Threads of Ambition

by Loren L. Coleman

  To that rude remark, Warner only shrugged. For such a large man, he was decidedly soft-spoken. After a moment, he added, "The Duchess certainly doesn't think so. We've heard no comment out of St. Ives proper."

  Trisha chose her words carefully, not wanting to alienate her exec. "Duchess Liao does well enough in political circles, but she's sitting back on St. Ives while Denbar and worlds will be hit, and hit hard." She nodded to the screen. "He's threatening us with McCarron's Cav, and we just sit here like a fat quail waiting to be shot in the quillar fields."

  "What else can we do?" Warner asked, looking at her with a mixture of interest and concern.

  Trisha leaned over, not wanting her words to carry any further. She also told herself to keep her words professional and above board. "Pull in the company commanders and start some planning sessions. I want several defense, evacuation, and assault plans contingent on what Sunny-boy might try, ready to fly at a second's notice." She noticed the speculative look that crossed Warner's face, fading to acceptance, and she nodded. "He caught the Sarna Supremacy sleeping in '58. This time he won't get off so easy."

  5

  Hsien Park Yushui, Gei-Fu

  Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation

  23 August 3060

  A light drizzle fell from the dark gray skies over the city of Yushui and thunder rumbled in the distance. A dramatic backdrop for Sun-Tzu Liao's speech, Aris thought. Despite the weather, a crowd had gathered in the riverside park, with umbrellas and foul-weather gear shielding them from the elements. Gei-Fu knew one of the heaviest annual rainfalls in the entire Confederation, and a little moisture was not about to deter these people.

  The Chancellor's speech ran mostly along the lines of Relevow's, allowing Aris Sung to concentrate more on the security of the area. He wiped at the rainwater that streamed down from the hair plastered against his head to drip from his jaw and runnel down his neck. A poncho worn over his uniform helped keep him somewhat dry, though he refused to raise the hood. Covering his ears and blocking some of his peripheral vision was no way to keep the Chancellor safe, and Gei-Fu was not a world that endeared itself to Aris' heart as a safe zone.

  House Hiritsu had been ordered to Gei-Fu before, in 3051, to put down a rebellion in which the world attempted to secede from the Confederation and join the nearby St. Ives Compact. Aris expected some comments about that to surface in Sun-Tzu's speech, eventually. Back then, a BattleMech had traveled secretly into the city under the Nunya River, rising up next to this same park like a leviathan bent on destruction. Only quick thinking on Aris' part had saved House Master Virginia York, and by extension the situation on Gei-Fu. Infantry Commander Jessup had privately let Aris know that it was that incident above all that had prompted him and Ty Wu Non to select Aris as head of the honor squad.

  Aris couldn't help believing that history would somehow find a way to repeat itself.

  He'd had similar thoughts on Relevow, though of a much less dire nature. Now, on Gei-Fu, he felt the impressions clearer, though a regiment of McCarron's Armored Cavalry remained to supplement House Hiritsu's security. A storm was building. Not of rainfall and lightning, but of men and 'Mechs. Aris knew it. He felt it—just like some people had a feel for the weather. He read the certainty in the warm flush on his skin, the tightness in his muscles, and the itch to have his Wraith's control sticks in hand. But whether or not it would happen here, exactly, he could not say. Or it could just be the old memories plaguing me.

  The Nunya River, coursing along the ferrocrete bed laid through the city's heart, swelled up against the top of the levee. This time Aris had ordered sensors strung into the river, several kilometers up and down stream. He had a 'Mech lance from his own company and a small infantry detachment holding the Bisn'z Dam further up the Nunya, just in case someone hit on the clever idea of trying to flood out Yushui to get at the Chancellor. He'd left nothing to chance.

  Aris shook his head, shaking the excess water from his short-cropped dark hair, and surveyed the crowd as he called for a post check. The grass had been trampled to mud in several spots, making footing treacherous. He noticed Li Wynn, dressed in civilian clothes and circulating with a camera as if a local photographer out to catch some film on the historic visit. The camera had no film, Aris knew, but its telephoto lens still made for a good spotting device.

  "And in the last nine years," Sun-Tzu Liao was saying, his address rolling over the park in the man-made thunder of a state-of-the-art P.A. system, "not one disharmonious voice has been raised on Gei-Fu, which makes me believe its people are truly repentant for the crimes of the previous Refrector and his ill-fated rebellion. In fact, Gei-Fu boasts one of the highest percentiles for enrollment in the Capellan Armed Forces, a truly noteworthy contribution to the Xin Sheng effort."

  Probably just trying to escape the rain. Aris wiped a sheet of water from his forehead, listening as the final, "all clears," came in from the remote posts. The Chancellor was being very kind, he thought.

  "A pity more once-rebellious worlds have not followed your example," the Chancellor continued, then paused so everyone could draw their own conclusions as to whom he referred. "Terrible, that they continue to ignore the call of their Capellan heritage or that unjust governments continue to suppress their people's natural desire to rejoin with their brothers and sisters. There was never a more appropriate time than now, during this rebirth of the Confederation."

  Ouch. Aris winced in partial sympathy, partial humor, as Sun-Tzu's easy words ripped long, bloody furrows in the sovereignty of the St. Ives Compact, the tiny Chaos March alliances, and the supposedly independent worlds of the Disputed Territories and Chaos March. Even further, he considered, if news of unrest among old Tikonov Commonality worlds was true. Chancellor Liao had a MechWarrior's gift for inflicting the maximum damage with minimal weapons fire, even if his battlefield was political.

  Waiting for the applause to stop, Sun-Tzu leaned away from the microphone to speak privately with Isis Marik and then Lord Marcus Baxter, who flanked him at either side. Isis awarded him a brief kiss on the cheek, whether for the private comment or just for show, and Lord Baxter nodded.

  Sun-Tzu returned to the microphone. "Such worlds will once again know the Confederation's comfortable embrace," he continued. "That I promise. The same promise I made on Relevow, and will make again as I continue my tour on through Overton, Harloc, and Hustaing."

  Aris knew a second's confusion as the Chancellor left Purvo off his touring list, the world after Hustaing, but then dismissed it as he felt the pro-Capellan charge swelling within him, cresting over and threatening to sweep him away on the ideals of Sun-Tzu's Xin Sheng movement. Xin Sheng—new birth, and that was just what the Chancellor was offering.

  "This is our time," Sun-Tzu Liao said, obviously easing into what would be his closing remarks, "where all Capellan citizens can once again take pride in their nation and their heritage. With worlds such as Gei-Fu, and military units such as McCarron's Armored Cavalry, the Confederation will once again know its former greatness."

  This time a roll of thunder underscored the applause with a bass rumble, reminding Aris of battlefield noise. He glanced apprehensively at the raging waters of the Nunya, half-expecting the appearance of an enemy 'Mech, and then ordered another check of all posts, though one had just been completed. Yes, there was a storm building. But a glorious confrontation, in which Aris pictured himself reclaiming words for the Confederation.

  He just couldn't be sure when, or where, it would break.

  * * *

  For form's sake, Li Wynn snapped a few non-pictures of the Chancellor and of the Yushui crowd. The shutter clicked and the automatic winder spun. It didn't matter that there was no film. Anyone who paid him the least attention would hear the noise and be satisfied.

  He trod carefully over the muddy ground, the foul-smelling muck sour and growing stronger as the people continued to churn it up with their feet. He heard Aris' request for a post check, the second in almost as many
minutes, but waited for post-three command to pass along the request. Li squeezed the small hand-held microphone he cradled in the palm of his left hand. "Crowd-seven, clear," he reported, then snapped a few faked pictures as he scanned the crowd again, ever more thoroughly.

  Something has Aris on edge.

  Li could not find it. And though he trusted Aris' instincts, he couldn't help but wonder for the briefest second if his sponsor and Sifu might not be mistaken. From his viewpoint, the speech was proceeding without a hitch. Li felt the call of the Confederation's Xin Sheng. And more important, the crowd was firmly behind Sun-Tzu Liao, the more so when he held them up as a positive example when he could just have easily done the opposite. Li Wynn knew something about the fervor that could be aroused when a person was elevated from their previous station.

  On Kaifeng, before House Hiritsu had come, he'd been little more than a street kid, and that was a charitable description. Petty thief was another term that came to mind. He remembered the night he had crouched in a storm drain, the air dank and rotten, while 'Mechs fought in the streets overhead, hoping that one of the metal monsters would kick in the side of a jewelry store or possibly a bank before passing on to other fights. Aris Sung had befriended him, and given him the opportunity to be a part of something bigger. To belong. Li Wynn could not remember ever belonging before. That was the magic that had drawn him after House Hiritsu, to Randar and then Sarna, proving day after day that he was worthy of admission, until House Master Ty Wu Non finally agreed to give him the chance. And now, Li had direction—duty, as a Capellan citizen and member of a Warrior House.

  And more?

  Li Wynn politely shouldered his way through a small knot of people, camera clenched in his cold fingers as he listened to Sun-Tzu Liao. Li could not shake the feelings of enthusiasm that welled within him. Nor did he try. Though not native-born to the Confederation, he was Capellan nonetheless. And while duty had called him to the Confederation's service, his building self-respect and pride promised that the future could perhaps hold something even more enticing than a feeling of belonging. Something he could not yet define, that remained just beyond his reach but occasionally tempted him with a light touch like the brush of a butterfly's wing against his cheek.

  For almost his entire life, Li Wynn had struggled to survive in a world without direction, without purpose, and for the most part had succeeded. Now that he possessed direction, he would see just how far and how strong he could run.

  And the entire time, he felt the Chancellor's eyes upon him, urging him onward—ever forward.

  6

  Home Guard Training Facility

  Hazlet, Nashuar

  St. Ives Compact

  28 August 3060

  Tracers chewed up the darkness, small streaks of light that strobed against the simulated terrain and that the eye followed back to a wash of orange flame wreathing autocannon muzzles. Heat suffused the simulator, pumped into the tight confines in response to the constant discharge of weapons. Blinking stinging sweat from his eyes, Cadet Maurice Fitzgerald floated his targeting reticule over the distant, dim silhouette of an enemy JagerMech, with its keg-like torso and distinctive autocannon barrel arms. He chanced a single laser shot as soon as he read partial lock in the reticule's golden aura. The ruby lance missed wide as the JagerMech walked backward out of his line of fire.

  The scenario was a familiar one. Fitzgerald felt fairly certain that it was an adaptation from a scenario the training lance had run not three weeks prior. Only instead of Clan 'Mechs the Nashuar Home Guard cadets faced designs common to the Capellan Confederation, each enemy machine bearing the Confederation's infamous gauntlet-and-sword insignia, a testament to recent tensions mounting along the Compact's border. The JagerMech and one of the new Snake designs were shielding an enemy Catapult armed with Arrow IV homing missiles, while a lighter Raven scout 'Mech tried to sneak in from the east flank to TAG one of the Compact BattleMechs with a spotting laser. The Raven was the wild card. If it could be contained, the Compact cadets would win.

  That puts a lot of trust in our own light 'Mech pilot.

  Fitz cut loose with another long-range laser shot at the distant JagerMech, missing again. He wanted to shout his frustration, holding back because he knew an internal simulator pod microphone would record the outburst for Nevarr's later review. Sparring at range in the dark did not make for an easy battle. It forced Mech Warriors to rely more on sensors, missing out on some telltale signs in an enemy's movement or the lay of terrain that could make all the difference. He also devoted too much attention to the tactical feed of his head's up display, he knew. But he trusted his own analysis over that of his three lancemates, and so worked to keep tabs on all aspects of the battle.

  What was most difficult for Fitzgerald was that this time around Nevarr had assigned him a supporting role, relegated to the backfield to protect against the Raven should it slip by their own light 'Mech or against any attempt at a flanking maneuver. Pinning me in place. The sim pilot of the JagerMech was good, riding the optimum range for his light autocannon and picking away at the Blackjack, which had trouble responding.

  A light tremor shook the cockpit as thirty-millimeter slugs chewed into more of the Blackjack's armor. A glance at his damage schematic showed the loss of roughly another quarter-ton of protection, this time from his 'Mech's lower left leg and left arm. He fought the urge to throttle up into a run and close with the enemy machine. If I break formation, Nevarr might toss me back into the armor corps—no more chances. Jaw clenched and his grip knuckle-white on the control sticks, Fitz throttled into a backward walk and took some cover within a light stand of fir and hickory. Another hastily targeted laser burned into intervening trees, saving the JagerMech again.

  "Guard One, this is Guard Four. The Raven is loose." The voice of Cadet Rastecht, the lance's Jenner pilot, whispered into Fitz' ear through the neurohelmet's built-in speaker, the air waves unable to fully rob her voice of her frantic excitement. The Raven had slipped by her, and could now threaten their flank. Just one of the Catapult's homing missiles brought down by the light 'Mech's spotting laser could spell ruin for any member of the lance. "I'm in pursuit," she informed them.

  Fitz dropped his jaw down to activate his own commline. "Guard Three, breaking off to intercept," he said, maneuvering the Blackjack around into a tight turn to the east. Taking out the Raven will save the scenario and bump my standing.

  His thoughts of personal victory were short-lived as acting lance commander Danielle Singh ordered him back. "Negative, Guard Three. Hold position." Her voice came across strong and confident. "We almost have the Snake boxed. Keep that Jag off us. Guard Four, you stop that Raven!"

  The head's up tactical showed the Raven coming in fast from the east, followed at a distance by the slightly faster Jenner. It was going to be a close race, and the Blackjack stood right in its path. If Rastecht lost, Fitz would be the first to know. "Request release to engage JagerMech," he said. If he could slip into better range for his lasers, he could at least hope to put down one enemy 'Mech.

  "Negative, Guard Three. Keep between us and the Raven."

  Nan-ren fu-kuan! Human sacrifice! Fitzgerald's teeth ground together as tracers once again tracked in on his position and small-caliber autocannon slugs bit into his 'Mech. He switched his primary monitor from magres over to infrared scanners, but could improve little on visual sighting. JagerMechs simply ran too cool, relying on their autocannon rather than heavy, heat-generating energy weapons. Damning his own heat curve, he triggered off both of the Blackjack's large lasers. He got lucky on one, skimming it in between a pair of tall pines to score the JagerMech's right torso. Alarms sounded as his heat build-up threatened to shut down his engine, and Fitz slapped the override while gasping against a hard wave of near-scorching air. Still, it felt good to have finally scored some damage.

  Though not enough by far to bring the heavy BattleMech down. The JagerMech simply walked back out of range while peppering Fitzgerald's lo
cation with a continuous barrage of thirty-millimeter armor-piercing slugs. Fitz almost broke formation then to pursue, urged on by his own success. He held his position only through the greatest of self-control.

  "Raven is down."

  Restecht crowed over the comm frequencies, her announcement barely preceding the fading of the Raven's symbol on the Blackjack's HUD. Her final word blurred with the first of Danielle's, who spoke with a quieter strength. "Snake is down." And then before Fitz could request it, "Guard Three and Four, released to engage JagerMech."

  About time. Fitzgerald throttled forward, bringing his Blackjack into a run that would close quickly. Victory was fairly assured for the lance. Now it was time to claim a piece of it for himself.

  * * *

  No one seemed to notice Fitz' silence as the four trainees walked in a group from debriefing to the mess hall. The others were in high spirits, having won the scenario with no losses. The second training lance was up for the same mission now, and they had set a hard score to follow. Danielle Singh was in especially good spirits, and with reason. Besides commanding the win, she claimed the killing shots against both the Snake and the Catapult. Freya Restecht claimed sole credit for the Raven, and the fourth lance member, Cameron Lee, could at least claim partials for both of Danielle's kills.

  Fitz had zeroed out.

  The JagerMech had kept him from closing, and once the Catapult went down it had disengaged and escaped. Released too late, he kept telling himself. I could've taken it down with just one more minute.

  Cameron grabbed the door to the cafeteria and held it open for the others. The mixed scent of food and spray cleaners used on the tables assailed them. Fitzgerald barely noticed when Cameron glad-handed him on the shoulder as he passed. The noise level dropped considerably for a moment as the four Mech Warrior trainees entered. Their comrades in the Home Guard armor corps glanced their way, some with looks of envy and others with shrugs of indifference. Conversations quickly resumed, and the four of them grabbed trays of food and found seats together.