Текст книги "Bloodname"

Автор книги: Роберт Торстон

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14

The hiatus in the battle gave both sides a chance to perform field repairs and recharge weapons. The normal Clan tactic would have been for the Wolves to charge forward and take advantage of the disarray of the Clan Jade Falcon retreat. Kael Pershaw was surprised when Radick and Clan Wolf seemed to hold back. The damage done by the Elementals' subterfuge had apparently made Radick cautious, at least temporarily.

Though the lack of pursuit allowed the Glory Station Garrison Cluster a chance to regroup, it nevertheless disappointed Pershaw. He had planned to send Charlie Assault Nova around to the left flank, where the unit would have attempted to target one or two 'Mechs at the edge, unload their weaponry on them, and take them out of action. The maneuver would have been unClanlike, because it did not pit single 'Mechs against one another, but Pershaw decided that his best chance was to attempt to reduce Clan Wolf numbers through what had once been known as hit-and-run tactics. The fight could resume more ritualistically when the odds were more even. He knew that Dwillt Radick would also improvise if he were the underdog. Situations often demanded compromise, and so he would have to save this particular tactic for another time, perhaps another war.

Pershaw strode on foot around the open area outside Glory Station, taking the time to inspire his warriors. He climbed up to several 'Mech cockpits, disdaining the use of a field howdah. Opening hatchways and shouting through them, he told the pilots that when the battle resumed, they should fire steadily and await their chance to pounce on a weakness. Walking among the Elementals, conscious of how much each one towered over him, he congratulated them on the success of their hastily laid minefield, and urged them to fight on with their accustomed bravery.

Lanja meanwhile left her Command Point and walked over to him. In combat, they were as formal as was appropriate for commander and aide.

"Some news, Star Colonel," Lanja said.

"What is it?"

"We have two more BattleMechs to add to the Cluster. Mech Warrior Nis, one of Star Commander Jorge's warriors, has led the 'Mech of a survivor from the DropShip crash into the south gateway to the station.

They-"

The information immediately caught Pershaw's interest. "Just two? Just two survivors of the entireoperation?" In his mind he was already considering alternate plans for the battle.

"We do not know that for certain," Lanja replied. "Jorge's Star encountered Mech Warrior Enrique, the crash survivor, wandering alone in the swamp. Apparently he had traveled a great distance under terrible conditions. His 'Mech's leg was disabled in the crash, but we can repair it. Star Commander Jorge directed Nis to return here with Enrique. It was a slow trip, she says, because Enrique's 'Mech could not walk more than a few kilometers per hour. The new 'Mech is being repaired right now, and Nis will join Alpha Star of Trinary First Garrison after her 'Mech also gets some minor repairs. You scowl. Why?"

"Nis. A freebirth. My confidence is not exactly inspired. Order her to await the repair of the damaged 'Mech. Have this trueborn, Enrique, take the place of Nis in her 'Mech."

"Nis has shown herself to be quite brave. At any rate, Enrique is being treated at the med station."

"All right, all right. Allow Nis to join Alpha Star. They have a 'Mech and a pilot out of action right now.

Except for filling the slot, she will probably not make much of a difference." He could see that Lanja, whose views on the efficiency of allClan warriors were already known to him, felt that his hatred of freeborns was interfering with his judgment. But loyal as she was, she would never question Pershaw's statements during a combat situation. He was often amazed at how deep her loyalty went.

"Lanja, I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"I have an idea, but it will require one of your Elementals risking his or her life."

"That is the easiest of tasks. Tell me."

"Soon it will be night. I believe Clan Wolf will attack then. We will have to engage them. As long as Radick keeps some units in reserve, the odds are only slightly in their favor. I believe we can hold them, at least for a time. But we need to put more 'Mechs into the field. We need to find out what happened to the Trinary from the DropShip."

"Do you believe, then, that Jorge's Star has failed?"

"I am not sure, but I need to know. If there are any surviving warriors and 'Mechs, I want them here. I would accept even the freebirth Star right now. Lanja, select one of your warriors and order him or her to find a way through the battlefield and into the swamp. We must locate any survivors from the crash or the rescue team, brief them on the situation, and urge them to travel here at their highest speed."

"In the swamp—"

"I know, I know. An Elemental would have to go without his suit of battle armor to avoid detection when crossing Clan Wolf lines. Fate has placed many demands on me and one Elemental is all I can spare. If I truly control my fate, the Elemental will find the Star. If he finds that the search for survivors still continues, he will pass on my order to abandon the search and join us here. So, detach a warrior from one of your Points."

"Unnecessary. I will go."

"But that would not be—"

"Proper? Perhaps not. But I am the fastest runner and the highest scorer in survival techniques, quiaff?"

"Well, aff, but—"

"No need to discuss this further. Your order was to detach a warrior for this mission. I have done so."

Pershaw recognized the determination in Lanja's eyes. He respected her, as he respected all his good officers. It had always been his policy not to countermand the orders of one of his trusted subordinates, and he trusted none more than Lanja. If she chose to go, she must.

"If you cannot home in on any of the 'Mechs or even their remnants, do not waste time in a long search. Return at once, quiaff?"

"Aff. I will depart as soon as night falls."

"Good. Dismissed."

As always, she wheeled about immediately and strode away. Pershaw felt a rare moment of apprehension. Lanja was the most efficient aide he had ever had. He did not want anything to happen to her. But, of course, they were both Clan, able to easily accept death. There were stories of Clan warriors who had known each other for years, served together, saved each other's lives countless times. Yet, when one died, the other walked away without so much as a backward glance. Would he look back at Lanja if she became a corpse? Once, perhaps, as a tribute to her loyalty, but no more than that.

* * *

"I cannot contact Joanna on any channel," Horse reported. Aidan had returned to the remaining seven warriors and their 'Mechs.

"Neither can I. And there is no indication of her on anybody's radar, quineg?"

"Neg. Wherever she is, the swamp is hiding her even from electronic detection. You know how it is, Jorge. Out here you cannot trust your equipment. If it says you are under attack, it may be only a tree puma nibbling on your neck. If it shows that a BattleMech is flying, then—"

"Horse, spare me the fanciful lecture. The fundamental point is that we cannot locate our commanding officer, quiaff?"

"Aff. Which places you in command. Backin command, Star Commander Jorge."

"Agreed."

"I cannot say I regret the change. And I must observe that nothing would be gained in a fruitless search for Star Captain Joanna."

"If she is still the same warrior, she will find her own way out. We have a more urgent mission. We must rejoin the garrison."

"It has been a long time since there has been any sign of the battle in the skies above. Could it be over?"

"I hope not. Let us find out, quiaff?"

* * *

Except for one Clan Wolf Elemental sentry, whom Lanja quickly disarmed and smothered, the trip across the battlefield was simple. She sensed that the Wolves were now intent on new battle plans, for the Command Star headquarters was obviously busy. A continual stream of warriors went in and out of the geodesic dome set up just behind the wreckage and carnage that warriors from both sides were now cleaning up as part of the one-hour truce Pershaw had negotiated with Radick.

At Blood Swamp she slipped down the slope and into the murky blackness. Once there, she fitted a pair of MAD goggles over her head and looked around. The magnetic anomaly detector was short-range, but in Blood Swamp tended to be more accurate than any installed in a BattleMech. The device also made it easier to travel on foot through the swamp.

Moving quickly and adeptly, Lanja went about a kilometer before discovering the two downed Clan 'Mechs. Their pilots had abandoned the machines, which lay now in swamp water, a pair of drowned giants. Beyond them, however, were faint but clear heat tracings left behind by another BattleMech. The heat signature led in a clear line deeper into the swamp.

For the next half-hour Lanja followed the signature, which got stronger as she swiftly proceeded. Suddenly Lanja was in a small clearing that her scanner showed crisscrossed with a complicated network of heat lines. As she passed through the clearing, she spotted the clear lines of a unit of 'Mechs—seven or eight, it appeared—heading out of the clearing, in the general direction of Glory Plain. If they continued on their current path, they would emerge right into the claws of Clan Wolf. She had to head them off.

Running, she kept her attention on the heat signatures, which got stronger as they became more recent. Her height allowed her to grab fairly high branches, using them to propel herself forward. She made a few magnificent leaps across deep-water areas.

Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sounds of 'Mechs using their hands to clear a path through trees up ahead. She knew she would be seeing the unit soon. Taking off the scanner, Lanja slipped it into its belt holder without breaking stride.

Passing under a high tree, she heard a rustle in the branches overhead. Before she could even look up, she felt the air change as something descended swiftly toward her. She reached for her laser pistol, the only weapon she had, but not fast enough. In that instant, the tree puma landed heavily on her, forcing Lanja down into stagnant, murky water.

15

It was a pity that the pilots in their 'Mechs and the Elemental with her MAD goggles depended so much on external devices. More reliance on their own eyes, on what the real world offered to their view, and they might have found Joanna easily. The warm red glow of emergency lighting from her cockpit was visible for nearly a hundred meters in the dark swamp. An unwavering illumination ten meters above ground level. If any of the searchers had been able to get close enough, they would have seen the Star Captain staring out the viewport, trying to discern something in a place as black as the heart of a Periphery bandit.

"We could try to get out on foot," Nomad said.

"Are you joking? In your condition, you can barely make headway on flat ground."

"Leave me behind."

"I would do that gladly. However, I have no means of navigating, I do not know what the dangers and pitfalls are, and I would prefer not to abandon a valuable BattleMech because its foot is stuck in something, especially when all available equipment is needed for the current combat."

"Then why aren't you trying to pull the foot out?"

"What do you think I was doing? I think it got stuck when it sank into the muck or whatever is down there. It seems to be tangled in something."

"What?"

"If I knew that, I would have said so."

The light inside the cockpit flickered, but did not go out. Joanna balled her hand into a fist and punched the inside of the viewport.

"It is that filthy freebirth, Aidan, who is responsible for our being stranded here. He deliberately left us here so that he could reassume command. I will kill him, first chance I get."

"How? There is no Circle of Equals here. I heard him tell you that. And you, Star Captain Joanna, for all your difficult traits, are not a murderer."

"Do not be so sure. I may practice on you."

Recognizing the threat in her voice, Nomad lapsed into silence. She might not kill him, but he knew from experience that she could do significant damage. With his arms already throbbing, he needed no new pain.

After a long period of quiet, interrupted only by odd whoops and other raucous sounds rising like spectral invasions from the swamp, Joanna finally said, "We must get this 'Mech moving."

"Are you going to try to pull the foot out again?"

"No, I am going down there and disentangle it."

"Out there? In the dark?"

"I have a lantern."

Nomad did not know what to say. On the one hand, he admired Joanna's courage in trying; on the other, if she failed and something happened to her, he would be left stranded in this cockpit, his arms injured, plus legs that did not feel so good, either.

It was not worth wasting his breath. Joanna was obviously not waiting for advice as she hastily grabbed some rope and a lantern from her storage compartment. Then, without so much as a fare-thee-well to her chief tech, she forced open the cockpit hatch and slipped from sight. Nomad strained to listen, to distinguish the sounds of feet bumping against the side of the 'Mech from the many other noises around him. He heard little, only a couple of definite clanks and then Joanna uttering one of the more shocking Clan oaths in a voice that could compete with the swamp cacophony. Using his right arm, which still pulsed with pain, he managed to get himself up off his seat. He worked himself over to the viewport and looked down.

All he could see was the wavering and flickering light from Joanna's lantern.

* * *

At one point Joanna nearly lost her balance and fell. She was at that moment hanging onto the rope, which she had wrapped around the field mounting unit of her 'Mech's left arm. With one hand still clutching the swinging rope, she reached out with the other to touch the tree next to the 'Mech. What she got was the soft, slimy, spongy matter that clung to the tree, perhaps some kind of moss or lichen. It was colored a sickly gray. The lantern did not pick up much color on anything, perhaps a result of so little light penetrating the swamp canopy.

Touching the side of the tree made her shout out an oath she had not spoken since her days as a training officer at Crash Camp on Ironhold. Composing herself and trying to get a new grip on the rope, she recalled the last time she had cursed so thoroughly, disgusted to recall that this bunghole Aidan was connected with the occurrence. It had been on the day she learned what Ter Roshak had done, that he had killed the freebirth unit merely to give Aidan his unlawful second chance at becoming a warrior. She had raged for nearly an hour, smashing several items in her ill-kept quarters, cursing not merely the actions of Roshak and the boon granted Aidan, but the fact that she had been implicated as Roshak's agent. It was Roshak who had ordered her to find and capture Aidan, then return him to Ironhold.

Steadying herself and the rope as well as she could, Joanna continued downward, gagging and coughing at the repellent odors that rose up to meet her.

Reaching bottom, Joanna saw that the 'Mech's foot was buried in the muck up to about ankle level, the heat sink ballistic cover nearly half-submerged. Clutching the rope with one hand, she tilted her body sideways and reached downward into the muck. The viscous substance seemed so eager to draw her hand in that she pulled it out instantly. Shining her light around, she noted a clutch of dark gray vines hanging down from the tree, but each vine seemed pulled taut. At their bottom ends, the vines were also buried in the muck. Kicking away from the side of the 'Mech's leg, Joanna swung over to the vines and held onto one of them. She could feel its tension. When she tugged at it, it barely moved. Whatever was holding the 'Mech's foot down was connected to these vines. Perhaps some of them had become tangled with the foot. For that matter, the muck itself might be enough to exert significant pressure to hold it down.

She was considering blasting the vines with her laser pistol when an odd vibration of the vine made her look up. She expected to see Nomad pulling at her rope, but what she saw was much worse. Not far above her head, a reptile that looked like some blend of razor-back hog and alligator, as dark and gray as the swamp itself, was clinging to the side of the 'Mech. For a reason known only to it and whatever deity watched over reptiles, the creature was happily chewing on the rope, apparently making great headway.

Drawing her pistol, Joanna fired it upward at the reptile. Her shot was right on target and some of the reptile's razorback went flying. It slipped off the 'Mech, but its mouth continued to cling to the rope. Aiming carefully, so as to miss the rope, she fired again. As the creature fell away, she felt a tug on the rope. The beast was falling directly down at her. Kicking at the 'Mech leg, she swung out. The reptile fell right past her, making a small splash as it hit the muck and then disappeared. She was ready to breathe a sigh of relief as the rope finished its outward arc and came back toward the 'Mech, but the relief turned to fear as she felt the rope separate. Beginning to fall, she grabbed at a vine but missed, then she too went, feet first, into the muck.

Oddly, the muck seemed to break her fall. After she had gone down only a few centimeters, her movement slowed. Yet, at her feet, she felt a definite sensation of suction. She was being pulled in, but whatever the muck was, it was patient in claiming its victims. She wondered what had happened to her laser pistol. She did not remember dropping it. Shining the lantern around her, she spotted it just beyond the rim of the pool of muck, just beyond her reach.

She had been pulled in up to her knees. Looking down, Joanna watched as the line of detestable sediment slowly rose higher.

* * *

Nomad had located a small pair of binoculars in Joanna's storage bin. Ignoring the pulsations in his wrist as he tried to hold onto them, he focused the view on her and saw how she was being sucked downward. His sense of her position suggested that the 'Mech's foot must be just slightly to her right.

He could not use her neurohelmet to work the controls, but if only he could use his hands, he could bypass the helmet to work the foot. Well, one hand, at least. Its damaged wrist would give him ferocious pain, but it would function.

Pulling away a panel beneath the joystick, he wrenched out the wires to the neurohelmet. Joanna would scream when she saw what he had done. But the very fact she saw it would mean he had rescued her and returned her to the cockpit to resume her continuous harangues.

Taking the joystick, lightning flashes of pain erupting from his wrist, he worked with the 'Mech's foot. He could tell it was prevented from rising, but he felt a slight give left and right. Checking the viewport, he saw that Joanna had now sunk to her waist in the muck. His quick calculations told him that her feet would contact the upper surface of the 'Mech foot either just before her head sank below the surface level of the muck, or just after.

With severe effort, his eyes filling with tears from the furious pain, Nomad worked with the joystick. At first, the foot seemed unwilling to move. He pressed harder, and the pain got worse. Then, with a sudden jerk sideways, the foot moved just enough to place it under the sinking warrior. The muck was up to her shoulders now.

His arm throbbing with pain beyond any he might have dreamed he could endure, Nomad staggered to the viewport and looked down. Joanna had dropped the lantern. It bobbed on the surface of the muck, casting a thin, wobbly light over her. She held her arms high. The level of the muck was just below her neck.

* * *

Joanna had calmly accepted her imminent death, especially after being forced to fling away the lantern. Looking up, she saw Nomad staring down at her from within the light of the cockpit. This must be stimulating for him, she thought. Watching her die was probably something he had dreamed of for years.

They said that people often reevaluated their lives when they knew they were about to die, that sometimes their lives flashed before their eyes. There were many instances of conversion to ancient religious beliefs on the part of dying individuals. Many people regretted the actions of their lives. They made their peace with the human race, it was said.

Not Joanna. She would make peace with nobody, she thought. She had spent most of her life hating everyone. Why regret that now? She had found little reason to change her mind about the hatefulness of others. She would die contented that she had viewed life correctly. But that was about all she would be contented about. Mostly, she was angry. What an absurd way to die! She was a warrior, and a warrior was not supposed to die in a pool of filth, not unless he or she had been put there by an act of combat. What she regretted more than anything was that she would die without having earned a Bloodname, without contributing her genetic legacy to a gene pool.

She felt the disgusting sludge against the skin of her neck. Soon she would slide under. With her upraised hands, she worked off the gloves that were the symbol of her achievements with the Jade Falcon Clan. Studded with metal stars, they represented to Joanna her success in several combats. She did not want them to slide into the muck with her. Throwing them as well as she could, she watched them disappear into the darkness. But she heard them land. No splash accompanied their coming to rest, and so she knew that they would be retrieved by another warrior, perhaps used again by their new owner.

Resigned, she waited for her death. Which made the moment her feet landed on the upper surface of the 'Mech foot all the more startling. She felt the impact all through her body, even to the top of her head.

Suddenly she was not dead yet. But she was still neck-deep in muck, her arms flailing upward, rotten, odorous air seeming thicker just above the swamp surface, the suggestion of dangerous animals in every dark patch, her 'Mech disabled, a malfunctioning chief tech up in the cockpit, all communications gone. Death, she thought, might just have been better.