
Michael quickly released all members of the security force as well as two lances from the battalions mixed-unit company. It added up to a strengthened company, which he placed under the command of Lieutenant Rand.
"Why under him?" Aubry asked, no doubt feeling snubbed in her new position as leader of the Combined Militia.
"Because the Federated Suns Police are empowered to protect and serve. Not to attack and provoke." That left no doubt about his position to anyone listening in on his transmission, which he was sure was being recorded by several news teams. Aubry Larsen wisely remained silent, but Michael thought she should have quit when she was ahead. He ordered the withdrawal of his remaining units.
Karl tried to offer some small comfort as the main force moved away from Boreal Reach and headed into the free-fire zone, toward Cathay and Silesia beyond. "You did it," he said. "And all without firing a single shot. Hasek-Davion tried to cut our legs out from under us, and we beat him. You beat him."
With the force he planned to take into Silesia reduced to less than he'd begun with in the International Zone, Michael didn't quite agree. "This time we managed a draw. Nothing more. For every move we make, he's already been there and prepared for it. Isolating himself from the risk. Maintaining deniability."
Michael slammed one hand down open-palmed against the arm of his Pillager's command couch. "Drew Hasek-Davion is just too powerful. I wanted to bring him down," he said, "but I'm beginning to wonder if anyone on this world is strong enough to do that.
"Maybe winning a draw is the best any of us can hope for."
* * *
Drew Hasek-Davion reclined on the leather chaise he'd ordered moved into the media room at Green Mansion and watched the news. He found little pleasure in his many diversions, even in his quest for power, but he still experienced anger. Savored it, in fact, with the appreciation of a connoisseur.
He would never let it show. Only his walking stick, held in a knuckle-white grip and slapping the side of the chaise with increasing violence, expressed his agitation as he
listened to Adam Kristof finish his on-site report. The reporter allowed a few precious seconds of silence to trail out as Michael Searcy's two companies passed from sight between buildings.
Brandishing his walking stick as a sword, Drew slashed the air in front of the holovid screen as if he might reach out and strike down Michael himself. With his other hand, he used a small remote to cut to a Silesian news channel. He muted the audio on a pitch for Sera Video Entertainments' latest home holovid system while he pondered Searcy's latest move.
"Well played, dear boy," Drew murmured. He had to admire Michael's gambits despite how frustrated and angry he was. Well played, yes, but unfortunately—for Michael—there was no way for the 'Warrior to hurt him. Drew had seen to that early on, always guarding himself. Too many tools had turned in the hands of Drew Hasek-Davion over the years for him not to have developed a strong sense of precaution. Too many plans had withered before they could bear fruit.
Adopting the Davion name had been one of them. He'd used it to build a small base of power in the Federated Suns' Capellan March, but that had fallen through when young Morgan Hasek-Davion had returned his hereditary line to the original Hasek name. Then he'd attempted to capitalize on the anti-Federated Commonwealth movement, but had been kept in check by other Solaris stable masters. Poor planning, that one. It had actually hurt rather than helped,his interests in the Capellan March. His ambitions were next thwarted by Kai Allard-Liao. And then the failure of Garrett to amount to anything on the Game World. Now Searcy . . .
Michael Searcy—what a Champion he'd have made for the Federated Suns, and for Drew. So much time invested, so much effort. And Drew had come so close. Next time, he'd be better prepared. The good thing about mistakes was that he could learn from them. Besides, he'd won most of what he'd set out to accomplish.
Stroud had to be dead. Megan Church reported no sign that he'd escaped the raid on his estate. And by her reports, the Skye Tigers were seriously hurt. Not yet past the point of recovery, but close. With the fall of Stroud's stable and the boost given Blackstar this last week, no stable—no two stables—would be able to bring Drew down. DeLon and Tran Ky Bo might try, but they lacked the strength to do so. The other stable owners could be played off against one another easily enough. Drew had won. Not a total victory, but enough to satisfy him. For now.
Only Michael's efforts against him kept the victory from being complete. What the boy did not realize was that his actions no longer made any difference. Drew was ready for what was next. He knew it was time for the civil unrest to end, and he'd be ready to shift blame away from Blackstar or its master in any number of directions.
He could also play the approaching showdown in Silesia to his own advantage, whatever the outcome. Victor Vandergriff was too far gone down the path of rivalry with Michael for him to be satisfied with anything less than a fight to the death. The very same rivalry Drew had helped to foster. Now, that fight would be something to see, and hopefully Julian Nero or another media hound would catch in on holovid.
Those two 'Mech companies under Michael couldn't hope to prevail over the force Vandergriff would throw at them. If— when—Searcy fell to Vandergriff, the bad blood between the Steiner and Davion supporters would only intensify. Drew might even be able to milk another week of violence out of it before stepping in to end it himself.
If Michael won . . . Well, Megan Church had evidenced interest in other work. There were always ways of dealing with a 'Warrior. One way or another.
22
DBC Studios, Silesia
Solaris City, Solaris VII
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance
22 August 3062
A map of Solaris City filled the wallscreen behind Julian Nero, the appropriate sector flashing as he mentioned it in his vidcast. Lines of movement were sketched in where studio resources tracked the 'Mech battles still raging across four of the city's sectors. Heavy in-fighting continued among factions in both Cathay and Montenegro, though several assaults had speared across the river in both directions even today. Only Kobe wasn't caught up in the troubles, though they had problems of their own.
"Kobe officials claim they've finally gotten all the fires that ravaged much of the tenement area called the Poisoned Hills for its sanitation difficulties under control. Use of BattleMech forces, recently freed from the fighting, to create fire-breaks are credited with turning that battle. Meanwhile looting continues to plague the Lotus District as the disadvantaged turn on their more affluent neighbors. Sector Manager Osha Minawa promises strong measures to end the looting and to ensure public safety."
His prepared delivery scrolled over the 'prompter, but Julian mostly ignored it. The Great Nero did not need the device. What he did need was to generate a few seconds of drama as the map enlarged to show an image of the southeastern cityscape. Arrows indicated where the Davionists had recently thrust back into the Lyran sector after being pummeled initially.
"No official word yet regarding Michael Searcy's push toward Silesia at the head of a large force," he said. "Intercepted transmissions indicate that the Federated Suns favorite is planning to end the fighting 'any way he can.'"
That quote was courtesy of Karl Edward, but there was damn little else. Julian was furious that his people hadn't scraped up more for him to work with thus far, but he'd be taking matters into his own hands soon enough. "Victor Vandergriff has put out a call to the defenders of Silesia, rallying them at Skye Tiger Mall. After which he intends to confront what he calls 'this latest challenge to Lyran dignity.' "
Julian hated doing it, but he knew the subtle twist of his tone made Vandergriff's vow sound more petulant than bold. It probably wasn't fair, but at least he wasn't kowtowing to Hasek-Davion any longer. Whatever he did or said now was his own decision. His instincts were telling him to give a boost to Michael Searcy. Those instincts had gotten him this far and he had learned to trust them.
"And as the two titans close—with the fate of peace for Solaris City riding in the balance—you can be certain I'll be there to keep you informed. The promise of Julian Nero, the man in the know."
Julian didn't wait for his clear from the studio crew. The instant the red light winked out over the camera, he was on his feet and shouting for his assistant. "Where's that VTOL I asked for?"
"Sitting on the roof, Mr. Nero. Your video crew is already there."
Julian nodded brusquely and headed for the elevators, suppressing a laugh at the shocked expressions on the faces of his fellow vidcasters. Julian Nero, abandoning his throne? How many would scramble for his hourly spot, never realizing that by then he would be commanding from the field and the studio would be robbed of the limelight? Big events were afoot, and he wouldn't rely on second-hand information any longer. Today would be the day. He would make it so. Julian had been fortunate once, the big story breaking on his watch. It had dropped right into his lap, virtually prepackaged and ready to bring him instant acclaim. This time, however, he didn't intend to wait for the story to come to him.
He would seek it out himself and make it his. Next to that . . .
* * *
Nothing else mattered. Searcy would die beneath the Banshee's guns. Vanquished in combat, just as Katrina Steiner had mastered her brother in politics. It would vindicate Victor Vandergriff's worth as a 'Warrior after all these years and restore his place among the finest.
There could be no other way.
Or so thought Victor as he raced across the 'Mech bay at Skye Tiger Estate, then scaled the ladder to his cockpit and quickly fastened himself into the command seat. What did it matter that Adam Kristof was championing Searcy as the answer to Solaris City's troubles or that the damnable Julian Nero was making it sound as if Victor were all talk and no action. Had they forgotten his raid into the Black Hills? The very same strike that brought the war home to the Davionists as his forces carved deeply into their sector?
No, they hadn't forgotten. The media had decided to simply ignore his victories—always that. After
a week of building him up as the Lyran champion, possibly for lack of a better candidate, they'd now decided to cut him down. Maybe that was because Jerry Stroud was still missing, leaving no one to crank up the Lyran propaganda machine. Regardless, it would cost Victor the grudging respect he'd won among the Lyran fans and MechWarriors. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been betrayed by the media, then abandoned by public and peers. By the Archon, though, it would be the last!
He tightened down his restraining harness, then pulled the bulky neurohelmet over his head, setting it on the padded shoulders of his cooling suit. If only he'd been allowed to finish out the Grand Tournament, how different everything would be now. His career resurrected and the media fawning over him as they did their golden boy. Searcy had only three years on Solaris, yet everyone thought he could do no wrong. But what was that against Victor's fifteen years? Michael Searcy didn't have a chance now that Victor had regained the confidence and pride of the old days.
"Today we finish this, Searcy." His voice echoed loud in the helmet's tight confines.
The computer winked its startup sequence across the Banshee's control board. Lights flashed on, then burned steady as systems were cross-checked and found in good operation. He felt more than heard the heavy thrum of the assault 'Mech's fusion engine powering up. The sensation vibrated up from the cockpit floor, into his feet and up through his legs. Then the chill touch of his cooling suit gripped him. He felt plugged in. Alive.
"Please identify," the computer prompted, its synthesized voice cutting into his helmet's built-in comm system.
"Victor Vandergriff." Victor had removed any reference to a stable the day Jerry Stroud released him from the Skye Tigers, trading him to Trevor Lynch.
LE5790 - Illusions Of Victory Page 22