Текст книги " The Price of Glory"

Автор книги: Уильям Кейт

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5

They arrived too late.

From the ridge west of Durandel, the BattleMech company looked down on a horror of destruction. Multiple, roiling columns of smoke boiled into a sky now heavy and black under the pall from a hundred smoldering fires. Grayson swept what had been the town of Durandel with his scanners once . . . twice ... a third time, but could find no building still intact, no sign of life. The village had been systematically destroyed, almost building by building. The new 'Mech repair facilities on the east side of the town were gone, leaving only desolation and ruin. The Legion's fortress, Helmfast, built into the cliff face above the north side of town, was shattered, with only isolated portions still standing among gaunt, laser-charred and missile-broken towers. Black smoke curled up from behind the remnants of the castle wall.

A low moan sounded over the combat channel. Who? It didn't matter. They all felt the same way, shared the devastation of this loss. The knowledge that they had come too late to prevent this senseless yet calculated destruction burned within them.

"Clear the circuits," Grayson said, surprising himself with the bitterness of his own words.

In close formation, the DropShips Phobosand Deimoshad decelerated on ravening tongues of fusion flame, dumping velocity under 4 Gs of thrust as they'd backed down into Helm's atmosphere. The sense that something was wrong, critically wrong, had been reinforced with every hour closer to their target.

The two DropShips had been challenged three times on their high-speed run toward Helm, but no AeroSpace Fighters or DropShips had been in positions to launch an intercept. It was soon clear that all the in-system ships were Marik forces, making it more and more likely that some sort of civil war had broken out on Helm. The knowledge had hounded Grayson's people forward, like men and women possessed.

It also made possible their wild flight in-bound. DropShips and AeroSpace Fighters patrolling the approaches were slow in their challenges, and apparently willing to ignore the pair of DropShips as they began the final leg of their deceleration in toward Helm. When they were challenged by the DropShips Lancelot,Captain Use Martinez, the intense and raven-haired commander of the Phobos,had announced that the Marik ship was in position for an intercept. When the Lancelot'ssecond challenge had come, Martinez responded with a blistering string of oaths, claiming to be inbound on the Duke's business.

With the Marik ship barely 12,000 kilometers distant, the Phobosand the Deimoshad fallen past Lancelot'sorbit with no further challenges, and not so much as a query about which of several possible dukes the tiny flotilla served.

Then had come the final maneuvers for landing. Storm clouds swirled and billowed above the dead sea plain below Durandel as the Legion's DropShips streaked across heaven into Helm's ionosphere. With Marik fighters belatedly closing on atmosphere-skimming trajectories, the two Legion DropShips had applied a last, thundering bellow of deceleration and plunged into the cloud cover. Martinez in the Phobosand Lieutenant Thurston in the Deimoshad timed their approaches perfectly. The ships set down less than twenty kilometers from Durandel, just on the other side of a low ridge west of the settlement. That the ships had been tracked on radar was certain. Grayson was still hoping that any Marik observers would assume that the two DropShips either bore VIPs too important to bother with formalities such as transmitting IDs, or had pilots too stupid or too careless to identify themselves.

It might buy them time. Once on the ground, they would have to trust their ability to move fast enough to keep Marik ground forces guessing. The Phobosand the Deimoswould be the weak points of the plan. Once grounded, they could not move. Martinez and Thurston would have to find rough country where something as large as two DropShips could be hidden, at least for a time.

Grayson knew, however, that time would soon be an even greater enemy to the Legion than the unknown forces they could hear over taccom wavelengths on the ground.

After an unopposed landing, Grayson deployed the command lance and the fire lance forward. The recon lance and Captain Ramage's company had remained to guard the landing zone. His command lance consisted, as always, of Lori's Shadow Hawk,Kelmar Clay's Wolverine,and Davis McCall's Rifleman,as well as his own Marauder.The fire lance was headed by Lieutenant Khaled in his Warhammer.Isoru Koga and his Archerhad been in the fire lance for the past eight months, and Sharyl with her Shadow Hawkhad come in from the recon lance when Stennman was killed. Charles Bear in his Crusaderhad replaced Jenna Hastings.

An hour after touchdown, they reached the crest of the ridge and were looking down into the smoking ruin of their home.

"Captain!" Lori said. She used the lower of Grayson's two ranks deliberately. It would serve no good purpose to alert possible listeners that a regimental commander, a Colonel, was here. "Movement at 3200, bearing 095!"

Grayson ranged in on the indicated coordinates. Over three kilometers distant and almost due east, his Marauder'sscanners picked up the indicated target and outlined it in green light on his HUD.

"I see, it, Lieutenant. They're still here."

Bastards,Grayson thought. The settlement's murderers moved through the rubble yet, slowly and deliberately. Perhaps no one had informed them of the DropShip landing so close at hand. Perhaps they knew and didn't care, thinking the landing meant the arrival of more Marik reinforcements—or more scavengers come to nestle down at the settlement's corpse.

Machines moved in the rubble. Grayson could make out the lithe shape of a Phoenix Hawkand the hulking form of a Griffinfarther out. The Phoenix Hawkwas mindlessly kicking at a section of ferrocrete wall that was still standing. Two kicks, and the wall toppled over in a cloud of dust, rubble, and splintered stone. The Griffin,moving with slow deliberation, stooped and began to use its metal hands to paw through the rubble of what had once been the community's astech barracks. Was it searching for loot? For survivors? Grayson didn't know. Indeed, a kind of numbness had paralyzed his mind and will, as well as his hands. He could only stare in horrified fascination at the raped and ravaged village.

There were more 'Mechs moving through the ruins farther off: a pair of Stingersand a Wasp.

Grayson's eyes flicked between his HUD and a console monitor giving him updated information from his long-range passive scanners. He had seven . . . no . . . eight targets moving within scanner range. With the exception of the 55-ton Griffinand a pair of 45-ton Phoenix Hawks,all the machines picking through the steaming rubble appeared to be lights– Stingersand Wasps.Grayson's lightest 'Mechs were the pair of 55-ton Shadow Hawks.

The anger that had been boiling somewhere deep within him came rushing out now, a roaring in his ears and a quickening of his heart. Murderers!The Gray Death would sweep down on them like avenging angels, angels of death.

"We'll take them," he said over the command circuit. "Lances . . . weapons up! Arm! Deploy!"

The targets in the rubble of Durandel were unsuspecting, so absorbed were they in dismembering the last vestiges of the town. One of the Stingershad uncovered a prize, a huddled group of people hiding under a blanket of sheet tin near the foundations of a demolished warehouse. The Stingerhad just gestured those survivors out into daylight with a wave of its hand-mounted medium laser when motion or some other warning shouted across the pilot's command circuits brought the BattleMech's head up and around. Grayson's 75-ton Marauderstrode througha standing wall, sending chunks of rubble cascading across the street as the almost-prisoners scattered in screaming terror. The Stinger'spilot hesitated, then started to bring his 'Mech's laser up. Too late. Twin lasers caught the Stingerfull in the right torso and arm, leaving smoking scars gouged across armor and soft, internal structure.

Grayson took another step, making certain that the unprotected humans were safely out of the way, then triggered both lasers again, this time adding the lightning fury of his twin PPCs to the barrage. Blue lightning sparked and snapped across the target. The Stinger'sright arm, already shattered, went spinning through the air, its laser still clutched in its metal fist. The 'Mech sagged backward, its gyros shrieking, smoke pouring from multiple, gaping holes in the light 'Mech's armor. Grayson added his autocannon to the barrage, and 120 mm shells slashed and chopped explosive mayhem through the Stinger'sravaged framework. Chips of armor broke free under the explosive hail and spun crazily through the air. Grayson strode in ever closer, his autocannon hammering away, spent shell casings ringing and clanging across the outer hull of his machine.

There was a flash and then a puff of smoke. The Stinger'sblocky head opened as panels broke free from one another, and the 'Mech's pilot rocketed into the sky. A far brighter flash buried in the 'Mech's torso rent metal already twisted and smashed, scattering smoking fragments on the street.

Another 'Mech, a Wasp,strode into Grayson's field of fire. He pivoted his Marauderon its forward-canted leg mount, bringing both weapons-heavy forearms into line. PPC and laser fire lanced across the street, striking the Waspand driving it down and back. Grayson saw that the Wasphad already been damaged by laser fire to its side and back.

The Wasprecovered, managing to swing its Diverse Optics medium laser into line with Grayson's cockpit.

Coherent light washed across the Marauder'souter hull, but the heavy machine's optics blanked out light that would have seared Grayson's eyes, and the massive outer armor plate dissipated the heat harmlessly. Grayson's Maraudertook six quick steps across the street, its ponderous forearms sweeping up and around. Like a massive club, the Marauder'sright arm smashed against the Wasp'sleft arm and body. Armor plate buckled with a human-sounding shriek, and the Wasptumbled backward into a crumbling pile of rubble. Three more shots from Grayson's PPCs, and the Waspwas still, a fire burning among the charred remnants of wiring and conduits exposed in its cratered center torso.

To make sure it would never rise again, Grayson unleashed one last barrage of PPC fire into the metal corpse. For the moment, he was beyond remembering, beyond reason. A berserker's rage had come upon him, a rage for vengeance, a rage to kill and kill and kill again until he had hunted down every last one of his people's murderers and their killer machines. His Marauderstalked the ruined streets of Durandel, changing the Marik 'Mechs suddenly from predators to prey.

The madness had overcome them all. Grayson came upon Lori firing bolt after blue-tinged bolt of laser light into the twisted hulk of a Phoenix Hawkthat lay sprawled in the wreckage of a house. Delmar Clay's Wolverinecharged the Marik Griffinin a fight that was almost even, until Bear's Crusaderand Khaled's Warhammerjoined Clay in an orchestrated nightmare of laser fire that all but shredded the enemy Griffin.As the Griffinwent down, it was Lieutenant Khaled who guided his Warhammerclose enough to send one massive, armored foot smashing down on the Griffin'scockpit. That pilot would not survive to pillage other towns. Once the Marik 'Mechs realized their danger, they tried to escape. Ironically, it was the rubble in the streets of the town they had destroyed that blocked them, and channeled them in directions that Grayson's raiders could predict—and intercept.

The battle, if such it was, was over in fifteen minutes. Not a single Marik 'Mech survived.

It was only after the last enemy Stingerhad exploded in a pyrotechnic flash of light, sound, and shredded metal that Grayson realized he could barely see through the heavy HUD visor of his neurohelmet because his tears were half-blinding him.

He was still crying as the 'Mechs of his company rendezvoused in the center of what had been Durandel's market square.

* * *

The Marik DropShip Assagaifell into orbit around Helm. She was an old LeagueClass ship, one outfitted as an orbital headquarters and communications relay vessel for Marik planetary operations. Dish antennae deployed from communication equipment bays high up near the armored bulge that marked the ship's bridge maintained two rigid lines of sight. One was directed at the gleaming brilliance of the ice-bound planet below, while the other was directed outward into deep space, toward the jump point where silently pulsing jets of hot plasma held the JumpShips Rapaciousand Huntressin place against the gravitational pull of the local sun.

The Assagai'scaptain was a veteran of many years' service for Janos Marik. During his forty-eight years in space, Fenric Javil had seen more than his share of radar tracks.

Weightless, he floated above and behind the boy who manned the Assagai'snumber two deep radar. His arm extended past the boy's head, one bony finger probing at the green screen. "Those tracks, son. What d'you make of 'em?"

"Uh—entry tracks, Captain," replied the youngster strapped into the radar watch seat, his voice shaking a bit as he spoke. He'd hoped to escape Captain Javil's notice a while longer.

"Entry tracks is right. Whose?"

"I heard a query from Lancelotas they went by sir. They . . . they didn't answer."

"They didn't? And didn't you find that suspicious?"

"Sir . . . the guys on Lancelotsaid it was a pair of generals going in for a tour, see? And Shiggy said ..." The boy's voice faltered and his eyes widened as he realized he had somehow slipped into the trap of speaking familiarly with the Captain.

Javil's eyes tracked across the bridge to meet the dark eyes of another deep-radar watchstander, eyes that suddenly ducked back behind a console as their owner abruptly became very busy.

"By 'Shiggy,' I assume you mean Junior Lieutenant Shigamura? Tell me, son, what did Lieutenant Shigamura tell you about those targets?"

"He . . . that is . . . that the . . . the targets were just bigwigs popping in from the new JumpShip, sir."

"New JumpShip?" Javil's eyes closed slowly. When they opened, it was with a snap that was nearly audible and a bellowing roar that rang through the bridge. “ What goddamn JumpShip?”

"Sir, Shiggy . . . Lieutenant Shigamura, I mean . . . he got an echo on deep radar that might be a new JumpShip under deployed sail at the nadir jump point. But he said it must be a new arrival to the fleet from Marik . . . maybe Duke Irian himself ..."

"Shigamura! Front and center!"

A second watch officer swam across the bridge from where he had been attempting to become invisible at his post.

"Mr. Shigamura! Would you be so kind as to explain how it is that an officer aboard a Free Worlds warship, in the middle of a complex military exercise against a possibly belligerent world, could be so ... so careless as to note the presence of an untagged JumpShip in this solar system and not report the fact to me? Or to the Exec? Or to the senior officer of the watch? Or to say any goddamned thing to anybody at all?"

"No, sir! I mean, yes, sir! I mean ..."

"Quiet! Do I further understand that the twoof you tracked a pair of unidentified DropShips in from this untagged JumpShip and let it pass right under our noses without demanding an ID of it? Or telling somebody?"

"S-sir, things were pretty confusing, right then," Lyster said. "JumpShips had been dropping in and out at the jump points for the whole watch, and we thought it was more of the same! I don't think I've ever seen so many ships in one system before . . . merchant vessels trailing the military DropShips . . . and then there was the scuttlebutt that the Duke of Irian was coming. When those two Dropships didn't respond to Lancelot'sID call, we thought ..."

"You thought!When I want a goddamned junior lieutenant who can think,I'll goddamned well commission my wristcomp! Or a cockroach down in the galley! Good God, between the two of you, you idiots don't have the brains of a Kalidasan mosslug! You're not here to think! You're here to watch your radar screens and sing out when you see something—anything! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yessir!" The two chimed in chorus.

"Another goddamned ass-brained malf like that and I'll put the pair of you out the airlock! Now back to your posts! And nexttime you see something that just might be an enemy ship slipping in to blow us all away to hell, sing out!"

Javil stormed his way hand-over-hand to the podium at the center of the bridge where his private seat and control consoles were located. Senior Lieutenant Yolan Flynn, his Exec, unbelted from the seat and drifted aside to make room for the Captain.

"We miss something coming in?"

"My God, Flynn, I don't know how they expect us to manage!" He strapped himself down and began punching numbers into the console. Working carefully and with the accuracy of long experience, he coded the bridge computer to relay a playback of the deep radar tracks to his central console screen. "Children!"he muttered. "They're sending us half-trained, slug-brained, thumb-chewing children, and they expect us to fight wars! Bah!"

"Things are getting pretty thin back at reppledep. What have you got?"

Javil leaned forward, studying the paired tracks as they arrowed in low above the cloud-hooded face of the planet.

"Two DropShips. Not ours . . . not merchants. Here, Flynn. What do you make of this?"

The radar screen showed white-on-green traceries, two blips racing in across the broken surface of the planet. Clouds appeared as vague ghosts, close against the uneven ground. The blips slowed sharply, generating a cascade of computer analysis in tiny, tightly written characters that spoke of changing vectors, or mass and speed and direction.

"They're ducking into those storm clouds."

"Right. Immediately after the Lancelotchallenged them."

"Hostiles, then? We were told there wasn't any chance that hostile warships would arrive in the middle of the operation."

"We were told a lot of things." Javil's voice was sour. He manipulated controls, speeding things forward. While he advanced the record, the Assagaihad moved forward on her orbit around Helm, and the twin blips were barely visible, settling to the surface a few kilometers west of the village of Durandel. He began comparing the radar image on the record with stored radar views taken of the surface on previous sweeps.

"That settles it, Flynn. They're grounding right outside the town all the fuss is about."

"Interesting."

"It's a damned sight more than interesting." Javil bent over the readings for a moment. "Hah! Got it! I've got them spotted relative to that mountain range to the south, and to Durandel itself. That'll pinpoint them—right to the mark, or close enough!"

"But they'll have been down for hours!"

"True . . . true . . . But a DropShip! Ah! That isa prize, Flynn. One worth fighting for! And here we've got two of them cold, with a small army on the surface already, plus AeroSpace Fighters and some DropShips of our own." He looked up at his Exec. "Open a line to the Colonel for me."

The Exec glanced at the bridge chronometer. "Aye aye. Captain. He's over the horizon now, but we can hit him with a relay off Comsat Twelve." Lieutenant Flynn used his throat mike to contact the Assagai'scommunications department.

It would take long minutes for Javil's request to reach his superiors aboard the Rapaciousat the system's zenith jump point, and more time again for a reply to make its way back to Helm. While he waited, he decided to get things moving. As the ranks of naval Captain and MechForce Colonel were approximately equivalent and their areas of authority did not overlap, he could not pass orders on to the Colonel in charge of surface operations on Helm, but he couldpass the news on in a friendly and unofficial fashion. Javil rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. This was big!After relaying the orders to ComDep, Flynn looked back up at Javil. "Captain? What about that JumpShip?"

"I doubt that there's much we can do. If it's hostile, it'll be jumping soon. It would surely be gone by the time we could get ships out there. So, we'll ignore the JumpShip for now, though I want the Rapaciousnotified and I want a twenty-four-hour watch put on it from here. I want to know the instant that JumpShip does anythingout there. Got me?"

"Yessir." The Exec touched his earpiece, listening. "ComDep has the Colonel on the line for you, Captain."

"Good." Javil adjusted his own earpiece, then touched a control on his console. "Colonel Langsdorf? Captain Javil here. Fine . . . fine ... no problem. But we dohave some news. We've picked up a pair of targets for you, over closer to Durandel. Move fast, and you just might catch yourself a real prize!"