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Malicious intent

Page 18

by Michael A. Stackpole


  Katrina considered what Tormano had said. The true objective for the Clans was obvious—they were coming for Tharkad because, as Vlad had pointed out, they needed to conceal their weakness behind a display of power. The need to stop them at Coventry was also obvious. If the Falcons progressed beyond that world they would violate the truce line and the terrible war with the Clans would be on again. That would be disastrous for the Inner Sphere and, as Vlad had also pointed out, disastrous for him because his Clan, in its weakened state, might not be able to take Terra.

  "You are correct, of course, Mandrinn. I have reviewed and approve your use of the Eridani Light Horse and Wolf's Dragoons." Katrina smiled slowly. "I have also decided to send the Waco Rangers on to Coventry as well."

  "But ..."

  "No buts, Tormano." She laughed aloud and waved away his protest. "You have more than enough loyal troops on their way to Tharkad to protect this world. Waco's Rangers will be more useful on Coventry, don't you agree?"

  "Yes, Highness."

  "Good." She smiled sweetly at him. "In my absence you have maintained open channels of communication with Thomas Marik?"

  "I have, Archon. Negotiations on your behalf concerning his suit are progressing slowly."

  Katrina nodded. "I wish to accelerate matters. If you will, ask Thomas if he would be so kind as to send the Knights of the Inner Sphere here to help defend Tharkad."

  "What?"

  "Oh, and see if he would forward a request to your nephew, Sun-Tzu, to make available to us one of his premier units."

  "What?"

  "I believe my requests are quite clear, Mandrinn." Tormano snapped his mouth shut. "I applaud your forethought, Archon, but this invitation sets a dangerous precedent."

  "Mandrinn Liao, the request accomplishes two goals. The first is that it makes Thomas aware that the safety of the Lyran Alliance is his first line of defense. It also suggests to him that if he wants my realm as a dowry, he had better be ready to defend it. While I share your reservations about Sun-Tzu, I hasten to point out that his troops will bleed as well as ours. Draining his strength means we make him less dangerous in the long run."

  "Agreed. Your other goal?"

  "Despite how well you've handled the news blackout on this deep probe into our territory, I know my brother is aware of it. By inviting League troops here I make any incursion by him into my realm a possible cause for the renewal of hostilities with the Free Worlds League. This will help curb his ambitions, and once we show we can weather a crisis without his intervention, he will have less justification to interfere with the Lyran Alliance in the future."

  Tormano nodded curtly. "A sound plan, Archon, except for one thing."

  "And that is?"

  "What if we do need your brother in the future?"

  "Victor will give me what I want when I ask, Mandrinn. He reveres our parents too much ever to act against their flesh and blood." She smiled in a most cold manner, aping the expression Vlad had used when speaking of Phelan. "I will ever be Victor's master because of that weakness. As long as he is never given leave to think about it, he will never escape me."

  26

  Cross-Divide Mountains Coventry

  Coventry Province, Lyran Alliance

  30 March 3058

  "Tony, get your ass back here or I'm going to shoot it off myself!" Doc swept the cross hairs of his Penetrator past the blocky form of Tony Wells's JagerMech and dropped them onto the humanoid outline of the green Falcon Galahad marching into the defile. The guns built into the arms of both 'Mechs came up, conjuring in Doc's mind duel scenes from bad holodramas set on ancient Terra. Behind Tony, between him and Doc, the last two 'Mechs of Tony's Strike Lance limped toward safety.

  The roar of autocannons filled the canyon that had been carved from the rock years before by huge mining 'Mechs. A storm of metal sleet washed over the Galahad. The JagerMech's autocannon shells chewed up over half the armor on the Galahad's right arm and chipped away at armor on its chest and left arm. Two pulse laser shots from the JagerMech's torso went wide, drilling neat lines of steaming holes in the canyon's rock walls.

  The muzzles of the Galahad's Gauss rifles flashed white as they fired. Two silvery balls streaked out and slammed into the center chest of Tony's 'Mech. Doc didn't see them hit, but he recognized the misshapen lumps of metal as they burst free of the JagerMech's back in a spray of coolant and shower of armor scales. With two shots fired in just one salvo, the Galahad managed to reduce a 65-ton war machine to scrap metal and armor salvage.

  As the JagerMech toppled backward, the top of its domed head popped off. Riding a flaming rocket, Tony Wells shot clear of the doomed machine and even managed to avoid slamming into the canyon walls. He quickly soared up and out of sight, and Doc had no idea where he was going to land.

  "I wish you luck, Tony, but not all of it." Through the smoke from the JagerMech, Doc could see that the Galahad was down and that surprised him. Tony had hit the 'Mech hard, but the damage had hardly been overwhelming. Let's hope our remaining luck hasn't been used up tripping that 'Mech.

  The Galahad's fall had been the only verifiable bit of good luck since the retreat into the mountains. The fighting had been hard and largely unrelenting. The Jade Falcons had come after them with a regimental-size force and engaged them in shifts. The Falcons pushed them hard, then withdrew just before delivering the coup de grace, or whenever the Rangers had somehow gained a minor tactical advantage.

  Though the Galahad had only fired one salvo, the armor of Tony's JagerMech had already been reduced to tatters in the recent engagements. Everything Doc had read about the Clans indicated they preferred quick and decisive battles. Analyses of the titanic battle at Tukayyid had even pointed out that the Clans' downfall had been their profligate use of ammunition because of their frustration at having to fight long, drawn-out battles. By withdrawing into the mountains, Doc had hoped to give them just the sort of battle they hated, but the Falcons seemed quite content to grind down his unit.

  Well, here's where I get to grind back. Doc thumbed the top triggers of his joysticks. The large lasers built into the Penetrator's arms stabbed verdant beams through the smoke, and hit the Galahad as the manlike 'Mech came upright again. One beam melted a channel through the armor on the 'Mech's right thigh. The other struck the Galahad in the head, bubbling up all but the last bit of armor shielding the pilot.

  The Clan 'Mech raised its Gauss rifles and returned Doc's fire. One slug went wide, striking sparks from the canyon's stone floor. The ricochet shot back between the Penetrator's legs, but did no damage. The other slug slammed into the Penetrator's right arm, sending a tremor through the whole 'Mech. Doc twisted himself and the 'Mech back around as a warning klaxon signaled him that the shot had blasted nearly a ton of armor from the Penetrator's limb.

  Enough sniping, time to hammer him. Doc sidestepped the Penetrator forward, putting the wounded 'Mechs behind him, and triggered the six medium pulse lasers built into his 'Mech's torso. Unlike the heavier lasers in its arms, the pulse lasers did not shoot a single, coherent beam of light. Instead they pulsed the energy out, with the targeting circuitry making random and minor changes between pulses, spreading the damage around and increasing its effect.

  The hail of laser darts peppered the Galahad's body left, right, and center. Vaporized armor wreathed the 'Mech with greasy gray clouds. While Doc had been hoping for another hit on the Galahad's head, he settled for further damage done to the 'Mech's right leg. The 60-ton 'Mech wavered a bit and Doc thought it might go down, but the pilot recovered enough to fire back.

  Doc braced for the impact of the Gauss projectiles, but both whizzed harmlessly overhead. He kept the 'Mech upright, but he was rattled.

  "Doc, the stragglers are clear."

  "Roger, Sharon. How about Tony?"

  "Got him, but he broke his leg. Hurry up."

  "On my way."

  Backing the Penetrator toward the mine, Doc took one last shot at the Galahad. The pulse laser needl
es again burned armor over the 'Mech's heart and the right side of its body. Doc saw a gaping hole open on the Galahad's right flank, a hole he knew he could exploit to kill the 'Mech with just one more exchange, but instead he pulled back.

  As if to emphasize the wisdom of his choice, two Gauss slugs crisscrossed in front of his viewport and shattered rock on either wall of the artificial canyon. One lucky head shot by a Gauss rifle and there wouldn't be enough of me left to get a DNA sample for identification.

  Doc turned the Penetrator and sprinted to the yawning black maw of a mine shaft. No one had been able to find Leftenant Copley—in fact, no one had seen him since Second Battalion had left Port St. William—but they had managed to pull mining records from the smelter president's computers. Examining the records closely, Sharon Dome learned of a series of shafts that would take the Rangers so deep into the Cross-Divides that even the use of atomic weapons couldn't root them out.

  More important, though, the chain of tunnels and caves ran all through the mountains, with a number of exits on the Veracruz side. If the Falcons came after them, Two Batt would be able to escape to the west and possibly link up with whatever forces were left at Port St. William. Of course, no one expected the Falcons to go after them in the mines because the close confines would make ambushes far too easy and potentially deadly. The necessity of moving single file through the tunnels left the first and last 'Mechs dangerously vulnerable to attacks.

  Doc slowed the Penetrator as he brought it into the mine shaft and headed down. He switched the scanners over to infrared so he could pick out people on foot as well as other 'Mechs. Behind him, techs helped their security detail wire up explosive charges that could be used to seal the shaft if the Falcons did decide to pursue them.

  "Sharon, report?"

  "Get down here, go to vislight, and turn on your floods. It'll tell you more than I can."

  The fatigue in her voice almost drowned the doubt, but Doc picked up enough of it to cause him concern. "Is it really that bad?"

  "I'm not paid to be an optimist, Doc."

  Down further and around a comer, Doc brought his Penetrator to a stop and turned on his external floodlights. Flipping his holographic feed over to visual light he found the wellspring of Sharon's pessimism. This is bad.

  The two Support Lances had long since ceased to be support because they'd run out of long-range missiles. While most of the 'Mechs were still armed with lasers, those weapons were notoriously useless in anything other than a line-of-sight battle. And the missile boats tended to be slow, which made them a liability. Of the six they'd started out with, they were down to two, and both had been assigned to the Close Assault Lance to fill it out.

  The three Striker Lances had been reduced to two, which wouldn't have seemed too bad if their 'Mechs hadn't been so beaten up. The pilots paired their 'Mechs up so they could use each other as "walking armor" to cover the places where their protection had been entirely shot away. The two limping 'Mechs that had entered prior to Doc belonged to the second Striker Lance, and the fact that the Firestarter had lost its left foot and right arm meant it would probably be scavenged for parts and abandoned.

  Doc keyed his radio. "Isobel, what about the Titans?"

  "Dings and dents, but we're all still here."

  That report brought a big smile to Doc's face. The training he'd done with the recon company had paid off rather well. Within the tight confines of the mountain passes and gaps, the light, fast 'Mechs had proved adept at hitting and withdrawing. The company hadn't really done significant damage—only two kills—but their flanking maneuvers had apparently forced some of the Falcon withdrawals.

  "I don't know why you're down on the unit, Sharon. Things look pretty good to me."

  "Oh, have you finally found the wet bar there in Sarz's Penetrator? You must have because this group could only look good if seen after a few shots of whiskey."

  "That's probably true, Sharon, but the fact is that the Clanners haven't killed any of our light 'Mechs." Doc sighed heavily. "That ain't much to hang hope on, but it's enough for the time being."

  27

  Tukayyid

  ComStar Garrison District, Free Rasalhague Republic

  2 April 3058

  The Precentor Martial opened his hands in a gesture inviting both women to be seated. The brightness of the light reflected by the room's white walls all but banished the last of the gray weariness from their skin, though the dark circles under their eyes still betrayed their fatigue. "Again, I extend my welcome to Tukayyid. While you were resting up I had a chance to review the report you prepared in transit, Precentor Koenigs-Cober. I have found it most comprehensive and, alas, sobering. Still, I am gratified to see you were able to cripple or destroy most of the research facilities at Hilton Head."

  Lisa pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down at a place at the middle of the table. "I was doing what I'd been instructed to do. Had I been thinking correctly in the first place, we might not have lost Terra."

  The Precentor Martial moved around to the head of the table and waited for the Primus to take a seat at the other end before sitting himself. "Even if the substitution had been detected, there would have been no way to prevent the capture of Terra, save abandoning Tukayyid and launching a preemptive strike against the Word of Blake forces. Information lately obtained from Terra and elsewhere seems to indicate the Word of Blake came into the system with three full 'Mech regiments."

  Sharilar Mori stared at Anastasius Focht from the far end of the table. "How many regiments do they have?"

  "Just those three, I believe, plus the pseudo-Lancers. They've all taken up positions on Terra." Focht shook out the linen napkins set on his plate and spread it on his lap. "The chef who prepares meals for our headquarters here is quite good. All the meat, grains, and vegetables are produced here. We've been very successful at rehabilitating the planet since the war and have production up to eighty percent of what it was before the Clans invaded. Normally the fare is a bit more meager, but the chef, Precentor Rudolfo, insisted upon giving you his best."

  Lisa nodded gratefully, but Sharilar Mori frowned. "I admit I'm ready for something better after a month of eating flight rations, but shouldn't we be speaking about the reconquest of Terra? I agreed to delay long enough to rest, but I thought we would immediately be to business."

  The Precentor Martial took a deep breath and wished there were an easy way to deliver the blow to the Primus. He exhaled slowly. "We would be immediately to business, Primus, if there were business to discuss."

  "What do you mean, Anastasius?"

  The Precentor Martial glanced at Lisa. "Primus, did you read the report Precentor Koenigs-Cober prepared?"

  "You know I did, Anastasius. My comments are appended to the copy you were given. You read them, I assume."

  "Yes, Primus." Focht folded his hands together and rested them on the edge of the table. "The Precentor's report provided an excellent analysis of what would be required to garrison and retake Terra. She suggested that six BattleMech regiments, with appropriate aerospace, artillery, armor, and infantry support, would be sufficient to garrison the world against an attack force roughly four times that large. I find her analysis quite accurate."

  "You said Word of Blake had only four regiments on the planet."

  "They will bring in mercenaries. Group W and the Legion of the Rising Sun have already refused contracts with them, but others are not likely to be so scrupulous."

  "Anastasius, as I recall, we currently have about forty BattleMech regiments under your command. Use as many as you need." The Primus gave him a tight smile. "Precentor Koenigs-Cober's report also noted that a planetary bombardment of the sort the Clans visited upon the planet Turtle Bay would considerably soften up the defenses."

  "As would jumping to the asteroid belt, strapping simple rocket motors to asteroids, and using them to pummel the planet." Focht shook his head. "The point is moot."

  "Yes, bombarding Terra to save it is a l
ess than satisfactory solution to the problem." The Primus frowned. "Your report about the Wolf Clan refugees on Morges indicated that they have an ample supply of OmniMechs. We'll use them to give us an advantage over the Blakists."

  "I doubt Khan Kell will give them to us."

  "Pressure him, Anastasius."

  The Precentor Martial smiled in spite of himself. "Phelan Kell responds less well to pressure than I do, Primus."

  "Everyone has his price, Anastasius."

  "And you have forgotten the lesson Myndo Waterly learned just before you took her place as Primus: that price can be high indeed."

  "Is that a threat, Precentor Martial?"

  "Not at all, Primus." He looked over at an ashen-faced Lisa. "You will forgive us, Precentor. The Primus and I have, over the years, found baiting each other a useful way of dealing with frustration. She knows we cannot take Terra back, and I must pay the price for making her acknowledge that fact."

  "I know nothing of the kind, Anastasius." The Primus fell silent as the door to the small dining room opened and two Acolytes rolled in a cart bearing a steaming tureen of soup and bowls. "That does smell good."

  "It is a cream soup made with native black prawns." Focht waited for his guests to begin eating before tasting the soup himself. The onion and pepper in it added bite, while the hint of lemon complemented the taste of the prawns. "You should feel honored—Rudolfo is giving you the best I've ever had from him."

  "Perhaps I will have him transferred back to Terra to serve me there."

  "It is possible you could, Primus, for he is a very young man. He might live to see that day."

  The Primus patted her lips with her napkin. "Why do you say it will take a long time to reconquer Terra? No matter how many mercenaries they bring in, we should have sufficient troops to defeat them."

  The Precentor Martial saw Lisa's expression darken for a moment. "I don't mean to draw you into a battle between us, Precentor, but your perspective as a ground commander will be useful. How valuable is Terra to ComStar?"

 

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