Threads of Ambition

by Loren L. Coleman

  "All units, this is House Master Non. Fall back to the spaceport. Repeat, fall back and establish a line of defense at the spaceport. Senior officer on station, take command until relieved. Home Guard units are hereby arrogated by House Hiritsu command and will abandon Qinglui. The city is lost."

  As others acknowledged the orders, Aris set his jaw in silent mutiny and continued up the street. It wasn't as if he were directly disobeying. House tactical doctrine suggested that he return by a slightly different path, and so he would circle this block and come down the back side. And if he just happened to find the security force guarding Capella One...

  His muscles tightened involuntarily, and the Wraith nearly stumbled with the brief loss of control. The convention center was in ruins, though no enemy 'Mechs remained in the area. Walls were smashed in and the street littered with bodies. Several bodies wore House Hiritsu uniforms, Aris noted. He even spotted what might once have been a Death Commando, someone in an all-black uniform cut in half by 'Mech-grade weapons. At the sight of Aris' Wraith, a few surviving Hiritsu warriors left the shelter of nearby buildings. Aris began to hope for Isis' appearance, but some hand signals from an infantry commander on the ground dispelled that illusion.

  "Aris Sung, acknowledge the fall back order!"

  Aris opened a comm channel. His tongue felt thick and awkward as he tried to speak. "Company Leader Sung, acknowledging," he said slowly. "Escorting infantry survivors back to spaceport. Capella One is missing, presumed captured. Repeat—"

  "Acknowledged," Ty Wu Non cut him off. "You are released to safeguard survivors back to defensive line." A pause. "Get home, Aris."

  There is no glory to be had on Hustaing today. Slamming a fist against his thigh, Aris stared down the street and into the depths of Qinglui, wondering what had happened to Isis Marik.

  * * *

  Only six blocks over and several more deeper into the city, Infantryman Li Wynn helped Isis out of the back of the wrecked limousine where it had plowed through the front of a hotel and ended up in the lobby. That the Death Commandos had made it this far, running a gauntlet of enemy 'Mechs and armored vehicles, seemed amazing. A bruise was blossoming on Isis' right cheek, and shards of glass glittered in her chestnut-brown hair, but she seemed fairly whole and healthy.

  She looks beautiful.

  "The men... in the front..."

  Li shook his head, having already checked out the Death Commandos. "The engine is practically sitting in their laps," he said, brushing glass from the shoulders of her gray, martial-cut outfit and then taking her by the elbow. "I've got to get you out of here."

  Isis glanced uncertainly toward the smashed-in front of the car as Li pulled her through a ring of shocked hotel guests and toward a side entrance. "And just who are you?" she asked, regaining a small measure of her composure.

  "Hiritsu infantry." Li glanced down, understanding the reason behind the question. He wore a button-down white shirt and slacks, and still carried the empty camera from playing photographer. He threw down the camera and then led her back out onto the street.

  "I knew you wouldn't make it far—that vehicle screamed out V.I.P. inside—so I followed on foot." He glanced around quickly. A white van was idling at the curb twenty meters down the street, just outside the hotel's service entrance. "That is more what we need."

  "A bread truck?" Isis asked, reading the Farm Fresh Breads logo on the side of vehicle.

  "Sure. Who would fire on a bread truck?" Li yanked open the door. "Besides, it's already running." He ushered Isis into the cab. "Into the back, Duchess," he ordered, glancing both ways down the street for enemy 'Mechs and then sliding into the driver's seat. Isis moved to the rear, but then leaned halfway into the cab. Li shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb, taking the next corner, which put them back along the hotel's front and heading toward the southern district.

  And also straight at an enemy Crusader, which fired a burst from its machine gun across the van's path. Several bullets skipped up from the pavement and starred the windshield as Li braked to a fast stop.

  "I thought you said they wouldn't fire!" Isis yelled, ducking completely into the back.

  "I can be wrong once," Li shot back, forgetting completely whom he was addressing. He was in a race against time and very large machines of destruction; criticism he would take later. He shifted into reverse and cranked the wheel, then floored the accelerator. The truck spun and bounced over the curb in reverse, then smashed through the large glass doors that opened onto the hotel lobby. Behind him he heard Isis shriek. Glancing back, he saw bread loaves raining down from the shelves to half-bury her. "Dig down into them," he ordered, hoping they might give her a bit of cushioning.

  Fully inside the lobby and out of the BattleMech's line of sight, Li straightened out the wheel and shifted back to drive. Leaning on the horn, he took off across the lobby and then through a large lounge. The bread truck sideswiped the abandoned limo and then a large piano, smashed aside chairs and sofas, and scattered people just coming off the elevator. Then, faced with a choice between the downstairs cafe and a real wall, he chose the cafe. Crushed chairs and splintered tables flew aside, and so far as Li could tell he hit no one, though that was not a big concern at the moment.

  "Hang on!" he called back as they approached another glass wall.

  Glass shattered and rained down over the white bread truck as it plowed out into the street again, though now around the corner from the BattleMech. Still, the streets would not stay safe long, and so he simply bounced back over the next curb and plowed into a new building, this one a major department store.

  "What are you doing?" Isis shouted.

  Li slowed, steering around large displays and trying to give people a chance to move. "Browsing the lingerie department, I think." He kept the horn blaring as he gunned the engine, then smashed through the opposite side of the store and back onto the street.

  "Okay, let's make a run for it," he said, more to himself, pulling out onto the deserted street and pushing the engine for all it was worth toward Qingliu's southern districts. He had done it; rescued Isis Marik out from under the guns of the enemy. He almost smiled. It's not everyday I rescue a beautiful princess from threatening dragons. With a bit of luck or a House Hiritsu BattleMech for escort, we just might make this.

  His luck lasted all of four blocks before he raced through an intersection just ahead of an UrbanMech, which moved in from a side avenue and cut off any chance of retreat. Approaching the far end, a JagerMech stepped out to block their way, firing several quick bursts of autocannon fire down the street to either side of the bread truck. One burst of slugs edged in close and ripped away the sideview mirror.

  "I think they want us to stop!" Li yelled back over his shoulder, then checked both sides of the street for a new wall to demolish. Unfortunately he was in an area of small shops, all brick-faced and likely to stop the truck cold. As the slugs tracked inward he braked hard, stopping the truck twenty meters short of the looming JagerMech. He dove into the back.

  Isis was digging her way out from a mound of smashed bread and plastic wrappers. The aroma of bread filled the truck. "Now what?"

  Desperate, Li glanced around for inspiration. What he found was the previous driver's ball cap, with the Farm Fresh Bread name and logo on it, hanging from a peg near the door to the cab. He snatched it off its hook and turned around, then started as if suddenly remembering exactly who Isis was and what he was about to suggest. He almost allowed his modesty to slow him down, but he didn't have the time. The dragons are closing. He tossed her the ball cap and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  "I hope you aren't shy," he muttered, and then when she did not move, he said most formally, "Duchess Marik, please remove your clothing."

  * * *

  Lance Sergeant Erik Richards pulled his Hetzer wheeled assault gun up into the JagerMech's shadow, training the large-bore autocannon onto it. Was it possible he held the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation under his weapon?
One burst and all the recent slurs and threats were a memory, but common sense reined him in. This was only one possible vehicle, and anyway Major Smithson wanted the Chancellor alive.

  He hit some toggles on the communications set, tying his transmitter into the vehicle's RA. system. "You in the truck. Come out with your hands up," he said. "Make any further attempt to escape and you will be fired upon."

  The driver's side door opened and a pair of hands showed, followed slowly by a woman wearing a white button-down shirt and ball cap. She stepped onto the street, but did not attempt to move further.

  "Move away from the vehicle," the lance sergeant ordered over the RA.

  External mikes picked up her stammered reply. "He—he's got a gun on me."

  Richards switched quickly over to his regular comm channel. "We've got a live possibility here," he said. "Checking it out." Grabbing a rifle and hand-held radio, he undogged his vehicle's top hatch and pulled himself up and out.

  "Stay calm, miss," he said, approaching the truck carefully and speaking loud enough so anyone inside could hear him. "If he tries anything, that nice big JagerMech over my shoulder will chew through that truck in about three seconds flat." Closer now, he could see that she was a mess, her hair partially tucked up into the Farm Fresh Breads ball cap and a bruise forming on her right cheek. "Just step away from the vehicle and walk toward me."

  She did as she was told, hesitantly at first and then with a more determined step. The last few paces she fairly threw herself at Richards, arms around his neck and sobbing against his shoulder. "Thank you. Oh, thank you."

  Richards was very aware of her figure and the perfume she wore, and allowed himself a second to enjoy the gratitude. "Just keep walking now," he told her. "Get past the JagerMech and hide behind its leg." He spoke quickly into his radio, to keep the Mech Warrior aware of the situation. This is one fringe benefit you don't get, stuck up there in that sweatbox.

  He leveled the rifle at the truck as she broke away and hurriedly moved around the giant BattleMech to remove herself from the line of possible fire. "All right. You can come out now or the Jag can pick the truck apart one piece at a time. What's it going to be?"

  "I'm coming out," a voice called from inside.

  Richards knew a momentary thrill when he saw Asian features and the martial cut of the outfit the man wore. But it became quickly obvious that this was not Sun-Tzu Liao, or even any regular line officer. The outfit was not a real uniform, and it fit him awkwardly. He came out of the truck very slowly, with hands laced behind his head, and smiling.

  "Name and rank?" Richards barked at the man, watching carefully for any sign of aggression. The man's gaze flicked over Richards' shoulder and then back. He grinned wider. "And what's so funny."

  "Infantryman Li Wynn, House Hiritsu," the man said simply. "And I was just thinking that you look nothing like a dragon."

  JumpShip Celestial Walker

  Sian System

  Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation

  Standing at attention within the Celestial Walker's shipboard office of the Chancellor, the Death Commando read aloud the latest release from Associated Stellar Press.

  "Today, in an unprovoked surprise assault, forces of the St. Ives military struck at the Capellan Confederation world of Hustaing. Chancellor and First Lord Sun-Tzu Liao is reportedly on-planet as part of his recent tour of the St. Ives border. He is accompanied by his fiancee Isis Marik on this tour. One confirmed sighting was made of Duchess Marik by a reporter of this service before the Word of Blake granted Capellan representatives on Sian a total communication blackout against Hustaing for security purposes.

  "The exact composition of the attacking force is, as yet, unknown, though elements of the Blackwind Lancers are certainly involved. No official statement has been released from St. Ives by either Duchess Candace Liao or a representative."

  Sun-Tzu Liao, sitting behind his desk with hands clasped before him, smiled secretively. "Thank you. Now please check on my shuttle."

  He waited for the warrior to leave the room, then addressed the empty office. "With your help, my love, I shall make the Confederation strong again. As I promised."

  Pandemonium

  Now war is based on deception. Move when it is advantageous and create changes in the situation by dispersal and concentration.

  —Sun-Tzu, The Art of War

  Turmoil. It is the genesis of both political and military solutions. When my opponents stand confused, out of ignorance or through my designs, then I have been given free rein.

  And someone must bring order.

  —Sun-Tzu Liao, journal entry, 3 March 3060, Sian

  10

  Royal Compound

  Tian-tan, St. Ives

  St. Ives Compact

  6 October 3060

  To Candace Liao, the Gallery Hall of the St. Ives' Royal Compound had a special atmosphere, subtle, yet still tangible. Visiting it always spoke to her strongly of history and heritage, and of responsibility. It smelled of the polishing agents used on the teakwood flooring and the wonderful, old scent of canvas and oils. A museum smell. Sculptures, carvings, paintings; the walls and floor space were tastefully arranged with over three millennia of Chinese art. Some of it priceless, like the Shang dynasty jade tiger sculpture that Elias Jung Liao, founder of the Liao dynasty, had carried away from Terra when he first took to the stars. Some items were deemed relatively worthless, recent pieces picked up by Candace's curator as examples of current Capellan work.

  Unlike her estranged brother Tormano, to Candace the cash value of the collection meant nothing. She funded the collection out of respect for her heritage, and she made sure that the pieces constantly rotated out to public museums and touring shows so that her people could come to know and enjoy them as she did. She brushed the tips of her fingers very lightly over the cool, slick jade of the Shang sculpture, marveling at its ancient beauty and inherent strength. Its endurance.

  The approach of careful footsteps interrupted her reverie. Candace turned to face Senior Colonel Caroline Seng, her top military officer. "A beautiful piece," Seng said, her soft-spoken words loud in the peace of the Gallery Hall. "Does it have a name?"

  Caroline Seng had come lately to her Capellan heritage, Candace knew, but her senior colonel understood enough of the Confucian concepts of courteous behavior that she chose a neutral topic for the first of their conversation. Candace smiled at the courtesy, though her sharp eyes picked out traces of Colonel Seng's frustration in the stiffness of her walk and tightness around her narrowed eyes. The news is not good. "If it had a name, it was lost to time long ago," the Duchess said. "Elias renamed it zi-lai-yu, running jade, when he discovered it on Terra in 2181."

  The other woman nodded, then seemed to lose herself in the near-translucence of the light green stone. "Word of Blake has reaffirmed its decision to honor the HPG blackout on Hustaing," she said after a quiet moment, "as requested by Talon Zahn." Her doe-brown eyes sought out Candace's. "Zahn passed word to me that the only message he would allow the Blakists to deliver is one ordering the Lancers to surrender unconditionally to Capellan forces present on-planet. And," she said, swallowing hard, "only after your public apology to the citizens of the Confederation."

  Candace began walking along the Gallery Hall, Colonel Seng falling into step with her. Their footsteps echoed hollowly along the passage. "My nephew knew what he was doing when he appointed that one his Strategic Director," Candace said finally, in grudging admiration. "The HPG blackout keeps the scandalvids from claiming any respectable source for their wild suppositions, and also prevents the Blackwind Lancers from receiving any orders but the ones he wants them to have. And he knows how to play political hardball."

  "It places the Compact in a delicate position," Seng agreed. "His terms mean that we would be admitting we cannot control our own troops, and that the Confederation could hold the Lancers indefinitely. Any other course of action could be construed as our support for the assault."

&
nbsp; "Two unacceptable choices," Candace declared with a shake of her head. "That battalion has never been rated as a completely reliable unit, but I've not seen a prediction that they would go rogue, either. You have been in contact with the Blackwind Lancers' commanding officer?"

  Seng nodded. "Colonel Perrin. He admitted that Major Smithson has been a discipline problem, with a fanatical hatred for your nephew, and that he has tried to keep the situation under control without formal measures." She cleared her throat meaningfully. "He tendered his immediate resignation."

  Pausing to consider the request, Candace quickly discarded it as wasteful. "Refuse it. Perrin is too valuable to lose right now. If things heat up, we will need him."

  "Surely you don't plan to back Major Smithson's actions?" The shock in Colonel Seng's voice was readily apparent. "Zahn is already making good media use of the demonstrations on Denbar, with the populace supporting the Lancers—their Lancers, as they are calling them. But if you were to give official support—"

  Candace cut off Seng with a placating gesture, quick to assuage the concerns of her military advisor. "Not officially," she said. "Not as such." She paused to collect her thoughts. "The Confederation has its military forces spread thin right now, reclaiming the Disputed Territories and pushing into the Chaos March proper. Still, I am sure Talon Zahn is moving at least one heavy unit in to support the fighting on Hustaing and rescue his Chancellor. A regiment of McCarron's Armored Cavalry, I'd think. If the Lancers can defeat this Warrior House or at least capture Sun-Tzu in the time it takes for that support to arrive, they present us with a fait accompli and I can use that political coup to lessen the damage to the Compact. So we wait, stretching out our decision to the last possible moment and praying that the Lancers rescue themselves from their own stupidity."