Текст книги "Mercenary's Star"

Автор книги: Уильям Кейт

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34

 

A Regis Blues deserter told Grayson that the Dracos had taken Lori alive, but under close guard, to the University's Central Tower the next day. The Kurita high command was jubilant, having immediately realized that they'd managed to take one of the offworlder mercs who had transformed the rebel army into a combat-experienced, efficient fighting machine.

The deserter could say nothing more about her, save that Nagumo's Special Branch was to question her closely. The man had drawn guard duty once in the bowels of the University Tower where the Special Branch worked. His descriptions of the sights, sounds, and dark rumors about Room 6 left Grayson feeling ill and shaken.

Lori...

Grayson met Tollen Brasednewic by the mouth of the Fox Island cave late that evening. He had been dreading this talk, but knew it must be done. Brasednewic had surprised Grayson by remaining with the rebel army after the incident on the day of the airfield raid. Many rebel troopers felt that their first loyalty was to Brasednewic himself, and so Grayson was grateful that the man had chosen to remain in the fight Tollen spoke little, and his eyes bore a haunted look, but he'd fought with valor and determination in half a dozen raids and battles since his abdication from the rebel army's command.

He'd not been along on the Blackjack raid, but he'd learned of Lori's capture when Grayson's party had returned to camp. To his credit, he'd been among the first to tell Grayson how sorry he was.

That didn't make Grayson's problem any easier.

"We're running a raid against the University, Tollen," Grayson said, without preamble. "A sneak commando strike might get our people out."

Brasednewic's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "This is a rather sudden turn-about, isn't it. Captain? Last I heard, we were to stay clear of that place. Allof us."

Grayson nodded. "You also heard me say that you'd risked the whole strike force by changing plans at the last minute, in the middle of the action."

"It's different when youtell us to change plans, is that it? One thing for the high and mighty MechWarrior, something else entirely for the peasants in the ranks! Is thatit?"

"Dammit, no!" Grayson closed his eyes. How was he going to carry this off? He'd known Brasednewic's ego was bruised, that he would have trouble convincing the man to help, but had not been able to come up with an approach that might soften his resistance. "This operation will be planned from the start, not made up as we go along! But we have to get Lori out of there. If Carlotta's alive, we'll get her, too, and any of the rest of our people, we can find."

"Look, I can sympathize with you having lost your woman, Carlyle, but if you're asking me to bring my people in on this, forget it."

"She's not 'my woman', as you put it. But she is.one of us.”

“So was Carlotta."

"We don't even know that she's alive, Colonel!"

"We don't know a damned thing more about Lori Kalmar...except that she's in there and due for questioning!"

"Exactly! And you know as well as I do that when they start questioning her, they'll find a way to break her. Anyone can be broken:..and that's a specialty of Kurita. They'll break her...and find out about the Phobosand where it's hidden."

"So?"

How could the man be so blind? "So...the ship will be destroyed, and with her all of the machine shops and casting equipment and electronics repair facilities that've kept us going these past few months! Maybe you foot soldiers don't realize what's needed to maintain a BattleMech unit, but when Nagumo took the heavy equipment from Fox Island, he left us the Phobosand the people and equipment aboard her! If they locate and destroy our DropShip, the Gray Death and the Free Verthandi Rangers are finished, too!"

Brasednewic looked at Grayson with dull eyes, his face stiff and unexpressive. "I...can't, Carlyle. It's...a point of honor."

"Honor? What does honor have to do with it? The honorable thing would be to drop that wounded pride of yours and help us!"

"Your own views seem to have changed somewhat since our last meeting."

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't willing to sacrfice the whole group for one person. Now you are."

"Don't you see? Whatever my own personal feelings in the matter, we've got to break in there and get Lori out...get her out, or...or..."

"Or what?"

Grayson had not let himself face the question until now, and the reality made him feel wrenchingly sick. "Or we'll have to kill her ourselves. We can't let Nagumo find out about the Phobos."

Brasednewic's face worked against some cold silent, inner battle. "Why are you telling meall this?"

"Because we need to work together on this operation...the Free Rangers and the Gray Death. Every rebel soldier in the Silvan Basin must know by now that I took you down that day for going in against the University without orders, and every one of them must know why you did it. How can I give the order for them to do the exact same thing, unless you're willing to help? Ramage's commandos will follow my lead, I think. For this to work, we need to throw in everything we have, the whole Free Verthandian army. I needyou, Tollen. I need your help...and your influence with your troops."

There was a flicker of something behind Brasednewic's eyes, but Grayson saw that something die as he watched. The rebel turned away. "No, Captain... no."

"Good god, man, why?"

"You have the gall to stand there and ask me to send my people to certain death...after what you did to me...in front of my own people?"

"Look, you'll have your command back. You didn't have to walk away from it in the first place. We could have worked something out."

"It's too late for that, Carlyle. You embarassed me in front of my people. You think they'd follow me...now?"

"I don't see why not," Grayson said evenly. "Mypeople are following me."

"Maybe it's different for mercenaries. Pay them enough, and—"

"Dammit, what does that have to do with it? Look..."

"Carlyle, I don't think you understand. I've got a handful of people—ones who were with me before you came—who might still follow me. The rest...I don't know. Maybe they would, but that bond of trust just isn't there anymore. You broke that, Carlyle. You did. Well, I can still fight Nagumo, but in my own way. In my own time."

“Tollen, everything we've built here in the past months, the cooperation between the different rebel bands, between your people and mine...we can't let that be torn down."

"It already has been." He shook his head. "Most Verthandians wouldn't follow me...anymore than they'd follow you if you turned around the way you’re asking me to do for you. It'll be better this way. I won't stand in your way. Captain, or interfere with your plans. But I'm taking everyone who will follow me back to the Uppsala Mountains, above my old home. We'll raid and harry the Dracos from there."

"That's not the way, Tollen. We have to work together. Your people knowyou. They'll follow you."

"While I follow you? No Captain, I can't do that. I can't ask my people to do that."

"I don't understand."

"No? Then maybe you're not the leader I thought you were, Carlyle. Hell, you may be some kind of tactical wizard, but you've got a lot to learn about people." He turned and strode away, leaving Grayson standing there alone.

And Grayson knew Brasednewic was right.

* * * *

Nagumo nodded at Vlade's image in the intercom screen. "You think she might know something, then?"

"I'm certain of it, my Lord. We got extremely specific responses over the monitors when I questioned her about where the rebels had the heavy support equipment and repair facilities for their ‘Mechs.

She was lying, of course, but some of her answers suggest that the mercenaries have a secret base or facility hidden somewhere."

Nagumo's pulse quickened. "Did you ask her about their ship? Was it lost in a storm as everyone supposed?"

Vlade showed his teeth. "She said the DropShip was lost in the storm. I calculate an 80 percent probability that she is lying on that point as well and that the ship is intact, somewhere in the Silvan Basin."

"That would explain a very great deal. What else did you learn?”

“I found her weak point, my Lord. I have the lever with which to break her.”

“Oh?"

"I don't know the details, of course. What I suspect is that at some time in her past, Kalmar suffered a terrible loss...and that loss is associated with fire."

"Ah..."

"Exactly, my Lord. She showed no more than the usual response to statements designed to evoke images of death or pain or imprisonment, of wealth, of any of the usual stimuli. But she appears to be terrified of death by fire. A very unusual... very gratifyingresponse to that particular stimulus."

Nagumo closed his eyes and controlled his reaction. He would not let Vlade see his feelings.

The man's enthusiasm for his work had always repelled the Governor-General. Nagumo had not realized how much he actually loathed the man and his eager smile until now. He wondered if he had grown softer in the past months, for the interrogator to grate at his nerves so.

"Then I can count on you to... to use that response, to get me the information I need."

"Of course. Would you like to come down and participate? It should be interesting,"

"No."

Dammit, man, I've got other things, to do than make myself ill watching you play!

"I leave it in your hands. And when you're through, be sure I get a complete report."

"Of course, my Lord," Vlade said, and Nagumo could tell how anxious he was to get back to his gruesome task.

Under the circumstances, it was the best plan they could come up with. A volunteer commando team of fifty Verthandians followed Grayson and Sergeant Ramage, picking their way through the dark. They wore black from head to toe. Their faces were smeared with black dye, and their weapons and every piece of equipment were carefully wrapped and taped to keep metal from clinking against stone or other metal. Ramage had told Grayson privately they were the best unit he'd ever worked with. For months, he'd been training them in special, small-unit operations.

Not all of the commandos were Verthandians. One of them, unrecognizable in her night vision goggles and black face paint was Sue Ellen Klein, fighter pilot turned commando.

Grayson had found her sitting on a rock, sharpening a knife with long, slow strokes across a whetstone. "What are you doing with this bunch?" he'd asked.

"I volunteered. Captain." Her voice was soft, but very steady.

He'd had little opportunity to talk with her since her rescue several months before. Her captivity among the Dracos seemed to have left her little more than a hollow shell for some time, and the new light in her eyes surprised Grayson.

"I wonder if it's a good idea for you to go in there," he said. "If you're looking for a chance to get even with someone..."

"I'll do my job, Captain." She snapped the knife into her boot sheath, and added in a quieter voice, "I'll do what I have to do."

The answer had not entirely satisfied Grayson. He had lived long enough with the fiery coals of vengeance inside his own gut to recognize it in another. Her hate focused on someone else besides him now, someone within the Kurita camp. He could read that in the deliberate way she stroked her knife against the stone.

She looked up at him and smiled strangely, her teeth gleaming through the mask of black stain. "You needn't worry about me, Captain. It took time, but...I'm all right now. Thanks to Lori."

She read the question in his eyes and smiled. "It seems we were both pretty lonely, Captain. We began talking. It's so easy to talk to her, you know. She... she helped me pull through a pretty rough time. Lori...Lori was myfriend, too,"

He had no answer for that. Besides, the time had come to move out.

* * * *

Grayson peered ahead through his night vision goggles, then nodded to Ramage at his side. The factory entrance was just ahead.

The unit accepted the reason for going in without comment or surprise. They were volunteers, of course, but they followed because the man who had trained and fought with them said he needed them. If anyone resented that they were about to do what Tollen Brasednewic had been ordered not to do, no one showed it. Grayson knew, however, that it would be different for most of the regular line troops.

The operation, as he, Ramage, and the other Gray Death Mech Warriors had worked it out, required the commando team to slip into the University grounds. They were fairly certain they could get as far as the Courtyard, because of the broad, high-ceilinged passageway that ran between factory and University Courtyard. This was the old avenue for students on work-teaching programs or for AgroMechs to travel to ‘Mech demonstrations in the Courtyard. That passageway still existed, and Grayson knew where it was from Thorvald's maps. It would be guarded, certainly, but that was work for the commando.

In the darkness behind them, in the dry gully that led by winding ways back to the Basin Rim, three of the four remaining BattleMechs of the Gray Death lay hidden, awaiting Grayson's signal. There had been some last-moment reshuffling. Khaled now piloted Grayson's Shadow Hawkinstead of his Stinger.All had agreed that in the fight to come, they would need the Hawk'sfirepower, and Khaled had readily agreed to switch to the larger machine. As for Grayson, he would have preferred to be at the controls of a BattleMech– anyBattleMech—but Brasednewic's words still burned.

He would not ask of his own people something he would not do himself. The chancy part of this operation would be the initial penetration. Once the team was inside, the BattleMechs would lay down a diversion to distract the Kurita troops from the true nature of the assault within their walls. The diversion would be necessary if the commandos—and Grayson and Lori, if he could find her—were to make good their escape.

Grayson carefully refused to think about what would happen if he found Lori but was unable to get her out of the University. His mind went no farther than the certainty that either he and Lori would make it out of the University... or that neither of them would.

The Ericksson-Agro factory was deserted, a place of dust and shadows and bare ferrocrete floors and walls. The streets outside were deserted, too, save for a solitary Regis Blue sentry on a roving patrol. The commandos had watched the man go, then slipped across the street behind his back. Guided by their infrared goggles, they slipped through the factory to an unguarded stair well, then made their way to a lower level to the yawning mouth of the tunnel they sought.

The gate was padlocked, but the lock yielded to a hand torch wielded by one of the Verthandian raiders. Every man took that moment to check his weapons and gear. Grayson carried a TK assault rifle cradled in his arms and a 12 mm automatic pistol holstered on his right hip. Three grenades, including a pair of smoke grenades, were clipped to his harness. In various pouches, he carried spare magazines for the TK and the pistol and a spare battery clip for the stunner. A combat knife was sheathed and fastened at his right ankle outside his boot. A single-channel combat communicator was clipped to his throat and his ear, though he could use it to talk to his comrades only across very short ranges. It would not penetrate the walls of the University at all. To reach the BattleMechs outside, he had a more powerful hand transceiver fixed to a pouch at the small of his back.

The door opened, rusty mountings creaking and booming protest into the dark. Anxious eyes probed this way and that through the dark, but no sentry appeared, no voice shouted challenge. In single file, the commandos plunged into the Stygian black of the underground passageway. The tunnel extended through blackness absolute for two hundred meters, then slanted upward along a flat-sloped ramp. There was another steel door at this end, and a brief inspection showed Grayson why the tunnel was not better guarded. The door was welded shut.

Ramage looked at Grayson, who nodded. Ramage gestured, and a pair of Verthandi Rangers dashed up, slipping heavy canvas pouches from their shoulders. One examined the welded door and grinned through the dark at Grayson. "Five minutes, Captain. Better have everyone move back up the tunnel a bit."

Waiting in the darkness, Grayson was startled by a light touch on his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring into a blackened face that was recognizable—just barely—as the face of a young woman. "Don't worry, Captain. We'll do it."

"Eh?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice carrying no further than the two of them. "But the expression on your face. Even through those goggles, you looked so...so intense.I just...just wanted to let you know that we're with you."

"Did I look that afraid?"

"Not afraid. More like you were going to go through that door without waiting for the guys to blow it."

Grayson peered at her face but couldn't recognize her. For a moment, seeing the glint of almost savage purpose in her eyes, he thought it might be Sue Ellen. This woman was taller, her hair longer when he saw it escaping from under her cap. "Uh...do we know each other?"

Her teeth showed through the blacking. "Janice Taylor, First Squad, Special Commando, Free Verthandi Rangers," she recited with matter-of-fact crispness. "Just one of your new recruits."

"Janice!" Then the darkness exploded in flame and thunder, and he had no time to think about anything more at all.

35

 

Governor-General Nagumo heard the dull, hollow boom and briefly wondered if someone had dropped a heavy section of armor in the maintenance area across the courtyard. Then the piercing ululation of the emergency siren keened warning of attack.

A light flashed at his interrcom. He stabbed the accept switch. "What is it?"

'This is Gordoyev, my Lord, Captain of the Guard!" There was no picture with the voice, which was pitched high with shock or fear. "I'm on Level Two and...and...rebel troops. General, in the lower levels! They're pouring through a hole blasted through from an abandoned tunnel!"

"You have a guard. Use it!"

"Yes, my Lord! We'll hold them as long as we can, but...”

“But what?"

"My Lord, there are hundreds of them down here! We need reinforcements!"

"Help is coming. Hold where you are!"

He opened a channel to the barracks and found that the alert had already roused the city's garrison commanders. Between elements of four infantry regiments, there were close to two thousand Kurita troops in Regis, not counting the unreliable Regis Blues. He did not for a moment believe Gordoyev's assessment of "hundreds of troops", but it was always better to overreact to such a threat than to respond with half-measures. He relayed orders to the Third Strike Regiment. Companies A and B were both just outside the University, stationed in the streets of central Regis. They would be in the courtyard in moments.

What could be the purpose of this raid...for a raid was all it possibly could be. It was inconceivable that a large enemy force could worm its way into the University grounds through whatever forgotten gateway or tunnel they might have found. It must be a small force, probably a highly trained commando unit with some specific target.

Target? He pulled at his lip, the fingers trembling ever so slightly. The rebels could well be after him, the Governor General. His death would not mean the end of Kurita rule on Verthandi, of course, but it would mean that that idiot Kodo would take command. If the rebels knew about the Kurita chain of command on this world, they might believe having Admiral Kodo in charge would give them a better chance at some planned coup or assault.

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small, deadly Sunbeam-Electric laser pistol, checked its power pack, and tucked it into the waistband of his uniform. Then he opened another channel on the intercom and summoned his personal guard.

* * * *

Grayson stepped across the sprawled, wide-eyed body of a blue-clad Loyalist trooper, checked the man's belt and pouches for keys or security devices, then moved with light-footed haste further into the warren of passageways ahead. He was under the main University Tower now, he knew. The descriptions provided him by Regis Blue deserters and liberated Verthandian prisoners were proving accurate so far.

Gunshots and explosions echoed behind him. According to plan, forty of the commandos were launching their attack on the enemy's BattleMech maintenance area, not far from where the forgotten tunnel opened into the courtyard.

Outside the University walls, the Gray Death ‘Mechs would be moving toward the Ericksson-Agro factory, firing at anything that moved along the walls above them, and preparing to take up defensive positions to cover the retreat of the raiders when they reappeared from the tunnel.

Those two distractions ought to keep the Dracos and their Verthandian allies quite busy, for a few minutes anyway. Grayson and the ten remaining commandos had penetrated the underground levels of the central University Tower. Those levels were a maze of interconnecting rooms and passageways that the Dracos had converted from storage of records and supplies. The eleven had separated and spread out to better their chances of finding Lori quickly. Grayson was alone.

He hurried on through the semi-darkness, following courses drawn and redrawn countless times on paper and in his head since he'd learned them people who had already travelled these corridors. The cells for special prisoners were supposed to be down one level and to the right. The stairway down ought to be...there!

A man in a blue uniform appeared, a heavy automatic rifle slung across his shoulder. Grayson brought up his TK and fought the bucking, flashing muzzle as high-speed 3 mm slivers burned through the air to shred cloth and flesh in a fine mist of blood. The soldier was kicked up and back, then plunged headfirst down the stairs behind him with an unholy clatter of equipment and weapon. Grayson followed a moment later, somewhat more quietly.

The lower passageway was well-lit and mercifully deserted. He shoved his IR goggles back on his head and checked the soldier's body. A small, black rectangle—a plastic security card—rested inside a breast pocket. Grayson retrieved it, then straightened, glancing about. That way!

He found the cell doors, but there was no way of knowing who was in which cell. He picked the first door he came to, inserted the plastic card into a slot in an otherwise featureless box mounted on the stone wall beside the entrance, and stepped back as the door slid open. Inside the narrow, stone-walled cell was a woman, but his initial surge of elation faded when he realized it was not Lori.

She blinked against the sudden light. "Who...are you?"

"Cavalry to the rescue," Grayson said lightly. Where was Lori being held? "Quick! Come out of there!"

The woman stumbled out into the passageway. Grayson was already at the next cell, fumbling with the card. That room held ten Verthandians, one-time students or teachers crowded into a three by four meter space stinking of sweat, excrement, and fear. The next cell held the same...and the next...and the next.

A pair of soldiers in Kurita uniforms interrupted Grayson as he opened the cell after that. Someone yelled warning, and Grayson twisted his TK up and chopped the pair down before they could unholster their weapons. Their uniforms yielded two more security cards and weapons for two of the newly freed prisoners.

With a small army unexpectedly on his hands, Grayson had to take time to organize them. He sent one party off with one of the guards' pistols to search for more weapons. The body by the stairway would yield at least one automatic rifle, and there were bound to be weapons lockers elsewhere in this warren. The rest of the ex-prisoners he divided into two groups, gave a security card to each group, and sent them in opposite directions with orders to open every cell they came to. The Verthandians scattered amid shouts and ragged cheers. Grayson thought to warn them to remain quiet, then decided there was no use. A fierce determination seemed to have seized every one of those dirty, ragged men and women, a determination to close with their Kurita captors and settle some longstanding scores.

Confusion was spreading throughout the lower levels. The other commandos were finding and releasing prisoners as well. Soon, these levels and those above would be filled with freed Verthandians looking for Kurita blood.

He skidded to a stop, his rifle up. The shadow he'd seen moving up ahead resolved itself into the black-clad form of another commando.

He recognized her. "Sue Ellen! What the hell are youdoing here?" He was aware of the odd light in her eyes, aware that the sight of these corridors must be bringing back memories of horror. He'd not known that she was among the ten who had volunteered to come down into these chambers. He'd thought she was with Ramage, on the surface.

She laughed, an unpleasant sound. "Still worried about me, Captain?"

He shook his head, ashamed of the lie. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No. I don't think she's here."

"Where, then?" He knew the answer, but had been denying it to himself. At the same time, a growing dread was urging him to hurry, to race through the passageways to the place Sue Ellen had described after her rescue.

"Room 6, of course. Where they took me a time or two."

The interrogation chamber was in the lowest level of all. The team's assault plan called for each of the commandos to close on Room 6 as they systematically checked the cells in the levels above. During the planning sessions for this raid, they had decided that sending a team straight to the lowest level would not be practical. There Were not enough troops available to do that and to also check the rooms above. Anyway, it seemed more likely that they would find Lori in one of the cells. Now, though, Grayson felt a cold and growing horror in the pit of his stomach telling him that Room 6 was exactly where Lori was at this moment.

"Will... will you lead the way?" He watched Sue Ellen carefully as he suggested it. On the one hand, he didn't want to rekindle the horror for her any more than it already was. On the other, he was suddenly afraid to have her out of his sight.

"No, Captain. There's something else I have do." She took a step toward him, and for a moment Grayson thought she meant to attack him. Her rifle was slung from her shoulder, but she held her combat knife in one hand.

"We're going to take care of them. Sue Ellen. And you can help."

She laughed, and the sound turned Grayson cold. "Help? I've helped you. Captain. The place you want is down that corridor, then to your left, then to your right. Room 6. There will be sentries outside the door."

"Sue Ellen! What's...what's wrong with you? Come on..."

"No, Captain. I'm not going there." She hurried past him, moving in the other direction.

"Sue Ellen! What about Lori! You said...she was your friend..."

She paused next to the still form of a Kurita guard, stooped quickly, and retrieved a sonic stun pistol. As she tucked it into her combat harness, she looked back across her shoulder. "She was my friend, Captain. And...I think you were, too. You accepted me, even after...after what I'd done. But I can't help you any more. Or her."

"Of course you can..."

"No, Captain. But...thanks anyway, for trying. There's something else I have to see about– someone I have to see."

Almost, he called to her again, but the look in her eyes burned through to the marrow of his bones. He would have to try to track down Sue Ellen later.

The sentries were where Sue Ellen had said they would be, a pair of grim-faced Kurita troops flanking a door marked Room 6. They shifted the black and vicious-looking automatic weapons in their hands to aim at Grayson as he stepped around the comer and into the main passageway.

Grayson’s TK spat fire first, hammering one of the sentries back against the wall. The second man returned the fire, the roar of his subgun murderously loud in the narrow space between the dank stone walls. Grayson was already on the floor and rolling to the opposite side of the passageway. The TK bucked and yammered again, then cut off with a silence as deafening as its roar, the chamber clicking empty.

But the sentry was dead, his body sliding to the floor, leaving a heavy trail of blood smeared down across the stone wall at his back.

The door to Room 6 swung open, and Grayson plunged through into a scene of horror.

* * * *

Sergeant Ramage crouched low behind the crumbled pile of stone facing as submachine gun bullets ricocheted against unyielding stone, spraying him with tiny fragments of powdered rock. He touched his throat mike and yelled to be heard above the battle's roar. "Jared! Three o'clock from my position! You see him?"

"Got him!" a tinny voice confirmed in his ear. "Wait one..."

There was a thump from the darkness behind and above Ramage's position, followed by a crashing blast of noise from the doorway thirty meters to his right. The subgun's chatter was chopped short by the scattering shrapnel of the 20 mm grenade from Jared's launcher.

A chorus of shouts and yells sounded from straight ahead, through the archway under the main tower. Ramage brought his laser rifle up, then froze, his finger still off the trigger. It was another wave of freed Verthandian prisoners, ragged in the gray uniforms they'd been given by their captors, haggard but still defiant. There were about thirty in this group. Many brandished weapons wrested from now-dead guards and chance-encountered Kurita troops. Ramage stood, shouted, and waved his own weapon until the band saw him. It was risky, but he thought his black night-fighter's garb set him apart enough from the usual denizens of the citadel that he would not be shot out of hand.

Shot by accident, maybe, he thought, but out of hand, no...

The prisoners surged toward his position with a cheer. Ramage's eyes widened as he recognized one of the faces, owlish behind the thick glasses he still somehow wore.