Текст книги "Heir To The Dragon "

Автор книги: Robert N. Charette

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

"I don't need you to tell me my duty." Ninyu brushed nonexistent lint from his sleeve. His action belittled the Tai-shu'swords, adding to the lack of respect shown by his impolite failure to address Michi properly. "My people are moving into position. They will act on myword."

Some of the gathered officers murmured at Ninyu's display of disrespect. He could tell from their eyes and half-hidden smiles that they approved. Tai-shuNoketsuna was not well-liked among most of the military.

Better stay on Theodore's good side, Pirate. That's all that's keeping you from the jackals.

60

Manschemman Dune Field, Beiseit Continent, Marduk

Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

14 June 3039

 

"It's glorious! Isn't it, Jimmy?"

Static fuzzed some of Sir Michael Hallbrock's words, but his exhilaration was clear. James Sandoval, newly minted marshal of the AFFS, Duke of Robinson, and heir to his father's position as commander of the Draconis March, found himself in full agreement. He only wished that his father could be here to take part in the humbling of the Kurita Snakes.

When the Federated Suns had lost worlds to the Combine during the Fourth War, Aaron Sandoval had nearly revolted and made his own war. But wiser advice had prevailed, and he had adopted a more indirect course to achieve his ends. Five years ago, he had abdicated his Ducal throne in favor of James. With judicious application of pressure and the calling in of favors, the old Duke had arranged to have his son put into the command chair for the Draconis March. James, already rising quickly through the AFFS despite his lack of an NAIS education, had returned to the March to take command of the First Robinson Rangers.

Aaron had moved to New Avalon. It was not merely to clear the field for James, who people were calling the Young Duke, but to take his political fight where he could start the necessary fires. Among the politicians and courtiers, Aaron's borderer's topknot, though gray with age, had been a constant reminder to those stay-at-homes that they had an enemy on their doorstep. The Old Duke had badgered and cajoled and threatened, pushing constantly for the extermination of the Dragon. The Prince himself had not been immune. Whenever they met, the Old Duke had reminded Hanse Davion of his coronation pledge to regain the planets lost to the Draconis Combine in the First Succession War. Whenever possible, Aaron had pointed out that additional worlds had been lost to the Combine during Hanse's reign.

When it looked as though the Prince had been unmanned by the losses of the Fourth War and distracted by the troubles in neighboring states, Aaron had stepped up his program of pressure. The Old Duke was always ready to emphasize the latest intelligence about the Combine's rearmament and to point out, with multiple historical precedents, the likely result of the Dragon's actions. Finally, the distracted Prince had been made to see that the time for a preemptive strike against the still-weak Combine was running out. The plans for invasion had been drawn up.

The Old Duke had done his part; he had set the Federated Suns and their Lyran Commonwealth allies at the Dragon's throat. He had also managed to get James appointed Marshal to lead the thrust into Benjamin. It had been a political coup. Now it was time for the Young Duke to reward his father's confidence.

James was determined to add another Dragon Slayer's Ribbon to the cluster that adorned the parade standard of the First Robinson Rangers. The Rangers had acquired quite a few from their successes against the Combine. He wanted another, but was determined that this would be the one that counted. The last one. The one that meant the Dragon was really slain.

The command lance moved across the sparkling surface of the Manschemman Dune Field. Piloting his Zeus,James let the tactical chatter from the maneuvering hovercraft of the Rangers' associated regiments wash over him. The operation was moving well. The Kurita hovertanks were stubborn, but gradually yielding ground. Distant thunder marked scattered engagements to the north.

Just as he was about to order the command lance to move in that direction, a dune eighty meters to his left erupted in a diamond spray of silica. An ochre-painted BattleMech burst up from where it had lain concealed, hidden from the Rangers' sensors by the sand and heat. James's computer tagged the enemy machine as a Pantherwhile he tried to bring his targeting crosshairs to bear on the silver trident emblazoned on its left breast. The Kurita 'Mech sidestepped before James could get a lock-on.

The Pantheraccelerated toward him, its right-arm Lord's Light PPC corruscating as the weapon built up charge. As James tried to track the target, the Kurita pilot unleashed his particle beam. The ravening blue lightning licked the Zeus'ship, melting armor wherever the charged particles touched. James stood firm, confident of his 'Mech's capacity to absorb such punishment.

From the lance's right flank, a flight of long-range missiles corkscrewed in to bracket the charging Kuritan. The rockets came from the Zeusof Hauptmann Benoit. James saw fragments of armor ripped free by the warhead's explosive power before the smoke of explosions from the rocket barrage obscured the Panther.

James sent a burst from his Defiance autocannon into the cloud, hoping the shells would find the target. Hallbrock moved his Wolverinecloser, cutting the line of fire between James and the Kuritan. Benoit's Zeuslumbered in heavily from the right. Even without Devlin's Enforcer,currently on liaison duty with the hover regiment, the lance far outmatched the lone enemy 'Mech.

The dust began to settle. James was puzzled when the Pantherdid not appear. The puzzle was solved as the Kurita 'Mech came crawling out of the cloud to raise its arm, firing another blast at the Marshal's Zeus.

The cyan energy scythed into the Zeusalmost exactly where the previous bolt had gouged it. Armor flowed under the energy beam's caress to drop hissing into the gash. In the cockpit, James watched warning lights flash amber for a microsecond before flaring a steady red. He cursed as the Zeus'ship joint froze, flash-welded by the enormous heat.

Hallbrock pumped a stream of armor-piercing shells from the Wolverine'sWhirlwind autocannon into, the Kuritan. Benoit unleashed his 'Mech's cannon and added ruby pulses of coherent light from his Thunderbolt A5M laser. The Pantherwrithed under the assault. Its shattered armor gaped, and James could see its ferro-titanium bones through the swirls of flame and smoke. Benoit's Zeusstepped closer and swung its massive, squared-off foot in a short, flat arc. The kick crashed into the side of the fallen Panther'scockpit, tearing the entire head assembly free as it crushed the side walls together.

"Hot pilot, that Benoit," Hallbrock commented on his private frequency with the Marshal.

"It's not like I need a bodyguard," James snapped. "I could've taken him out myself."

"Never pass up a gift, Jimmy boy. And don't ever be sorry you've got a good MechJock on your team."

"You're right. I should be grateful." He had been scared, frozen by an unreasoning fear when the damned Snake had come crawling out of the dust, still ready to kill. He was glad that Hallbrock and Benoit were there. Still, he had to tough it out. BattleMech commanders were supposed to be as tough as they come. But they were also not supposed to be stupid. He keyed open the lance frequency. "Gonna have to get this baby back for repairs. Thanks for the save, Hauptmann."

"Bitte,Marshal."

"Jimmy boy, Devlin reports the Dracs are running."

"Damage to them?"

"Minimal."

"Whatever happened to samurai fighting to the death?"

"Still happens, Herr Marshal." Hauptmann Benoit's Zeuskicked the fallen Panther."Whenever we catch them."

And that's been the problem,James mused.

"Ease off, Rangers," he ordered over the RCT command channel. "Let them go. If you get spread out in pursuit, you get into trouble. We don't want a repeat of what happened to Tenth Deneb last week."

James led the command lance back to the field headquarters. The trip back in the wounded Zeuswas bumpy, and he was relieved when they crossed the perimeter. He parked the 'Mech by the Tech shed, leaving orders that it be rearmed with expendables as soon as the hip was functional. The expeditionary force might not have as many shells and rockets as they wanted, but as commander, his 'Mech would have full ammo racks. Sir Michael Hallbrock was waiting for him when he reached the hotel they had appropriated for the Rangers' headquarters. The old retainer's gray topknot was sodden with the sweat that sheened his flesh. He had a cold beer ready for James. His own bottle was half-empty.

"Getting tougher out there, Jimmy. Them Snakes are looking pretty good. The damn groundpounders are putting up more fight than I've seen in a long time. The bloody planetary militias are even standing up to our armor. It's got me a little worried."

James drained the bottle and tossed the empty over his shoulder. "You're overreacting, Sir Michael. We've been slowed down a little here, but we're doing no worse than most of the other planetary assaults. The first wave is still proceeding well enough, and we still haven't seen the 'death before dishonor' that we were supposed to get from the Dracs. The great ferocious Dragon is turning out to be made of paper."

"I think you're being a bit hasty, Jimmy."

"Prince Hanse will cut loose the supplies for the second wave soon. We have what we need to mop up here and get on with it. We'll take the Rangers rimward and meet the coreward arm of the Galedon thrust, encircling the Galtor Thumb. By then, the rebellions we instigated will be in full swing. I wouldn't be surprised if our friendlies kicked the Dracs out without any help from the mercs the Prince has sent in. We're going to take back all the Snakes have ever stolen from us, and more."

A runner dashed up, sketching a salute as he panted his message. "Tenth Deneb First Battalion reports an attack by Kurita armor, Marshal Sandoval. They've beaten it back, but Deneb commander counts a dozen 'Mechs down, at least three beyond repair."

James dismissed the runner and turned to find Sir Michael's brown eyes regarding him curiously.

"An omen, Jimmy?"

The Marshal laughed. "You a superstitious man, good knight?"

"Maybe so. We've been fighting a lot of their armor here, and lot of other groundpounders, too. But we've seen damned little of their BattleMechs.

"So where are the 'Mechs?"

61

AgroMekTek Shipping Warehouse, Port Paix, Le Blanc

Le Blanc PDZ, Draconis March, Federated Suns

6 July 3039

 

Noise filled the long, open space that was the AgroMekTek shipping center. That was not unusual for this manufacturer of industrial and agricultural 'Mechs. The corporation often did some minor disassembly of its product here in order to meet the crating needs for the interstellar shipment of their product. That kind of work was noisy. What was unusual was that the machines being worked on in the warehouse were not being broken down; they were being assembled. They were also BattleMechs.

Workers climbed among the scaffolding to free delicate assemblies from anti-shock packing and to reinstall the various pieces of weaponry and electronics that had been shipped separately, for security purposes. Respirator-masked painters scrawled stripes and splotches of color over the white base of the machines, taking special care to cover the long-tailed stars of the 'Mechs' left legs. A sharp petrochemical smell pervaded the warehouse as chem-suited men and women used solvents to strip the last of the protective gel from weapons and moving surfaces. Hard-eyed men with lurid tattoos on their stripped torsos sweated and grunted as they wrestled crates marked "Sounding Rockets" into stacks at the machines' feet. One box escaped its handlers to crash to the ferrocrete floor and shatter, spilling its contents and revealing them to be high-explosive missiles instead. Cursing vigorously, the kobungathered their wayward charges.

Yasir Nezumi walked up to Tomoe Kurita as she stood alternately surveying the progress of the workforce around her and studying a map of Port Paix. The yakuza oyabun'sswarthy face was lit by the toothy grin that he considered a friendly and winning smile.

"It goes well, yes?"

Tomoe looked up from her map. "Hai, Oyabun.They are almost ready."

"We are pleased to be of service to the great lord Theodore. May he prosper." He leaned forward to indicate confidentiality. "I am glad the Kanrei has not held the unfortunate circumstances of our first contact against my organization. It would have been more pleasant had I known who he was."

"He felt it better to be cautious then, Oyabun.He understands and holds no grudge. You and your organization have served him well."

Nezumi felt relief. He was never very comfortable around Theodore, always afraid that the incident on Benjamin was never far from the Kanrei's mind. The words of Theodore's wife and lieutenant eased that concern. "I am glad that I could be of aid, however small, in introducing him to the Kuromaku."

"The Kanrei and the Combine are grateful for your patriotism."

Nezumi bowed. Anything he could do to ingratiate himself with Theodore would not hurt. The Kanrei might simply be waiting for the end of this unpleasantness before settling old scores.

"Perhaps some of my men can be of use to you in taking the city."

"It's unnecessary for you to expose your operation here to such danger, Oyabun.This world should not be difficult to secure. Le Blanc is normally an open planet, its money-grubbing rulers seeking to rival Galatea as a haven and hiring hall for mercenaries. They only accept the presence of Davion troops reluctantly, and have no real loyalty to the Federated Suns. The locals will not interfere. With the House troops gone to the front, there is nothing more than a skeleton force stationed at the garrison fort on the outskirts of the city."

"Forgive my ignorance, Jokan,but why, then, have you infiltrated so many MechWarriors into the city? Chokei's company has been here openly for weeks, supposedly seeking employment. They are strong. Could they not have taken the garrison themselves?"

"They could," she conceded. "And they will, if the Buddhas smile. But that is only a diversion. My senshiand these fine BattleMechs, which have been lost in transit to the ComStar compound here"—at this Nezumi bowed—"are to take advantage of Port Paix's merchants. We will capture their DropShips at the landing field. Once the ships are secured, we will use them to board and take their JumpShips."

"So ka.Then they will join the chain of vessels that make our bridge across the stars."

Tomoe laughed. "You have a poetic way about you, Nezumi -san. That's hardly what I would call the hodgepodge of JumpShips we've got out there. They're mostly tramps, pirates, and smugglers." At Nezumi's slight frown, she added, "And merchants." He accepted her emendation with good grace. Many of the JumpShips hiding among the uncolonized suns between the Combine and Theodore's targets had Come from companies run by the yakuza. Some of those ships had never been involved in illegal activities. In all, the yakuza assets far outnumbered the very few military vessels in the "bridge across the stars."

That "bridge" was a chain that would allow rapid transfer of Kurita assault units into the heart of the Draconis March. As one vessel jumped into a system, it would transfer its DropShips to a waiting vessel with its Kearny-Fuchida drive charged and ready. The passengers would not have to wait while the original ship recharged its drive, a process that could take a week or more. The technique was commonly used for couriers and to transport the rulers of Great Houses, but merchants usually found that the reduction in transit time was not worth the expense.

"Even merchants honor the Dragon, Jokan.You will find our captains experienced and efficient."

"I'm sure we will, Oyabun,"she said with a smile.

A young secretary called to Nezumi from the catwalk outside the office suspended fifteen meters from the ferrocrete. He acknowledged her with a wave, then bowed to Tomoe.

"It is time for the signal broadcast."

"Let's go."

They took the lift up to the office suite, arriving in time to see the ComStar logo fade from the room's news monitor. A yellow-robed Adept greeted her invisible audience and gave a rundown of the daily receipts of newsworthy messages received at the HPG station.

Tomoe and Nezumi waited patiently through the war news, as they had each day of the week since she had arrived. Nezumi sweated, though the office was cooler than the busy workfloor. A glance assured him that the window's broad, frosted pane was slanted open to let air into the room. Nerves,he told himself. Somehow I think that today is the day.

The general news crawled by, to be followed by the standard list of messages awaiting pickup or private broadcast. Nezumi scanned them avidly and found it. A transmission from Mister Gan of Port Paix to his sister, Rose.

Nezumi looked to Tomoe for confirmation. She nodded.

He stepped behind the desk and tapped out the code for the ComStar station on his comm deck. As he waited for the connection to go through, he readied the speech synthesizer that would be the voice of Rose Gan. Soon they would verify the order to move by checking the seemingly innocuous contents of the traveling salesman's message to his sister.

Nezumi gazed out the window as he waited for the link to open. The synthesizer spoke, beginning its conversation with the ComStar Acolyte who answered the call. He noticed smoke rising in the northeast. Soft and muted by the distance, the sounds of battle drifted through the opened window.

"That will be Chokei," Nezumi decided. "He always was overeager to get to the action."

62

Government Center , Nevcason, Vega

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

12 July 3039

 

Hauptmann-General Kathleen Heany scowled as the group of laughing officers entered the room. It was not that their light humor was offensive. The Good Lord knew that the current success of the invasion was likely to foster such cheerfulness among the young soldiers.

No, it wasn't the young officers who bothered her, but the way Field Marshal Nondi Steiner treated them. These youngsters and their counterparts throughout the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces were the fair-hairs, the golden children who received preferential treatment from the promotion boards as well as the quartermaster corps. What made it worse was the way General Steiner and the rest of the High Command listened to their ideas—ideas tainted by Davionist thinking.

Ymir's sword! Even having all Nagelring grads like Patrick Finnan in the High Command would be easier to bear.

Nondi and her clique ignored the sound and time-proven advice of officers like herself. Instead, Heany and many of her contemporaries were relegated to staff positions and given hollow honors. A poor thank-you for talented and loyal people who had served with distinction in Davion's war against the Capellans, soldiers who had borne the brunt of Operation Gotterdammerung and then been betrayed by the politicians who had thrown away hard-won gains.

Ah well,she told herself with a sigh. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Heany swept her gaze across the room. The bright light of the planet's sun, though reduced by the tinted vitryl panel that dominated the outer wall, provided more than enough illumination for the large square chamber. She paid little attention to the posh furnishings and fine-painted screens that decorated the chamber; her interest was in the officers who had gathered. They stood talking in clumps or sat on the room's original upholstered armchairs or newly gathered straight-backed and folding seats.

Across the room, her old rival Patrick Finnan sat alone, looking as sour as she felt. He, too, had taken his lumps from that sneaky Kurita kid. The media wags made much of the mistakes he had made against the fledgling heir to the Dragon. She understood that treatment, for she'd suffered the same herself. It almost made her sympathetic to the hard-nosed Nagelring graduate.

Her thoughts were derailed as the great double doors of the room opened, and Nondi Steiner entered. The Field Marshal waved the assembled officers back to their seats as they rose to salute her. She walked to the fine imported mahogany table where Heany and the rest of the senior staff waited, and placed her compdeck down before addressing the assembly.

"Good morning, gentlemen, ladies. I'm pleased to see that you are all looking rested and fit. You'll need to be." Her face was stern for a second before a grin began to spread over it. "This morning's fax transmission contained the go-ahead for the second wave."

The room burst into enthusiastic cheers and martial shouts. Heany felt a rush of excitement that momentarily let her forget that she would have little part in the offensive.

A single sharp sound reached her ears through the tumult. A gunshot? Incredulously, she turned to look out the window. Many others had heard the noise as well. Heads craned, searching for an explanation.

An infantry helmet of Steiner style tumbled past the window on its way to the ground. A moment later, three lumpy objects splatted softly against the window, sticking where they struck. Heany spied the thin wires trailing toward the roof and was on her feet in an instant. Others were moving as well, but many officers had only just recognized the disturbance among their fellows when the globs of explosive detonated, shattering the vitryl panel. Shards rained in a crystal storm across the room, shredding uniforms and flesh with callous indifference. By the grace of God, she was untouched, but a wide-eyed Kommandant fell at Heany's feet. His mouth worked soundlessly, a vitryl splinter protruding from the back of his torn throat.

Another explosion blew the room's double doors from their hinges. The concussion tumbled furniture and people in a direct line from the blast. The room filled with smoke and screams.

Motion in the corner of her eye caused Heany to pivot back to the window. A half-dozen black-suited figures swung through the jagged-edged opening in the outer wall to land cat-footed in the chaos. The cords they had descended on snaked out the window to hang limply as the intruders' subguns coughed out death to those nearest them. Through a rift in the hazy air, Heany saw a dozen more DEST troopers pound through the demolished doorway. Their guns added to the cacophony.

Suddenly, Heany found herself face-to-featureless mask with one of the invaders. In that frozen moment, she imagined the cold eyes behind the red-tinted mirror faceplate. She felt them take her measure before the muzzle of his gun rose slightly. A cough and stir at Heany's side broke the tableau. Nondi Steiner struggled to rise from behind the overturned table. The DEST trooper pivoted to turn his gun on the Field Marshal. Without thinking, Heany threw herself to the side, knocking Steiner down as the intruder fired. Hot pain flared in Heany's leg as she collapsed atop her superior.

"I'm too old for this," Heany moaned.

Laser pulses clawed through the dissipating smoke, cutting down three of the DEST troopers. Around the room, intruders were breaking free from melees with Steiner officers. Two stood their ground, laying down suppressive fire against the Lyran troops who had finally arrived. Regrouping by the window, the Kuritans locked the dangling lines into devices at their belts and hurled themselves out the window. A high-pitched whine filled the room as they ascended to the roof. Lyran guards cut down the two remaining intruders and hurried across the room to fire up at the vanishing shadows.

As suddenly as it had begun, the attack was over.

More troopers poured into the room. To Heany, their gray field uniforms and battle vests looked strangely clean, inappropriate to the carnage of the briefing room. As soon as their officer had assured himself that none of the DEST troopers were playing possum, he ordered his men and women to assist the wounded.

Heany rolled off Field Marshal Steiner. The Marshal was ashen pale under the blood that splashed her face. Her own breathing coming quickly, Heany fumbled at Steiner's throat, feeling for a pulse. She huffed with relief when she found one. That comfort evaporated as she noticed the bright blood pumping from the Marshal's thigh. Heany shed her tunic, wadding it into a pad to hold against the wound. Blood soaked through to slime her hands, but the bleeding slowed.

"Medtech!"

When her first call only mingled with the other shouts for help, she added, "Field Marshal Steiner's been hit."

The medics hustled in, relieving her. They assured Heany that, with intensive care, the Field Marshal would live. But her wounds were serious. She would not be commanding any armies for awhile.

Heany stood and caught herself against the wall before she fell. Looking down at the leg that had betrayed her, she found her trousers were awash in blood. She said nothing. There were more seriously injured officers to be attended to. She leaned against the upturned table and surveyed the room, feeling her stomach rebel at the sight and smell of a conference room become abattoir.

So many! She counted heads, looking for faces she knew. Finnan was nursing a slashed arm, insisting that the medtech trying to bandage him ignore his rank and deal with the more seriously wounded. Brian Kincaid and Willy Thompson were among those who had merely taken gashes from flying debris. Uliosha Donovon lay in a pool of blood, face half torn away by bullets and her torso ripped into a mass of undifferentiated meat and fluids. Too many bodies did not move. Too many of the dead were young officers. She regretted her earlier antipathy. They were too young to die like this.

With a start, Heany realized she was the senior officer.

Kurita could not be allowed to profit from this atrocity. She would have to take command. The offensive was too important and the Snakes needed to be taught a lesson.

Such a humbling of the office corps could only be a sign from God. He had made his will known in leaving her the senior survivor. She was given this opportunity to show not just the High Command, but the entire Inner Sphere, that the failures during Operation Gotterdammerung were flukes. She would show them that the old way was the best.

"Get yourselves together, people. Everybody who's ambulatory, downstairs to whatever the Snakes have left of the operations center. We've got a war to fight."