Текст книги "Riposte"

Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole

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DEATH FORCE

Waves of heat washed up and over him as dazzling white fire flashed around the Firestarter.Again, he felt himself slammed down into the couch, but his legs had fallen from their positions on the jump jet controls. Some titanic force grabbed his Firestarterat the feet, whipping the thirty-five-ton 'Mech into the air like a doll.

Andrew clawed desperately for the eject button, but gravity pinned his arms into place on the command couch's arms. Spots flashed before his eyes and a dim, horrifying realization crawled up from the place where his nightmares hid. Out of control . . . G-forces too much. Can't black out!Gritting his teeth, he forced his right hand to punch again at the eject button, but consciousness had already drained away before he could hit it.

BATTLETECH

08609

WARRIOR: RIPOSTE

Michael A. Stackpole

ROC

Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia

Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

Published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton NAL, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Previously published in a FASA Corporation paperback edition.

First Roc Printing, June, 1998

1098765432I

Copyright © FASA Corporation, 1988 All rights reserved

Series Editor: Donna Ippolito

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARC A REGISTRADA

BATTLETECH, FASA, and the distinctive BATTLETECH and FASA logos are trademarks of the FASA Corporation, 1100 W. Cermak, Suite B305, Chicago, IL 60608.

Printed in the United States of America

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

To my family:

Mom, Dad, Kerin, Patrick, and Joy.

Thanks for the help, encouragement, and support throughout the years.

The author would like to express his special thanks to the following people for their help (in many different forms) in completing this novel: Liz Danforth, Jennifer Rober-son, Ross Babcock, Donna Ippolito, Jordan Weisman, Bob Charrette, and Sam Lewis. Thanks for straightening out problems, pointing out omissions, filling in the details, and noticing errors that I had allowed to creep into the manuscript.

Prologue

ComStar First Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra

15 July 3027

Standing alone in the center of the First Circuit chamber, she held her head high and glared straight ahead at the Primus. Her golden hair fell to the shoulders of her red robe, and hooded her face, cutting off her view of the other Precentors standing at their translucent podiums. Beneath her feet was the gold star inlaid into the alabaster floor, and the harsh overhead spotlight almost seemed to pin her to the spot.

They do not matter. They may surround me physically and their smug contempt provide background annoyances, but this is a battle between Primus Julian Tiepolo and me.Myndo let a thin smile upturn the corners of her mouth. A battle between the Primus and the Word of Blake.

The spotlight's backglare left no shadows on Primus Tiepolo's lace, whose sallow, waxy flesh was barely a shade lighter than his unpretentious dun robe. His aquiline nose and flat, dark eyes had something predatory about them, and his voice was strong, despite being barely above a whisper. He still has some strength. I must be careful here.

Unblinking, the Primus met her stare. "Do you understand, Myndo Waterly, Precentor of Dieron, that we have summoned you here to account for your actions on May the twenty-second of this year? After hearing your version of what happened, we, the First Circuit of ComStar, will determine whether or not to convene a trial of excommunication. If we do so decide, you will be temporarily stripped of your rights and privileges as a Precentor until the verdict is rendered. Do you also understand that the penalty for the alleged infraction of our directives is death?"

Myndo forced herself to nod calmly. "I do."

The Primus folded his arms, tucking his hands into the robe's voluminous sleeves. "You have been charged with informing the Internal Security Forces of the Draconis Combine that Melissa Arthur Steiner, Archon-Designate of the Lyran Commonwealth and fiancee of Prince Hanse Davion, ruler of the Federated Suns, was present within their territory. This action involved use of information that ComStar had culled from confidential messages sent through our stations as well as through other, covert methods of information-gathering. Your deed, therefore, threatened to reveal some of our Blessed Order's secret operations. It also jeopardized our neutralist posture by helping the Draconis Combine." The Primus paused, fixing Myndo with a piercing stare. "Furthermore, your action flaunted a policy agreed upon by this body—a policy we all know you personally loathe. Do you offer a defense of your action?"

Precentor Dieron nodded slowly. "I would submit, Primus, that my action differed in no way from the other operations ComStar has undertaken. We have used information leaks throughout the two and a half centuries that our Blessed Order has been custodian of interstellar communications. Did not Jerome Blake himself write, 'A well-placed word can defeat a BattleMech legion ...?'"

The Primus nodded mechanically. "You should complete the quote, Precentor Dieron. 'A well-placed word can defeat a BattleMech legion, but worry for the messenger if his duplicity is revealed.' Your claim that your action mirrors those performed throughout our history could only be true if you were to warp beyond recognition the concept of similarity. Only the Primus can initiate when and how we might meddle in the politics of the Successor States—not some renegade Precentor with delusions of divinity!" Tiepolo's voice echoed from the chamber's shadow-shrouded walls, seeming to batter at Myndo from all sides. "Above all, our actions must be subtle!"

Summoning her courage, Myndo laughed harshly. "Subtle? Since when, Primus, have your actions been subtle? In 3022, you allowed Hanse Davion and Katrina Steiner to sign a treaty that bound their two realms together. Next year's marriage between Hanse Davion and Katrina's heir—a match made possible by the treaty's secret provisions—will seal that bargain. At the same time, you directed me to engineer another treaty, one allying the Draconis Combine, the Free Worlds League, and the Capellan Confederation. How is that subtle? Certainly, all the players have seen our hand in this series of alliances. Do you even know what subtle is?"

Myndo's outburst provoked not even the slightest reaction from the Primus. Allowing the echo of her words to die out, he narrowed his eyes. "I understand subtle, Precentor Dieron, and understand it in degrees you will never comprehend. As an example, I offer our gracious reduction in prices for all communications sent out by the guests who will gather here for the wedding of Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner next year. Already the rulers of the Successor States plan out their lines of communications, and their messages of praise for our action come pouring in. We will be privy to every communication transmitted from this most important of gatherings, and our policy encourages that those messages will be sent in abundance."

Myndo shook her head. "What you consider subtle I find needlessly reckless. I dislike the idea of having so many people invade our home. If anything goes wrong, it will be upon our heads. There is too much that could be discovered here. As for encouraging increased messages, will this not raise suspicions about our motives?"

Myndo waved off the Primus's attempt to reply. "Name one thing, Primus, that you have done in the past that does notbear the stamp of your manipulation."

The coldness of the Primus's smile shook her confidence, but her anger was undiminished. What is in his mind?she wondered briefly. There is no quote from Blake to answer this.

An amused tone wove its way through the Primus's answer. "I would not have expected you to notice, as you were so busy provoking a war, but Justin Xiang Allard is now a member of the Maskirovka in the Capellan Confederation. His addition to the Capellan intelligence organization will help Maximilian Liao deal with Hanse Davion. Justin Xiang, as he now styles himself, knows how his father, Quintus Allard, runs Davion's Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations. Xiang's addition to ihe Maskirovka should blunt Davion's intelligence operations."

Myndo snorted derisively. "And you claim this chance happening as something you engineered?"

The Primus nodded. "Though we cannot claim credit for having Justin Allard tried for treason and exiled from the Federated Suns, we did manage to turn the situation to our advantage. I ordered dispatches about Justin's victories in the BattleMech games on Solaris VII to be paired with depressing messages also ruing to Maximilian Liao. More often than not, news of Justin Xiang's victories was the only bright glimmer in the Chancellor's dark days. I manufactured Liao's fascination with and hunger for Xiang. That moved him into place."

Myndo bowed her head in a gesture that was equal parts respect and penitence. "I understand what you have said, and I stand corrected." Her head came back up, slowly, and she met Tiepolo's dark stare. "I submit, however, that my action was just as carefully orchestrated. I merely jested to a person known to us as an ISF agent that I was surprised at the Combine allowing bandits refuge in the Styx system. The ISF itself manufactured all the other information. They discerned Melissa's presence on the Silver Eagle.They reacted."

Myndo narrowed her eyes. "What has happened as a result of my actions that is so important? Quintus Allard has successfully created a story to explain why the Silver Eaglewas so important, while keeping Melissa's presence secret. Melissa was delivered safely into her fiance's arms. Some bandits, ISF troopers, and mercenary MechWarriors died. This is no great calamity."

The Primus winced, and Myndo's heart leaped. In that instant, she knew that she'd struck some chord that worried him, and that told her he had some weakness she could use against him. By the same token, it means there is something he fears, something he cannot control. Perhaps it is something I should fear as well.

The Primus forced emotion from his voice, but the effort made his lower lip tremble slightly. "One of the mercenaries killed was Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Kell. Indeed, it was fortunate that his Kell Hounds arrived in time and with sufficient force to save the Archon-Designate, but his death unlocks a problem that I believed was safely behind us. I have no doubt that his elder brother Morgan will return and once again take control of the Kell Hounds."

Myndo frowned. This frightens you?"I fail to see the significance of that eventuality, and I challenge the possibility of it ever occurring. The Kell Hounds have not even sent Kell a message about his brother's death."

The Primus shook his head slowly. "No, they have not, nor would they. They will send a messenger to tell Morgan personally. That messenger will also tell him that his old enemy, Yorinaga Kurita, once again fights for the Combine. If the conflict between those two men ignites again, it could become a conflagration beyond our control."

Myndo watched as the strength drained from the Primus's body. It is as though he is deflected from his attempt to crucify me.Myndo opened her hands. "I have offered my defense, Primus. I submit that my effort was subtle, and undertaken at a time when it would have been impossible to summon this august body together. Rash though my judgement may have been, I contend that it has caused no real harm. Let it serve as a lesson for all of us concerning the true power behind information, and let this experience temper our thinking. Let it be so in the sacred Name of Jerome Blake!"

The Primus looked up and polled the Precentors, then nodded wearily. "In the Name of our Blessed Blake, let it be so." His body jerked with an silent laugh. "Your peers absolve you of any guilt. You are free to go, but mark your own words. Let this experience temper your thinking, Precentor Dieron."

Myndo bowed her head. "It shall, Primus. It shall." When next I make a move to undercut your power, it will be even more subtle—so subtle, in fact, that you’ll not see it coming, nor will you survive it.

BOOK I

Envelopment

1

New Syrtis

Capellan March, Federated Suns

10 October 3027

"Damn you, Hanse Davion!"

Duke Michael Hasek-Davion's oath echoed off the white adobe walls of his private office. Angrily, he crumpled the message he'd just read and hurled it across the room. It bounced from the wall and Michael stared at it, wishing fervently that it would utterly vanish or, better yet, have never arrived at all.

The Duke narrowed his restless jade-green eyes and shook his head in a motion that made his long, black braid slither like a snake. "How pained your wording sounds, brother-in-law. Written even in your own hand. You honor me with the information. You trust me with the information." Michael spat at—but missed—the crumpled piece of paper. "You damnme with it."

He crossed to the missive and recovered it in his prosthetic left hand. Returning to perch himself on the edge of his desk, he smoothed out the sheet against his thigh. Though he hated to do it, he reread the message, hoping that somehow he had missed some fact, some nuance, that would cast the whole communication in a more benign, beneficial light.

"My dear Michael," it began—with a lie. "Had it been solely up to me, I would have apprised you of this information much earlier. As well you know, I value your wisdom and devoted service as the guardian of the Capellan March. However, other forces have prevented me from sharing this joyous news with you before now."

Michael snorted derisively. You pretend to blame the security precautions of your own Quintus Allard or the Lyran Commonwealth’s Simon Johnson for this unspeakable breach of faith, but you do not fool me, Hanse. You are not known as the Fox for your slavish devotion to the wishes of subordinates. No, Hanse, I see your shadow hand behind all of this.

The Duke slid from his desktop and crossed the room to stare out the arched window. Any other time, the view he had of the New Syrtis Spaceport would have calmed him, because it was such a strong reminder of how much power he did wield. He studied the dozen egg-shaped DropShips squatting on the tarmac. Their cargo ports stood open for loading, with service personnel hurrying about to fill the ships' empty bellies before New Syrtis's unpredictable weather could close the scheduled launch window.

In and around the DropShips marched BattleMechs on sentry duty. Ten meters tall and humanoid in configuration, the heavily armored war machines moved steadily around the spaceport's perimeter. Though the Duke was too distant to hear the thunder of their heavy tread, he accurately conjured up the sound from memory. Each step raised a thick, red cloud of dust, but Michael saw it as a bloodmist.

I am the master of all this. I command those ships. My orders dispatch them to rendezvous with JumpShips, and my orders send those JumpShips hopping thirty light years at a burst to carry out my whims. And I command the BattleMechs of a dozen Regimental Combat Teams. Ishould be invincible.He glanced down at the note. How is it that this piece of paper can destroy me?

He forced himself to continue reading. "Ordinary though the situation is, it will come as a shock. Yes, Michael, my years of bachelorhood come to an end next August. In Melissa Arthur Steiner, I have found a woman who is all that I have been looking for."

Michael's fingernails scratched across the window's casement as his right hand slowly tightened into a fist. You speak of your bride as though she is secondary to the whole situation. You call her a woman, but she‘ll reach her majority barely six months before your wedding. Yet, I must agree that you speak true in saying she is all you have been seeking. She is the link that forges an alliance between your Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth. You'd have married her as a babe in bed if her mother Katrina would have stood for it, or you would have wed Katrina herself were she capable of bearing you an heir.

A purple stormcloud roiled overhead, cutting off the soft golden glow of New Syrtis's nearest star. It robbed the angular landscape of its bright scarlet, bathing it in a deep maroon whose color reminded Michael of dried blood. Lightning spikes stabbed down into the earth with terrible power, forcing even the Battle-Mechs to retreat before the storm's fury.

Michael returned to his desk as the storm started the wind howling like a kalacinewaiting its turn at a slaughterhouse. "I'm sure, Michael, that you see the political benefits of this marriage. With the Lyran Commonwealth tied more tightly to us, we will box in the Draconis Combine. This means, as you have long requested, that I will be able to shift some of my military resources to your Capellan March. Together, we can strengthen your domain so that the covetous Capellans will be persuaded to look elsewhere."

Michael smashed his right fist into the desk and then, raising it to his mouth, sucked at his bruised knuckles. No, Hanse, you'll not sink your military talons into my realm. No. You seek to be Brutus to my Julius Caesar. You cloak your attempt to oust me with words of friendly intent, but I see beyond them. Once you have married Melissa Steiner, you will need fear no one.

Michael glanced at the shelves behind his desk. There, in rare leatherbound originals or holodisc editions, he had amassed an enviable collection of histories, some dating from the time even before the Star League. His bloody knuckles tasted salty-sweet, but he barely noticed it as his mind raced on.

It's all there, Hanse. Don't you think I know it? Man's history has always been the story of conquest by war. The advent of BattleMechs some six centuries ago did not change this basic fact, yet you have ignored it. You consider 'Mechs to be a necessary tool, yet you do not see these glorious war engines for what they truly are—the highest evolutionary state of mankind's drive for conquest. A warrior may not become one with his BattleMech– though that legend persists—but in his 'Mech, he can reach the pinnacle of his personal abilities.

Michael dropped his hand and pursed his lips. Hanse, you ignore this fact and force me to join you in playing at politics. How much do you know of my ties with Maximilian Liao? If you knew I'd visited him, you’d have stripped me of my office and settled it like a noose around my captive son Morgan's neck. You may have your suspicions about me, but you have no proof. Trust me, Hanse, you shall never have any.

Michael walked over to a map of the Successor States and let the fingers of his right hand trace the slender wedge that marked his Capellan March. My realm, larger even than the Capellan Confederation.I should be one of the five Successor Lords, but you ignore me and the claims of my blood, Hanse. You have forced me to deal with Maximilian Liao because you have refused to give me the forces I need to conquer him. Had I the troops, I could destroy him. Ah, but then, having proved to the entire Federated Suns my ability to lead, I would be able to take your place on the throne so that our people could have a proper leader at the helm of our nation.

The salty taste still lingered on the Duke's tongue as his eyes flicked over the other Great Houses pictured on the map. Already, Hanse, your hatchling alliance with the Lyran Commonwealth has drawn your three foes together. The Draconis Combine's leader, Takashi Kurita, has forced Janos Marik and Maximilian Liao to set aside their bickering so they may deal with you and House Steiner. Their alliance is not as strong as yours, for suspicion continues to undermine the ties between the Free Worlds League and the Capellans but their alliance is far from impotent.

Michael smiled slowly. But then, your rivals do not know your alliance has fledged, do they? News of your impending marriage will galvanize them. They will bind together and they will come to crush you.Michael took a step back from the map. But how may I benefit from this turn of events?

The Duke of New Syrtis tapped his index finger against his chin. Studying his map, he saw how the borders of the Draconis Combine and the Free Worlds League were poised like the jaws of some fierce hunting animal to snap the life from the Lyran Commonwealth, Davion's ally. As his thoughts raced, he slowly nodded to himself.

Yes, I must inform Liao of your betrothal. I will continue to forward the information you send me on strengths and positions of your troops, and I will continue to undervalue the strength of my own troops in the same reports. I will convince Liao that the Lyran Commonwealth could fall to a combined strike by Houses Marik and Kurita.

Liao, that little viper, will agree to this because it means that Marik will shift troops to the Lyran border, giving him a chance to recover some of the worlds his Confederation lost to the Free Worlds League over the past century. Liao, so confident that he knows my own strength, will pull forces from my border to launch an attack on his enemy.

Michael touched the long border between the Davion and Kurita realms. Hanse will strike at the Draconis Combine to relieve pressure on the Lyran Commonwealth. He might even finance some insurrections in the Rasalhague military district, for haven't they always resented House Kurita's domination ? No matter what he does, though, his war will be a stalemate, because he does not possess enough strength to defeat the Draconis Combine.

The pain forgotten, Michael balled his right fist and punched it into the palm of his artificial hand. When the people grow weary of a war that cannot be won, a war launched to help the Lyran Commonwealth and Hanse's child-bride, I will strike at the Capellan Confederation and crush it. I will be the Federated Suns' conquering hero. In one bold stroke, I will prove myself Hanse's superior militarily. I will negotiate a peace and the people will proclaim me the new Prince of the Federated Suns.

Michael returned to his desk, where he took from a drawer his leather-bound copy of the Lyran classic, Origins of the Three Great Families,by Thelos Auburn. Without committing anything to paper, he mentally composed the message he wanted to send. Then, thumbing through the book, he assigned a three-number code—corresponding to page, paragraph, and word numbers– for each word in the message.

As he did so, he cupped his artificial hand in his good hand and pressed his flesh and blood fingers against the joints of their artificial mates. Executing simple, natural, and almost indectectable motions, he recorded the appropriate numbers in a RAM cache that Capellan scientists had implanted in his hand during his first visit with Maximilian Liao. Even the closest observer would see nothing more suspicious than the Duke skimming a book while massaging his artificial hand.

The Capellan engineers had also equipped the hand with a tightbeam, high-speed data pulser that would broadcast information in one incredibly short burst. Limited to a range of about four meters, its onboard programming prevented operation unless activated by a signal sent from a receiver—a receiver of the type built into the local Capellan Ambassador's prosthetic leg. Then, by pressing his thumb to the base of his little finger, the Duke could pulse the message out.

Michael closed the book and returned it to the desk drawer. Scanning the stacks of documents on his desk, he quickly selected one showing the local Capellan Ambassador's letterhead. Michael read the text, then stabbed the button on his personal intercom. "Agnes, tell Ambassador Korigyn that I expect him in my audience room in two hours."

His personal secretary hesitated, her fear almost crackling through the speaker. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Ambassador is not in the capital right now . . ."

"I don't want you giving me his excuses, Agnes!" he snarled. "If that idiot thinks we're going to increase his embassy's yearly shipment of vodka from the Confederation just so he can sell it on the black market here to keep his mistress, he is sadly mistaken. Two hours, Agnes, or there will be hell to pay."

Michael never heard her reply. He patted his left hand and smiled to himself. In two hours, the Ambassador will get this information Hanse has so graciously supplied me. Korigyn will turn it over to ComStar and their HyperPulse generators will flick it across the stars via their communications network. Liao should have it in a matter of days, and then he will act. Through him, I shall light the fuse that will throw the Successor States into one final Chaos, and from the ruins will I rise to rule supreme over all. . .