Falcon Guard

by Robert Thurston

  Jared Mahoney strode over to the corpse and turned it over with his foot so that it faced upward. Beneath the blood there was no clue to the kind of face that had been there.

  "Does that make you feel anything, Pryde?"

  "It makes me feel that you have committed a stupid error, Mahoney."

  Jared Mahoney rammed the rifle into Aidan's stomach. "Perhaps you are next, Clan-scum."

  "No. I am your chief hostage, your best hope for negotiation. You would not kill me until your cause is hopeless."

  Jared Mahoney removed the rifle barrel from Aidan's stomach and took a few steps backward. He looked down at Demi-Precentor Truit's corpse and clucked his tongue.

  "You two seemed so very chummy. Do you feel no regret at her death, Star Colonel?"

  Aidan could barely hide his contempt for this fool. "I wish you had not been so stupid as to kill the chief ComStar official at Quarell. Now you have ComStar as well as Clan against you."

  "I know that. It is a calculated risk, actually. I had intended all along to kill Truit so there would be no doubt about the seriousness of our intentions, but I had not planned to do it so soon. But that is not what I asked. Are you like the others of your kind, these Clan monsters for whom a human life has no value? You feel no sadness for the death of Melanie Truit?"

  "No sadness," Aidan said. "It should not have happened, but it did. What more is there?"

  "Your indifference appalls me."

  What a strange thing for a murderer to say, Aidan thought, as he watched Jared Mahoney swagger away.

  13

  Running barefoot, Diana quickly made her way from the edge of the forest to the helicopter. She always went shoeless any time there was a need to run. Dressed in the shorts and cooling vest that were standard cockpit garb for a 'Mech pilot, she could feel the cold night air raising goose bumps on her bare arms.

  Reaching the helicopter, she went up to the hatch and knocked lightly. It opened immediately to reveal the face of the Comstar adept within. "I saw you coming," he said.

  "One bad mark for me. I hope those vermin in the city did not spot me as well."

  "Why didn't you radio ahead?"

  "We were not sure if the rebels were monitoring transmissions. I plan to enter Vreeport, and I do not want to run into any welcoming committees."

  She explained to the adept that Aidan Pryde and Melanie Truit had been taken hostage inside Vreeport. The man immediately volunteered to do anything to help rescue the Demi-Precentor, impressing Diana with his loyalty.

  "What do you need?" he asked. "A weapon heavier than this pistol. What have you got?"

  Without another word, the adept went to a storage bin at the rear of the craft. He pulled out a submachine gun and handed it to Diana. "You can have this," he said.

  Diana sneered at the weapon. "Is that the best you have?"

  "I'm a ComStar helicopter pilot, not a member of the Com Guards. Besides, that submachine gun could be very useful. It has great range for a small-bore weapon. If your aim is good, what difference does it make whether a weapon is low caliber, right?"

  "Aff."

  Rummaging further into the locker, he pulled out a sheathed knife.

  He held it up triumphantly. "And here's a survival knife. Never been used. Should also be useful in there. You going in by yourself?"

  "By myself."

  "You have my admiration, beauty."

  "Do not call me that."

  Her voice was low and menacing, and the tech got the point. She hated the man for his impertinent Inner Sphere manner, but she suppressed her rage, knowing she needed his help.

  "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to scorch your armor. But you're quite a looker, you know."

  "My looks are of no importance," Diana said irritably. "I am going to enter Vreeport by that hole in the city wall. Can you create a diversion for me?"

  "Glad to. I'll make a flyby, then come back here. That should grab their attention. You can hide in that small clump of bushes just outside until I've passed over the city walls."

  "Right." She moved toward the spot he indicated, then settled down among the shrubs while the helicopter revved up, rose, and then soared low over the city wall.

  She was up and running as soon as it disappeared. At the wall she pressed herself against the area just alongside the hole, listening for movement on the other side. Then she glanced quickly through the gap in the wall, the next moment diving through. Coming out the other side, she somersaulted and came up with the knife ready in her left hand. But there was no one near. Diana ran for the shadows of the nearest building, stopping for a moment under an overhang, listening to the sound of the helicopter going away from her. She could also hear a commotion, the sound of angry shouts, no doubt directed at the aircraft.

  * * *

  Aidan wanted to wave the helicopter away. Who had authorized such a foolhardy maneuver? These rebels were already so wound up that they might commit any kind of violence, including blowing up the AgroMech in a mass suicide. Indeed, Jared Mahoney was running around like an animal whose head had just been chopped off as he tried to rally some response from his astonished cohorts.

  Finally, the rebel leader grabbed a pulse laser rifle from one of his supporters and aimed it skyward, firing wildly. His reckless act inspired others, and soon many of them were shooting at the aircraft.

  What fools they were, thought Aidan. Did they not see how easily their fire could hit the wrong target and create a chain reaction that would destroy all of Vreeport?

  Most of the shots went wild, until one hit the side of the helicopter, loosing tongues of flame from the side of the aircraft. As the copter began to go out of control, spinning first to the right, then to the left, it looked as though it would come down right in the middle of the town square, directly on top of the AgroMech.

  Aidan held his breath as he watched the pilot regain control of the helicopter, which now hovered shakily in the sky over Vreeport. The pilot's attempts to control his craft were only partially successful, however. The next moment it began to slide downward toward the square.

  Aidan braced for the expected crash, but somehow the pilot lifted just enough to clear a building on one side of the square. The helicopter continued onward, dipping a bit, then rose and leveled off. The pilot must have used up the last of either his luck or his skill, however, for the craft crashed to the ground just after clearing the city walls. The explosion sent up a flame that rose above the treetops of the forest, then disappeared.

  Aidan stared at the wall, then at the bodies of Astech Trion and Melanie Truit, lying nearby but covered now with blankets. He wondered how many more would die.

  Perhaps all, he thought, perhaps all.

  * * *

  Diana did not see the crash, but she heard it and the gunfire that preceded it. She did not have time to speculate on the crash or the death of the ComStar adept who had helped her, because she saw, in a building across the way, one of the rebels. The man was so amazed at her presence that he forgot to raise the automatic weapon held casually at his side. That moment of hesitation let

  Diana draw her own submachine gun and burn a scorching hole between the man's eyes.

  When she was sure he was dead, she stripped him of his tunic and loose trousers, slipping them over her shorts and vest. Then she went searching for the mob itself, the man's automatic weapon replacing the submachine gun in her arsenal.

  14

  "All right, Pryde, what is this offer you wish to make?" Jared Mahoney said, speaking loudly, making a play for audience attention.

  "You and I, Mahoney, on a field of battle. I will grant you warrior status and the right to choose both weapons and the site. The winner will decide all issues. I win, you and your mob give up. You win, I find a way to stop the claiming of your people as bondsmen.

  Jared Mahoney stared at Aidan for a long moment, then laughed harshly. "I have heard about your Clan battles. What is it you call them? Trials? And what you said to me, was that your bid?"


  "Not exactly. But close enough, I suppose. For these circumstances, at least."

  "And I have also heard that such bidding does not consist of idle challenges. It is based on strategy, the attempt to achieve the best possible results with a low bid of personnel and weaponry. If I understand the process correctly, it is strategic for the bidder to make his bid from a presumed stance of victory. And I submit to you, Pryde, that that is what you are doing. You make the challenge sound even, knowing that you, as a trained warrior, have advantages that I, as a barely trained militiaman, could not match. Don't speak to me of an even match between us. It cannot be."

  Aidan nodded. The man was right. The bid was not legitimate. It was against warrior custom to make the kind of bid that Jared Mahoney suggested, one that would allow for differences between true warriors and hastily trained rabble.

  "Sit down, Pryde."

  "I wish to stand."

  Jared Mahoney pushed Aidan roughly, with unexpected strength, back into the chair. Then, surprisingly, the man sat down in the other one, the chair so recently occupied by the ComStar Demi-Precentor.

  "I have lived all my life on Quarell," he said suddenly. He looked away from Aidan, obviously not expecting a response. "The Free Rasalhague Republic never considered this world to be of much value, even though the reason for its underdevelopment is the years, centuries, of war. But we who live here like it that way. We like living in what is considered a frontier existence. We know of the luxuries available on so-called civilized worlds, but they do not interest us. Hell, we would not even use Agro-Mechs if it were not necessary. We like getting out into the fields and working with our hands.

  "But we are loyal subjects, too. When General Craigh called us to defend Quarell against your Clan, we mustered the militia and fought, despite the futility of the effort. We did not want to see our home world violated. You swept over us as if we were not there. Your forces occupied the planet, ComStar representatives replaced our elected leaders, and then we returned to our homes. Yet for many of us it was only to find that we would not be resuming our lives, rejoining our families, enjoying our children, returning to the joy of working with our hands."

  Aidan, a man with no home and who had never known parents, could not easily understand what Jared Mahoney was trying to tell him. Could it be, Aidan wondered, that the concept of family superseded the ideals of service and achievement for these people? Aidan would give up anything, sacrifice any part of himself, to serve the Clan, to achieve such glory that his genes would be passed on in the sacred gene pool. Then it occurred to him that the transmission of one's genetic legacy did have at least one correspondence with these people's values. In the Clan genetics program, the parent was transmitted through generations via his children and their children. The Clan way was similar but, because there were no social entanglements, better. Still, for the first time he almost understood something that had filled many of the pages of the books in his secret library.

  Just then, he glanced up and saw a familiar face staring at him from the first rank of the crowd. For a moment he thought of Marthe, who had been so close to him during their days in the sibko, then he realized that this face was younger than hers would be now. Now he recognized the woman, and wondered how he could have confused her with Marthe. It was one of the new warriors from Joanna's Star. He could not recall her name, nor did that matter. The main puzzlement was, what in the blessed name of the Kerenskys was she doing here now?

  Their eyes met for the briefest moment, then she edged backward into the crowd and vanished, leaving him wondering if it were only some hallucination created by the strain of being held captive.

  "I want you to understand this, Pryde," Jared Mahoney was saying. "I have nothing against any of you. You are the conquerors and we can accept that."

  "Then you must accept our rule."

  "But when a rule is immoral or unethical or unnecessarily cruel, must we allow you to rape us with it? I think not. It is wrong to make slaves of us, and that is all there is to it. Slavery is your way of life, how could you understand? But we must make our stand and fight for it."

  "Why do you say that slavery is our way of life?" Aidan asked, though a bit distractedly. He was still busy scanning the crowd for another sign of the young Clan warrior he had just glimpsed.

  "You are a bondsman, too, Pryde. You are a slave of your system, bound to the ideas of war and caste. If you succeed in making me a bondsman, I will still be freer than you."

  "This is mere rhetoric," Aidan said, turning his gaze back to the rebel.

  Jared Mahoney's eyes widened. "I didn't know you Clanfolk had a sense of rhetoric."

  Aidan shrugged. How could he reason with this man? At any rate, he was too preoccupied with the presence of the warrior from Joanna's Star. Where was she now? What was she up to? What kind of crackpot strategy motivated her?

  Jared Mahoney was still going on with his fanatical talk, when one of his subordinates rushed over.

  "The BattleMechs have moved out of the forest again," the man shouted. "They are advancing on the city."

  "Man your posts," Jared Mahoney roared, springing out of the chair. He gestured toward one of the other rebels, then pointed toward Aidan. "Hold a gun on his head," he said. "Anything happens, kill him."

  Aidan was aware again of that face in the crowd. The young woman's head turned in his direction, concern in her expression.

  If there was going to be some kind of attack by his people, Aidan would have liked to get out of this chair and lead it. A rescue attempt by Joanna's Star might not be the best strategy under the circumstances, but Aidan was beginning to believe there might be no other way to subdue this rebel group. Jared Mahoney was too fixed in his ideas, too obsessed. Better to wipe them out, rebels, innocents, and hostages, than let such ideas fester and spread.

  The young warrior looked away from him and began to walk toward the AgroMech, away from the flow of the rest of the crowd, which was readying for battle. In the AgroMech, the pilot gave Jared Mahoney another thumbs-up gesture, then fired off a series of pulses from her pair of lasers. It was immediately obvious that the woman had no idea how to pilot a 'Mech, much less an agribot with weapons on makeshift mounts.

  The children and their parents still huddled together, not having budged from under or near the AgroMech's legs. They all seemed full of fear, but the adults clutched the children protectively, as though to shield them from harm.

  Then Aidan saw the young warrior again. She was standing now next to one of the AgroMech's giant rear legs.

  15

  As Diana stared down at the confused and restless children, she wondered whether to just abandon her plan and only mutilate Jared Mahoney instead. What kind of person would use non-combatants as a buffer between himself and the enemy? It was true that the Clans often used old warriors in that way, but for useful strategic purposes, for the good of the battle or the campaign, ultimately for the good of the Clan itself. Besides, they were old warriors, all of whom had served well and lived a useful life; they were not children whose chances were yet to come. Jared Mahoney's words were meaningless if he must use children to die for them. If he had substituted all the old people of Vreeport for the children, Diana would have understood.

  From her present vantage point, she could see the tops of four BattleMechs. They advanced without firing, all part of the plan Diana had suggested to Joanna. There was no point in an accidental shot setting off an explosive chain. The AgroMech pilot must have been getting better at handling her weaponry, for one of her shots chipped off some bits of ferroceramic armor from Joanna's Timber Wolf.

  The 'Mechs came near the city walls, then stopped and seemed to wait there briefly. The next moment they turned and headed back toward the forest.

  Guards standing atop the Vreeport walls shouted back that the enemy was retreating. Some desultory cheers rose from the crowd, and the people in the square seemed to visibly relax, especially those actively with the rebels. They lowered
their weapons slightly.

  Diana, however, tensed, watching the cockpit of the AgroMech. Her hope had been that the pilot would come out of the cockpit at the sight of the Clan 'Mechs' retreat, if only for a breath of air. When she did not, Diana shifted to her alternate tactic.

  Trying to look joyful, an emotion that a Clan warrior could summon only with difficulty even when genuine, she scrambled up the AgroMech's leg and leaped onto the level area next to the cockpit. Smiling and waving wildly to the pilot, she gestured that she had a message.

  The pilot nipped up the cockpit canopy. "They're truly afraid of us, aren't they?" she said with a laugh.

  "They truly are," Diana replied as she reached into the cockpit and grabbed the woman by the neck. With the twisting movement she had practised so often on dummies during cadet training, she snapped the pilot's neck and quickly yanked her out of the cockpit. Lifting the body up, Diana flung the woman down into the surprised arms of a rebel warrior, who fell clumsily to the ground when the weight of the body hit him.

  Diana did not stop to watch the fall. Jumping into the cockpit and snapping the canopy shut, she grabbed the joystick and stepped the machine several meters away from where the children had been crouching beneath it. Taking the gunnery controls, she whirled the AgroMech around and started to direct fire against those rebels with weapons. She raked a group of them with fire. At least two fell dead, while three others squirmed on the ground, wounded.

  Next, she looked around for Jared Mahoney, knowing that his followers might quickly surrender if their leader were killed. Not seeing him, Diana blasted another group of rebels, killing several instantly. Then she felt the AgroMech suddenly rocked by a successful hit to its right foreleg. It wavered a bit, but Diana was able to keep the machine upright and still shooting. What she could not do was move it further forward.

  Where in the name of the great Kerenskys was Jared Mahoney? she thought frantically as she saw the first of her two laser weapons overheating.