Masters of War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “Star Captain Abigail, bring your reserve in right now. We will need you.”

  “I still have not confirmed those contacts, sir.”

  “They are decoys.”

  Star Captain Anthony, with Bravo Trinary to the south, burst into the frequency. “I have contacts, Star Colonel. Multiple. BattleMechs, Inner Sphere design.” Multiple explosions echoed over the frequency. “We are taking lots of fire, sir. It looks like the Skondia Rangers.”

  Skondia Rangers here? “Engage them. No, wait, can you retreat?”

  “Negative. They have cut us off. We have to win through.”

  “Go, go, go.” Donovan’s mouth tasted bitter. “Star Captain Abigail, help Bravo Trinary. They’re trapped.”

  “As ordered, sir.”

  And it was then, as Donovan reached out to switch to the Askani task force frequency, that he saw the devastated Ryoken waver and go down. A second later, lights flashed again and he found himself the victim of Anastasia Kerensky’s plan.

  And this time she does not plan to let me win.

  Anastasia found Star Colonel Donovan on his knees a couple of meters in front of his Daishi. He had lost his neurohelmet. Blood from scratches on his arms and legs had dried and his hair hung limply save for where sweat pasted it to his forehead. His shoulders slumped and he toyed with a jagged bit of broken ’Mech armor.

  Even after days of torture, Alaric never looked that defeated. She stopped in front of him and dismissed the two Wolf Hunter infantrymen who had been standing watch over him. “It would be a shame if you cut your wrists.”

  The man looked up at her, his eyes sunken into his skull. “This is not possible.”

  “You know that is not true, because your force is broken. Your task force in the south has already capitulated and withdrawn.”

  “But we agreed what sites you would defend.”

  Anastasia smiled. “And we did defend the south. We had people down there. They had sidearms.”

  “But . . .” His eyes narrowed, and then he looked down again, flinching from her gaze. “I did nothing wrong.”

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Yes,” he said, but refused to meet her stare.

  “You know that is a lie, Donovan.” She toed the armor fragment out of his hand. “You made a very significant military blunder. You divided your force in the face of a superior enemy. I had the Skondia Rangers positioned to roll up your flank and close in behind you. I used decoys, not to draw off your reserves, but to pin them. That holds true for the south as well. You planned carefully and based your calculations on the odds, and you kept them in your favor. I just found a way to shift them to mine again.”

  “What will you do with me?” He finally looked up again. “Ransom me to Alaric?”

  “No, he would enjoy that far too much.” Anastasia glanced up at the faraway star around which Nusakan orbited. “We do not know if he will win or not, but if he does, I will not turn you over to him.”

  “Will you make me a bondsman, then?”

  She smiled, but shook her head. “I have no need of bondsmen.”

  “What, then?”

  “I will offer you the same proposition I did Alaric. You will stay here, work with me, learn from me. And, when the time is right”—Anastasia gave him a conspiratorial nod—”I will unleash you against Alaric, and you will destroy him.”

  31

  Mudana Refuge, Nusakan

  Former Prefecture IX, Republic of the Sphere

  19 March 3137

  The site Verena had chosen looked no better to Alaric from the fastness of his Mad Cat’s cockpit than it had when he’d toured it via hovercraft. Though snow covered the landscape to a depth of two meters in places, it failed to soften any part of the terrain, and imparted no sense of innocence. The utter lack of trees was the primary defect, for it hinted at the complete corruption that lurked beneath the surface.

  When Nusakan had first been colonized, this district had been the site of massive strip mines that laid open the earth. Those wounds had never healed and the rivers that formed the western edge of the battlefield ran brown with heavy metal poisons—staining the ice above them the color of dried blood.

  She has chosen well. Verena had arrayed her troops atop a plateau that jutted out into the plain below. A river running from the western edge of that bulge slanted to the southwest, where it connected with another river running north to south. The triangle of land between them led to the only easy manner of egress to the plateau. The steepness of the edge beneath her troops prevented a direct assault, yet the way she positioned her troops, she was clearly inviting it.

  Then again, they can hit the entire battlefield with long-range weapons. The idea of looping around to the east was a nonstarter because the plateau’s steep edge extended for five kilometers in that direction. Stringing his troops out along that route would just allow Verena a chance to hit them hard. While forcing her to move would reveal, he hoped, a lack of coordination among the trio of units, the long trek would dilute his firepower and could embolden even the Demons.

  Verena had positioned her Djinns in the center of her formation, with the Stormhammers to the east and the Demons tucked back along the western edge. For all intents and purposes that made the Demons her reserve unless Alaric tried to push up into the river valley—a dubious prospect that would bunch his troops and give the Stormhammers time to cross over to a position where they could pound on them.

  Alaric had arranged his troops simply in a staggered line. His Alpha Trinary formed the northern point, with Bravo Trinary on the right. His command Star had the left, and behind it came Striker Trinary, acting as his reserve. He brought them up tight because the western route to the plateau seemed the only logical way to attack. This meant it would be well defended and he wanted a force that could hit hard deployed to deal with the defenses.

  He allowed himself to chuckle. He had been outmaneuvered in the negotiations. Verena had surprised him, being far more direct than he would have imagined possible. He managed to take heart from the fact that Kennerly seemed as surprised as he was. She had gone completely off script. This newfound ability could make life difficult. She became unpredictable. If she was able to sustain that change, she would become very dangerous.

  But what are the chances that her change is permanent?

  Ultimately it did not matter what the chances were. He had to assume she would maintain her drive and her edge. He had to assume she would be the most determined, bloodthirsty and focused commander he had ever faced. This complicated his task, but he had always believed it would be complicated.

  Alaric faced the same challenge countless warriors had faced before him. His foe had the high ground and prepared positions. While the enemy’s troops were not as good as his, there simply were more of them, which promoted longevity, and the last man standing on the battlefield was the victor.

  Which leaves me only one choice. He keyed his radio. “This is Alaric. Tactical plan A-Seven will go into effect. You know your parts. Make Clan Wolf proud.”

  That said, he brought his crosshairs up onto the ridgeline, and started forward with the other Wolves.

  * * *

  Verena wished for psychic powers, not so much to know what Alaric was planning, but to know why. She knew he would be thinking tactically, but she wondered at his strategic goals. Even if he defeated her forces here, he had to know that the Wolves had been broken on Skondia and that the Wolf Hunters were on their way to help her crush his Wolves.

  Not that she wanted the help, or needed it, but she would get it. Likewise there were countless other units heading toward Prefecture IX to blunt the Wolf spear-head. The drive for Terra had awakened old passions and fears. Nations had begun to respond generously and the Wolves would soon find themselves up to their necks in warriors looking to stop them.

  It made no sense, therefore, for them to pursue the invasion. Alaric had to see that, and that he persisted surprised her. She could imagine him agreein
g to orders from the khan, but she found it easier to picture him arguing against such lunacy.

  Then again, he did have his ’Mechs all arrayed for effect in the hangar, ignoring the tactical stupidity of such a thing.

  Looking out at the diamond formation advancing below, Verena wished she had called the DropShip in to destroy them all. That she would have died in such an attack really mattered little to her. It would have pointed out, yet again, how vulnerable warriors and their machines were in the face of a determined enemy who felt he had nothing to lose.

  And she would have done it, too, but it hardly seemed she had anything to gain by the action. The Wolves would have come to Nusakan again, and likely would have visited horrible atrocities on the civilian population. Back in the first invasion the Smoke Jaguars had done exactly that in the Draconis Combine. She harbored no illusions that the Wolves were so far removed from the Clanners who had invaded that such conduct would not happen a second time.

  The radio crackled with Kennerly’s voice. “It appears they have chosen to come up the throat. He sees the Demons as our weak link.”

  There was no question that the Demons were the weak link. The unit had been formed of MechWarriors who were better at running their mouths than running their ’Mechs; and the techs had barely managed to keep things stuck together. Their morale had plunged to serious depths after they watched a single Clanner take apart their command lance, and Colton, in her new role as media commentator, had been waxing eloquent about how she would miss her faithful comrades after the coming battle. Rumors even had it that bookies on far Solaris were measuring the Demons’ life span in nanoseconds.

  “Just stick with the plan, Captain.”

  “You sound sure of yourself.”

  “I am.” Verena smiled. “Alaric thinks he is invulnerable. It is his weakness. He will pay for it.”

  “Roger that. Kennerly out.”

  Down below the Wolves came on, heading toward the valley beneath the Demon position. It took them completely out of range of anything the Stormhammers could toss at them, but her first company of Djinns started to acquire targets. She drifted her crosshairs over the incoming mass of Wolves and picked out a Mad Cat much like the one in which she sat. It had to be Alaric and she smiled as she covered it.

  “Attention Djinns and Demons. Acquire targets by priority. Fire as they come into range.”

  * * *

  As far as Alaric could determine, the only advantage to fighting on a dimly lit world like Nusakan was that it made it much easier to know when you were being fired upon. All along the ridge the burst of flames that marked the launching of long-range missiles lit the horizon. Green, red and blue lances of energy flashed down from the heights. Silvery gauss rifle projectiles arced down, chased by pulse laser darts and streams of depleted uranium.

  Missiles sowed fire through his ranks. Several hit his Mad Cat, shivering armor from a leg and flank. Through the firestorm a green laser beam stabbed, carving a third of the armor from the ’Mech’s right arm. Alaric stared at it as the armor peeled off the weapons pod. He shifted in his seat, correcting the ’Mech’s balance, and waited for a trickle of fear to trail coldly through his guts. It didn’t come, and in that, he took heart.

  Somehow he knew it had been Verena who had picked him out and targeted him, for the rest of the fire had poured down on Alpha Trinary. Two ’Mechs actually went down, but had not suffered crippling injuries. They would be back up and running by the time his command Star reached them. The enemy attacks had just sanded off armor—the only real effect of which was to make his pilots more eager.

  The Wolves fired back, concentrating their attacks on the Demons, and especially the heavy company on the Djinns’ flank. Shooting up at them did make it more difficult to hit them, but made the shots far more telling. Missiles flew and beams flashed, searing the eyes with red and green slashes. A humanoid Exterminator flopped over backward, the cockpit nothing but a smoking hole, while other ’Mechs lost limbs and armor by the ton.

  Another exchange and Alaric again took laser and missile damage. The missiles crushed more leg armor and nibbled away at his flank. Then the large laser’s emerald beam melted armor over his left side. Again, it was not enough to put him in any jeopardy, but the attrition would tell in the long run.

  But you won’t get me that easily, Verena.

  He picked her out from amid the defenders, marked her in his targeting computer, then shifted to one of the Demons. Both weapons pods covered a Bombardier , but when Alaric pulled the triggers on his joysticks, the blue ropes of synthetic lightning flashed past the squat ’Mech’s shoulders.

  How could I have missed? He glanced at his hands, then his diagnostics monitor, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. This is not possible.

  Any sense of doom died immediately, however, as Star Captain Xeno of the Alpha Trinary crowed triumphantly, “They’re breaking!”

  It was true. The Demons were pulling back, both companies. The path to the plateau was open. It would be slow going, tedious and dangerous. Verena had to have known the potential for the Demons’ quitting battle.

  And she would have planned for it.

  “Be careful, but go. Go now, go fast.”

  * * *

  Verena keyed her radio. “Now, Captain Rollins, fire at will.”

  From prepared bunkers on the river’s far shore, Verena’s armor and artillery opened up. Missiles flew in the hundreds, raining fire and shrapnel among the Wolves. Alaric’s Striker Trinary had swung west along the river’s edge, stringing itself out, and it caught the brunt of the assault. She would have preferred the attacks to go into the main body, but the prepared positions had been set up to oppose a run at the more gentle slope on that side of the river. Tactical maneuvering prior to the first assault would have revealed their positions.

  Nusakan’s dim atmosphere robbed her of any easy assessment of the damage being done, but in many ways the abstraction was far more powerful. Explosions lit the area as shock waves rippled through the snow. Ice cracked on the river, opening dark holes. ’Mechs fired back and bunkers exploded. Armor began to maneuver as artillery fired again and Clan ’Mechs plunged into the river.

  But they’re not supposed to do that. And down below, the command Star was breaking off and heading west, fording the river as well. If they blow past the armor, then they come up to the west!

  Variations of strategies and tactics flew through her mind, but she banished it all. The only thing important in that moment was killing Clanners. They attacked up the slope because they’d seen the Demons pull back. They assumed they were broken, but their retreat had been part of her plan all along.

  “Kennerly, we are moving north.”

  “Already under way, Colonel.”

  “Colonel Tucker, come west.”

  “As ordered, Colonel.” The man sounded almost elated. “You called this one right.”

  “I certainly hope so.” She dropped her crosshairs on a Ryoken and fired. Now it’s just a question of how fast we can kill them. Faster, I hope, than they can kill us.

  * * *

  The enfilading attack from across the river did not surprise Alaric too much. He’d expected something, and did admire how Verena had positioned her artillery at the top of the ridge to cover the armor. He and his command Star broke to the west and drove forward to the river. He hit it first and the crackling of the ice resounded like gunshots in his cockpit. The ’Mech sank deep in the river, to where sludge washed halfway up his cockpit windscreen. He forged ahead with all speed and emerged on the far shore just as Striker Trinary made landfall and advanced.

  Verena’s armor had pulled back toward a second line of prepared positions, but the Wolves came on too swiftly for them. The artillery didn’t fire from on high for fear of hitting their own people, but it wouldn’t have mattered. ’Mechs stalked among the vehicles, shooting and smashing them. Alaric’s Star, hitting them from the flank, melted the turret from a Zhukov heavy tank and the armor formati
on began to scatter.

  The artillery hammered the Clan ’Mechs, dropping two of the Strikers. That did not daunt them. They returned fire while the command Star skirted the plateau’s edge, then cut north and started up the slope. More missiles flew from above, but Alaric didn’t care. He’d be up and among the artillery, which would die even faster than the armor.

  Then, Verena, I come for you.

  He laughed to himself, then crested the plateau. There, beyond the artillery, he found the other surprise she had waiting for him. Unexpected, but so be it. I will not be stopped.

  * * *

  Kennerly’s medium ’Mech company led the shift to cover the hole the Djinns had made with their departure, and Verena’s heavy company held his southern flank. Her troops shot at the advancing Clanners, pouring fire into their flanks. They raked the enemy with missiles and shells, the strobing explosions revealing the Clanners clawing their way up the slope.

  As they came Verena realized part of Alaric’s strategy. Bravo Trinary remained below, lofting flights of missiles over their comrades, hammering the Djinns’ medium ’Mechs. Missiles pummeled an Assassin, spinning it around and dumping it to the ground. One green laser beam cleaved through the left shoulder of Kennerly’s Clint. In the blink of an eye the severed limb buried itself in the snow, while the other arm came up and the PPC spat blue death back at the attackers.

  Verena picked out a Man-O’-War stalking up the slope. The massive Clan ’Mech’s arms ended in muzzles, and it looked as if it wanted hands to assist in the climb. The machine hunched forward, broad flat feet digging into the earth. The pilot fired uphill, burning armor from a hapless Cicada, then struggled on.

  Once her targeting dot blinked, Verena tugged on the triggers. She sprayed missiles over the blocky ’Mech, then lashed it with a large laser’s beam. The green energy scalpel whittled armor from the ’Mech’s breast, while missiles scattered armor on its left arm and leg. Despite the damage done, the machine did not waver or slow. Worse yet, the pilot paid her no mind and fired directly ahead again.