Текст книги "The Sword and the Dagger"

Автор книги: Ardath Mayhar

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5

To his surprise, Ardan slept deeply after saying goodbye to his friends, though he knew the next day would be filled with stress. There would be strategy sessions with the commanders of the strike force being sent from New Avalon, and decisions to be made about which 'Mech units to transfer from Dragon's Field, Hamlin, and Ral to support the invasion of the occupied world, Stein's Folly.

He would see Sep and Jarlik and the others again, but they would have no time for talk...or for sentiment. Probably a good thing, too. The more he realized how deeply he valued his comrades, the harder it became to leave them behind.

Just after early workout, Ardan received a summons to the Palace. He had dreaded seeing Hanse again, although knowing it was necessary. The counterinvasion of Stein's Folly was not going to be easy, and the planners would have to try to prepare for every eventuality.

Ardan found Hanse already in the war room with Ran Felsner, who had been, until very recently, commander of the Royal Guard. A formidable warrior and strategist, Felsner seemed a good choice for this sticky assignment

Before his appointment to the command of Davion's Royal Brigade, Ardan had served under Felsner as a battalion commander in the 17th Avalon Hussars. Indeed, they both had good reason to remember the last time they had fought together, four years before in the battle for Tripoli, a Davion/Kurita border world. It was then that the two had become friends as well as comrades. Ardan had led his unit in a daring raid that turned the tide of battle in Davion's favor. Having thus distinguished himself as a tactical commander, Ardan was promoted to his current position with the Brigade. Ran, in turn, had been promoted to Brigadier as a result of the campaign's success.

Ardan greeted him, made the ritual obeisance to the Prince, and nodded to Lees Hamman, who would, no doubt, be second-in-command of the attack group. Hanse motioned Ardan to approach the table over which they pored.

It was one of the rare 3-D holotables that allowed one to plot planetary orbits, approaches of ships, space debris... anything that was programmable into the computers. You could also adapt it to reflect the details of an ongoing battle, if you were able to keep the programs abreast with reports from all parts of the field.

A useful item, indeed, and one that could be of great help to Davion. Progress reports from the field would be made through ComStar each day, though Ardan knew they would probably have to send a ship out to a station at some nearby Davion-held world until Stein's Folly could be retaken.

Ardan leaned beside Felsner, gazing into the depths of the table. Points of light representing JumpShips made erratic skips between the orange lights that were the worlds lying between New Avalon and Stein's Folly. Ardan pinpointed Argyle, site of Hanse's Summer Palace. He had joined the Prince there on many a long holiday, both before and after his friend's accession to the throne. The other worlds blinking on the dark pseudospace background had to beVincent, New Cleveland, Emerson...yes...He had visited those, too.

Hanse touched a button, and a portion of the tabletop expanded to give a close-up view of the most distant range.

"We will use Dragon's Field as a staging area, because it is nearest our objective. The whole planet is surrounded by a cloud blanket that should shield much of our activity from any enemy probes or spyships. We can ready our assault force in fair safety, before committing them to the Drop-Ships for transport." He looked about the group. "Any questions?"

Ardan cleared his throat. "Being a latecomer to the mission, I'd like to know a couple of things. First, what size force will be going all the way from New Avalon? And second, is there any word so far on the size and capacities of the occupying army on Stein's Folly?"

Hanse looked at Lees, who glanced at the readout on his side of the table. "A relatively small group will make the entire trip from here to Stein's Folly—one company, in fact. We, our 'Mechs, our Techs, and our weapons and supplies will go straight through on the Command Circuit"

"One company? To fight a war?" Ardan was puzzled.

"Never fear, Ardan," said Hanse. "The 5th Crucis Lancers is already on Dragon's Field, and Felsner will command them. You'll command the 17th Avalon Hussars, which are on their way now...And my brother-in-law Michael has graciously agreed to loan us one regiment of his Capellan March Militia, which Lees will command." Ticking off items with his fingers, he went on, "To the 'Mech forces, we've added three regiments of armored vehicles, two regiments of infantry, and two regiments of AeroSpace Fighters. By the time we have everything in order for your departure, they'll be very close to their objective. We've been planning this for weeks."

Felsner cleared his throat, interrupting his leader. "Is there anything else we need to think through before beginning to get things on the move, Your Highness?"

Hanse looked about at the others. His expression was inscrutable, but Ardan sensed that he was sad deep within and less confident than he seemed.

"There will be a messenger in from the staging world tonight. Tomorrow, we will hear his report. At that time, we will decide any other matters that may come up. But for now, I mink it's time to put things in motion."

He turned to Ardan. "Tomorrow we will also get the latest word on the size of the force occupying the Folly. So far, our estimates are that Liao has stationed at least three to five regiments to hold Stein's Folly and Redfield. He has other problems elsewhere, however, and has withdrawn some of the original assault force to cope with those. We're watching closely, though, and by tomorrow should know as much as we can about what we're up against."

Felsner, Hamman, and Ardan saluted and turned to go, but Hanse caught Ardan's elbow as he passed. "Wait a moment, Dan. I'd like a word with you."

Ardan stopped obediently, though feeling a surge of resentment. It had already been too difficult A repetition of that last scene with his old friend would be simply too much.

Hanse, however, was staring absently into the holo-table. "I hate to see you go," he said, "but you are a MechWarrior, and it's fitting. What I hate worse is to see you leave in bitterness and anger." He lifted his head to look into Ardan's eyes. "You can't live with the thought of those agents provocateurs, can you?

"No." The answer was too blunt but Ardan saw no way to soften it "No, I cannot War is terrible enough when it's necessary. When we are nominally at peace with a power, it seems wicked to stir up trouble for that House."

"Then think about this," murmured Hanse. "If House Marik were not embroiled among their own worlds– admittedly in problems of my making—they might well be at our flank, while we try to retake our own worlds. I know you too well to believe that this will change your attitude, but do consider it from time to time....When you havethe time." He sighed and gestured, dismissing the younger man.

Ardan had indeed considered those very points, and certainly didn't need them pushed into his face. But he had been brought up with a code of honor that seemed to be far more demanding than even that of the illustrious House of Davion. Perhaps it was because his own family, while noble, had never been one of great power. Honor, rather than power or glory, had become the watchword of his ancestors.

Ardan felt a sudden restlessness, knowing that he must now dismiss his Techs. Normally, both Lai, his main Tech, and Nym, his standby, would go with him. But they had families on New Avalon, and Ardan was unwilling to whisk the two away to a war in which they had little personal stake. No, he would find new Techs on Dragon's Field. There would be many 'orphaned' men there, Techs whose 'Mechs and MechWarriors had been destroyed in the desperate battle for Stein's Folly.

The scanners passed him into the workshop/storage area beneath his barracks. The familiar clang of metal on metal and the odor of welding and heat-processed sealants immediately assaulted his senses. There was never a quiet moment in the workshops where the active 'Mechs were repaired and maintained, and the damaged or worn ones reassembled into usable combinations.

The stall where his own Victorwas stored came into view. Nym was polishing a weld, while Lai applied a coat of rust-preventive paint to the sole of one of the machine's immense feet The sun-and-sword emblem of House Davion had just been redone, and the paint gleamed bright and fresh.

"Greetings," Ardan called over the din being made by a nearby metal worker.

Nym looked up and smiled. He and Lai would have gone on working, but Ardan signalled them to join him outside the work area.

"Anything wrong, Colonel?" asked the Tech, looking worried. He was the kind of man who prided himself on his work, constantly anxious that something might be less than perfect

"Not with you or Lai," said Ardan. "I couldn't ask for a better pair of Techs. But I'm going offworld, and I refuse to take either of you away from your families. And especially because I know that your mother is sick, Lai. And Nym's young one is due to arrive at any time. Sella would come after me with a neural whip if I took you away now."

Nym looked upset "It is my duty. My honor. I must go where my work takes me. Sella knows that"

"Well, this time your work will be with Candent Septarian. I asked her yesterday, and she needs you both. Her Tech and his standby both were injured when her WarHammerfell from its braces while the control bundles in its knee joints were being repaired. By the time they're functional again, I may even be back here."

Ardan took a deep breath. "You need to ready the 'Mech for transport Check everything, of course. And I need a last exercise. Is the Gauntlet set up and ready to run?"

Nym nodded. "Will it be the Victor,as usual?"

"What else?" said Ardan. I've never understood why Sep likes that bunglesome WarHammerso well. Me, I'll take maneuverability."

"Probably because the WarHammercan simply step on anything it can't blast out of the way," mumbled Lai.

Ardan left, laughing. That was true. At seventy tons, the WarHammercould mangle a forest or a city without realizing it had stepped on anything. His Victor,on the other hand, was ten tons heavier, but could still rise up on its maneuvering jets. Ardan felt that his ‘Mech's ability to move was a priceless asset on the field.

The Gauntlet was an exercise ground laid out in a large meadow beyond the lake and the forest. Set between high parallel walls of stone and metal, it extended just short of a kilometer in length and resembled a natural canyon, with every sort of straightaway, angle, curve, and bend.

Every centimeter of those forty-five-meter high walls was embedded with special effects that could simulate rocket launchers, lasers, autocannon, and any other nasty surprise a 'Mech might encounter in combat. When a Mech Warrior wanted to work out there, a Tech was assigned to arm and control those weapons effects. They could only be disarmed by that Tech or by a direct hit on a sensitive plate of a slightly different color than the surrounding stone of the walls.

In a big building adjoining the Gauntlet rested the prototype 'Mechs. These were uncoded machines that could be programmed to behave like any known 'Mech that a pilot might want to operate in practice. Today, it would be a Victorfor Ardan, its computer-controlled reactions simulating every effect of weapons hits, heat buildup, damage, and so on.

In the dressing chamber, Ardan stripped off his uniform and donned the cooling vest and neck and shoulder pads. To his arms and legs, he attached the biofeedback patches that provided temperature control and monitored heat in his sensor helmet. Finally, he fitted the neurohelmet over his head, setting it in place over his neck and shoulder pads. The helmet was the key to piloting a 'Mech, feeding information on the pilot's sense of balance into the 'Mech's computer to keep it erect and balanced even during jumping, kicking, or dive-and-roll combat In return, the computer fed impulses back to the pilot through his helmet to keep him from being disoriented while locked up inside the head of a giant maneuvering machine.

To 'unlock' a neurohelmet, the pilot transmitted a special, brief series of motions or entered some word or number command into the onboard computer. This code was secret and different for each individual pilot and his 'Mech, and prevented anyone else from simply climbing in and taking over the machine. Failure to transmit the proper sequence could result in damage to the helmet or the wearer.

After pushing the signal button to warn the Gauntlet personnel that he was ready to make his run, Ardan climbed into the Victorand plugged his helmet into the cables connecting it to the 'Mech. He almost went through his coding sequence before catching himself. To operate the prototype 'Mechs of the Gauntlet, MechWarriors simply used 'open systems' that made the 'Mechs ready for immediate use.

As the big doors ground open, Ardan flexed the muscles of the 'Mech, lifted a ponderous foot, raised and lowered his arms. Good. The myomer muscles were working perfectly.

Now he could see the walls of the Gauntlet begin to glow, and his own body answered with a surge of adrenalin. The 'Mech's heat intensified it, as he strode out into the sunlight

Even after so many years, Ardan still found it strange to be transformed from a human on foot to a deadly, ponderous giant. The ‘Mech's height gave him a superb view of all his surroundings. What he was looking at, however, were the tiny glints of light that seemed to wink malevolently in the walls ahead of him. Those were the lasers and other simulator weapons readying themselves for a battle.

Ardan grinned. He needed a good fight. Now he could work off the uneasy fury he had felt these past months without hurting anything—or anyone—he cared for.

6

The towering walls of the Gauntlet were three times the height of the Victor.As Ardan approached them, cautiously and with every muscle tensed for a sudden spring to left or right, a laser spat at him with its red light. This was followed almost instantly by a stream of small rockets from a projectile weapon coming from his other side.

Blessing the Vic'sjets, Ardan jumped high, letting the laser detonate the first of the rockets. The rest pocked the farther wall of the corridor as they exploded. He came down whirling, his own lasers raking the walls, taking out a row of weaponry set into the stone.

Testing every step, he moved forward again, using his sensors to seek out hidden mines. Many a 'Mech had been disabled after stepping on a concealed vibrabomb, but there was no knowing at exactly what weight/pressure the things might be set to explode. Ardan managed to stroll through the Gauntlet without triggering a single one, and he smiled, thinking how Sep would have bounded her way through, triggering a chain of explosions.

Just then, a laser beam seared the air, and he leaped and whirled, just barely dodging it. Every nerve alert, all his senses caught up in the death-game, Ardan moved through the perilous corridor in a series of spurts, jumps, quick turns, and ricochets. As he neared the end of it, a barrage of laser fire and rockets converged on the spot where he had just landed. He dived head-first, moved and sustained by his jets, then bounced, shoulder-first, off the rock of the wall.

Twisting desperately, he straightened to land on his feet He was sweating so hard now that only the pads of his helmet kept the perspiration from blinding him. His heart was pounding, too.

Ardan was feeling better than he had in weeks.

At another sudden spurt of laser light, he wheeled, sidestepping the blast Firing his own upper laser, he took out the enemy weapon. There was only one way he could think of to pass this last stretch, and that was to take it in one leap. Accurately. Without faltering. Should his own sense of balance be disturbed, he would also lose his ability to stabilize the huge machine.

All the while, he was drawing a deep breath, as if his own puny human lungs could assist the eighty-ton monster he manipulated. Then he launched himself into the air again, forcing the ‘Mech's immensity toward the light at the end of the corridor.

When he came down, it was nine meters too soon, still within the deadly walls of the Gauntlet. The vibrations set his teeth on edge, made his heart hammer even harder, but he willed himself steady. Gritting his teeth, Ardan rolled the Victor'sbody to its feet. It staggered, leaned against a wall. Heat seared even into his insulated compartment as he jerked the ‘Mech upright. Again he jumped forward...this time onto the clean dust beyond the Gauntlet.

He was soaked in sweat now, panting, battered, and aching. But he felt a satisfied exhaustion. Turning the huge machine back toward the building, he moved along the outside of the walled corridor.

When Ardan reached the big doors, four small figures were waiting there. "Good run!" yelled Jarlik, as Ardan piloted the 'Mech inside and opened his hatch.

As he had hoped, this last run through the Gauntlet had eased the tension making him irritable for weeks. Grinning down at his four comrades, Ardan made his way down.

"They've added a few things since last month," he said. "Watch that other end—the laser will kill you!"

"You made it pretty well," said Sep, her eyes twinkling. "It looked like you worked that 'Mech to its limits."

"Feel as if I've been boiled in oil, though," grumbled Ardan. "Let me take a shower and get into my uniform. Then I’ll take you all out for a last round of ale...on me."

Denek leaned against the wall, eyes wide, hands clasped to his chest. "You hear that? You HEAR that my friends? Ardan the tightwad has volunteered to buy the beer! Can you believe it?"

Fram nodded solemnly. "Just goes to show what it takes to get some people to shell out. Being assigned out to where he’ll probably get his buns blown to Kingdom come, then running the Gauntlet and almost getting shaken out of his boots. Some people are tough,let me tell you!"

In their merriment, Jarlik and Sep leaned against one another and whooped. It wasn't really that funny, of course, but all of them must have been feeling relieved that things were back to normal again.

They spent a festive evening together, all thought of Ardan's impending departure kept well below the surface. He had hoped to leave quickly, avoiding long goodbyes, but now he was glad for the chance to enjoy this last evening with his friends.

Sep kept looking at him strangely, however. In the few brief intervals when they could say a private word to one another, Ardan tried to get her to tell him what was bothering her, but she only shook her head.

"Later," she murmured.

It was, indeed, very much later when the four set out for the barracks together. Though not exactly inebriated, they were all rather elevated. It wasn't difficult for Ardan to contrive to lag behind, catching Sep's elbow to keep her with him.

"Now will you tell me what's bothering you? You kept looking at me sideways all evening. Tomorrow I move out of barracks into the ready-area, and we won't have another chance to talk. I want to know." He put his hands on his hips and glared at her, swaying a bit.

Sep turned to lean against a nearby wall of the barracks. "I just don't like it," she said. "As your second-in-command, I’ll be taking over your unit. That makes sense. But you shouldn't be leaving. I don't think you have thought long enough about this step you're taking."

Though the ale had relaxed him, Ardan felt himself bristle with irritation. "I havethought about it!" he snapped.

"For two years! Would you have me mull it over for two more?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes to make you see the light. Ardan, you aren't a politician. Thank the Holy Roarer for that! But politicians are necessary. Have you thought any more about what I said to you the other day?"

"Sep, I understood perfectly well what you said. I just didn't agree with it." He found himself becoming angry. Why did she insist on bringing this up again, just when he had been so full of the pleasure of the evening?

"You can't see Hanse as he is, simply because he's your friend. You want him to be perfect. But are you perfect? Am I? Then why should he have to be? Hanse is a good ruler, who's doing a good job of keeping the Federated Suns together." She glared at him.

"Can you imagine what would happen if Maximilian Liao achieved his goals—took out Davion and assimilated the Federated Suns into his Capellan Confederation? Now there'sa schemer...a user...a manipulator. And worse. You've seen worlds he's conquered before we retook them. Whatever he touches, Liao squeezes until it's dry."

Because he couldn't deny what Sep was saying, it made Ardan even angrier. He hadseen those devastated planets, their people starved and degraded, left homeless, cropless, powerless.

"I'm trying to keep Hanse from becoming just likeLiao," he insisted. "Power corrupts, woman. Don't you know that?"

"Hanse was born to power. His family has wielded it for generations without becoming corrupted. Why do you trust him so little?"

Sep had to yell those last words after him, for Ardan had turned on his heel, and was walking away quickly toward his quarters. Her voice rang in his ears, even after he had closed the door behind him and was standing inside, staring at the wall. He even felt a little ill.

"That's just the drink," he said aloud, and went to splash his face with cold water. It didn't help, though. The more he thought about Sep's words, the angrier he became.

Returning to his room, a touch to the light-button brightened the dim glow in the room to normal intensity. Only now did Ardan notice that on his bed, along with the small pack of personal items readied for his trip, was another bundle. It appeared to have been hastily wrapped, but was tied with a big scarlet bow. Lifting off the note attached, he read: "From C.S., J., D., and F. We hope this will be useful."

He tore off the tissue impatiently. Rolled in a light environment suit, he found a new knife, together with the sheath that would strap it to his calf. The knife was beautiful, its edge razor-keen, its haft leather-wrapped. The sheath was also a fine piece of work, soft and form-fitting, so as not to bind on the leg.

There was something else, too, a canister made to fit into the cockpit compartment where a MechWarrior kept personal and survival equipment. In it was a new set of collapsible field and camping gear.

Ardan stared down at the gifts. His friends knew that he would be issued fresh gear when he got to his destination. But this was the best obtainable, far better than government-issue. The knife would keep its edge for years, and would neither oxidize nor break. The other equipment was of the finest quality and would probably wear far longer than he would.

Though his old knife had been with him in so many battles, he had been lucky enough never to need it. No 'Mech he had piloted had ever been destroyed to the point where Ardan was forced to abandon it. But the time came to every warrior—if he lived long enough—when he had to take to the battlefield on his own, unshielded by his gigantic machine.

Ardan packed quickly, almost mechanically. Having done it so often, before so many battles, habit took over, leaving his mind free. His thoughts drifted in a mild haze.

Not drunken—he hadn't consumed that much—but somehow disconnected from the familiar concerns that had so preoccupied and upset him recently.

His mind moved backward in time to the last war, the last battle in which he had been engaged. It had been no major conflict The Draconis Combine had edged into Lyran territory. Under an existing treaty, House Davion had sent troops to aid Katrina Steiner in holding the group of worlds under attack. Ardan had been in command of a 'Mech unit assigned to root out an emplacement of enemy troops.

In memory, he felt beneath him the lumbering motion of his ‘Mech. He heard the thunder of his own weapons, the impact of laser beams and explosives against the armor of his Victor.A dedicated group, his men had plunged into the fray with gusto, intoxicated with battle.

The thud of his 'Mech's huge feet against the ground had not impinged upon him at the time. The effects of his weapons on the surrounding territory hadn't been noted. Only the effects that took out or disabled enemy troops and 'Mechs had caught his attention.

Not until his unit had stomped the Kurita forces flat and the battle was over had Ardan paused to look about him. That had been the most terrible moment in all his years as a professional warrior. It was the first time he had allowed himself to really see what toll the battle had taken on the land across which it raged. Where a forest had stood, shading a broad lake, he now saw a field of stubble. Even worse, the greenish-yellow waters of the lake were stained black and red, where both machines and men had died horribly. The surrounding croplands were trampled into dust and straw. Dead animals lay swelling in the sun...along with dead men, both his own and the enemy's.

Where a stone house surrounded by orchards had stood, only a few stones remained, and the fruit trees might never have existed. In the lane before the broken walls, there had been a child, crying...Though he shrank from the memory, Ardan could not forget how the child's entrails hung from a gaping wound in its belly. The shrieks of the toddler had carried even into the shielded space of his 'Mech. Even as he had moved to unlock his entry-port and go to the little boy's aid, laser fire had spurted, blasting the child into the dust

Ardan would never forget that blackened bit of flesh, lying in the crumbled stone and dirt. And that was exactly where he was headed once more.

He turned blindly and set the neat pack beside the door, knowing he would never again go blithely into battle, filled only with dreams of glory and adventure, as he had once. No...behind his alert warrior's eyes, his busy mind, he would always see that blasted child, that ruined valley.

Was he, then, so much better than Hanse? Hanse might be subtle and devious to get his way. But Ardan knew himself to be a destroyer.