Masters of War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Watching the ’Mechs exit the DropShips, Alaric was impressed with how quickly the Wolf Hunters moved. Picking out Anastasia had not been difficult. She drove a Stormcrow—a designation he found quite appropriate for Yed Posterior. She had it configured with four pulse lasers in the left arm, which would make it very effective in the tunnels.

  What surprised him was her ’Mech having an LRM launcher in the right arm. The missiles would be useless in the tunnels. He looked again and saw her artillery company spreading out and taking up firing positions, as did the ’Mechs with LRMs. What is she doing?

  Even when the DropShips lifted off into the storm it didn’t occur to him what Anastasia had planned. In retrospect, given her contempt for Clan honor, it made perfect sense. In many ways he actually wished he’d hit on her strategy himself, because it would have made his fight in the tunnels that much easier.

  The invaders launched salvoes of hundreds of LRMs from their ’Mechs, vehicles and DropShips. The missiles arced up, getting lost in the storm, and then came right back down, concentrating on the warehouses at quayside. Alaric felt the ground shake as the missiles rained over the warehouses, blasting them to bits, pulverizing the rubble, and gnawing into the earth itself.

  The explosions destroyed buildings and ferrocrete slabs. They shattered the elevator plates and carved through foundations. They opened tunnel mouths with ease, leaving each one a smoking crater, open and inviting to assault.

  And they crumbled the walls that kept the ocean at bay.

  Alaric keyed his radio. “Everyone, get out of the east-west corridors. Move, now! Get out of the tunnels if you can.”

  Throughout the warehouse district the tunnels had been dug below sea level. Water burst through weakened walls as the ocean drained into Henderton’s underworld. Solid columns of water gushed into the tunnels, tumbling debris like pebbles in a river. They overwhelmed the obstructions the Wolves had built.

  Alaric escaped being swept along by the initial waves by ducking into a north-south passage. Water shot past heading west toward the spaceport, with eddies curling into his tunnel. A ’Mech—he thought it was the marine salvage ’Mech—somersaulted west. The water rose very quickly, and the tunnels soon would be completely submerged.

  He had no fear of drowning. The cockpit was airtight and he could last a day, perhaps two, on the supplies built into the survival packet in his command couch. Underwater, however, his weapons would be useless and his speed cut down to almost nothing. And while he might be able to leave the tunnels through any number of exits, any within the warehouse district would be covered by an LRM barrage.

  Just for a moment he contemplated blowing the charges that would get rid of his ’Mech’s canopy. He would drown, but he saw it less as suicide than the equivalent of going down with the ship. As the Spartans said, “With your shield or on it.”

  He shook his head. Killing himself would have no honor at all attached to it. Dead is dead. If he died now, he would just be another failed eugenics experiment—a match never to be tried again.

  It is not in my blood to kill myself.

  He did not have to wonder what his mother would do had she ended up in his situation. He already knew. She’d found herself trapped by her brother and did nothing but wait in disbelief until she was freed. She denied the reality of her situation, and if not for the kindness of Vlad Ward, she would have lingered in prison and would have long since died.

  Instead he found himself wondering what Victor Davion would have done. Victor had not been trained in the ways of the Clans, but he had learned them. He had likewise learned the secrets of the Draconis Combine, and when Katrina had tricked him out of his realm, he learned all about her and won it back. That seemed to have been how he always operated—he endured defeat, studied challenges and learned, always learned how to get back on top.

  But what do I learn from this?

  Water swirled around the cockpit canopy as he thought for a moment. He realized that what was the wrong question to be asking. He needed to ask from whom he should be learning. Anastasia Kerensky had come up with a strategy that trapped him, multiple times. Her refusal to bid down her force had been what decided his fate. How she implemented it had merely been an exercise in practicality.

  The need for honor was subordinated to the need for efficacy. It struck him that her comment about breeding programs hit at a core flaw in the Clan system. While it was true that a warrior who fought well but died would be allowed to breed, the fact that he didn’t have to be alive to do so could cut out a desire to survive. The desire to survive, on the other hand, could be the key motivator that pushed someone to find new and better solutions to problems. It could even be argued that this was the major difference between warriors of the Inner Sphere and their Clan counterparts.

  And warriors like Victor Davion had defeated the Clans.

  But you knew this, instinctively, which is why you would not choose death before dishonor. He nodded slowly. “I guess I am like my father. While I live, I can learn. If I can learn, I can become better. I can defeat my enemies. I can attain my destiny.”

  I can become a god.

  With this thought, he turned and stalked his Mad Cat through the watery tunnels, eventually emerging to surrender to a mercenary who had once been a Wolf.

  And I will learn.

  15

  South Allshot, Baxter

  Former Prefecture IX, Republic of the Sphere

  14 January 3137

  Though she had crafted the plan as perfectly as she could, commanding eleven ’Mechs to retreat from a mere handful of Clan ’Mechs left a sour taste in Verena’s mouth. Her ranged raiding against the DropShip had been effective—far more so than she had allowed herself to imagine. They’d bled the DropShip, and now they would bleed the BattleMechs.

  Still, she wanted more. She couldn’t help it. Ever since she’d been dismissed from the Steel Wolves she’d been seeking an opportunity to prove herself. The successful completion of this operation would show what kind of a leader she was, and that was definitely a question she wanted answered.

  It would not, however, prove what kind of warrior she was. Part of her needed that, badly. The fact that her Koshi was a third lighter than the smallest of the Clan ’Mechs was all the calculation she needed to convince her that heroics would be suicidal, and would be of no help to the mission at all.

  “Fall back in order, Badgers. Concentrate on the Pumas.”

  Only her command lance fired in the first exchange. The four ’Mechs, a Centurion, two Blackjacks and her Koshi were the only ’Mechs in her force capable of firing effectively at range. Shooting a stationary DropShip was one thing, but hitting Clan ’Mechs coming fast was something else entirely. Her pilots chose their targets and the twin Pumas obliged by darting out in front of the rest of the Wolf Star.

  The Centurion hit with his autocannon and an LRM salvo. He blasted armor from all over, including a fortuitous hit on the cockpit. One of the Blackjacks targeted the same Puma. The green beam of a large laser burned a black scar across the Puma’s torso, but failed to penetrate through to the ’Mech’s heart.

  Verena, backing her Koshi quickly, still tracked the other Puma. When the gold targeting dot pulsed at the heart of her crosshairs, she tightened up on her triggers and sent two ruby beams shooting out. One hit the ’Mech’s cockpit, sending half-melted armor scales sliding from the squat ’Mech. The other one ripped up along the left arm, ablating over half the pristine armor.

  The Blackjack followed up with a large laser. Green energy lanced into the left arm, melting the last of the armor and starting in on the ferrotitanium bones. The Puma retained use of the limb, but another shot would rip it clean away, and destroy the missile launcher built into it.

  The Pumas fired back, launching four salvos of missiles. They rode fiery jets to scatter themselves over the mercenaries. The Centurion and one of the Blackjack s took the hits, shedding armor but suffering no serious damage.

  In that first
exchange the Clans had gotten the worst of it. How fast will you do the math? Her lance continued to pull back, and if the Clanners came on, they risked her other lances maneuvering around to flank them. While the ’Mechs were small, if they got in close they could pump a lot of energy into the Clanners.

  Are you willing to risk it?

  The Clan ’Mechs slowed.

  Verena allowed her lance to pull back another fifty meters. “Wait for them. Wait to see what they are going to do.”

  “We can kill the Pumas right now, Captain.”

  “No, Carter, wait. Just wait.”

  The Pumas pulled back and positioned themselves in the middle of the Clan Star. The Mad Cat remained closest to the Badgers, while the Vulture and Black Hawk headed back west. They took up positions that let them cover the flanks; then the other three withdrew. The Pumas passed beyond the larger ’Mechs, took up covering positions, and the withdrawal continued.

  Very good. Verena keyed her microphone. “We move forward now. Just as we planned. We shadow them but do not press them. Do not engage.”

  The Badgers moved in and the Clanners stopped. The Badgers stopped outside their effective range. The Clans withdrew again, and the Badgers advanced. The Clanners moved back in very good order. If either of the mercenaries’ light lances attempted a flanking maneuver, the Clanners could hit them hard at range and close, five ’Mechs on four, which was a recipe for disaster.

  The retreat almost became a game, and Verena half expected her enemy to radio her his compliments. They’d both succeeded. She’d inflicted damage to the DropShip and to some ’Mechs; he’d beaten back their attack. They would chase him to South Allshot and then retreat.

  And he will begin planning how he will use his other Star to kill us later. She smiled. He is already thinking about that.

  He didn’t call. She resisted the urge to widebeam a message to him. She was curious, but if she initiated contact, he would see it as a sign of weakness. He might take it as a prelude to surrender.

  Slowly and carefully the Clanners withdrew through the breaks and canyons of the badlands between South Allshot and the spaceport. The Vulture mounted one rise that gave it full command of the landscape, and a Puma raced past it. The Black Hawk squeezed through a tight pass, followed by the other Puma.

  As the Mad Cat backed into the tight spot, Verena wondered if, just for a heartbeat, the Clan leader appreciated how perfect a spot that would be for an ambush. Perhaps he felt it as the hair rose tingling on the back of his neck. Maybe one of his pilots suggested it to him.

  Because it really was.

  She keyed her radio. “Now, Lieutenant Kennerly, if you please.”

  The Demons had maneuvered into position after the Clans had moved past. The missile carriers launched four full salvos of LRMs at the Vulture that had so commandingly skylined itself. Explosions rippled over the hilltop, and for a moment it appeared as if the Clanner had stationed himself on the cone of an active volcano. Searing light split the night. The top of the hill and the ’Mech that had been standing on it disappeared.

  Beyond the pass the azure glow of PPCs flashed over dark stone. The trio of ’Mechs in Demon company targeted the first Puma to sneak through. Verena had no idea what damage they did to it, but the icon representing it on the tactical monitor went red. If it is not dead now, it soon will be.

  Her own lance started forward, firing as they came. The Centurion missed with his cannon shot, but LRMs still scored armor on the left arm and leg of the Mad Cat. The Blackjack pilots did better, drilling green beams into the ’Mech’s right flank, left arm and head. That last shot breached the cockpit canopy, but didn’t seem to affect the pilot. Verena’s shot raked armor from the ’Mech’s middle and left weapons pod. The combined assault had all but stripped that limb of armor, but failed to damage the particle projection cannon mounted in it.

  An azure glow started in both pods. The Mad Cat’s twin PPCs spat sizzling bolts of artificial lightning. In the flash of an eye they linked the Clan ’Mech with Verena’s Koshi. The first beam hit the Koshi’s right arm and melted it clean off. Klaxons blared in the cockpit and the gyros screamed as they tried to keep the ’Mech upright.

  Then the second beam took her ’Mech’s left leg. Armor evaporated. Myomers flashed into greasy smoke and the metallic bones glowed white hot before flowing into nothingness.

  Without the leg to support it, the Koshi crashed onto its left shoulder. Verena pitched hard against her restraining straps. The ’Mech balanced on its side for a second, then slowly flopped onto its back. She braced, but the impact still jolted her. Her head bashed into the back of her command couch and blood gushed from her nose.

  The Mad Cat rose above her ’Mech like an animal claiming its kill. The weapons pods swung wide, spitting argent beams. Short-range missiles streaked from the ’Mech’s right breast, and a trio of lasers shot a volley of ruby energy darts. The bright backlight of its hellish assault transformed it from a tattered war machine into a creature of nightmares. With its next step, it could crush the life out of her.

  Or would have, save for the Badger counterattack. Laser light, coming in solid green and red beams as well as a scattering of scarlet darts, ate into the Clanner’s ’Mech. Steaming armor streamed from its sides. Laser darts stippled it with burning wounds. Explosions rippled over it, shattering armor and blowing out the cockpit.

  The Clan ’Mech towered over her, the cockpit smoking. It wavered for a moment, then sagged down on its haunches. The cylindrical torso pitched up and the ’Mech crashed back out of sight.

  Verena lay there shivering, then hit the safety-belt buckle with the heel of her hand. The belts popped free. She shifted around to stand on the back of the couch. She pulled off her neurohelmet and wiped sweat from her forehead. She thought about getting the first aid kit from the command couch, but instead flipped the switch that unlocked the seals on her canopy.

  Hydraulics hissed and cool air whistled in. It poured over her, starting another shiver. From outside a cacophony of explosions echoed through the canyons. Staccato bursts of light punctuated the noise and cast macabre ’Mech shadows against the walls.

  She crawled out of her cockpit and stood on her ’Mech’s shoulder. She couldn’t see much beyond the Mad Cat’s carcass, but very quickly there wasn’t anything to see or hear. Stars twinkled coldly in a dark sky. If it weren’t for the fire guttering in the Mad Cat’s wasted cockpit, the stars and twin moons would have been all she could see.

  Then, in the distance, a ’Mech came walking through the pass. Lights flicked on in the cockpit, but that was hardly necessary. She’d known from the first footfall who it would be. She sat and waited.

  Kennerly brought his pristine Clint forward and stopped on the far side of the downed Clan ’Mech. The firelight slithered over his machine, transforming it into the avatar of some war god worshipped by primitive people. Verena felt very small and hugged her knees against her chest.

  The external speakers on the Clint crackled. “We got them all. The plan worked.”

  “Losses?”

  “Machines only. The Mad Cat killed a Flea and took an arm off Carter’s Hermes. The others scored armor and Douglas lost myomers in a leg. The Demons are a hundred percent with three kills, including the Vulture.”

  “Anything we can salvage?”

  “One Puma, the Black Hawk and this beast here, if we can find a new cockpit for it.” Kennerly’s voice suffered little from being squirted out through loudspeakers. “We have three pilot prisoners. Should we shoot them?”

  Verena shook her head. “We will make them bondsmen.”

  “You’ll have to handle that.”

  “That was my intention.”

  “There’s one other thing, Captain.”

  She held her hands up. “No, Kennerly, there is not. You are looking at me here on top of a crippled ’Mech and you wonder if the pressure got to me. You wonder if I engaged the Mad Cat because I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Actually,
you wonder nothing of the sort, but that is what you intend to ask me. You want me wondering if I tried to kill myself. It will not work.”

  “Captain . . .”

  Verena shook her head adamantly. “No, because the answer is no, most emphatically. I have nothing to prove. He came at me, he made a choice and I see where it got him. As an object lesson, that is a pretty good one, you know.”

  “Noted, Captain, but that was not the matter I needed to bring forward.” A lighter note entered his voice. “It is good news.”

  Verena’s eyes narrowed. He’ll make me pay for my protest. “What is it, Kennerly?”

  “The Skondia Rangers are inbound to reinforce us. Two days and they should be here. We’ve been ordered to sit tight and do nothing.”

  She snorted. “Did you mention to them that there is nothing left to do anything against?”

  “Not going to take that DropShip, Captain?”

  “What did you tell them, Kennerly?”

  He laughed. “I told them to divert to Overton. I said we understood there were still some invaders there that might need dealing with. That suggestion was met with a fair amount of cheering.”

  Verena stood and glanced toward dawn, trying to spot the incoming DropShip. She saw nothing, so looked back over her shoulder at Kennerly’s ’Mech. “Did you come to see if I had died?”

  “I knew you hadn’t died. You won’t cheat me that way.” His voice grew as cold as the night. “You’ve survived. You’ve guaranteed you’ll be praised, elevated, given more responsibility. And the greater the height, the more spectacular the fall.”

  Verena hugged herself but could stop shivering.

  16