Justin looked at the world labeled Axton. “Axton is the logical target for us to hit. The Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers’ First Battalion retreated to Highspire. From there, they can hit Axton easily. Either we get the technology, or we find out where it really is.” Justin smiled, remembering that Candace had Axton as one of her plates at the wedding. It had to be a sign.
Maximilian Liao nodded carefully. “Your plans are ambitious, but based on more solid and convincing data and reasoning than those advanced by Ridzik. Let us proceed with them.”
Tsen Shang held up one hand. “Wait. There are a couple of other angles we must consider.” He pointed at the thin finger of Davion worlds running between the Tikonov Commonality and the Draconis Combine’s Dieron Military District. “The Combine is fighting tooth and nail against Wolf’s Dragoons in the Galedon Military District, but that’s a strictly personal fight. General Cherenkoff is content to let Theodore Kurita stabilize the Steiner border, but he does nothing with the troops in his own Al Na’ir Prefecture. If he could be persuaded to slash down into the Terran corridor, it would force Davion to pull troops back, troops he might be gathering for the fourth wave. Were this attack to come in ten days, it would allow Davion to react, giving us the breathing room we need for our operation to take place.”
Liao nodded. “I see that. I will communicate with Takashi Kurita immediately. A number of systems will be his for the taking.” He smiled easily. “Consider the attacks done.”
Suddenly the Chancellor stiffened. “I should have seen it before,” he said, turning back toward the war table. “I know what Pavel Ridzik meant to do. Yes… it is so clear.” The Chancellor smiled coldly, then looked from one analyst to the other. “As clear as crystal.”
Justin shuddered inwardly. He feels inspired. What madness can he be concocting now?
The Chancellor pointed to Justin’s notebook. “You will order your assault, timed to take full advantage of the Combine’s attack on the Terran corridor. Call it Operation Riposte. Include your attack on Axton. We will strangle Prince Davion with his own supplies and research. Lastly,” Liao said with a cruel smile, “we will eliminate the most dangerous threat to the Capellan Confederation.”
Justin frowned in puzzlement and Tsen Shang looked equally confused. The Chancellor, lost in his revelation, paid no notice to either one of them. “He wanted his own troops so that he could recapture Tikonov, then declare the whole Commonality an independent nation-state. He would have all the troops in Tikonov with him for the assault, then he’d turn and march on Sian. He’d strike a deal with Davion, much as I have with Duke Michael. He believes he can replace me!”
Liao’s voice dropped to a hissed whisper. “The Fox has learned well from my example, but not well enough. Ridzik’s plan has forewarned me of the coming treachery and betrayal. I will not have it.” He looked over at Justin. “Write it down so that it may be recorded for all posterity. On this day, I, Maximilian Liao, order the death of Colonel Pavel Ridzik for the act of treason he plans to commit.”
Chuckling to himself, the Chancellor spun on his heel, then strode out of the room. The door slid down behind him, abruptly cutting off his laughter.
“Either he’s a genius,” said Shang, “or he’s totally mad.”
Justin shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Fifty-fifty chance he’s right about Ridzik. After all, we do know Ridzik has betrayed the Chancellor in bed. Who’s to say the colonel doesn’t want a clear claim to the Chancellor’s wife?”
Shang nodded. “Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” He sighed. “Writing the orders for these attacks is going to take all night.”
Justin tapped the notebook. “Do you want my notes?”
Shang touched a finger to his right temple. “Got it up here. You write up the orders for the Axton strike and I’ll holler if I need help with the rest. It’s my plan, after all, so I’ll do the work.”
Closing his notebook, Justin smiled. “Hoped you’d feel that way.”
Justin looked up from behind his desk as Alexi Malenkov entered the office. “What are you doing up? Didn’t we work you hard enough earlier?”
Alexi glanced at his chronometer, then frowned. “Hell, Justin, it’s not even midnight. The last three months have been so bad that I can never get to sleep until dawn. Besides, until Duke Michael transmits some new data, and with you and Tsen sequestered away in the map chamber, I actually get to take it easy.”
Justin extended his right arm and stretched it. “You must lead a good life, Alexi, because there certainly is no rest for the wicked.”
The tall analyst laughed. “Maybe I can change my image.” He nodded toward the notebook, then looked at the computer console. “Got anything you need me to do?”
Justin hesitated for half a second, then smiled. “Sure.” He tore one page from the notebook, then handed the book to Alexi. “I’ve got orders to write it all up, but the rest of these notes need to be transcribed.” Justin held up his metal hand. “This thing reduces me to hunting and pecking, and so my typing speed is horrid. Just enter the notes as is and transfer the files to my section. Destroy the notes and make no copies.”
Alexi nodded. “Standard operating procedure. Roger, Citizen boss. Code word?”
“The first thing goes under Operation Riposte.” Justin thought for a moment. “The other thing you have there should be code-worded: Judas Retribution.”
Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Sounds nasty.”
Justin shrugged. “Triage. Like amputating a limb before the infection in it can kill the whole body. After you’re done, give me a readout on all the Maskirovka termination technicians we have in Tikonov, preferably on Elgin and preferably an attractive female.”
Alexi bowed from the waist. “Your wish is my command. Should have everything for you within the hour.”
“Good, Alexi. Good.” Justin smiled despite his weariness. “If all goes as planned, Hanse Davion will have some big surprises to start off his new year.” He leaned back in his chair as Alexi left the room. Operation Riposte and the death of a traitor. How fitting that thus ends the year of the Rat…
Chapter 47
NORTHWIND
DRACONIS MARCH
FEDERATED SUNS
11 JANUARY 3029
Akira Brahe, sweat pouring down his face, dropped the scarlet targeting crosshair for his Orion’s autocannon onto the Phoenix Hawk’s outline. “Kaji Three, break right!” He punched the fire button, filling the cockpit with the high-speed whine of the autocannon’s firing. A new wave of heat washed over him, but he kept the crosshairs locked onto his target.
The autocannon salvo blasted into the Phoenix Hawk’s right arm. The line of impacts raced up the limb, blasting the last few shards of tattered armor from the ’Mech. The heavy slugs dug up into the ’Mech’s armpit, and snapped the limb off at the shoulder amid a shower of sparks. Awkwardly stumbling backward, the pilot fought vainly to rebalance his ’Mech.
Jiro Thorvald, Kaji Three, had turned his Marauder in accordance with Akira’s order. His right claw spat out an azure whip of man-made lightning from the PPC. The energy beam lashed armor from the stricken Phoenix Hawk’s chest, utterly obliterating the Team Banzai insignia on its right breast.
Akira shivered despite the heat as he watched the colossal Phoenix Hawk totter, then fall to its back. These mercenaries, the Blue Blazer Battalion of Team Banzai, fight as if possessed. I once thought mercenaries had no honor, no sense of duty to anyone but themselves. Morgan Kell and Jaime Wolf first made me question that idea, and now these Blue Blazers oppose us even though they cannot win. And they fight to allow other mercenaries to escape.
Chu-i Per Andersen, leader of Korasu Lance, called to Akira on the radio. “Ichi sector is clear, Chu-sa. We’ve driven the Blue Blazers back. Do we pursue?”
Akira watched the Phoenix Hawk’s pilot punch out before he answered. The ’Mech’s faceplate blew up, and the pilot’s command chair clipped it while blasting free of the downed ’Mech.
The pilot’s chair spun off crazily before the guidance rockets ignited, stabilizing its flight. The pilot drifted down into the courtyard of a ruined, fire-blackened building, and support infantry lent to the Genyosha by the Fifth Sword of Light regiment swarmed all over it like ticks on a dog.
“Negative, Korasu One. Break off the engagement.” Akira took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “We are not here to fight Team Banzai. We blunted this incursion as a courtesy to General Conti. We couldn’t stand back while the Blue Blazers overran the Fifth Sword of Light’s headquarters, could we?”
Andersen’s voice echoed back much of the frustration that had underscored Akira’s words. “Hai, Chu-sa Brahe Akira-sama. Wakarimas.”
Akira pressed his lips together into a grim line. We have suffered gross indignities in this campaign. The Fifth Sword of Light and the Thirty-sixth Dieron Regulars treat us as though we were mercenaries. They resent us because the Coordinator has blessed us. And the Internal Security Force liaison… Anger flashed through Akira. He seeks to exert control over the Genyosha just because we are exempted from ISF supervision. He cannot question our loyalty to the Dragon, yet he strives to lord his power over us. We should never have come here in the first place.
Akira keyed his microphone. “Did you copy that transmission, Denko One?”
“Hai, Chu-sa, in fact and sentiment,” Chu-i Jack Seaborg answered in a gravelly voice. “Our sector is clear as well. It appears the mercenaries are withdrawing to the Rockspire Mountains.”
Akira nodded. “Hai, Seaborg-kun. Let’s pull all three lances back to the firebase perimeter.”
Akira glanced back at where the Blue Blazers pilot had gone down. He winced as he saw the mercenary being buffeted by cuffs and blows from the infantrymen. One, a chu-i by the look of his uniform, brandished a katana and screamed at the mercenary. The mercenary, clutching his broken right arm to his stomach, stumbled along as best he could.
Akira moved his Orion forward, keying the external speakers. “Iie! Have you no respect for an enemy who has fought valiantly?”
The chu-i turned slowly and brandished his sword at the BattleMech. Even without the enhanced vision afforded him by the ’Mech, Akira could easily read the contempt on the man’s face. In a high-pitched voice that reminded Akira of a yapping dog, the man yelled, “Who are you to question me? I am Chu-i Sakai Iemasa. Generation after generation of my family has fought for the Dragon…”
Akira cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Beware, Chu-i Sakai Iemasa, for the Dragon’s blood runs in my veins. You phrase your protest like an invitation to battle.” Akira’s cruel chuckle echoed off the surrounding ruins. “I do not believe you wish to challenge me here and now, do you?” Akira swung the ’Mech’s left arm into line with the lieutenant to punctuate his question.
The infantry chu-i paled as he stared down the barrel of a laser that produced a beam larger than his own head. The Blue Blazer looked up at the Orion’s cockpit, and despite the pain of his broken arm, managed to nod his thanks to Akira.
Chu-sa Narimasa Asano’s voice crackled through the speakers in Akira’s neurohelmet. “Chu-sa Brahe, report please.”
Akira punched a button on the command console. Narimasa’s open face filled the auxiliary monitor. “Our sectors are clear. The Blue Blazers have been driven back.” Akira hesitated because of the frown slowly spreading over Narimasa’s face. Someone’s pushing him to do something… “Do you have orders?”
Narimasa nodded. “Hai. Tai-sa Kurita requests your presence. Please pull your company back toward our encampment.”
“Wakarimas,” Akira said, then he keyed Andersen. “Per, head Korasu and Denko Lances back to the encampment.” Switching over to the frequency he’d programmed in for private conversations with his own lance, he sent a broadcast out to all three of Kaji Lance’s MechWarriors. “I need you to drop back to the encampment, but I want you to guide this captured MechWarrior to the holding compound first. Make sure the foot soldiers don’t hurt him any more. Step on some toes if needed.”
Jiro Thorvald answered for his lancemates. “Hai, Chu-sa, with pleasure.”
Akira smiled. “Good. I will see you back at the encampment.”
An orderly ushered Akira into General Conti’s headquarters building with the respect and concern of a maglev train conductor shoving one more patron into an overstuffed car. Akira straightened the knot on the sash holding his dark blue silken robe closed. As the orderly closed the door behind him, Akira surveyed the small, white-washed room.
To his left, Akira saw his father flanked by Chu-sa Narimasa Asano, Chu-sa Saladin Bey, and Sho-sa Tarukito Niiro. Across from them, leaning against one of the thick wooden pillars supporting the ceiling, was Hassan Faud, the Fifth Sword of Light’s top ISF officer. Tall and dark, he strongly resembled Saladin Bey, but the Genyosha MechWarrior had the leanness appropriate for a warrior true to the spirit of bushido. Faud, on the other hand, was beginning to show the paunch associated with easy living and the squint of one who constantly searched for treason that probably does not exist.
Akira bowed fully to the man behind the wooden desk in front of him. “Konnichi wa, Tai-sho Conti.”
Short, wiry, and dark-haired, the general snapped a bow in Akira’s direction, revealing his impatience and frustration. I know the tai-sho is a man of action, hence his irritation at being trapped here in his office. Akira saw the tactical map affixed to the wall in the corner. It looks as though the Fifth Sword and the Thirty-sixth Dieron Regulars have driven the stragglers back into the Rockspire Mountains. He wants to be there for the kill.
Palmer Conti cleared his voice. “You have been brought here, Chu-sa Brahe, because of a dispute between the Genyosha and the ISF. Orders have come down from the Dragon, but Tai-sa Kurita refused to acknowledge them until his entire staff had been assembled…”
Faud’s sharp outburst cut Conti off. “Enough of sugar-coating this, Tai-sho!” His eyes like dark windows on his suspicious soul, he glared at Akira. “The Genyosha have been ordered to kill all the mercenaries we have captured.”
“What!” Akira looked at his father in disbelief. Yorinaga met his son’s stare, then nodded slightly. The anger and confusion in Akira’s mind melted away as he felt his father’s confidence fill him. He gives me leave to oppose these orders.
Akira turned back, spitting Faud with a sharp look. “Did these orders mention the Genyosha specifically?”
Faud stiffened. “The Dragon has demanded the death of the mercenaries. No quarter is to be given.”
Akira narrowed his eyes. “Were these orders issued to deal with the specific situation here on Northwind?”
Faud’s face darkened. “Who are you to question me? The orders have come down and they must be obeyed. By what right do you presume that I could be in error in this?”
Akira forced himself to laugh derisively. His laughter scourged Faud, shocked Tai-sho Conti, and summoned the hint of a smile to Chu-sa Saladin Bey’s face. “You know the Coordinator himself gave the Genyosha the orders to come here to face the Kell Hounds because the ISF told him that this is where they would be. What did we find? A ragtag mercenary battalion claiming to be the Kell Hounds’ Third ’Mech Battalion.”
Akira spat at Faud’s feet. “If you can mistake a newly assembled unit for one of the most deadly mercenary companies in the Successor States, you can misread or misconstrue orders.”
Faud puffed out his chest and attempted to melt Akira’s defiance with a threatening stare. “Be careful, Chu-sa Brahe. You go too far. You have no friends in the ISF.”
Akira took one step toward the ISF agent, letting his voice drop to a sharp whisper. “I would vouchsafe, Hassan Faud, that you have no friends in this room. I believe you are in more jeopardy than me. You should recall that the Coordinator has exempted the Genyosha from ISF monitoring because he wants a unit to train leaders and imbue them with the true spirit of bushido. He wants us to build warriors, not opportunists waiting to inform on superiors in order to
advance themselves.”
Faud opened his mouth to speak, but Akira cut him off with an impatient gesture. “You claim to have orders that require the Genyosha to engage in the wholesale murder of captive mercenaries. I ask why the Coordinator would not send the orders directly to Tai-sa Kurita if he wished such a mission performed?” Akira poked a stiff finger against Faud’s breastbone. “I submit that the orders, if they exist at all, originated within the ISF and so should be carried out by the ISF. The murder of captives, especially mercenaries who have fought a long and difficult series of battles, is without honor.”
Tai-sho Conti grimaced and tapped his finger against a sheet of paper on his desk. “I am afraid, Chu-sa, that your assumptions are only half right. The order to execute all mercenary personnel does come from the Coordinator. It will discourage other mercenaries from fighting us.”
Akira turned stiffly toward Conti. This is madness. Such orders might dissuade those mercenaries who have no honor or pride, but such units would be like autumn leaves before the wind when they faced our forces. The stouthearted units, like Wolf’s Dragoons, the Kell Hounds, or even this Team Banzai, will be spurred into greater acts of heroism. They will know they can expect only death, and so they will embrace it willingly, as a warrior must. The Coordinator only whets the appetites of our enemies.
Faud forced himself not to rub the sore spot on his chest. “Mercenary scum like Wolf’s Dragoons must be destroyed once and for all time.”
Akira brought his head up slowly, then turned back toward Faud. His face remained as expressionless as was his father’s. “That could well be so, Hassan Faud, but the Genyosha does its killing in the battlefield. Even if our enemies are not warriors in their hearts and souls, there is no reason we should descend to their level.”
Faud narrowed his eyes, then a low laugh rumbled from his throat. “It is a pity you refuse to eliminate the captives from the Third Kell Hound ’Mech Battalion, Chu-sa.” The ISF agent opened his hands solicitously. “I had anticipated that you would welcome the task.”
Warrior: Riposte (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Two): BattleTech Legends, #58 Page 33
