Anger spiked in his chest and his hands curled into fists. How dare they defy me? Even as that question echoed inside his head, he had two answers. The first, practical, was that of course they had to defy him. He was attacking their home. Only cowards would refuse to defend it, and it looked as if more than just the militia was willing to undertake the defense.
The second answer ran deeper. He saw himself rising out from the cockpit of his ’Mech, his awareness soaring through the factory roof. His feet rested firmly on the ground and as he raised his head, it brushed the underside of the clouds, inviting lighting to wreathe him. He could feel its tingle as it ran over his body. He reached out and caught a fistful of it and hurled it toward the center of the city.
They defy me as mortals have always foolishly defied the gods. Their resistance was a test of him, not of the Clans. Alaric knew very well the ancient dictum that no plan survived contact with the enemy. He had expected to deal with things quickly. The world and its defenses had surprised him and caused problems; but were the problems insurmountable?
Of course not.
Alaric smiled. No doubt the militia leaders were pleased with themselves. They’d surprised the Wolves with their tactics. They were able to move with impunity on their world and the invaders could not. The militia could elude them and draw things out, costing him time, denying him conquest of the world.
But the failure of a plan to survive contact with the enemy cut both ways. They had their plan, and it was predicated on a pattern that Alaric would change. His declared goal was possession of the world; in reality, all he wanted was possession of its resources.
And, for all their pluck and ingenuity, they could not deny him access to the resources. It might take him time to eliminate the militia and take the world, but he could take his loot immediately. Moreover, he would do things they would not anticipate, since they believed he intended to remain on Yed Posterior.
But I do not. Alaric smiled slowly. They will pay for their defiance, I shall see to that. They have invited the wrath of the gods, and they shall see how terrible it can be.
11
South Allshot, Baxter
Former Prefecture IX, Republic of the Sphere
11 January 3137
Baxter’s dual moons hung high and full in the sky with nary a cloud to obscure them. Verena studied the landscape, from the open fields below her position up to the hills that ringed the valley she overlooked. A gentle breeze teased golden grasses, and just for a moment she relaxed.
What a beautiful day.
Kennerly’s voice crackled through the speakers in her headset. “Beautiful day to die, isn’t it?”
“Either you read minds, Lieutenant, or you have a soul.”
“Neither, Captain. That thought is just the common thought. I knew you’d be thinking it.”
“And what were you thinking?”
“It’s an even better day to be killing someone.”
“Oh, I think we will be getting to do plenty of that.” At least that was her hope, though Verena knew it was unlikely. The strategy that Anastasia had outlined and everyone had accepted spoke against any pitched battles. It was to be a war of hit and fade, snipe and run. The whole idea was to bleed the Wolves.
She understood and accepted that wisdom. Sun-tzu advocated hitting the enemy where he was weak, and to appear strong where you are yourself weak. She knew all the classics of military doctrine, and had taken to poring through Hackworth’s Vietnam Primer to study how he advocated fighting an insurgency so she could counter those tactics.
But will it do any good? The Demons had been placed in the Emerald Basin Planetary Park to secure the Badgers’ escape route from South Allshot. From the moment the Clans had appeared in the Baxter system, South Allshot had been a prime target. The manufacturing facility there produced miles of myomer fibers every month, and the main plant was surrounded by factories for ’Mech subassembly and refitting. Last month’s production had been shipped off-planet already or hidden in caches, and key manufacturing components had been disabled in the plants, but it would not take long for the Clans to make them operational again.
The trick was for the Badgers to contest control of the factories without causing too much damage. The old Solomonic solution of splitting the baby will not do. Back when the Republic of the Sphere was whole, a scorched-earth policy would have made sense, because The Republic’s resources would have been devoted to bringing things back to normal as quickly as possible for every planet it protected. Without that sort of support, rebuilding the industry could take forever.
The Badgers didn’t contest the landing at the Allshot spaceport off to the east, but instead were fighting a retreat out of the industrial zone. They hoped for two things. The first was being able to draw the Wolves into an ambush in the park. The second was making them believe they’d beaten the Badgers badly enough that they would not mount further operations. That would free them up to hit supply convoys heading from the industrial zone to the spaceport. As the Clans were forced to devote more forces to protecting their convoys, the Badgers could go after the factories again.
It all made perfect sense, and Verena was prepared to play her part. The battalion’s Animal Company, under Colonel Bradone’s command, was already engaged in the hit-and-run battle through the factory district. The Beasts had been stationed north near the capital of Overton and had prepped defenses that would slow the Clans down a lot. She’d hoped her Demons would be given that job, but Bradone chose to keep them close, citing her experience with the Steel Wolves as the reason.
There were two ways she could have read that, and neither was good. The first was that Bradone didn’t trust the Demons despite the way they had begun to straighten up. The second, which she considered worse, was that he didn’t trust her. It could have been that since she was untested he wasn’t sure how she would handle things.
Then again, maybe he thinks my being part of Clan Wolf makes me sympathetic to the invaders. He would not have been the only person to think that. While everyone understood that the Wolves-in-Exile and Clan Wolf had been split for decades, their doctrines and practices were similar enough that from an outsider’s point of view, it was hard to tell them apart. More than one military leader had wondered if Anastasia Kerensky was leading them into some sort of elaborate trap.
She shook her head to banish that thought and again studied the fields before her. She punched up her tactical plots so they overlaid themselves on the holographic display. She’d plotted a safe zone through which the Animals could move. She expected them to come fast. The whole company consisted of two light and one medium ’Mech lances, so they should be able to outdistance their Clan pursuit. Once they entered the safe zone, she’d direct her ’Mech lance’s fire at the lead Clan elements. That would slow them; then they’d move to flank her.
And when they do that, wham!
Verena nodded solemnly. “This will work.”
Kennerly chuckled dryly. “See the gold grasses?”
“What of them?”
“In under a minute they’ll be gone. It’ll just be dirty craters and fire.”
“Just as long as there are Wolves in the bottoms of those holes, who cares?”
A light flashed on her console and she punched the corresponding button. “Demon leader, go ahead.”
“Animal leader, we’re incoming. Be ready, they’re coming fast.”
“Acknowledged, out.” Verena cut her radio over to the Demons’ tactical frequency. “Incoming, get ready. As we planned it.”
She swallowed hard and felt perspiration rise on her flesh. Her heart began to pound, and not as it had before when she was in combat. That had been excitement. She had been a Wolf and a Wolf looked forward to combat. She’d been sent away, stripped of her identity, made into a mercenary who had been accepted into a company because they needed someone fast.
Damn it, Kennerly, get out of my head! She wanted to rub at her eyes, but her neurohelmet’s faceplate was in the
way. Kennerly was wrong. The only thing she had to prove was how good a shot she was. She already knew she was a warrior. She knew precisely how good, too, because she’d tested out well enough to become a line trooper.
The voice of her self-doubt, which had weeks ago begun sounding like Kennerly’s voice, tried to whisper more horrible things, but she forced herself to focus. She checked all of her monitors. Her Koshi was green. The fields of fire had been laid out perfectly. Her people were in position and would follow her orders. If they did everything they were supposed to, they’d get out of it fine and the Clans would be hurting.
But no plan survives. . . .
Verena swung her crosshairs up. Something moved at the far edge of the basin. It came up over the rim and hopped oddly on its way down into the valley. Flea. That’s One Lance. A second Flea appeared, followed by a Commando.
Where’s the Mercury?
Animal Company’s first lance poured into the basin without the Mercury. After that came Two Lance. A Commando led two Mongooses, and Lieutenant Carter came up last in her Hermes. All four of the ’Mechs looked worse for the wear, with armor hanging in tatters. Benson’s Commando had taken the most damage. Its right arm was frozen pointing at the ground, with tattered myomer fibers flapping from a hole at the shoulder.
Three Lance, the medium-class-weight command lance, came last, with Colonel Bradone bringing up the rear in his Vindicator. The black, humanoid ’Mech had once been painted with golden stripes, befitting the unit’s totem animal. The battle had blistered paint and soot stained the gold decorations. The PPC that replaced the ’Mech’s right forearm had been melted away. Armor had flaked and melted all over, giving Verena a clear view of the ’Mech’s internal structures.
She wondered for a half second what could have done that much damage, but as Bradone’s ’Mech started down into the basin, his pursuer crested the hill. It walked on bird legs, its cylindrical body thrust forward. Both arms ended in thick weapons pods. Its talons gouged through the turf as if the pilot wished to anchor it there. It stood a giant above fleeing villagers, and then took a step forward.
Bradone slowed his ’Mech, then turned. The pulse laser on the Vindicator’s head flashed, lacing red darts over the Clan ’Mech’s right claw. Armor rained down in fiery drops that started the grasses burning.
The Clan Mad Cat stabbed both weapons pods forward. Artificial lightning crackled. Both argent beams hit the Vindicator square in the chest. Armor evaporated and secondary explosions spat out structural members. Missiles poured out, cascading down, bouncing off the Vindicator’s legs.
Bradone’s ’Mech reeled backward. Grasses and dirt flew as the ’Mech left its feet. It fell back, slamming down hard. Verena felt the vibration when it hit. She watched, waited—her held breath burned her lungs. Get out of there!
The Clanner took another step into the basin. A claw came up and took careful aim.
“Fire now!” Verena spitted the Mad Cat on her crosshairs, and the dot at their junction flashed gold. She hit the trigger. The twin medium lasers in her ’Mech’s left arm lanced out at the Clanner. One missed low, but the other carved a black scar across its ankle. Kennerly’s PPC ripped a beam across the aiming claw, and two more PPCs from her lance’s Panthers scored leg armor.
As surprised as the Clan pilot might have been, he didn’t shift his aim. His PPC flashed a beam that struck the Vindicator in the chin. It ripped up over the canopy and fire exploded from within. The spherical head sagged like a rotting grapefruit, but a command couch burst upward and soared into the air.
“He’s free!” Sheila Carter’s voice cut through on the tactical channel. “Two Lance on me. Open fire lanes, Verena. We’ll get the colonel.”
“Negative, Lieutenant. Demons, lay down your fire, now.” Verena shifted her aim as two more Clan ’Mechs skylined themselves on the far hills. “Animals, keep with your escape lanes.”
Verena’s two artillery lances complied with her orders. The missile carriers and hovercraft launched multiple volleys of long-range missiles that filled the sky with contrails. The missiles swept over the far hills, sowing them with a harvest of blazing explosions. Clan ’Mechs vanished in clouds of smoke and fire—though Verena knew better than to imagine she’d done more than scratch armor.
“Carter, move!”
The Hermes had stopped and was turning toward the spot where Bradone’s command couch was going to land. Unlike the missiles, which had flown smoothly, the chair’s path had been erratic, and only one of the two parachutes deployed.
He can’t be alive, and won’t be when he hits at that speed. Verena shook her head. The couch fired as the cockpit melted. He couldn’t have survived.
“I have to get him.”
“He is dead.”
“Shut up. You don’t know him. He’s alive!”
Kennerly’s voice cut into the frequency. “Carter, get back here, or my next PPC beam runs right up your butt.”
“Kennerly, he’s alive.”
“Three. Two.”
“Kennerly, shoot the damned Clanner.” Verena snapped off two laser shots at the Mad Cat. “Carter, he is dead. You do not want to join him.”
“But—”
“Get back here. We need you. Now!”
Another volley of missiles crashed down, this one scattering along the inside of the basin’s lip. Several caught the Mad Cat, shattering armor. Smoke and dust covered the Clan ’Mech, though it still glowed hot when Verena shifted to infrared.
Savrashi! He is white-hot. The pilot had to have been constantly firing his PPCs and everything else as he pursued the Badgers. Another shot or two and his ’Mech would shut down. And then we could take him apart.
Almost before she knew what she was doing, she made her Koshi take a step forward. No, wait!
“Badgers, we withdraw as planned. Animals, form up at point delta. We cover you, you cover us.” Verena glanced over as the Hermes retreated in the wake of the other ’Mechs. “Carter, how much pursuit did you have?”
“One lance. That one guy, he just kept coming. He was fast and shot well.”
“He is backing off now.” Verena glanced at her tactical monitor. “One last volley, Demons. Then we pull out. This did not go quite as planned, but it could have been much worse.”
* * *
Verena sat against one of the mine walls clutching a hot cup of coffee. The Badgers had pulled back into a chain of mines that had been converted into shelters back when the people of Baxter were preparing against the original Clan invasion. Knowledge of the caves and tunnels was hardly a secret, but they were located far enough from South Allshot that the Clanners would have ample warning if the Badgers emerged to attack them.
Kennerly walked over and sat beside her. “Mechs are being refitted. We’ll be fully operational in three days. We’ve gotten communication from Major Peres up in Overton. He’s confirmed your command of both companies pending his appointment of a captain to run the Animals.”
She looked at him. “You did not volunteer?”
“No, and I told him picking Carter would be a mistake. I think he’ll send Abbie Dannik down. Until then, you’re it.” Kennerly smiled at her, but she knew it wasn’t a sign of friendly feelings.
“Say whatever it is you want to say, Kennerly.”
“Not say, Captain. I want to ask you a question.”
“What’s that?”
The man’s eyes glinted coldly. “Why didn’t you go for him?”
“Who?” She set her coffee down. “The Clanner?”
“He was almost shut down. If you’d emerged and challenged him, he would have responded. He would have cooked himself, and that would have ended a big threat. You could have proved something.”
“Yeah, I could have proved how stupid I was.”
“Easier to tell yourself that would have been stupid than it is to believe you’re a coward, isn’t it?”
Verena gave him a level stare. “You saw what I saw. Why did you refrain?”
> “I was under orders, Captain.” Kennerly gave her a short salute. “ ‘Mine is not to wonder why . . . ’ “
“That is crap. Answer me straight, Kennerly. I have seen you shoot. If you had gone after him, you could have hurt him, maybe even killed him. You knew we would cover him with missiles. You could have been the big hero.” She opened her arms. “This unit would have been yours.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t do it.” He shook his head. “I don’t want this unit. As long as you have it, the pressure grows. I think you’ll crack, and it will be sooner rather than later.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I believe that tonight, or tomorrow night, you’ll begin to wonder if Bradone really is dead. You’ll be able to think about what the Clans are doing to him even now. What information they’ll get, what secrets they’ll learn. See, everything has changed, and now figuring it all out is on your shoulders.”
Verena just stared at him, then through him, watching that command couch arc through the air. He is dead. No one could have survived that.
“You are a sociopath, Kennerly, do you know that?”
“I’m sure I am, Captain.” The man smiled as he stood. “Pleasant dreams.”
12
Henderton, Yed Posterior
Former Prefecture IX, Republic of the Sphere
12 January 3137
Alaric’s eyes burned and his shoulders ached. He was fairly certain he’d never be dry again, and almost as certain he’d never sleep. The Yedders had proved persistent and resourceful, but he believed the battle against them had finally turned the corner.
The first thing he’d done was to call in his reinforcements. That did cost him some prestige, but it also gave the Yedders more to consider. With the extra lance in tow, he abandoned the factory district and secured the spaceport. Once he’d done that, he called down multiple DropShips and began looting the planet.
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