Threads of Ambition

by Loren L. Coleman

  "Neither can I," came back the response. "I've lost over sixty percent of my armor, and there's no more defensive positions to fall back to."

  "Then fall back and evade," Fitzgerald ordered, though he possessed no authority to do so. But dammit, at some point someone has to take responsibility for these people.

  "This is Striker One," the commander of the Arcadian support lance broke in. "We're holding this position until we regain communications with our command lance or even our scouts. Prowler Recon, can you at least confirm scout lance location?"

  If you won't move, then I've got to convince that Huron Warrior to turn its weapons in another direction. Fitzgerald overtook the Harasser and then plunged his J. Edgar down the bank of the lake toward the water, followed by his lancemate. Riding on a jet of air, he skimmed across the water as easily as gliding over a grassy field. Easier.

  "Scout Lance was scattered," he informed the Arcadian officer. "You're down a Hussar for sure." He raced up the opposite bank, throttling up to flank speed.

  Their first pass against the Huron Warrior, Fitzgerald scored with a pair of missiles that Karen made look weak by connecting with four of her own. The Catapult threw another flight of LRMs at the two hovercraft, the missiles plowing into the ground in front of them and throwing up a heavy curtain of dirt and sod, which the J. Edgar and Harasser flew through. The Huron Warrior ignored them, striking out again with its laser and Gauss rifle, this time connecting with the Gauss rifle while the laser missed high. The slug slammed into the Centurion's right shoulder, crushing the joint and then tearing the entire arm away—robbing the 'Mech of its primary weapon.

  Swinging around to line up for another run, Fitzgerald cursed as the Centurion responded with its long-ranged missiles, and the Huron Warrior stabbed into the house again with another errant laser shot. He doubted the hovercraft could draw off the Huron Warrior. Those two are locked onto each other hard, and we're too small. We can't do enough damage to these BattleMechs.

  "Our command lance was heading into the industrial district," someone said. Fitzgerald thought it would be Striker One, but wasn't able to tell for sure by voice alone. "They were followed by a Wraith and a Thunder. Seen any of them?"

  Opening his mouth to ask for a description of the Wraith— the blued-steel look of the' Mech that had taken out the Hussar was fairly unique—Fitz closed it quickly as some thoughts came together. I'm asking for trouble again, he thought as the two light hovercraft strafed the Huron Warrior. They managed slightly better against it this time, between the two of them connecting with a medium laser and seven missiles, but still nowhere near the level of damage necessary to threaten the medium-weight BattleMech.

  "Your command lance is either down or pushed out of the city then," Fitzgerald informed the Arcadians. "It was the Wraith that crushed your Hussar not five blocks from here. Which means it will be leading a new Hiritsu lance against this position any moment." A slight exaggeration, but plausible.

  "Then we fall back and try to circle in toward the industrial district. Pick up survivors or regroup as possible."

  Fighting through the residential areas the entire way, Fitzgerald figured. "If you fall back straight for the edge of the city," he transmitted, "Prowler Three and I will take the back alleys over to the industrial sector. We can get in and out faster than you." And without drawing a 'Mech firefight into the middle of the residential district. "If they're in there, we'll lead them out. If not, we'll scout the countryside beyond and then guide them in on your path of retreat."

  Fitzgerald ignored the incredulous "We'll what?" from Karen and waited for the support lance commander to respond. Take the deal. All you can hope to do here is lose more people.

  Apparently the Arcadian officer came to the same decision. "The battle is lost today, sure enough. All right, Prowler One, we're pulling back. Good hunting."

  Good. Fitzgerald dialed back over to the private frequency he shared with Karen. "Back the way we came, Three, and no stopping unless we see Arcadians hitching a ride."

  "Copy that."

  He appreciated that Karen made no more of the order. They were diving back into a deadly maze of twisting streets and enemy 'Mechs, but their duty as Home Guards was to place themselves on the danger line, and that meant protecting Nashuar citizens as much as it did running light hovercraft against BattleMechs on the field. Neither of them would ever shirk that duty.

  He frowned, recalling his last conversation with Danielle that touched on the same ideas. We don't shirk, no matter what it calls us to do.

  * * *

  Lance Sergeant Maurice Fitzgerald stood easy in Nevarr's office, his padded helmet held loosely by the strap in his left hand. He'd come straight here from the maintenance bay, after helping to load new ammunition for his missile launchers, hoping to find Nevarr in. He still wore the padded field uniform of the Home Guard armor corps and was in desperate need of a shower. Fitz raked fingers back through his brush-cut hair, combing through where his helmet had matted it down.

  "You could have showered," Nevarr said, not looking up from the work spread over his desk.

  Fitz remembered that Nevarr had spoken exactly the same words to him nearly a year ago. "Yes, Captain," he answered, noticing the new rank insignia on Nevarr's collar. Because of the expansion of Home Guard BattleMech Forces? Fitzgerald hoped it was so. "Sir, I wish to reconsider your offer to join the Home Guard Mech Warrior forces."

  Nevarr did not look surprised. Glancing up he studied Fitzgerald with his cool stare. "I read the report you radioed in an hour ago," he said quietly, returning to his work, dividing his attention between a thin pile of papers and a noteputer. "Exceeded your authority again, didn't you?" Nevarr did not wait for an answer. "That's becoming a habit, Fitz."

  Fitzgerald stiffened, the mild rebuke still scoring deeply. Nevarr always knew where to cut. "Yes, sir," he said simply.

  "This time, maybe you saved what was left of the Arcadians. As well as numerous civilian lives." Nevarr shoved aside the noteputer and papers. "So was the situation lost at the lake? Could the Arcadians have beaten back House Hiritsu?"

  Was there anything Nevarr didn't know? Between helping to reload his missile racks and the walk over, he couldn't have had more than forty-five minutes to check into the situation. "They might have been able to win at the lake," Fitzgerald admitted, "yes sir. But the entire situation was unstable. A victory isn't any good if you can't make use of it." He paused, then, "And there were the civilians to consider."

  Nevarr evidenced no reaction. "So why do you want to be a MechWarrior? You turned it down last time it was offered."

  "I said that I would be back when I thought I was right again." Fitz knew that sounded odd but didn't know how else to explain it. "I stayed with my armor lance out of a sense of responsibility, even though I wanted the MechWarrior position more than I can say. Today I pushed the limits of what I can do in the armor corps, and it was lacking."

  Frustrated, he exhaled sharply and searched for better words. "I am responsible for my people, to my unit, and mostly to the citizens of Nashuir, Captain Nevarr. I can better serve everyone in a BattleMech. I can make a bigger difference."

  "That sounds fairly egotistical, sergeant." Nevarr's tone bordered on complete neutrality, as if it mattered not to him one way or the other. "So tell me this. Do you think we can stop the Confederation?"

  A chill raced along Fitzgerald's spine as he considered the loaded question. A year ago, even a month ago, I might have said yes regardless of the odds, thinking I could make the difference in a BattleMech. And I would have been lying, to Nevarr and myself. "No sir," Fitz said, his voice slightly subdued. "We can only delay the inevitable here. If there is a solution to this war, it will come from outside Nashaur. Our job is to give them that time."

  Nevarr reached into the thin stack of papers he had shoved aside. Thumbing through it, he selected a sheet and glanced over it quickly. "Group W's third battalion has been sent here from Taga. They escorted in a su
pply ship, which carried two more BattleMechs for the Home Guard, a BJ-3 Blackjack and a new assault-class Emperor." The captain's face betrayed none of his thoughts. "Which would you prefer?"

  "If it pleases the captain," Fitzgerald said at once, "I would prefer the Blackjack."

  "Not the assault 'Mech?" Now Nevarr frowned. "Couldn't you make an even bigger difference in the Emperor?"

  Fitz shook his head. "I honestly think that's a bit much for me right now. I'm well-trained for medium 'Mechs, and that's where I should start." He gave Nevarr an even gaze. "If nothing else, I hope I've learned when to limit my ambition to a practical level."

  Nevarr smiled, and his eyes gave away his satisfaction. "So do I, Subcommander Fitzgerald," he said, immediately promoting his newest warrior.

  "Welcome back to the unit."

  33

  He-Mi-Lu Canyons

  Yuling Territory, Denbar

  Xin Sheng Commonality, Capellan Confederation

  13 June 3061

  Sang-shao Ni Tehn Dho hated canyons, and Denbar's He-Mi-Lu were among the worst he'd ever seen. Literally translating to Box Mazes, the fractured landscape split and rejoined in so many places that getting lost was a real danger. Sheer cliffs measuring forty meters and higher pinned all but the best jumpers to the canyon floors, which ran anywhere from two hundred meters at the widest point to narrow, rubble-filled passages barely wide enough for a 'Mech to pass through. The rock was so unstable in certain areas that a heavy footfall could bring down a massive slide, and hiding places so numerous that to check every one would slow any unit down to a crawl. An ideal site for ambushes.

  Just like the one my Hustaing Warriors walked into.

  A missile-lock warning screamed for attention even as the enemy Apollo appeared on the sang-shao's head's up display, near the left edge of the band and so one hundred-sixty degrees to his rear. He wrenched on his control sticks, knowing that he could not make the turn in time but muscles straining anyway as he tried to pull the Victor around faster by force of strength. Two flights of missiles from the enemy Apollo peppered his left side, blasting chunks of armor from his leg, arm, and rear torso. Minor scratches to the assault 'Mech's thick armor plating, but sill something he would rather have avoided. Too many surprises already, too many unknowns.

  Like the very appearance of the Blackwind Lancers, finally out of hiding and returned to the field like avenging spirits. And who had equipped them with Free Worlds League designs?

  From first contact, when two enemy lances had stepped from concealment to savage the Warriors' front line, there had been little doubt whom they faced. Paint schemes varied, but each 'Mech proudly displayed the insignia of the Blackwind Lancers—blue ax head on yellow field. And in case there might be some doubt as to which battalion, the MechWarriors had added the Chinese ideogram for the number two into the ax head. That at least solved his earlier questions as to what happened to the Dispossessed Lancers. But not where they received BattleMechs.

  Squeezing down on the right control stick's main trigger, Dho launched a single Gauss shot off at the Apollo as the Earth-werks-designed BattleMech stepped back into the cover of a narrow defile. The nickel-ferrous slug slammed into the canyon wall, shattering a large section into shards and dust and triggering a large slide of unstable rock from the cliff face. The rubble piled up against the canyon wall along a sixty-meter stretch, and the large cloud of dust it raised worked to further obscure the retreating Lancer 'Mech. Last I heard, Earthwerks was under strict orders not to sell to the Compact. When did that change?

  Victorious shouts suddenly bled over each other on the Warriors' general frequency, followed by Sao-shao Evans' report. "Sang-shao Dho, we finally dropped that Tempest up front. It lost a leg, but is currently being shielded by a Marshal and a JagerMech. Request permission to push forward."

  "Negative," the Hustaing Warriors' commander ordered, "hold position." We're scattered enough as it is, and we've seen only a company of the Blackwind Lancers. If the entire battalion is somehow out here, they'll take us piecemeal the moment we split up further. "That Tempest was the best we've seen, so heads up, everyone. If it was their commander, its loss should start something."

  It did, though not in the way Sang-shao Dho expected. The Apollo was peeking back out of the defile again, just far enough for its LRM launchers to loose another spread of missiles. Facing it this time, Dho easily floated his own targeting reticule over the enemy machine. This time his Guass rifle scored, like a marksman slamming its one-hundred kilogram slug into the Apollo's sternum right over the Lancer's insignia and crushing roughly a full ton of armor. The Apollo responded with another two flights from its LRM launchers, and Dho set himself to ride out the buffeting.

  What he did not anticipate was the sudden appearance of eight enemy machines, medium to heavy, along the left-hand cliff rim and the intense fire that suddenly fell down on him.

  "A trap! A second trap," the sang-shao had time to warn his command as two PPCs and a number of lasers cut into his Victor, followed immediately by a hail of autocannon and missile fire and one Gauss slug from a Cestus. Dho's assault machine, normally a stalwart fixture on any battlefield, shook mercilessly under the onslaught. He did not even try to stand up against such an attack, and abandoned the Victor to gravity while working to lessen any damage from the fall.

  "We have multiple contacts," Sao-shao Evans transmitted, voice showing strain. "At least four lances of St. Ives Lancers. Repeat, St. Ives Lancers. Two 'Mechs down. Falling back."

  And right into the concentrated fire of two more lances, Dho thought, rolling the Victor to its front and working to stand. The fall had shaken him, and he could feel the bruises forming where his safety harness straps crossed his body. There must be a back way onto the ridge for them to put larger machines above us like that. With that kind of concentrated firepower, one out of every three Hustaing Warriors will die right here in this part of the canyon. A trap within an ambush, and the St. Ives Lancers holding the ax over our heads.

  "All units retreat," the sang-shao ordered as the Victor rose to its feet. His damage schematic showed the loss of over seven tons of armor, more than half his total protection. His right side and leg were especially vulnerable, damage already penetrating to the skeleton but no critical equipment touched as yet.

  Their next salvo will finish me, but maybe I can buy time for a few Warriors to escape. Standing in the middle of the canyon, enemy machines above him, Ni Tehn Dho prepared himself for a glorious last stand. Nothing like going out in true Capellan fashion, fighting in a hopeless situation.

  Then he noticed three Warrior 'Mechs, rising on jump jets toward the ridge. Vindicator, Blackjack, and a new Snake. The Arcade Rangers!

  But only the Snake can reach the edge of the cliff, Dho thought with some amount of amazement, until he saw the fourth Ranger in a Hunchback standing toe to toe with the Apollo near the massive rockslide Dho's errant Gauss shot had brought down earlier. The Vindicator and Blackjack must have crawled up onto the pile, using it as the little boost they needed to reach the top of the ridge. And if they could divert just enough firepower from the canyon floor. . .

  Targeting the Cestus, its low-heat Gauss rifle the greatest danger to him, San-shao Dho struck out with every weapon at his disposal. Medium pulse lasers stuttered emerald energy darts into the Cestus' left arm and side, while the Victor's own Gauss rifle placed a large slug directly into its center torso. Three of four short-ranged missiles connected next, one slamming into the Cestus' head and the other two worrying more armor on the front chest. The Cestus managed to return fire only with its two large lasers, its Gauss rifle missing high, burning more armor from the Victor's right arm and central torso.

  As he had hoped, the Arcade Rangers managed to redirect the firepower of several St. Ives Lancers' BattleMechs. While their lancemate in the Hunchback tore into the Apollo's armor with its Kali Yama big bore autocannon, the rest of the Rangers targeted another four 'Mechs, with the Blackjack splitting it
s weapons fire between two targets. The Snake, having foregone the use of its arm-mounted LB-X autocannon, shoved a Gallowglas and sent it plummeting off the backside of the ridge.

  Their formation disrupted, only three of the ambushing 'Mechs fired in concert with the Cestus in an attempt to savage the Victor. The blue-white lightning of a single PPC scored the Victor's left side, cutting into the internal structure and slagging Dho's short-ranged missile launcher. A quartet of lasers, mixed staccato pulses and energy lances, cut across his arms and chest but failed to damage any more equipment.

  Dho worked his control sticks, keeping his balance as one of the Hustaing Warriors' forward lances retreated back through the canyon to regroup at his side. That evened out the odds, even if they took down his Victor. So until the enemy's own forward-placed elements could catch up, and so long as he could stay alive, it gave the Warriors the advantage. Care to continue? he silently challenged the opposing commander, whichever 'Mech it was.

  The Cestus answered, regardless of command structure. With a parting Gauss rifle shot, the 'Mech retreated off the ridge. Singly and then in pairs, the other Lancers also vacated the area.

  "Rangers, get back down here," Dho ordered, not about to leave his people sitting up there as targets. Communications from his forward elements warned him that the enemy was still advancing against them, but more cautiously than before. The Snake and Blackjack made safe landings, but the Vindicator came down hard in the rubble and left shattered armor behind amidst the boulders and dirt. Still, it regained its feet quickly enough.

  "Sir, this is Sao-shao Evans. Shall we form a new offensive line back here?" A pause, and then, "We lost three 'Mechs, and we only have one warrior pickup."

  Dho shook his head. It hurt, having to leave behind good men, but the Lancers owned the day regardless of any last minute reversal to the trap. "No. This round goes to the Lancers, Blackwind and St. Ives both. They obviously know the He-Mi-Lu Canyons, and we're getting out before we learn any more hard lessons today. Rangers, you earned yourselves point duty, lead us out of here. Evans, take rearguard.