Текст книги " Lethal Heritage "
Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole
Жанры:
Боевая фантастика
,сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
33
ComStar First Circuit Compound
Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra
30 August 3050
Myndo Waterly slipped her hands inside the sleeves of her gold silk gown. "I agree, Precentor Tharkad, that the razing of Edo on Turtle Bay represents an escalation of the conflict that calls into question the wisdom of working with the Clans. I should remind you, however, that the Precentor Martial reported that he expects no more such attacks because the Khan of the Smoke Jaguar Clan lost considerable face because of that incident."
"With all due respect, Primus, and with deference to my colleague from Dieron, I believe you place more importance on social embarrassment than it warrants." Ulthan Everson leaned forward on his crystalline podium. "I would also note that the Clan's jump-capable warships have not been used of late because they have been bid away in the curious game the invaders play before taking a planet. Though you do not mention it, I recall that it was Phelan Kell who planted the suggestion of bidding away a warship, not our agent to the Clans."
Sharilar Mori looked over at the Primus, who nodded permission to speak. "You confuse your arguments, Precentor Tharkad. If the Primus failed to mention Phelan Kell's part in the decision to abandon planetary bombardment, it is because the important fact is that the bombardments have stopped and are unlikely to continue. The Wolf Clan's third and preemptive fourth waves have shown this perfectly.
"As for the role of social pressures in the Clan society, we keep hearing about the pressure to conform and to out-do the others. That Khan Ulric of the Wolves bid away the Dire Wolfin his negotiations with Khan Bjorn of the Ghost Bears cost Bjorn mightily and has elevated Ulric in the esteem of others, including his rivals. In their quest for glory, others have imitated Ulric by bidding away even more than the support of the warships in their contests over who may attack a world. As the latest reports from Engadin indicate, this has created some difficulty. It may not stop the Clans' advance, but it will slow it."
The diminutive Jen Li, Precentor from the Capellan Confederation, agreed. "Aside from the Wolf Clan's advance strike in this fourth wave, the other clans have moved at a pace roughly equivalent to a wave every two months ..."
Everson's head came up. "I am neither blind nor unable to read a calendar, Precentor Sian."
"Nor do so I suggest, Precentor Tharkad," Jen Li replied coolly. "I meant to call your attention to the fact that our representatives are reporting longer times needed to pacify the planets the Clans have taken. In the Jade Falcon assault in the Lyran Commonwealth, for example, you see a massive initial assault, which is then truncated down in the second wave. That is due, in my opinion, to the resistance on Trell I. Their third wave was bolder, but the population refused to be cowed. In order to be off on the next wave of the invasion, the Jade Falcons disarmed the Mech Warriors and aerospace pilots, but allowed the local militias to retain their weapons and engage in police duties. On Twycross, the natives barely noticed the invaders and gave them permission to hold as much of the surface as they wanted. In fact, had the Diabolis not grounded two DropShips, I believe the Clansmen would have left only a regiment and a half of BattleMechs to defend Twycross."
Huthrin Vandel let out a little laugh. "How curious that a regiment now seems barely sufficient to hold a world when, twenty-five years ago, a battalion was considered an incredible force to garrison any one world. These grounded DropShips increase the Twycross garrison to what?"
The Primus herself answered his question. "One ship is believed to hold what they refer to as a Cluster—approximately forty-five—of their front-line 'Mechs. The ship itself appears to be built along the lines of a modified OverlordClass DropShip. The other ship looks like an IntruderClass DropShip and is home to approximately seventy-five of their armored infantry."
The Precentor from New Avalon nodded thoughtfully. "Including their garrison units, that would mean the Jade Falcons have the rough equivalent of two and a half 'Mech regiments. In terms of our technology, that would give them a strength of roughly six regiments. The armored infantry have to be worth another company. Even taking into account environmental factors that might curb the extended range of their weapons, they are still a formidable force. Interesting ..."
Myndo fixed him with a harsh stare. "Are you still with us, Precentor New Avalon? Do you intend to share your ruminations or not?"
Vandel smiled as his head came up. "Well, we have no solid proof, but I expect that a counterattack on the Lyran front is imminent."
Myndo's dislike of surprises showed plainly on her face. "Explain."
"Though the official military traffic has continued with banal reports and typical communications, the personal messages going to and from troops gathered at Sudeten has trailed off considerably. Military officials deny that troops have been moved offworld, but enough DropShips have been blasting off Sudeten to make the invasion of the Capellan Confederation in 3028 look like a field-trip."
The Primus gave him a reproving glare. "Eliminate the hyperbole, if you please."
"As the Primus commands," Vandel said, to comply without complying. "The troop lists we obtained from our Sudeten facilities were impressive, indeed. The Tenth Lyran Guards, the First Kathil Uhlans, the Kell Hounds, and the Eridani Light Horse, just to mention the best-known units, were all present. In addition, I have three confirmed sightings of Prince Victor Steiner-Davion. He has to be smarting from his part in the Trell debacle.
"I had some of my people run an analysis of the situation in the Commonwealth and had it cross-correlated with Victor's Nagelring records and his personality profile. Though he has the cunning for deceptive tactics, Hanse Davion's son seems to favor an aggressive approach. Defending is not his idea of proper military strategy, so I assumed he would agitate for an offensive strike. I then took conquered worlds that could be reached from Sudeten in the time it would take for the Jade Falcons to launch their fourth wave and crosscorrelated them with worlds that had environmental and topographical features favorable to the close infighting most familiar to Inner Sphere warriors. The highest probability was for Twycross, with an 87.5 percent factor."
He smiled boldly at the Primus. "None of the information I used was unavailable to the Davion troops. A study of Victor's friends at the Nagelring and the New Avalon Military Academy shows that Renard Sanderlin and Kai Allard-Liao were both assigned to units—the Uhlans and Tenth Lyran Guards respectively—that are present on Sudeten. Victor has been transferred to the Tenth Lyran Guards, so I assume that unit will be involved in the assault. I would doubt the Uhlans will go because Morgan Hasek-Davion would never put all his eggs in one basket.
"I also believe that the Kell Hounds, perhaps because of the connection between Dan Allard and his nephew Kai, and because of the Hounds' fanatical loyalty to the Steiner bloodline, will be in on the assault. Conversely, Morgan will hold back the Eridani Light Horse. What other units will go I cannot be certain, but the Seventh Donegal Guards seem likely because the climate of their homeworld of Rahne makes Twycross seem pleasant."
Ulthan Everson, smiling from ear to ear, congratulated his longtime ally. "Excellent analysis, Huthrin." Then he turned toward the Primus again. "I would move that we supply the Davion forces with information about the Clan units on Twycross so they will not be taken by surprise."
Sharilar Mori preempted the Primus's summary rejection by raising her hand. "If you please, Primus, I have some information that could have a bearing on Precentor Tharkad's motion. Ulthan, I think you should know that the Draconis Combine is preparing its own trap for the Clans. Word has gone out to sources the Smoke Jaguars are certain to have captured in their third wave that the individuals who escaped Turtle Bay before Edo's destruction are present on Wolcott. The Jaguars have learned, to their chagrin, that one of the prisoners was Theodore Kurita's son Hohiro, and that Hohiro himself will take part in the defense of Wolcott. If the Jaguar Khan is smarting from the loss of face over the Edo incident, this message will sting him further. Theodore might as well have given them an engraved invitation to attack Wolcott."
Precentor Dieron suppressed a smile. "Invitations to come to Wolcott were not issued to the Clans, but they were given to the Eleventh Legion of Vega and the Genyosha. These two units and several less well-known regiments will be on Wolcott masquerading under fictional unit designations and with histories that cover only the most recent exploits of these units. The Genyosha, for example, have been waiting on the Dieron/Skye border and seen no action in the last year, and so the Jaguars will have no solid grasp on what the unit can do. This tactic worked on Hanover, which means the Jaguars will be suspicious of these 'virginal' units, but the desire to recapture Hohiro Kurita and recover some of the face they lost on Edo will probably outweigh their caution."
Everson smiled broadly again. "Excellent. We will teach the invaders a lesson, one they've needed since their invasion began. I can see no reason why we should not offer information to both the Davion and Kurita forces."
"Don't be a fool, Ulthan," the Primus snapped. "If we tip our hand to the Combine or the Commonwealth, they'll know we have established a relationship with the Clans, which they will resent mightily. Besides, we do not wish to jeopardize our deepening link with the Clans. They now permit us to act as intermediaries between their governors and the people of the conquered worlds, though we do not yet have a free hand to rebuild the societies in our image. Because they have not yet asked us for more than trivial information, they feel no obligation to us. That, I believe, will soon change.
"The latest report from the Precentor Martial included hints of friction between the Clans. He suggested that the Wolf Clan's preemptive fourth wave did not sit well with the other groups, especially the Smoke Jaguars and Jade Falcons. These groups have, apparently, demanded a Council of Khans after their fourth wave has been launched and completed. The Precentor Martial believes this is so they will be on a rough parity with Khan Ulric. Ulric, because of his conquest of Rasalhague and because the ilKhan travels with him, will host the meeting, but the Precentor Martial does not yet know which world the Khan has chosen as the site of the meeting."
Myndo's eyes widened like those of a wolf watching a deer struggle through deep snow. "Ulric is the Khan with whom we have the most influence. He has worked more closely with us than any other Khan, and he has been successful. The Smoke Jaguars and Jade Falcons will, before this meeting, run into severe opposition on their fronts. A stiff battle—or worse, a defeat—will hurt their standing and increase Ulric's power. If we cooperate with House Davion or House Kurita, we risk exposure and censure by the Clans. This would deny us access to the most cooperative and potentially powerful of the Khans. And I'm sure you agree it would be foolish to sacrifice any chance we have of directing the Clans against our most hated enemy: Hanse Davion."
Though the look on his face did express total agreement, Eversbn bowed his head. "I withdraw the motion, but I do wish my colleagues would consider the possibility of helping our kinsmen in their war against these alien invaders. Though we would risk much in playing both ends against the middle, it seems even riskier to assume that we will one day be able to control Khan Ulric. To lay the groundwork for helping the Successor States against the invaders would be a wise precaution."
Myndo watched Sharilar as Everson spoke. As the slender Oriental woman nodded in agreement, Myndo found her own opinion of his suggestion changing. "I find your counsel to have merit. Furthermore, the appearance of ComStar forces to turn the tide of battles in the favor of the Successor States will garner us more good will—publicly and privately—than merely acting as informants. This I will take under consideration."
She smiled confidently at the assembled members of the First Circuit. "Rest assured, my colleagues, that no matter what happens, ComStar will emerge unscathed from this conflict, and Jerome Blake's dream of a united mankind will be fulfilled."
34
JumpShip Dire Wolf, Assault Orbit, Engadin VII
Radstadt Province , Free Rasalhague Republic
31 August 3050
Even before he heard the sharp intake of breath, Phelan Kell knew she'd been the one to walk through the sick bay door. He'd played the scene over and over again in fitful snatches of dreams, but when he heard, then saw her in the small hand-held mirror by his pillow, he forgot it all. How could he feel anything for a woman who betrayed him, then came to gloat?
The look of pain on her face reflected more than just horror at the condition of his back, but whatever else it was eluded him. Phelan knew, from examination in the mirror he held in his left hand, that Vlad had done a superior job on him. Somewhere along the line, Vlad had given up the presence of trying to get information from Phelan, and in his fury, had just beat him. While the lash had curled around to lightning-lick his stomach, the raw scars and bruises there were nothing compared to the snake-pit tracery on his back.
"Freeborn! Oh, Phelan ..." She reached out toward him, then drew her hands back, aghast. "It must hurt so ..."
Phelan tried to shrug, reigniting scorched nerves all over his back. He gritted his teeth against the pain, then gasped in a breath or two. "Yeah, it does. But I'll live."
Avoiding his reflected gaze, she shook her head. "I have never seen anything so ... savage."
"I expect the Khan will sell me off now," Phelan laughed bitterly. " 'One bondsman, shop-worn. Will trade for surat or best offer.' "
Ranna's head came up, but Phelan let the mirror flop down on the pillow. "What is the matter? Why are you lashing out at me?"
Her question, phrased in a tone of confused innocence, startled him. How could she ask that after she'd slept with Vlad? Did she think I didn't know? Hell, she heard me describe the whole thing to him ... Did she think I didn't care, or that it wouldn't matter to me?
Phelan drew in a breath slowly and carefully. "Sorry. It's just that I don't like being used. I thought we were friends."
"What? We are friends." She came closer to the head of the bed, entering his peripheral vision on the right. "We arefriends, Phelan."
"Friends?" Scorn steamed up from his reply. "If that's how you treat friends, I'm glad I'm not an enemy."
"What are you talking about? What did I do?"
"Cut the innocent act, Ranna! I may be a bondsman, but I'm not stupid!" Despite the pain burning on his flank, Phelan twisted around on his left side to face her. "What did you do? You were sleeping with him! Did you think I wouldn't care, or did you just not consider that in the heatof the moment?"
She stared at him, utterly uncomprehending. "How can that hurt you? What difference does it make?"
"What difference?" He shook his head. "Am I missing something here? As I recall, you and I were sleeping together."
Ranna looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Obviously, you are confused. You have not been able to sleep. I will visit again later."
He flopped back down on his stomach. "Don't bother. Between you and your lover, you've ripped me up enough."
"Lovers? Vlad and me?" She laughed aloud. "It's quite clear your mind is not working at all."
"You were in bed together. They saw you! What the hell would you call it?"
"We definitely are not lovers. Vlad and I were in the same sibko." Her tone challenged him to turn that into some sort of sinister accusation, then her voice faltered. "I was confused about... something ... and I went to talk with him."
"But that's not all you did, is it?"
"How can you make it sound like a crime? We were in the same sibko! We grew up together. You would say we are part of the same family." She pleaded for understanding, but her words only made Phelan shudder with rage. She saw it and tried to head it off. "I came here because I miss the time you and I spent together ..."
Phelan let out a small cry of pain. "You've done enough to me. Don't you understand? I'm not going to let you do to my insides what Vlad did to my back—at least not any more. Just go. Go away. I don't want to see you again."
He buried his face in the pillow so she couldn't see the hot tears burning in his eyes. He fought to control his sobs and thought he had until he heard the sound of crying. He tried again harder, but the sound persisted until cut off by the hiss of the closing door.
* * *
"Are you awake, Herr Kell?"
Phelan looked into the mirror with red-rimmed eyes and nodded at the Precentor Martial. "Forgive me for not rising to greet you properly, but ..."
"No offense taken," Focht said, looking down at the mercenary's brutalized back. "I have seen worse wounds in my time, but never on someone still alive."
The Kell Hound managed a weak smile. "If I'd known it would hurt this much, I probably would have preferred to die."
Focht acknowledged the grim jest with a nod. "Those welts look bad now, but I think the scarring will be minimal."
Phelan nodded. "You know what they said at the Nagelring."
The older man's eyes focused distantly. "Yes, I do. 'Scars are the proof man can survive his own stupidity.' " His left hand rose to adjust his eyepatch. "Those words have taken on special meaning for me in the past twenty years."
The mercenary sighed. "I hadn't thought of it that way, else I might have arranged for Vlad to give me a lash across the face to remind me of how brainless I am whenever I look in a mirror."
The Precentor Martial steepled his fingers. "Some men see such marks as proof of their own immortality and infallibility. You would be intolerable if you allowed yourself that vanity."
The image of Tor Miraborg swam through Phelan's mind. Score one for the ComStar warrior."I learned long ago that I'm not infallible."
Focht watched him closely in the mirror. "You refer to your expulsion from the Nagelring?"
"You must know the story. You provided Ulric with a datastack on me ..."
"All that was included in the packet sent to me," the tall man said with a slight shrug, "but I didn't read it and deleted the explanation before giving it to Ulric."
"Why would you do that, Precentor? You obviously trained at the legendary Nagelring. I should think you would have relished the tale of my disgrace, just as others have." Phelan hesitated for a moment. "Or did you delete it so Ulric would find me more acceptable as a partner in crime?"
The older man smiled sagely. "I am not vain enough to want to see you suffer for the vague judgments of a Cadet Honor Board. Besides, I would have preferred that the Khan choose me as his advisor. In point of fact, I deleted that part of your record because I believed the story should not be told if you did not want to tell it."
"Thank you." Phelan closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to meet the Precentor Martial's steel gaze. "It's a simple story, really. A friend of mine, someone I'd grown up with, graduated from the Nagelring as I entered my deuce year at the Academy. DJ—Donna Jean Connor—got a commission from the Fourteenth Lyran Guards and was posted to Ford. She was always good with book learning and regulations—exactly my opposite in that respect—and her help kept me in the Nagelring during my plebe and trey years." He swallowed hard. "I guess I was lost without her there, but the holovids she sent always anchored me and kept me on the right track.
"Well, right before that nasty blizzard on Tharkad in '48, I got word from DJ's father that she'd been killed in action on Ford. With the information he gave me, I was able to crack the Defense Department's computer and get a full report on the incident. It appears that DJ walked her lance into an area where it shouldn't have been because her Hauptmann was giving orders straight out of a textbook. The Free Worlders must have the same textbook because their aerowing took one pass at the fire lance supporting DJ's recon advance, then came back and ripped her people to pieces."
Phelan slammed his right hand against the head of his bed, then quivered when his back felt as though some creature was gnawing its way through him. His voice became hoarse with pain. "I went a little out of control, but it didn't reach a head until after the blizzard hit. The media were full of stories about snowbound folks, but the authorities had all us cadets out with 'Mechs to stop people from looting. When I heard a report of a group of school kids supposed to be trapped by an avalanche, I decided to help get them out. I rigged up the stuff needed to increase the pick-up on a Scorpion'sexternal microphones, and then headed out northeast of Tharkad City."
The Precentor nodded. "Into the Sigfried Glacier Reserve?"
"Yeah. I got to the area where their air-bus had gone down and started the computer filtering out everything but human heartbeats and the valve pattern sounds of a Hochbaum fusion engine. Within four hours, I found them and had dug down to where they were. I shunted heat from the 'Mech's fusion engine to the outside to keep them warm, and I gave them the food I'd brought. I radioed for help because some of the kids had been badly hurt when the avalanche wrapped the hoverbus around a dolmen, but a new storm front came through and kept all medevac craft grounded."
Focht frowned. "Wait ... now I remember something of this story. Most of them survived, but the children and others who'd been hurt did not. The cadet rescuer wasn't named in the story, but I remember his action was criticized because he did not bring proper medical supplies and personnel with him—resulting in the deaths."
"That was it. At the Honor Board hearing, I maintained that if I had tried to obtain the supplies or a doctor, I'd never have gotten permission to make the trip, but the Board blocked that idea at the outset I got disgusted and refused to attend the trial. They punted me, but the press wasn't allowed to print much about it, out of deference to my father and the Archon." Phelan sighed. "There. Now you know the whole sordid story."
The Precentor Martial nodded. "I do not get the impression that you see the incident as a mistake at all."
The mercenary thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "Going out after those people wasn't a mistake. Not thinking ahead about having a doctor with me was. How I could have gotten one and still made the trip eludes me, and has ever since the incident. The rescue at Sigfried Glacier is my own personal 'La Manchia' scenario. No matter what, I can't win."
Phelan rotated the rectangular mirror to give him a taller view of the ComStar official. "But you didn't come here today to ask me about my schooling, did you?"
The older man smiled. "No. I have come on behalf of Khan Ulric. He would have come himself, but after hearing about Raima's visit several hours ago, he wanted someone from your own culture to explain exactly what happened between her and Vlad."
"Why don't you save it for someone who will care?" Phelan snapped.
Focht went on as though he hadn't heard the remark. "While you were on Gunzburg, you must have found the Rasalhague language and mannerisms peculiar, didn't you? You had to work to express your thoughts to those who did not have a dialect in common with you. Your German came close enough, in some cases, to make you understood, ja ?"
He pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it. "I recall once, a very long time ago, when I was on Summer. The Lestrade family had instituted the practice of speaking Italian in their home, where I was a guest. I wanted a glass of water, and I wanted it cold. I told the servant I wanted it kalt,but the man did not understand me. I pantomimed cold and repeated kaltseveral times. When I thought he had it, I let him go on his way. Imagine my surprise when he returned with a steaming glass of hot water because the Italian word for cold is freddo,while the word for hot is caldo.He thought I was miming shivers because I was cold and that I wanted my water caldo"
"Are you trying to tell me I've somehow misinterpreted Ranna's sexual relations with Vlad? If I follow your hot/cold analogy, she'd have bedded him for my sake."
The Precentor Martial shook his head impatiently, leaning forward as he spoke. "The point is this: what you saw and reacted to as gross infidelity was not, to Ranna or the other members of the Clans, a problem worthy of your concern. In fact, your reaction borders on what these people see as clinical paranoia. They'd probably already have begun chemical therapy to help you over the problem had the Khan and I not talked."
The more the Precentor Martial spoke, the more foggy Phelan felt. "I'm running with a sensor shutdown and zero visibility here. You're making it sound like her having sex with Vlad is no more significant than a pat on the back."
Again the Precentor shook his head. "No, of course not. Intimate physical contact is a sign of affection ..."
"That's the first thing you've said that I can follow ..."
"But in this society, it does not carry with it the emotional baggage that it does in ours." Focht moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "The Clans are an alien society, Phelan. Indeed, I often find myself wondering if they're human at all. To them, Ranna's sleeping with Vlad is just a sign of friendship."
The mercenary's brows knitted together. "You're making it sound as though the concept of love does not exist within the Clans."
"It does, but not as we know and experience it—at least not among the Clan's warrior caste. For them, esprit de corps—in a form far stronger than we would acknowledge– would be the rough equivalent of love in our society. What we might call love apparently exists, but it's the exception,not the rule."
Phelan shook his head. "Do you understand what you're saying? How do they decide who they want to marry and who they want to have children with? A society can't function that way."
"A warrior society can, Phelan, and apparently does so very well. Their children are born into a sibko ..."
The Kell Hound's head came up. "What the hell is that? Ranna used the same word as though it explained everything."
The Precentor smiled indulgently. "A sibko is a group of children born at the same time—many of them from the same families, as I understand it—who are men raised together. They are schooled and tested for the first twenty years of their lives, and those who pass the examinations continue on. When they reach their twentieth birthday, they are subjected to a final test—a true ordeal. If they pass, they become Clan Warriors.
"It should be obvious to you that people who have lived and worked together for so long will build up very close bonds. As they come of age—speaking physically here—it is only natural that they explore their sexuality with those they know best. Sexual activity between members of a sibko is considered as normal as you watching out for your sister, Caitlin."
"Yeah, but the difference is that I never slept with Caitlin!" Phelan shivered. "No wonder you have a hard time seeing these people as human. They even violate the incest taboo."
Focht frowned. "Yes and no. Incest is taboo because of the problems of inbreeding. None of these couplings are allowed to be fertile, so there is no need for that taboo. Think about it. The incest taboo is imposed by society, not by biology. And in this case, it is moot because Vlad and Ranna come from entirely different bloodlines."
"With all the coupling going on, how would anyone know who belonged to whom?" Though Phelan tried to make the remark more caustic, the effort at sarcasm drained him. She did seem utterly dismayed at my anger ... Could it be as he describes?
Phelan took a deep breath. "If I accept what you say is true—and I'm not sure I've bought the whole package—then Ranna's actions on Rasalhague and afterward confuse me. We were constantly together." He hesitated for a moment, then crashed on ahead. "I'm no Don Juan, but I've fallen in love a couple of times, and this had all the signs of it. It felt good ... it wasgood, then she goes to him. She said she wanted to talk with him. If she didn't see sleeping with him as betraying me, I have to ask why she couldn't have talked to me about whatever she discussed with him?"
The Precentor stood. "You mean you've not yet figured that out? As I said before, love is the exception, not the rule, in this society. Such strong emotions are, as you have suggested, very heady stuff ... confusing, maybe even terrifying for someone who has not learned to anticipate and cherish them." He pushed his chair back against the wall and stood. "It should be obvious to you, Phelan Kell. Ranna went to Vlad to talk about falling in love with you."
