Warrior: Coupé (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Three): BattleTech Legends, #59

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Yvonne nodded curtly. “I’ll send it out over the command circuit we’ve established to Tikonov immediately.” A frown creased her brow for a moment, then she fixed Hanse with a steady stare. “I do think we should go ahead and requisition the JumpShips we have on reserve status. It will be clumsy, but it’s important to establish and maintain communications between our soldiers and their families. It will be important for morale.”

  Hanse looked down as he considered the proposal. If I strip more JumpShips from the commercial sector, trade will slow down. We can probably maintain traffic in essentials, but shipments of luxury goods will have to be cut back. Some people will hate that, but l suppose they’d hate not hearing from their loved ones more. The former will breed discontent, but the latter would create fear and resentment.

  The Prince brought his head up. “Quintus?”

  The spymaster licked his lips. “I can have a report about a minimal maintenance network on your desk in twelve hours. We can move everything but exotics with this network, assuming the Kathil shipyards keep ships running and out of dry docks on schedule. I can have my people coordinate with Yvonne’s subordinates to create a system that might allow some commercial movement of military correspondence, just to speed things up.”

  Marshal Pedroza cleared her throat. “I’d like to add that I support the field marshal’s suggestion. Our warriors are living and dying at mail calls. On more than one occasion, I’ve had whole battalions volunteer for duty ferrying mail from a landing zone to the front.”

  “Very well,” the Prince said. “Yvonne, get your people together with Quintus’s and work this network out.” He looked at his intelligence minister. “Tell the people in Ways and Means that if there’s room for anything more than the basic necessities in the shipping schedule, priority goes to the lowest-priced luxury items—with emphasis on entertainment products, clothes, cosmetics, and other things people buy to make themselves happy. I don’t want one Avanti aircar coming in when something for plenty of people could be shipped instead.”

  Quintus grinned broadly. “As you direct, my Prince.”

  Now the most difficult part of this meeting. The Prince regarded both of the men nearest him. “You have heard, of course, of the disastrous assault made by the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers on Sarna. It’s true they landed on a position defended by McCarron’s Armored Cavalry. The Fusiliers had not expected opposition, and as a result, got sliced up badly. As you have also heard, McCarron captured General Gordon Hartstone and I have refused to ransom him.”

  The Prince watched both men for reactions, but they kept them well-hidden. “The Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers presented a problem for me, gentlemen. I had evidence implicating their general staff in a treasonous plot directed against me. I had hoped, after Michael Hasek-Davion’s death, that all three of the Fusilier RCTs would return to the fold, as it were. But the Fifth did not mend its ways. General Hartstone demanded—not requested, demanded—a combat assignment that would avenge the duke.”

  The Prince narrowed his ice-blue eyes. “I learned of a move within the Capellan March to support making Hartstone a warlord of sorts. Disguised as a patriotic movement within the March, it was nothing short of treason. I could not discharge the Fusiliers’ leader because he would have bolted and taken most of his unit with him. Having no other reasonable choice, I gave him the combat assignment he wanted.”

  The Prince gestured at Quintus Allard. “We learned, after the JumpShips had headed out for Sarna, that McCarron’s Armored Cavalry was on Sarna. Had Hartstone followed our original assault plan, we could have prevented the bloodbath. But Hartstone was looking too far ahead, imagining his glorious return to the Capellan March, and had boosted his DropShips in at two-point-five Gs. That meant he arrived a full two days ahead of the mercenary regiments accompanying him.”

  Hanse Davion sighed heavily. “Their lead gave McCarron’s Armored Cavalry two days to play with them. McCarron’s people were dug in and threw everything they had at the Fusiliers. We recovered less than a battalion of ’Mechs, and only half of them operational. Losses of armor and infantry were even worse. For all intents and purposes, the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers no long exists.”

  Silence settled over the meeting as the extent of carnage that could destroy a full Regimental Combat Team overwhelmed everyone in the room. Hanse felt anger burn his insides. Damn you, Michael Hasek-Davion. Why did you force me to waste so many people? Was your hatred for me so deep? Was your dream of glory so blind?

  The Prince’s voice came flat and controlled despite his internal rage. “Understand me, gentlemen, and make sure all the officers in your commands understand me. I cannot afford to have the Federated Suns divided against itself. There will be glory enough for all of us when this war is over. For now, we must stand together, or our enemies will exploit our weaknesses to pull us apart. With the interdiction, we’re half-blind, but we’re not finished unless more people contemplate treason.”

  Hanse Davion leaned forward, letting his voice drop to a chilling whisper. “In short, gentlemen, I will reward those who serve me well, and discard those who work against me. We fight for the Federated Suns, and anyone who decides to work for himself should take a lesson from the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers.”

  Chapter 20

  RYDE

  VIRGINIA SHIRE

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  6 JUNE 3029

  Why me? Why do I always get the assignments that go to hell? Leutnant Joachim Rhinestag swallowed hard as he keyed his radio mike and stared out from the massive gray dolmen. “Eagle One to Eagle’s Nest.”

  A bored female voice replied to his signal slowly. “Go ahead, Eagle One. What have you got, Joachim?”

  Joachim drew in a deep breath and fought against the nervousness tying his stomach into knots. “I found the place where those two Overlords went to ground. I’ve got a reinforced company of Kurita ’Mechs about five hundred meters north of my current position. They look like mediums and heavies, with an Orion and two Marauders being the top of the line for them. The unit insignia is a black tidal wave within a circle. The wave has stars and a little boat about to be smashed beneath its crest.”

  A new voice, one full of false courage, cut in on the frequency. “Eagle One, this is Kommandant Wyler. What are your coordinates? We will send the militia out to deal with them.”

  Joachim’s heart leaped to his throat. “No, sir. I mean, negative, Eagle’s Nest.” Joachim sneaked another peek at the nearly fifty ’Mechs moving round on the rubble-strewn plain below his position. “Sir, our militia would be eaten alive down there.” He hesitated and swallowed hard. “I don’t think they want trouble, sir.”

  “What! You’re telling me a Kurita ’Mech company lands on Ryde and doesn’t want trouble? Have you been hit on the head, boy?”

  Oh, God, now the kommandant thinks… Damn! I’m in deep trouble now. “Look, Kommandant, they’re out on Hanover Flats just moving rocks around.”

  Utter disbelief strung the kommandant’s words together. “Moving rocks around? Are they creating a fortification?” The unspoken question in the kommandant’s reply was “why?” Being a young planet, Ryde was prone to earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, which made construction a very fine art. Haphazard projects always came tumbling down.

  Joachim passed his left hand over his mouth, wiping away the sweat on his upper lip. “No sir, not a fortification. I think they’re building a replica of the battlefield on Mallory’s World where the Kell Hounds and the Second Sword of Light fought thirteen years ago.”

  “What? How the hell would you conclude that?”

  Jesus, Joachim, don’t blow it now. “I read a book on that campaign, sir. Saw a map. From here, it looks the same. And…and I’ve monitored some of their radio chatter. I heard the phrase ‘Kieru inu.’ That’s Japanese for ‘Kell Hound,’ sir. I got that from the book, too.”

  The kommandant’s voice had gained an edge. “You read a book that’s let you get into the mind of Kurita warriors. Is thi
s what you want me to believe?” He paused for emphasis. “This from the junior officer who previously reported a mining site abandoned a century ago as a forward Kurita base?”

  I’ll never live that down! Joachim felt a bead of sweat course down his forehead and along his nose. “Sir, believe me, the weight of these ’Mechs is enough to destroy our militia a million times over. Were I asked, I’d devote myself to civil defense measures there in Heaven’s Gate. They’re minding their own business now, but if they wanted to take Ryde, you’d be telling me about them and not the other way around.”

  Joachim let the true depth of his fear flood his words, which seemed to have an effect on the kommandant. “Dammit, Rhinestag, when you get to my position, I hope like hell you have a recruit like yourself in your command. Keep an eye on them and report back if the situation changes. Eagle’s Nest out.”

  Joachim closed his eyes. Thank God. “Roger, Eagle One out.” The Steiner scout opened his eyes and looked up at the tall, bronze-haired MechWarrior standing over him. “How was that?”

  Akira Brahe nodded slowly and returned his pistol to the holster on his right hip. “You did well, Joachim.” He glanced toward where the rest of the Genyosha labored to transform the valley below into a replica of the Mallory’s World battlefield where his father had last fought Morgan Kell.

  “We will be finished soon, and you will be able to return to your home.” Akira plucked a small holodisk from a pocket on his cooling vest. “Just before you leave, I will give you one of these with a message on it. When you get back to Heaven’s Gate, you will give it over to ComStar for transmission to the Kell Hounds. You will not view it, nor turn it over to anyone else. Wakarimasu ka?”

  Joachim nodded.

  Akira smiled. “Good. And don’t look so dour, Leutnant Rhinestag. If you’d not been here to carry our message back, we would have had to raid Heaven’s Gate. The citizens will never know it, but you just saved their lives…”

  Chapter 21

  THARKAD

  DISTRICT OF DONEGAL

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  20 JUNE 3029

  Jeana forced a smile as she sat on the edge of her bed and watched Misha feed the holodisk into the viewer. “No, Misha. I don’t mind previewing our next warvid release. I should, after all, know what we’re telling our people.” How can I tell you I’ve seen it twice already and nearly died both times when they showed Dan’s Wolfhound getting hit?

  Misha brushed her long black hair back from the collar of her red gown. “Ever since your mother mentioned my theories to Simon Johnson, he’s had me previewing these newsreels to see what intelligence we let slip. I’d rather not watch it now, but he wants my ‘imprimatur’ on it before you and I head up to the Winter Palace for the week.” She punched a button on the viewer’s remote control, filling the room with a martial soundtrack before pictures actually appeared on the screen. “Johnson hopes he can show a copy of this to the officers from the Federated Suns when they meet with him and your mother this afternoon. I guess, from his urgency, they were not expected. With the interdiction, all planning is probably going to hell. Anyway, Johnson’s waiting for me to call with approval so he can pick it up on the way down to his meeting.”

  Jeana nodded woodenly as the commentator’s deep voice replaced the fading music. “Combine troops landed on Lyons in force in a daring strike behind the front. They hoped their assault on an unprotected world would extinguish our will to fight, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. They landed without opposition, but soon found themselves engaged in a battle to the death with the famous mercenaries, the Kell Hounds.”

  Battle footage, cut together from the sensor output of both Kell Hounds and captured Combine ’Mechs, flashed across the screen. Jeana and Misha watched as the red and black ’Mechs of the Kell Hounds regiment advanced through the smoking ruin of what had once been New Freedom. “Though the town has been swept clean of opposition, the Kell Hounds are still vigilant. The night before, however, the Combine MechWarriors made the battle for this small outpost a thing of history.”

  Jeana stiffened as the exchange between Dan’s Wolfhound and the Kurita Clint filled the screen. Autocannon slugs blasted a line of craters into the Wolfhound’s chest while a medium laser slashed into the ’Mech’s left thigh. The Wolfhound reacted with the impact, then the scene shifted for a pilot’s-eye view of Dan’s crippling counterattack. “Outraged by the Kurita strike on this innocent village, Captain Daniel Allard fights back, regardless of the weight difference he surrenders to this enemy ’Mech.”

  Before the program could move on to Morgan’s exchange with the Rifleman—the part Jeana hated most because of Dan’s brush with disaster—a gentle knocking at the door saved her. “Yes?”

  Misha killed the holovid as Melissa’s chambermaid spoke through the door. “Highness, a Captain John Bailey of the Davion Light Guards has requested a word with you.”

  At the mention of Andrew Redburn’s unit, Misha’s face brightened. Jeana stood up and adjusted the silver belt on her navy-blue jumpsuit. Misha smoothed the wrinkles in her long skirt, then both of them glanced at their reflections in the mirror and giggled.

  Jeana moved to the door. “We’ll see him in the parlor.”

  She waited long enough for her servant to usher the visitor into the parlor room of her suite. Allowing Misha to precede her into the rectangular room, she nodded to dismiss the maid. Extending her hand, Jeana crossed the white carpet to greet her guest. “Captain Bailey, I am glad to meet you.”

  The Davion captain, resplendent in his maroon uniform, clicked the heels of his cavalry boots together and executed a respectful bow. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “It is the honor of my life to meet you, Highness.” Blue eyes flashed up from a handsome face, trying to communicate a message that Jeana could not fathom.

  She withdrew her hand from his warm grasp and turned to introduce Misha. “This is my best friend, Misha Auburn.”

  The captain smiled as he took Misha’s hand. “The historian’s daughter. The pleasure is all mine.”

  Something’s not right here. Jeana saw a look of consternation flicker over Misha’s face. What is it?

  Misha smiled politely. “You must be newly assigned to the Light Guards, Captain.”

  Bailey frowned, his bushy black eyebrows furrowing into a sharp wedge. “I have been with the Guards for three years, Ms. Auburn.”

  Misha blinked twice, pointed to the campaign ribbons on his jacket’s left breast. “Then why aren’t you wearing the blue and green ribbon for the St. Andre strike?”

  That’s it! Even as Bailey covered his surprise with a pleasant grin, Jeana swept forward. She smashed her left knee into the soldier’s groin, lifting him off the floor. She tangled her fingers in his curly black hair, and as he doubled over, she brought his head down to greet her knee as it rose again.

  “Melissa!” Misha stared at her in horror.

  Jeana ignored the outburst as she stripped the gun from the unconscious warrior. Good. Mauser and Gray M-27 needle pistol. She snapped the breech open and saw a virgin block of ballistic polymer in the chamber. Enough plastic there for a nice long battle.

  Misha grabbed her shoulder. “Melissa, what are you doing? You’re scaring me.”

  Jeana looked up, then pointed to the man’s boots. “No spurs. He’s not wearing any spurs…”

  Misha’s mouth hung open. “He’s not a MechWarrior from the Federated Suns…I should have seen that…”

  Jeana nodded curtly. “You did see something. You noticed the campaign ribbons.” I should have caught the heel click. We all learned it at Sanglamore because it pleased Duke Lestrade. Jeana tore the soldier’s jacket open and pulled up his shirt. She shook her head.

  Wrapped around his waist, the man wore a long, slender strip of green silk. She pointed to it for Misha’s benefit. “Sanglamore Sash. The idiot wanted to pass as Davion, but he couldn’t be without his sash.” Jeana unknotted it and pulled it free. “Help me roll him over,
and pull off his boots.”

  Misha moved slowly, as if in a trance, as she followed Jeana’s orders. “Sanglamore… that means he’s from Skye.”

  Jeana grimaced as she wrapped the sash around the man’s throat, then used it to bind his wrists together. “And that means the other visitors from the Federated Suns are impostors as well. He was probably going to hold me here as a hostage. The duke must be trying to kill the Archon yet again.”

  Misha stood and walked toward the visiphone. “I’ll call Simon Johnson.”

  “No!”

  Jeana’s command stopped Misha dead in her tracks. “Why not? Your mother is meeting with the fake envoy right now. She’s in danger.”

  Jeana stood, hefting the pistol in her right hand. “If we set off an alarm, they’ll kill her for sure. I would guess they’re waiting for Johnson to show up so they can kill him, too. If he dies, Lyran security falls apart, making a coup very easy. Lestrade is playing to win this one.” She looked up at Misha. “Where are they meeting?”

  Misha shrugged. “Your mother’s office, I assume.”

  “Dammit, that’s no good. One way in, one way out.”

  Misha frowned. “What about the passageway behind the bookcase?”

  Jeana’s heart leaped to her throat. My briefings mentioned Melissa’s knowledge of the secret passages in the palace, but we never had time for her to show me more than a few meters of any of them. Hell, she grew up here—as Misha did—I’d never know them as well as either one of them did. And Melissa said she’d forgotten most of what she knew anyway. “Misha, show me the way.”

  Misha grinned. “You know the way. You used to sneak in there all the time and listen to your tutors tell your mother what they thought of you.”

  Jeana hesitated, then added more authority to her voice. “Misha, this is no time for games. Show me the way.”

  Misha’s face darkened. “You’re acting strange, Melissa. Maybe all this is a figment of your imagination. I’m going to call Simon…”