Текст книги "Riposte"
Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole
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49
Algot
Capellan March, Federated Suns
14 January 3029
In response to the light knocking on his half-opened door, Captain Andrew Redburn waved Leftenant Robert Craon into his room. "What is it, Robert?" Andrew took a last glance at the holodisc viewscreen to memorize the page number of the book he was reading, then shut off the viewer. "You don't look like you're enjoying your R & R."
Craon dropped himself onto the green, vinyl-covered couch set against the quonset hut's curved wall. "Something's odd here, Captain." Craon shrugged his shoulders eloquently, then sighed. "Things just aren't right."
Andrew nodded cautiously. "I've told you repeatedly, Robert, that we're just going to have to get used to the fact that the Davion Light Guards view our unit with some suspicion. You're all products of a non-Academy training program. The unit is configured differently, and they still feel stung by our little rescue of them on St. Andre. Face it, any Davion Guard unit is going to be cocky, and they're just not going to take well to half-trained recruits from the Capellan March."
Craon shook his head. "It's not that, Captain." He smiled briefly. "The guys in the first regiment are still acting like stood-up debutantes, but I expect that from them. No, their attitude is about the most normal thing around this place. It's other stuff that's strange."
Andrew smiled. "I know Algot is not the Axton Riviera, but it's warm and we're off duty. After six months in action, we deserve something of a rest."
Craon nodded, then leaned forward with elbows firmly planted on his knees. "I agree with you, sir, but I just can't kick this uneasy feeling." He nervously clasped and unclasped his hands. "You know how, when in a combat zone, you just have that gut feeling when something's about to pop? That's what I've got, and it's bugging the hell out of me."
Andrew nodded. You're not alone in that, Robert."Let's look at this logically. Anything else besides this gut feeling?"
Craon narrowed his eyes. "How about the fact that they won't let us travel off base. Sure, this place has everything a MechWarrior might want for rest and recreation, but what if I want to go climb a mountain? I mean, they have us at liberty, but not at liberty."
Andrew waved away that objection. "Standard operating procedure, especially for a unit like ours. If they need to assemble our people to head out and save someone's butt, we've got to be close enough at hand to be collected quickly. Keeping us on the base is the only way to be sure of being able to gather us up in anything approximating a short time. Besides, there are no good mountains on this flat dustball."
Craon nodded reluctantly. "Good point about the mountains, and the need to keep us close. I thought about the recall thing at first, but then I wondered why, given our uses as a quick-reaction force, they just didn't keep Delta company on an OverlordDrop-Ship at the jump point. It could cut transit time from the world and make us all that much faster to deliver."
Andrew thought the point was well-taken. "That's something I hadn't considered," he said. "Still, it's hardly enough to justify your uneasiness."
Craon nodded in agreement. "There're some other things, Captain. Have you noticed that we've not gotten any mail? I went down to the base message center to inquire about it and was told by a clerk that nothing had come in." Craon glanced down at his feet. "I talked to a woman in base ops and, ah, got her to check our status on the computer. As far as the whole AFFS is concerned, we're still on St. Andre. Not only that, but the rest of the Davion Light Guards are there, and the Twelfth Vegan Rangers billeted over on the other side of the camp is supposed to be on Buchlau."
Andrew leaned forward. "Come on, give. I can see from the look on your face that there's something else ..."
Craon took a deep breath. "Maggie—she's the woman at the base ops center—just laughed it off. She said it was a computer screw-up and that she'd seen lots of them during this whole thing. She said the computers are usually a couple of months behind what's really going on. Unless someone has faxed orders from New Avalon, nothing gets done. In fact, they consider that the faxes have more validity than anything the computer spits out."
Redburn frowned. "Fax?"
Craon leaned forward. "Orders that come printed out on paper. No discs, nothing. Just messages on paper that burns fast. Maggie says they come in by courier, but no one knows where the courier gets them. Weird, huh?"
Andrew nodded. "True. And faxes contradict what the computer says?"
"Yup." Craon licked his lips. "The computer reports that the warehouses where we have all our 'Mechs being stored—and I mean all the 'Mechs on the base, Captain—those warehouses are reported to be chock full of supplies and spare parts. In fact, the computer says there's enough spare materiel there to refurbish a whole regiment. And the computer reports there's nothing more than an infantry detail for base security!"
Andrew's square jaw dropped. "Those idiots. If the Maskirovka has spies able to tap into the base computer, this place will look like a quillarripe for the plucking."
Craon opened his hands. "That's why I've got that gut feeling, Captain."
The loud, bone-rattling scream of a 'Mech raid warning klaxon obliterated Andrew's reply. Within the space of a heartbeat, both men had begun sprinting to where their war machines waited for them.
Andrew snapped his Centurion'sright arm up and tracked along the Vindicator'sflight trajectory. He dropped his crosshairs onto the humanoid 'Mech, saw the sight flash once, then stabbed his thumb down on the firing switch. Fighting against the auto-cannon's recoil, he kept the gun on target.
The hail of depleted uranium slugs savaged the Vindicator'salready-damaged right leg, blasting completely through the 'Mech's knee. The limb's lower half twisted free and rocketed skyward on a jet of flame. The 45-ton war machine, unable to sustain controlled flight with only two-thirds of its jump jets, slowly began to spin over. Its flight path deteriorated badly as the 'Mech continued its lazy roll, then finally slammed into the ground, exploding into a roiling ball of argent fire. "Cap, break left!"
Craon's shout brought Andrew about instantly. A blue line of PPC energy sizzled through the space his Centurionhad just occupied. Damn! Would have breached my back if Craon hadn't warned me!Continuing his spin, Andrew came face to face with a humanoid, battle-scarred Griffin .On virtually the only untouched section of armor, high on the machine's right breast, Andrew saw the gold and green chess knight crest that marked this 'Mech as another member of the Second Ariana Fusiliers regiment.
Four coruscating spears of laser light flashed from Craon's Jenner.Each one cut deep wounds into the armor on the Griffin 'sarms, dropping half-melted ceramic plates to the ground. The other two beams vaporized the Fusiliers' crest and liquified half the armor on the Griffin 'schest.
The Griffin brought its pistol-like PPC up, the coils glowing with cerulean light. Its particle beam leaped like an electric arc from the weapon's muzzle to the chest of Andrew's Centurion.Squinting against the harsh blue light, Andrew fought to control the Centurion'sreaction to the beam's impact. Rocked back into his command couch, he saw armor shards arc away from his 'Mech on superheated plasma jets.
Andrew dropped the Centurion'stargeting crosshairs onto the Griffin 'soutline, then stabbed the firing switch angrily. The auto-cannon's roar was deafening as it vomited out a storm of hot metal and orange flame. As the autocannon rose with the recoil, its shells raked a diagonal line across the Griffin 'schest from hip to shoulder. The shells chewed twisted scraps of armor from the 'Mech and opened holes through which Andrew saw the Griffin 'sferrouranium skeleton.
"Cap, swing wide left!" Archie St. Agnan's voice seethed with outrage. "Archerlance has this one."
The Griffin all but vanished from sight as wave after wave of LRMs from Archer Lance's Valkyrieswashed over it. They exploded all over the war machine, cloaking it in a solid sheet of flame. Armor remnants pinwheeled away, smoking like damaged aircraft, then bounced across the landscape. The Griffin 'sright arm, still clutching the PPC, whirled free of the fiery vortex, narrowly missing Craon's Jennerin its erratic flight.
The firestorm raging over the Griffin evaporated like a magician's illusion to reveal a badly damaged 'Mech. The cratered armor had been utterly carbonized. Chunks had been blown from the cylindrical LRM launching canister perched on the 'Mech's right shoulder, and the canister now drooped impotently toward the ground. The armor had been blasted from the 'Mech's left thigh, leaving only tatters of the thick myomer muscles that made possible the machine's movement.
The Griffin 'sfaceplate exploded outward in a glittering crystal shower. The pilot's command couch followed immediately on a tongue of red fire. The 'Mech, unbalanced and frozen in an awkward pose, tottered in reaction to its pilot's ejection. Tipping backward, the Griffin fell to the dusty, armor-strewn plain with a thundering crash.
Andrew checked his scanners. "I've got nothing on screen."
Archie's voice buzzed into his neurohelmet. "Archer is clear, and the other lances report the same. Our sector is safe." A chorus of agreement from the other lance leaders followed Archie's report. Andrew keyed up Craon's Jenner."What about you, Robert?"
"Sonovabitch!" Craon's voice, filled with equal parts surprise and pride, echoed in Andrew's cockpit. "I don't believe it!"
Andrew frowned. "What is it, Leftenant?"
Hearing his voice, Andrew could easily visualize the broad smile on Craon's face. "Just got a message from Colonel Stone, sir. He said that if we're through playing around, he's got a real fight over in Charlie sector. If we don't mind, he said he'd be honored if we'd join up and help him."
Andrew smiled. Would wonders never cease?"Did you copy that, lance leaders? Let's head on over south and help the rest of ourregiment show these invaders how a real Davion Guard unit fights."
50
New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 January 3029
Hanse Davion cinched his robe tighter around his waist, then rubbed one hand through his closely cropped red hair. Stifling a yawn, he smiled at Quintus Allard. "Good morning, Quintus." The Prince took a closer look at his Minister of Intelligence, Information, and Operations, then narrowed his eyes. "Or is it still evening for you?"
Quintus bowed his head. "I'm sorry to have awakened you at this hour, but it's important."
Hanse stiffened. "Is there a problem with Operation Ambush?"
Quintus smiled broadly, which drained some of the weariness from his seamed face. "Not really, sir. We had some trouble on Axton ... elements of the Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers blooded an NAIS training cadre and escaped with a few supplies. All other Capellan assaults were met and neutralized. Operating on Duke Michael's last report, they expected to find little or nothing in the way of garrisons on five supply worlds. They lost everything." Quintus glanced down at his notepad. "And even that little thing on Elgin seems to be progressing nicely."
Hanse clapped his hands together. I've owed you this, Maximilian Liao! Now I begin to repay you."What's the word from Northwind?"
Quintus's smile dimmed. "The Northwind Highlanders arrived in time to kick the Draconis forces out, though the First Kearny Highlanders got ripped up by the Fifth Sword of Light before the Sword was forced to retreat offworld. All our units there, including Team Banzai, were seriously mauled. The Fifth Deneb Light Cavalry is going back to its homeworld for rest and refitting. Team Banzai, or the ragged battalion they've cobbled together from the survivors, is en route back here, to New Avalon. They want Dr. Banzai treated in the NATS Medical Center."
"Of course. Whatever they need," the Prince said. "But what about Bradley's Bravos?"
Quintus smiled. "Major Bradley kept them on Northwind. Says he's got a contract for a year's service and he means to fulfill it."
Hanse nodded approvingly. "They're affiliated with the Kell Hounds, aren't they?"
Quintus nodded. "They're its third 'Mech battalion."
Hanse rubbed his unshaven chin. "Send a message to Northwind. Let the Bravos rebuild themselves from all our battlefield salvage. In a week, I'll issue a transfer for them to rejoin the Kell Hounds—wherever they are."
Folding his arms across his chest, Hanse studied Quintus as the Minister made some notes. "I take it these two items were notwhy you woke me up?"
"The rabbit bolted from his hutch," Quintus said, with a smile from ear to ear.
Hanse's laughter filled the room and banished his fatigue. "Ah, Quintus, that's the best news I've heard since inheriting the throne." His blue eyes blazed with an obsessive light. "When? How?" Hanse crossed to the antechamber's couch, and seating himself on the edge of it, waved Quintus to a brown leather chair.
Quintus licked his lips and mirrored Hanse's predatory grin. "As you requested, CID agents moved in and arrested Serge Korigyn for espionage on the fifteenth. We tossed him onto his own DropShip and told him not to come back. At the same time, we cleared all trace data from the computer and let Michael see who and what was really where. He eluded our surveillance in the wee hours of the sixteenth, and a small shuttlecraft was reported to have boarded the Ambassador's DropShip before it reached its JumpShip and left the system. Since then, Michael is reported to be in seclusion."
Hanse leaned back with a humorless laugh. Michael, you fool! Don't you realize you've blown your one real chance at making something good out of your treachery? If you had come to me, in return for some concessions, I would have hailed you as my partner in an effort to deceive Maximilian Liao. We had nothing solid on you, nothing we could use to crucify you. Once again, you assume too much, and you suffer for it.
"When do we estimate the ship's arrival at Sian?" the Prince asked, his eyes still glittering.
Quintus hesitated. "The middle of February, which is also about the time we can expect word of Liao's disastrous Operation Riposte to get back to him." The Minister smiled cautiously. "Michael could get there sooner, but that would mean Liao has some extra JumpShips hidden away in the St. Ives Commonality to fill the gaps in that command circuit he set up."
Hanse barely heard Quintus's words. "The middle of February. How appropriate. I dearly hope Maximilian fully appreciates my Valentine gift to him."
51
Elgin
Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
2 February 3029
Colonel Pavel Ridzik half-rose as his dinner partner left her seat, headed for the restaurant's powder room. A few steps from the table, she turned, flicking her black hair back off her shoulders, and winked at him. Clad in a silver-black sequined dress that clung to her like a second skin and that was cut deeply in both front and back, his companion drew the eyes of every man in the room. As she passed from their sight, more than one man nodded a silent salute to the Capellan Confederation's Strategic Military Director.
Ridzik smiled broadly. I sincerely hope she is as talented as she is beautiful.Recent and bitter memories of Maximilian Liao's rejection of his proposed campaign still rankled. She will be the salve for my wounds . . . for now, anyway. Then I can decide what to do.
The Colonel cupped the brandy snifter in the palm of his left hand, swirling the liquid around and around as he reflected. My choices are simple, really. Either I arrange for Liao's death and force marriage on his daughter Candace, or I carve myself a sovereign realm from what's left of the Tikonov Commonality and negotiate a truce with Hanse Davion.He smiled while weighing the two alternatives in his mind. Bah! To hell with Hanse Davion. Why settle for a slice of the pie when I can arrange to have the whole thing ?
When the head waiter approached, Ridzik snapped out of his ruminations. "Excuse me, Colonel," the man said, "but there is a call for you." He pointed nervously toward the restaurant's entrance. "I'm sorry, but none of our mobile receivers are secure."
Ridzik nodded. I should never have told those idiots at headquarters where I was going."Don't worry. No offense taken. Please let my companion know where I am when she returns." Ridzik deposited his linen napkin beside the brandy snifter, then slipped past the waiter.
He found the visiphone in a corner of the entrance alcove, but the screen was dark and the connection had obviously been broken. If there ever was a call at all!he thought angrily.
Before Ridzik could act on his suspicions, however, two large, strong-looking men had him bracketed. "Please come with us, Colonel," one of them said.
"No! What is this?"
The man who had spoken glanced apprehensively toward the dining room. "Colonel, we have no time, and we're not supposed to hurt you."
Ridzik bared his teeth in an angry snarl. "Time? What is this about?"
The other man tugged hard on Ridzik's right arm. "Your date. She went to powder her nose, but she left her purse on your table. Move it!"
They lifted Ridzik off his feet and carried him from the restaurant. They made it through the doors and halfway down the dark street before a tremendous explosion ripped through the restaurant. Spears of flame shot all the way across the street to singe the buildings across the way, and glass splinters sliced through the half-dozen pedestrians unfortunate enough to be traveling the streets.
The ear-shattering blast and Shockwave knocked Ridzik and his guards to their knees. Momentarily freed from the grasp of his captors, Ridzik turned and saw a white-hot inferno burning where just moments before he'd been dining.
He swallowed hard. "By all that's holy, she tried to assassinate me. She was a Davion agent!"
The two men laughed briefly. "No sir, we're the Davion agents. She did try to kill you, but she was Maskirovka."
Ridzik's jaw dropped open. "I don't understand . . ."
The CID agents helped him to his feet. "If you don't mind, sir, we have an aircar waiting to take you to the spaceport. We have a ship bound for the Federated Suns. Prince Hanse Davion said he would explain everything to your full satisfaction if you would accompany us and be his guest."
Ridzik nodded weakly, then mumbled something. The guard on his left leaned down. "Excuse me, sir, I didn't catch that."
Ridzik smiled, his confidence growing. "Just an old Tikonov saying—'A slice of the pie, no matter how thin, is preferable to starvation.' " He bowed from the waist. "Colonel Pavel Ridzik, late of the Capellan Confederation, at your service. Do lead on, gentlemen. We don't want to keep the Prince waiting."
52
Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
14 February 3029
Justin Xiang narrowed his dark eyes as Duke Michael Hasek-Davion strode boldly through the heavy bronze doors of the Chancellor's throne room. Michael paused for half a second at the entrance, then continued just as boldly along the strip of red carpet running toward Maximilian's throne. Under his left arm, the Duke of New Syrtis carried a cylindrical, black-lacquered map case and an unruly sheaf of notes.
Maximilian smiled courteously as he stepped down from his throne to meet Duke Michael on even footing. He bowed respectfully to his visitor, then looked to the others in the room to join his gesture. Justin, standing between Tsen Shang and Alexi Malenkov and opposite six members of the Chancellor's personal bodyguard aped the Chancellor's bow.
Justin smiled as Michael also bowed. The Duke's confidence seems to be fading. He was prepared for a violent tirade, not for the Chancellor to greet him calmly.
Maximilian Liao smiled and offered Michael his right hand while his left hand twisted the long thin strands of his mustache. "Your visit is unexpected, but is most welcome." Liao shook Michael's hand firmly and warmly. "I might add that it is also providential."
Michael's green eyes darted uncertainly over the faces of the assembly as he freed his hand from the Chancellor's grasp. "You have learned, of course, of the outcome of your Operation Riposte?"
The Chancellor spread his hands nonchalantly. "A minor setback. After all, we only lost forces that should have died earlier while defending their worlds." Liao smiled benignly as he remounted the steps to his throne. Standing before the symbolic carving that represented the universe, the Chancellor shrugged. "When I explained to those commanders that only through their service to me could they ever redeem their honor, they begged for assignments. They failed, their karmic burden becomes greater, and they pass to a new life. It is the way of the universe."
A look of relief washed over Duke Michaels face. "Yours is an interesting perspective on this matter, Chancellor." Maximilian accepted the compliment with a nod, and Michael smiled. He extended the map case toward Alexi. "I have some plans here, Excellency, that I worked up while in transit. I think you'll find that they offer the means for both of us to get what we most want."
Maximilian smiled broadly. "Splendid, my friend. Let us look at them now, and then we can refresh ourselves." The Chancellor nodded to Alexi. "Please stand over here where both the Duke and I can see the maps. Citizens Shang and Xiang, will you help the Duke? Citizen Shang, hold his portfolio of notes for him."
All three of the Maskirovka analysts moved solicitously to assist Duke Michael. Alexi unrolled the maps and laid them out on the floor. The Duke pointed to a tactical map of the area around Tikonov's largest 'Mech production facility, which Alexi held up first. Tsen Shang took up a position to the Duke's right and a little in front of him, holding the portfolio at an angle, resting it on his hands at the bottom and against his collarbone at the top. Justin stood between the Duke and Shang, ready to turn pages as needed.
Duke Michael, no longer nervous, began to explain the operation that the map depicted. "Hanse Davion has shifted his forces around so that only the Eighth Crucis Lancers RCT is left on Tikonov. He has designated the 'Mech factory complex there as the most important site on the world and has arranged his forces accordingly. What I propose is a joint operation between my Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers RCT and your Sung's Cuirassiers."
Michael pointed to the map. In addition to a detailed description of the terrain in and around the factory complex, it had dozens of arrows in different colors to point out routes of approach and precise military maneuvers. "Sung's Cuirassiers will swing in here through the south, drawing the Eighth Crucis toward them. My Syrtis Fusiliers will form up on the Lancers' eastern flank, then turn and crush them while your forces engage them from the front."
The Chancellor squinted at the map, then smoothed his mustache with thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "Would this be all three battalions of Sung's Cuirassiers, or just one battalion?"
"I should think it would take the full regiment, Chancellor," Michael said. "That would be the only way to draw the Lancers out."
Maximilian nodded thoughtfully. "True, true." He pointed a trembling finger at the map. "Now your troops would travel to Tikonov as Davion reinforcements, despite your flight?"
Michael nodded confidently. "Yes, in this case, they will. Hanse trusts their leader, though the man would kill his own wife and children willingly if I so commanded him." Michael waved his left hand at the other maps on the floor. "In many of the other cases, of course, my troops will travel through your territory in order to arrive at their targets surreptitiously. With coordinated allocation of JumpShips, I believe I could have all my troops in place to strike a telling blow by the first of April."
The Chancellor's head came up. "The first of April—All Fools' Day. You choose this as an omen for your strike?"
The Duke of New Syrtis nodded, rage flashing in his green eyes. "What better time to strike at an old enemy who believes you harmless?"
"Well put, Duke Michael. Well put." The Chancellor, a smile still on his face, glanced at Alexi. "Citizen, gather up those maps." Liao’s voice dropped to a sepulchral whisper. "Burn them. Burn them and scatter the ashes!"
"What!" Michael's hoarse cry of outrage echoed sharply from the room's teak walls. He took a step toward Alexi, but Justin grabbed his right arm. Michael swung back with his artificial left hand, but Justin ducked the roundhouse blow, then doubled Michael over with a short, metal-fisted punch to the ribs.
Pain lanced through Michael's words. "What? What is this? Those maps . . . those plans have taken weeks to prepare. This is outrageous!"
Maximilian Liao's laughter rang through the throne room. "We have an old saying, you traitorous idiot... 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!' No one makes a fool of Maximilian Liao twice!" The Chancellor's face flushed purple as he finally released the rage he'd contained since Michael had first arrived.
Liao gestured broadly, taking in both the maps and Michael's notes. "You ask me to ship your troops to my worlds aboard my ships! You ask me to plant the dagger in my own back! You and your cursed brother-in-law will not find me so incredulous that you can expect to invade me with my own ships!"
Michael stared at him wide-eyed. "No! You mustn't think that. I . . . we. . . I . . . were both betrayed by Hanse Davion. He played me for a fool. He used me to get at you!"
"Ha!" The Chancellor crouched on his throne, thrusting his face forward to leer at the Duke. "How foolish do you believe I am? Do you believe me such an idiot that I would fall prey to such an obvious fabrication?" Liao gestured one hand toward Justin and Tsen Shang. "They've pointed out to me that the estimates of your own troop strengths were undervalued! How could you have made that mistake? How could you have let it slip past if you were being truly faithful to our agreement?"
Michael shook his head violently. He stabbed a finger at Justin. "He's lying! He's Quintus Allard's son! He's been planted here to deceive you!" Turning quickly, Michael lunged at Justin with hands outstretched, his fingers tensing to grab the analyst's throat.
Justin ducked, then buried his left fist in Michael's stomach. Michael grunted audibly as he fell back, then lay writhing and gasping for breath on the carpet. Still croaking weakly with unintelligible accusations, he pointed wildly at Justin.
Maximilian Liao, spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth, descended halfway down the steps of his throne. He snorted derisively, then looked up at Justin. "This man is no spy, you moron! Our Operation Riposte was not entirely a loss. Justin sent the Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers off on an expedition. They destroyed a damned NAIS training cadre and escaped with some supplies."
The Chancellor glared down at the Duke. "Do you realize what that means, you Judas? His attack ignored your reports, and it succeeded." Maximilian spat on the Duke of New Syrtis. "The man you accuse of being a traitor has again proven his loyalty to me."
Liao turned his obsidian gaze toward Justin. "Justin Xiang, I require a service of you."
Justin's head came up proudly. "I live to serve."
Smiling, Maximilian Liao gestured to one of his bodyguards, then nodded at the Duke. "Execute the traitor."
Justin wrapped the Duke's long braid around his left hand and used it to haul him to his knees. Accepting a pistol from one of the bodyguards, Justin eared the hammer back and pressed the gun's muzzle to Michael's right temple. Seated deep within his throne, Maximilian Liao nodded his head and the sound of a single gunshot filled the room.
Maximilian Liao watched Michael's braid slither through Justin's black metal fingers, then motioned to his bodyguards. "Get that thing out of my sight, and take the maps and notes with it." Leaning forward from his throne, the Chancellor smiled solicitously. "Now, Justin Xiang, refresh my memory on what you learned from the Rangers' raid on Axton, and tell me again how it will allow us to destroy Hanse Davion and his precious Federated Suns."
