Morgan turned toward Vebber. “Your equipment is good enough to track a satellite? I mean, you could hit it with a microwave beam if you wanted to?”
Vebber glowed under Morgan’s attention. “Yes, Highness. Easily. In fact, our equipment is good enough to hit a dinner plate up to four hundred thousand kilometers away with no focal distortion or waver.”
Morgan smiled. “Then you could hit a DropShip entering the atmosphere on a raid.”
Vebber stiffened. “No, Highness. That could never happen.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Even if I wanted it to happen, Mr. Vebber?”
The plant owner shook his head. “No, Highness. I would not permit it.”
Morgan smiled, slowly and cruelly. “Even if I gave you a direct order, Mr. Vebber?”
Vebber’s jowls trembled as he shook his head. “No, Highness. This is a privately held firm, and you cannot give orders here.”
Morgan’s smile died, replaced by a darkening look of anger. “If I order it, Mr. Vebber, you will do it!” Morgan pointed back at the map. “If Liao invaders are burning their way into this atmosphere, you will do it!”
Vebber’s jaw dropped and, for a moment, Andrew thought the administrator had seen the light. The hope died at Vebber’s derisive reply. “You’re not Hanse Davion, and you’re certainly not your father. I take no orders from you.”
Morgan looked down at the man sitting at the command station. “What’s your name?”
Swiveling his chair about to face Vebber, the operator adjusted his glasses. “Lyekiz, Highness. Tim Lyekiz.”
Morgan unholstered his pistol and charged it with a metallic snap. “You could use your station here to hit a Liao ship coming in-system, right?”
Lyekiz nodded.
Morgan looked up at Vebber. “And you’d do it if I told you to, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Morgan raised the gun and aimed at Vebber. “Then we have no need for Mr. Vebber, do we?”
Lyekiz grinned. “No, sir.”
Vebber’s eyes popped wide open as he stared down the bore of Morgan’s pistol. Sweat beaded on his brow, then coursed down his face. Strands of hair splayed down over his forehead as his mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe air. For a moment, Vebber looked as though he might faint, then some color returned to his ashen face as low, slightly mad laughter rolled from his throat.
“Oh, Highness, I misunderstood.” He glanced back at Andrew, eyes begging for someone to confirm the lie he was about to tell. “I thought you meant one of our DropShips. Rainstorms always affect my hearing…you know, Liao…our—the words sound so similar. I thought you were testing my loyalty to the Prince, Highness.”
While Vebber was pleading for his life, Andrew noticed that the expressions on the faces of a number of the operators showed hope that Morgan would pull the trigger. Hell, it looks like a Maskirovka hit team could get directions to Vebber’s office from just about anyone in this company.
Morgan held the gun on Vebber, letting the man blubber on until he realized no one believed his outlandish story. “I understand your confusion, Mr. Vebber,” Morgan said, pointing the pistol toward the ceiling. “You were correct that I am not Prince Hanse Davion, nor am I my father. I was sent here to do a job. No one and nothing will stop me.”
With those words still echoing through the command center, Morgan Hasek-Davion turned on his heel and left to accomplish more important work.
Though the Kathil Militia Reserve auditorium was less than half-full, Andrew felt as though it were packed to bursting. It’s the anticipation and fear. It radiates off all these MechWarriors like heat from a BattleMech. Seated in the front row, Andrew felt the pressure increase as Morgan Hasek-Davion stepped behind the podium to address the crowd.
Morgan’s green eyes swept over the assembled MechWarriors. Hanse Davion’s heir nodded slightly, his smile communicating his approval to those gathered in the room. He glanced at the sheaf of notes on the podium, then set them aside. When Morgan looked up, his red hair framed his head like a mane. He gripped the edges of the podium with strong hands and leaned forward to speak. “This is a meeting that historians without number will study and remember. We are the metal to be heated in the crucible of battle and shaped into something incredible—or destroyed on a cold anvil named Kathil. Our old lives end here and now, shed like a snake sloughs its skin, to give birth to a legend.”
Morgan straightened up, head high. “Many of you may believe that glory and fame can only be won on the front with the Capellan Confederation. You may be thinking that your failures in that theater are the reason you’ve been transferred to a backwater like Kathil. You wonder if this is a kind of punishment, as history marches past you, leaving you in the dust of obscurity. This, my friends, is an error of the greatest magnitude because everything—everything—in this war hinges upon what we do here on Kathil.”
Morgan opened his hands to encompass his whole audience. “We know from impeccable sources that Maximilian Liao has sent a force to destroy this world. Liao, like an animal blinded by mortal pain, is striking out in desperation. He does not realize that in hitting Kathil, he will repeat the gross errors of the First Succession War.
“That war, as everyone knows, resulted in destruction so widespread that mankind has not yet recovered from it. Kathil, this jewel of lostech, is a prime example of the pitiful consequences of such intemperate assaults. One of the jewels of the Star League because of its JumpShip production, the planet was nearly destroyed by successive Liao attacks. Only with great effort and expense has the Federated Suns been able to enhance production in the past few years. Orbiting overhead are factories that produce JumpShips, yet nowhere within the Successor States do we have the knowledge of how and why JumpShips work. We are children assembling kits, with no idea how to improve the parts we use. Because of the First Succession War and the slaughter of the intelligentsia that accompanied it, mankind has been in decline for two hundred and fifty years.”
Andrew nodded at Morgan’s words. It’s true. I’ve seen specs for my new ’Mech, and I’ve seen the same data for a Star League model for my Marauder. Even after three hundred years, one of those antique Marauders would make mine look sick.
Morgan paused long enough for his words to sink in. “I cannot tell you much about the troops we’ll be fighting because we only have our intelligence service’s best guess on what to expect. I do know it will be at least one full battalion, and probably two. I expect over half the troops to be elite MechWarriors. Their aim will be to destroy the four major geothermal generating stations on Kathil. Our job is to stop them.”
The flame-haired MechWarrior pointed toward the section of seats occupied by Redburn’s Delta Company. “With us, in this effort, we have Captain Andrew Redburn and his Delta Company. These double-dozen MechWarriors have already fought enough battles to end every war, defeating their opposition every time. They are specialists in close-assault tactics, and while they normally use light ’Mechs, some will be piloting heavier ’Mechs for our operation.”
Over to the right, Morgan pointed to a small knot of fifteen MechWarriors seated near Captain Alanna Damu. “This is Omega Company of the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers. They are battle-hardened veterans who have the knowledge and skill to match the best of our Capellan enemies. They know how to fight hard, and they know that sometimes the battle is not over until you’re dead.”
With both hands, he indicated the MechWarriors gathered in the center section of the auditorium. Though they sat up tall and proud, Andrew noticed how young they all seemed. The fire in their eyes reminded him of the expressions his Delta Company had worn when he’d first gathered them together, years ago, into the First Kittery Training Battalion. It comes full circle. My former trainees will be teaching these kids to survive.
Morgan’s strong voice filled the hall. “And we have you, Kathil Militia, Third Battalion. Yes, I know most of you were called up when the other battalions left to garrison worlds in the
conquered territories, and that because of munitions shortages, your training to date has consisted mostly of computer-adjudicated mock battles.”
Morgan gave them a look of dead-seriousness. “By order of Prince Hanse Davion, you are all now part of a new Federated Suns regiment. Officially, we are the First Kathil Uhlans, but I have named us the Lions of Davion. We will have two battalions. Captain Damu is now breveted to major and will command Alpha Battalion. It will consist of her Omega Company and the first two companies of the Kathil militia. Brevet-Major Redburn will command Delta Battalion, which will consist of his Delta Company and the remaining company of Kathil Militia.” Morgan looked toward Colonel de Velez. “Colonel de Velez will be my aide and will assist me with his knowledge of Kathil so that we can effectively destroy the force Liao throws at us.”
Shocked by his sudden promotion, Andrew barely felt Robert Craon’s congratulatory slap on the back. Major…me? In charge of a battalion of half-trained MechWarriors and a bunch of local kids who want to be MechWarriors? Andrew blinked his eyes several times and looked up toward Morgan. Do you really know what you are doing?
Morgan waited for the crowd to quiet before speaking again. “I know what many of you are thinking. Some may resent being split up from your fellows, and others may dislike having to wet-nurse your new partners through their first battle. You wonder how a ragtag band of half-trained and tired MechWarriors can hope to oppose an elite Liao force.”
As Morgan spoke, he ticked off each description on the fingers of his left hand, then curled the fingers into a fist. “We will do it because we will become a unit. We will think as one, and we will use each other’s strengths to fill in the cracks.” He pointed at Andrew’s people. “Delta Company here understands the weaknesses of various ’Mech designs, and they know how to exploit them. They have mastered the techniques of hitting without getting hit back. They know the importance of working together, and through such cooperation, they have become a unit Capellan mothers name when they wish to frighten bad children.”
Morgan turned to face the remnants of the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers. “You are all that’s left of the best fighting unit the Capellan March ever had. Through audacity, quick thinking, and foresight, you escaped the careful trap laid down by McCarron’s Armored Cavalry. You took risks no one could ever have anticipated. In so doing, you saved yourselves and others. You are survivors, and we need that quality in the Lions.”
Lastly, Morgan looked at the militia. “You we need most of all. You have the enthusiasm that has turned to cynicism for some of us over the years. You don’t see things as impossible because there’s so much you’ve yet to try. Besides that, you all know this world better than we could ever hope to. You know the places where the maps are wrong, and you know details about things that no gazetteer could ever tell us. Most important, you have a love for this world that can become contagious. It will keep us going when all might seem lost, and it could give us the edge we need to destroy the invaders.”
Morgan wet his lips. “As your commander, I promise you one thing. I may have to give you assignments that could kill you, but I will never issue you a suicidal order. I will never abandon you to the enemy. The Lions will be one force, one power. Together, we will prevail.”
Morgan again hunched forward over the podium. “Mark me, gentlemen and ladies. We will win because we must win. Liao’s forces are coming here to claim victory for themselves. We will battle against a wanton carnage that could suck mankind down into another Dark Age. We cannot allow it. We will not allow it. Ours will be a victory for all mankind, a beacon of hope for the future.”
Chapter 38
NUSAKAN
ISLE OF SKYE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
3 SEPTEMBER 3029
Daniel Allard’s smile died as he passed through the circular doorway into Morgan Kell’s office. The pain and sorrow on Morgan’s face filled him with cold dread. “What’s happened, Colonel?” Dan knotted the Sanglamore sash off over his left ear. “They caught me right before I went out on patrol saying you had a message from the Archon…”
Morgan Kell looked down helplessly at his hands. “The message was sent before we left Lyons for our wait here on Nusakan. ComStar sent it to New Freedom. It was broken down there, re-encrypted and sent here.” His head came up, and he pointed to a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Dan. You’ll want to hear this sitting down.”
Dan crossed the plaster-walled room to sit in an old log chair. News from the Federated Suns would come through the Archon because of the interdiction. What’s happened to my family? Clad only a cooling vest and shorts, Dan gripped the chair’s rough-hewn arms.
Morgan said nothing, but reached out and touched the controls on a holovid viewer. The dark screen brightened to show the Archon sitting on her throne. Barely visible behind her, and then lost as soon as the camera zoomed in on her handsome face were the legs of the two Griffin BattleMechs that flanked her throne. Katrina stared into the camera, the power and compassion in her gray eyes flowing from the holovid screen into Dan’s heart.
Katrina swallowed hard before she began. “I extend to you, Captain Allard, the greetings of the Lyran Commonwealth. With all the gratitude I owe you for past services, I consider this message loathsome and unfortunately cruel. It’s a duty I would avoid, but it’s best you hear it from me than from anyone else.”
She drew in a deep breath. “On the twentieth of June, three assassins disguised as members of the AFFS gained access to the Triad. Their papers were in order, and two of them were escorted to my private office. I was chatting amicably with them while we waited for Simon Johnson, head of the LIC and your father’s counterpart in my realm. The third individual paid a social call on my daughter.”
Dan felt as though his mind and body went numb except for one thought, Jeana, my Jeana, is Melissa’s double. That assassin went to see Jeana!
The Archon nodded, as though anticipating Dan’s thoughts even as she had recorded the message. “Jeana recognized the assassin as an impostor and dealt with him. She appropriated his pistol, and by traversing a series of hidden passageways in the Triad, entered my office through a secret door. She confronted the other two assassins and killed them before they could do me any harm.”
The Archon paused for a moment, biting back tears. “She died without pain, but not before knowing she had succeeded in eliminating the threat to my life. For obvious reasons of security, her mortal remains were cremated. Her ashes have been interred in the Steiner crypt beneath the Triad. If you wish, the crypt will be open to you at any time.”
Katrina Steiner looked out of the monitor and gave Dan a brave smile. “In the time she was here, Jeana and I became close friends. She spoke of you often, and was overjoyed that her gift had indeed kept you safe. Never doubt that she loved you, Captain Allard, and know that she lives on in our hearts.”
The screen faded to black, and left Dan with a hollow pit in his chest. His throat ached because of the emotions beginning to choke him, yet his feelings did not flood over him. They were there, waiting, just waiting, like thunderstorms on the horizon.
Dan looked over at Morgan. “I felt I’d known her all my life, yet I knew nothing about her. That she was—” he hesitated at the word, “—‘safe’ on Tharkad made things easier for me. I knew we’d be apart and that I’d not hear from her, so I just walled off the worry and pain of separation.” He shrugged helplessly. “Now I want to feel something, but it’s empty…just a void in me.”
He pulled the green silken sash from his head and picked at the knot. “I never even knew her full name.”
Morgan hesitated, then began to speak quietly. “Her name was Jeana Clay. She was born in 3002 on Poulsbo, where she lived with her father and mother. Her father died in 3005 in a raid on the Bangor military facility there, enabling Katrina Steiner, Arthur Luvon, and me to escape from the Loki agents Alessandro had sent to kill us.”
Stunned, Dan looked up at his commanding officer. “How d
o you…? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Anger flashed through him, but ultimately proved as elusive as the other emotions he’d sought to capture. A realization formed itself into one word and he repeated that word in a hushed voice. “Heimdall.”
Morgan nodded. “Jeana and her family were Heimdall. I don’t believe Clay was her original surname—I only knew her father as Grison. After our return to the Lyran Commonwealth, Arthur Luvon created and had placed into the LIC computers a whole series of new identities for the families and survivors of the Poulsbo Heimdall cell that helped us. In fact, it was through a scholarship created by Arthur that Jeana went to Sanglamore.”
Dan sank back into the chair and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “All this sleight of hand. Melissa’s double is a woman who belongs to an opposition movement. Duke Aldo Lestrade’s son belongs to the same group, and his father does the best he can to cause a whole Heimdall settlement on New Freedom to be destroyed. Secret files in the LIC computer.” His hands fell away from his eyes. “Simon Johnson would go mad if he knew about this.”
Morgan shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.” He stood and came around to sit on the front of his desk. “Simon Johnson is the one who put Jeana’s new identity in the computer, and her connection with Heimdall is the reason Johnson selected her to be Melissa’s double.”
In shock, Dan’s jaw dropped. “Simon Johnson, the head of the LIC, is a member of Heimdall?’
Morgan smiled wryly. “Recall that we are a group formed from the loyal opposition. We knew it would be useful for us to have people inside the Lyran Intelligence Corps. Especially after Poulsbo, I must that admit Arthur, Patrick, and I used to laugh about Alessandro’s elevation of Simon. The idea of Alessandro relying on a member of Heimdall to help identify Heimdall cells and destroy them is gratifying.”
Dan nodded weakly. “You didn’t tell me about Jeana because I’m not Heimdall?” Unspoken was Dan’s sense of betrayal, but it was expressed in his tone.
Warrior: Coupé (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Three): BattleTech Legends, #59 Page 27
