Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  The deserter could say nothing more about her, save that Nagumo's Special Branch was to question her closely. The man had drawn guard duty once in the bowels of the University Tower where the Special Branch worked. His descriptions of the sights, sounds, and dark rumors about Room 6 left Grayson feeling ill and shaken.

  Lori...

  Grayson met Tollen Brasednewic by the mouth of the Fox Island cave late that evening. He had been dreading this talk, but knew it must be done. Brasednewic had surprised Grayson by remaining with the rebel army after the incident on the day of the airfield raid. Many rebel troopers felt that their first loyalty was to Brasednewic himself, and so Grayson was grateful that the man had chosen to remain in the fight Tollen spoke little, and his eyes bore a haunted look, but he'd fought with valor and determination in half a dozen raids and battles since his abdication from the rebel army's command.

  He'd not been along on the Blackjack raid, but he'd learned of Lori's capture when Grayson's party had returned to camp. To his credit, he'd been among the first to tell Grayson how sorry he was.

  That didn't make Grayson's problem any easier.

  "We're running a raid against the University, Tollen," Grayson said, without preamble. "A sneak commando strike might get our people out."

  Brasednewic's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "This is a rather sudden turn-about, isn't it. Captain? Last I heard, we were to stay clear of that place. All of us."

  Grayson nodded. "You also heard me say that you'd risked the whole strike force by changing plans at the last minute, in the middle of the action."

  "It's different when you tell us to change plans, is that it? One thing for the high and mighty MechWarrior, something else entirely for the peasants in the ranks! Is that it?"

  "Dammit, no!" Grayson closed his eyes. How was he going to carry this off? He'd known Brasednewic's ego was bruised, that he would have trouble convincing the man to help, but had not been able to come up with an approach that might soften his resistance. "This operation will be planned from the start, not made up as we go along! But we have to get Lori out of there. If Carlotta's alive, we'll get her, too, and any of the rest of our people, we can find."

  "Look, I can sympathize with you having lost your woman, Carlyle, but if you're asking me to bring my people in on this, forget it."

  "She's not 'my woman', as you put it. But she is. one of us.”

  “So was Carlotta."

  "We don't even know that she's alive, Colonel!"

  "We don't know a damned thing more about Lori Kalmar...except that she's in there and due for questioning!"

  "Exactly! And you know as well as I do that when they start questioning her, they'll find a way to break her. Anyone can be broken:..and that's a specialty of Kurita. They'll break her...and find out about the Phobos and where it's hidden."

  "So?"

  How could the man be so blind? "So...the ship will be destroyed, and with her all of the machine shops and casting equipment and electronics repair facilities that've kept us going these past few months! Maybe you foot soldiers don't realize what's needed to maintain a BattleMech unit, but when Nagumo took the heavy equipment from Fox Island, he left us the Phobos and the people and equipment aboard her! If they locate and destroy our DropShip, the Gray Death and the Free Verthandi Rangers are finished, too!"

  Brasednewic looked at Grayson with dull eyes, his face stiff and unexpressive. "I...can't, Carlyle. It's...a point of honor."

  "Honor? What does honor have to do with it? The honorable thing would be to drop that wounded pride of yours and help us!"

  "Your own views seem to have changed somewhat since our last meeting."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You weren't willing to sacrfice the whole group for one person. Now you are."

  "Don't you see? Whatever my own personal feelings in the matter, we've got to break in there and get Lori out...get her out, or...or..."

  "Or what?"

  Grayson had not let himself face the question until now, and the reality made him feel wrenchingly sick. "Or we'll have to kill her ourselves. We can't let Nagumo find out about the Phobos."

  Brasednewic's face worked against some cold silent, inner battle. "Why are you telling me all this?"

  "Because we need to work together on this operation...the Free Rangers and the Gray Death. Every rebel soldier in the Silvan Basin must know by now that I took you down that day for going in against the University without orders, and every one of them must know why you did it. How can I give the order for them to do the exact same thing, unless you're willing to help? Ramage's commandos will follow my lead, I think. For this to work, we need to throw in everything we have, the whole Free Verthandian army. I need you, Tollen. I need your help...and your influence with your troops."

  There was a flicker of something behind Brasednewic's eyes, but Grayson saw that something die as he watched. The rebel turned away. "No, Captain... no."

  "Good god, man, why?"

  "You have the gall to stand there and ask me to send my people to certain death...after what you did to me...in front of my own people?"

  "Look, you'll have your command back. You didn't have to walk away from it in the first place. We could have worked something out."

  "It's too late for that, Carlyle. You embarassed me in front of my people. You think they'd follow me...now?"

  "I don't see why not," Grayson said evenly. "My people are following me."

  "Maybe it's different for mercenaries. Pay them enough, and—"

  "Dammit, what does that have to do with it? Look..."

  "Carlyle, I don't think you understand. I've got a handful of people—ones who were with me before you came—who might still follow me. The rest...I don't know. Maybe they would, but that bond of trust just isn't there anymore. You broke that, Carlyle. You did. Well, I can still fight Nagumo, but in my own way. In my own time."

  “Tollen, everything we've built here in the past months, the cooperation between the different rebel bands, between your people and mine...we can't let that be torn down."

  "It already has been." He shook his head. "Most Verthandians wouldn't follow me...anymore than they'd follow you if you turned around the way you’re asking me to do for you. It'll be better this way. I won't stand in your way. Captain, or interfere with your plans. But I'm taking everyone who will follow me back to the Uppsala Mountains, above my old home. We'll raid and harry the Dracos from there."

  "That's not the way, Tollen. We have to work together. Your people know you. They'll follow you."

  "While I follow you? No Captain, I can't do that. I can't ask my people to do that."

  "I don't understand."

  "No? Then maybe you're not the leader I thought you were, Carlyle. Hell, you may be some kind of tactical wizard, but you've got a lot to learn about people." He turned and strode away, leaving Grayson standing there alone.

  And Grayson knew Brasednewic was right.

  * * * *

  Nagumo nodded at Vlade's image in the intercom screen. "You think she might know something, then?"

  "I'm certain of it, my Lord. We got extremely specific responses over the monitors when I questioned her about where the rebels had the heavy support equipment and repair facilities for their ‘Mechs.

  She was lying, of course, but some of her answers suggest that the mercenaries have a secret base or facility hidden somewhere."

  Nagumo's pulse quickened. "Did you ask her about their ship? Was it lost in a storm as everyone supposed?"

  Vlade showed his teeth. "She said the DropShip was lost in the storm. I calculate an 80 percent probability that she is lying on that point as well and that the ship is intact, somewhere in the Silvan Basin."

  "That would explain a very great deal. What else did you learn?”

  “I found her weak point, my Lord. I have the lever with which to break her.”

  “Oh?"

  "I don't know the details, of course. What I suspect is that at some time in her past, K
almar suffered a terrible loss...and that loss is associated with fire."

  "Ah..."

  "Exactly, my Lord. She showed no more than the usual response to statements designed to evoke images of death or pain or imprisonment, of wealth, of any of the usual stimuli. But she appears to be terrified of death by fire. A very unusual... very gratifying response to that particular stimulus."

  Nagumo closed his eyes and controlled his reaction. He would not let Vlade see his feelings.

  The man's enthusiasm for his work had always repelled the Governor-General. Nagumo had not realized how much he actually loathed the man and his eager smile until now. He wondered if he had grown softer in the past months, for the interrogator to grate at his nerves so.

  "Then I can count on you to... to use that response, to get me the information I need."

  "Of course. Would you like to come down and participate? It should be interesting,"

  "No."

  Dammit, man, I've got other things, to do than make myself ill watching you play!

  "I leave it in your hands. And when you're through, be sure I get a complete report."

  "Of course, my Lord," Vlade said, and Nagumo could tell how anxious he was to get back to his gruesome task.

  Under the circumstances, it was the best plan they could come up with. A volunteer commando team of fifty Verthandians followed Grayson and Sergeant Ramage, picking their way through the dark. They wore black from head to toe. Their faces were smeared with black dye, and their weapons and every piece of equipment were carefully wrapped and taped to keep metal from clinking against stone or other metal. Ramage had told Grayson privately they were the best unit he'd ever worked with. For months, he'd been training them in special, small-unit operations.

  Not all of the commandos were Verthandians. One of them, unrecognizable in her night vision goggles and black face paint was Sue Ellen Klein, fighter pilot turned commando.

  Grayson had found her sitting on a rock, sharpening a knife with long, slow strokes across a whetstone. "What are you doing with this bunch?" he'd asked.

  "I volunteered. Captain." Her voice was soft, but very steady.

  He'd had little opportunity to talk with her since her rescue several months before. Her captivity among the Dracos seemed to have left her little more than a hollow shell for some time, and the new light in her eyes surprised Grayson.

  "I wonder if it's a good idea for you to go in there," he said. "If you're looking for a chance to get even with someone..."

  "I'll do my job, Captain." She snapped the knife into her boot sheath, and added in a quieter voice, "I'll do what I have to do."

  The answer had not entirely satisfied Grayson. He had lived long enough with the fiery coals of vengeance inside his own gut to recognize it in another. Her hate focused on someone else besides him now, someone within the Kurita camp. He could read that in the deliberate way she stroked her knife against the stone.

  She looked up at him and smiled strangely, her teeth gleaming through the mask of black stain. "You needn't worry about me, Captain. It took time, but...I'm all right now. Thanks to Lori."

  She read the question in his eyes and smiled. "It seems we were both pretty lonely, Captain. We began talking. It's so easy to talk to her, you know. She... she helped me pull through a pretty rough time. Lori...Lori was my friend, too,"

  He had no answer for that. Besides, the time had come to move out.

  * * * *

  Grayson peered ahead through his night vision goggles, then nodded to Ramage at his side. The factory entrance was just ahead.

  The unit accepted the reason for going in without comment or surprise. They were volunteers, of course, but they followed because the man who had trained and fought with them said he needed them. If anyone resented that they were about to do what Tollen Brasednewic had been ordered not to do, no one showed it. Grayson knew, however, that it would be different for most of the regular line troops.

  The operation, as he, Ramage, and the other Gray Death Mech Warriors had worked it out, required the commando team to slip into the University grounds. They were fairly certain they could get as far as the Courtyard, because of the broad, high-ceilinged passageway that ran between factory and University Courtyard. This was the old avenue for students on work-teaching programs or for AgroMechs to travel to ‘Mech demonstrations in the Courtyard. That passageway still existed, and Grayson knew where it was from Thorvald's maps. It would be guarded, certainly, but that was work for the commando.

  In the darkness behind them, in the dry gully that led by winding ways back to the Basin Rim, three of the four remaining BattleMechs of the Gray Death lay hidden, awaiting Grayson's signal. There had been some last-moment reshuffling. Khaled now piloted Grayson's Shadow Hawk instead of his Stinger. All had agreed that in the fight to come, they would need the Hawk's firepower, and Khaled had readily agreed to switch to the larger machine. As for Grayson, he would have preferred to be at the controls of a BattleMech—any BattleMech—but Brasednewic's words still burned.

  He would not ask of his own people something he would not do himself. The chancy part of this operation would be the initial penetration. Once the team was inside, the BattleMechs would lay down a diversion to distract the Kurita troops from the true nature of the assault within their walls. The diversion would be necessary if the commandos—and Grayson and Lori, if he could find her—were to make good their escape.

  Grayson carefully refused to think about what would happen if he found Lori but was unable to get her out of the University. His mind went no farther than the certainty that either he and Lori would make it out of the University... or that neither of them would.

  The Ericksson-Agro factory was deserted, a place of dust and shadows and bare ferrocrete floors and walls. The streets outside were deserted, too, save for a solitary Regis Blue sentry on a roving patrol. The commandos had watched the man go, then slipped across the street behind his back. Guided by their infrared goggles, they slipped through the factory to an unguarded stair well, then made their way to a lower level to the yawning mouth of the tunnel they sought.

  The gate was padlocked, but the lock yielded to a hand torch wielded by one of the Verthandian raiders. Every man took that moment to check his weapons and gear. Grayson carried a TK assault rifle cradled in his arms and a 12 mm automatic pistol holstered on his right hip. Three grenades, including a pair of smoke grenades, were clipped to his harness. In various pouches, he carried spare magazines for the TK and the pistol and a spare battery clip for the stunner. A combat knife was sheathed and fastened at his right ankle outside his boot. A single-channel combat communicator was clipped to his throat and his ear, though he could use it to talk to his comrades only across very short ranges. It would not penetrate the walls of the University at all. To reach the BattleMechs outside, he had a more powerful hand transceiver fixed to a pouch at the small of his back.

  The door opened, rusty mountings creaking and booming protest into the dark. Anxious eyes probed this way and that through the dark, but no sentry appeared, no voice shouted challenge. In single file, the commandos plunged into the Stygian black of the underground passageway. The tunnel extended through blackness absolute for two hundred meters, then slanted upward along a flat-sloped ramp. There was another steel door at this end, and a brief inspection showed Grayson why the tunnel was not better guarded. The door was welded shut.

  Ramage looked at Grayson, who nodded. Ramage gestured, and a pair of Verthandi Rangers dashed up, slipping heavy canvas pouches from their shoulders. One examined the welded door and grinned through the dark at Grayson. "Five minutes, Captain. Better have everyone move back up the tunnel a bit."

  Waiting in the darkness, Grayson was startled by a light touch on his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring into a blackened face that was recognizable—just barely—as the face of a young woman. "Don't worry, Captain. We'll do it."

  "Eh?"

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice carrying no furt
her than the two of them. "But the expression on your face. Even through those goggles, you looked so...so intense. I just...just wanted to let you know that we're with you."

  "Did I look that afraid?"

  "Not afraid. More like you were going to go through that door without waiting for the guys to blow it."

  Grayson peered at her face but couldn't recognize her. For a moment, seeing the glint of almost savage purpose in her eyes, he thought it might be Sue Ellen. This woman was taller, her hair longer when he saw it escaping from under her cap. "Uh...do we know each other?"

  Her teeth showed through the blacking. "Janice Taylor, First Squad, Special Commando, Free Verthandi Rangers," she recited with matter-of-fact crispness. "Just one of your new recruits."

  "Janice!" Then the darkness exploded in flame and thunder, and he had no time to think about anything more at all.

  35

  Governor-General Nagumo heard the dull, hollow boom and briefly wondered if someone had dropped a heavy section of armor in the maintenance area across the courtyard. Then the piercing ululation of the emergency siren keened warning of attack.

  A light flashed at his interrcom. He stabbed the accept switch. "What is it?"

  'This is Gordoyev, my Lord, Captain of the Guard!" There was no picture with the voice, which was pitched high with shock or fear. "I'm on Level Two and...and...rebel troops. General, in the lower levels! They're pouring through a hole blasted through from an abandoned tunnel!"

  "You have a guard. Use it!"

  "Yes, my Lord! We'll hold them as long as we can, but...”

  “But what?"

  "My Lord, there are hundreds of them down here! We need reinforcements!"

  "Help is coming. Hold where you are!"

  He opened a channel to the barracks and found that the alert had already roused the city's garrison commanders. Between elements of four infantry regiments, there were close to two thousand Kurita troops in Regis, not counting the unreliable Regis Blues. He did not for a moment believe Gordoyev's assessment of "hundreds of troops", but it was always better to overreact to such a threat than to respond with half-measures. He relayed orders to the Third Strike Regiment. Companies A and B were both just outside the University, stationed in the streets of central Regis. They would be in the courtyard in moments.