The Price of Glory

by William H. Keith

  Helm's Pit, then, became the drain into which the engineers funnelled the waters of the Vermillion River. The eastern half of the river had dried, leaving a water-polished tunnel plunging into the depths of the mountain. But the mountain, they had discovered, was honeycombed with subsurface tunnels and conduits.

  Grayson learned that Keeler had not been the first engineer to work on the Nagayan project, but only the last, and the most successful. The first excavations had been carried out with an eye to creating an underground laboratory. Later, the project was redirected toward an attempt to build a gigantic and impregnable fortress. It had been Keeler who had used the facility as a hiding place for the weapons stored at the League Fleet Base in Free-port.

  Keeler had been a subject of the Marik Commonwealth, but he was also a deeply committed advocate of the principle that had created the Star League—that of a limited interstellar community. Grayson read Keeler's own monologues on the subject: the League was disintegrating, the foundations of civilization itself were crumbling. General Kerensky, a powerful warlord whose armies and fleets had, for a time, guaranteed the peace, vanished beyond the Periphery in 2784, taking much of the League's military might with him. That exodus had triggered the final collapse of the Star League, as the lords of the various former League Member-States had risen, each one against the other, in a series of futile and bloody attempts to win control of the Star League's dismembered corpse.

  Keeler had foreseen that final collapse. Convinced that the Star League could be rebuilt, that General Kerensky would soon return, Keeler completed the repository for weapons from the naval base at Freeport only weeks before it was learned that Minoru Kurita and his warfleet were bound for Helm for the sole purpose of seizing those weapons. Meanwhile, Keeler had apparently been engaged in a delicate series of negotiations with various factions within the Free Worlds League, who were also intent on grabbing the weapons. By playing them off one against another, he had bought time for himself, and for his project.

  There had been no way to buy off Minoru Kurita, however.

  * * *

  "Then Keeler wasn't able to hide the weapons here after all," Lori said, reading over Grayson's shoulder. The screen displayed a report from one of Keeler's subordinates to the Major himself, alerting him of Kurita's approach and mentioning that transport for the main body of the arms depot was not yet available. "That paper seems to indicate that the League storehouse is still located in Freeport."

  "I think they must have really pulled together after that, Lori. Look what I found here." He punched several keys, wiping away the report. It was replaced by the intricately interweaving pathways of the map of the Nagayan underground complex. Skillfully, Grayson called up one section of the map, enlarging it until it filled the screen. He pointed to the words spelled out in white letters. "Main Depot Stores", Grayson read aloud. "It's in a room all the way over on the west side of the mountain. The map shows several exits . . . here . . . here . . . and up here. There appears to be a functional transport system, and if I read this right, there are even entrances up on the surface, interconnecting the various mountain passes. This . . . this complex could have held a city without crowding."

  "It's magic," Lori said quietly.

  "Let's just say our ancestors knew a trick or two that we seem to have forgotten," Grayson replied. "What amazes me is that an awful lot of what we've forgotten is stored right here." He patted the terminal in front of him.

  "There are definitely BattleMechs here, all right, Lori. I've seen the manifests. I haven't gone through them all, yet, but I'd say there's at least a regiment stored down there, maybe more. A lot more than we'll ever be able to move aboard Ricol's ships. Right now, though, I'm convinced that the greatest treasure of all is actually this Star League library!"

  * * *

  A transport hovercraft raced south from Helmdown. Six of the seven aboard wore the cowls and cloaks of ComStar Adepts, technicians trained in the inner mysteries of the pseudo-religious order. The seventh was Rachan, still dressed in civilian clothes, but the obvious deference given him by his accomplices revealed his power.

  "I see dust ahead, Precentor," said the vehicle's driver. He had pulled his cowl back off his head and donned dark glasses so that he could see better to maneuver the vehicle. The sky was hot and bright, with clouds boiling high in the sky to the east.

  "That will be Langsdorf's column," Rachan said. He studied the clouds, and the sky overhead. It would rain by evening.

  "Can Langsdorf open the door?" another Adept wanted to know.

  "I have carefully studied the satellite projections, my son." It was strange how easily one slipped back into the cant and formula of the Order's speech when one was among others of the Order again. Rachan hadn't used the address form of "my son" in years. "It appears that the barrier erected across the bed of the Vermillion River is supported by some sort of internal bracing, probably of poured ferrocrete and steel. A relatively small charge of plastic explosive at each of several calculated stress points along the barrier should sever those struts and bring down the entire wall. Langsdorf's engineers will know best how to accomplish this."

  Senior Adept Larabee studied one of the memory cores. "And these will hold the data from the Star League library. Precentor? It seems more like magic than science."

  "Remember, my son, that it is the Order's duty to preserve the Old Knowledge. A Dark Night is coming, and the end of civilization as we know it. Knowledge such as that stored in the League library will be the door to the New Day."

  "I understand that, Precentor but I don't understand why we have to destroy it."

  Rachan looked past the Adept at the gently rolling prairie unfolding around them as they hurtled south. "Duty is difficult in the best of times, Adept Larabee. Remember, the secret that I have shared with you is one that you six must take to your graves. Those not of the Order . . . even most of those within the Order, would not understand what I told you this morning.

  "The Divine Blake saw that knowledge—and the communications network that made dissemination of that knowledge possible—would one day be the key to the Order's ultimate triumph. It is our duty to preserve knowledge, the Old Knowledge, from sources such as this League library, against the day when the Order will usher in a new dawn of civilization and prosperity. But it is also our duty to prevent such knowledge from falling into . . . unsanctified hands." He touched the memory core lightly with his fingertips. "With this, we can transfer the Star League data from the library hidden beneath the mountain. When the transfer is complete, we will destroy the library completely."

  The Adept still looked uncertain, and Rachan smiled at him. "Believe me, my son. We would not be doing the rest of Mankind any favors by allowing the information contained in that library to fall into their undiscerning hands! It would only prolong the agony. In our hands, however, the Old Knowledge will be safe."

  "I don't doubt you, Precentor. I was just wondering whether ... we are even worthy of such a trust. Such knowledge could so easily be twisted to evil!"

  "In that, my son, you must have faith in your superiors." And I, he thought to himself, have faith that all of your wonderings will soon be at an end. Just as soon as you have helped me accomplish what must be done!

  * * *

  It was sunset by the time the Gray Death Legion emerged into daylight again. One of the passageways marked on the computer map, now transferred to a hardcopy printout in Grayson's hand, had led them to a sealed tunnel door that looked out on the orange sun of Helm descending above the West Equatorial Sea. The hidden computer files had shown them how to shut the East Gate door behind them. Below them lay a broad and open plain descending sharply toward the coast. To their right, northwest, was the glitter of the western half of the Vermillion river, reborn again in cavern lakes fed by melting glaciers. The river surfaced in the Vermillion Valley, one of the three passes through the mountains to the north, and wound twisting out of the mountains and across the plains to the sea.


  They had found the Star League cache under the west face of the mountain. It had been filled with silent rows of Star League BattleMechs standing rank upon rank upon metal rank within the support structures of their gantries. There were arms and ammunition, supplies of missiles, and League-issue scanner and communications gear. There were vehicles, most of them powered by the same sort of fusion plants that powered BattleMechs but that were rarely found in non-'Mech vehicles anymore. Grayson had seen dozens of tanks, from Vedettes to Demolishers, apparently armed and ready to roll. After glimpsing a number of transporter vans large enough to transport BattleMechs on broad, flat trailers, Grayson was already picturing how the Legion Techs could move those waiting battle machines out onto the Vermillion Plain, where Ricol's ships could land to pick them up. A broad, ferrocrete road led directly past this western portal and wound down the face of the mountain to a flat plain perhaps 500 meters farther downhill. That would be a good landing place for the DropShips, easily accessible from the western door. The road wound on in the other direction toward the north, through the mountain passes.

  "Grayson!" Lori's Mech-amplified voice boomed down at him from her Shadow Hawk, from where she stood at the portal fifty meters away. "The Phobos has made contact! They're free, and on their way in!"

  Grayson whooped and sprinted for his Marauder, which stood where a Tech had parked it. As fast as his legs and arms could take him, he swarmed up the ladder and settled himself in the cockpit seat, then began to twist at the dials that would tune into the Phobos's frequency.

  "They're encamped on the east side of the mountains, Lori," Martinez's voice was saying as Grayson opened the channel. "We can see them clearly from here."

  "Use!" Grayson said. "This is Carlyle! It's good to hear you!"

  "And it's very good to be heard, Captain! I just told your Exec, we'll be grounding in another five minutes.”

  “Good! You have coordinates?"

  "That's affirmative. We'll set down on the plain below your west door."

  "Use was telling me that Ricol didn't show, Grayson," Lori added. "It was Dulaney's troops alone that freed both DropShips. It looks like Ricol wasn't on our side after all!"

  "I . . . see."

  This added new complications. Ricol's DropShips would be dropping in at midday tomorrow. Had Ricol deliberately attempted to sabotage Grayson's attempt to free the Deimos and the Phobos!

  Grayson realized in that moment that the old hatred for Ricol was truly gone. "I'll want to talk to Ricol before I believe that, Lori. There could be another explanation. For now, we assume that we bring Ricol's DropShips in tomorrow, as planned."

  "You might not get a chance, Colonel," Martinez said. There was a thin, high thunder audible through the hull of Grayson's Marauder. He leaned forward, peering through the 'Mech's forward port, and was rewarded by the glitter of golden sunlight on the hulls of the two DropShips gleaming at high altitude. "I was just telling Lori, it looks like you have company. There's one hell of a big army sitting on the east side of the mountains."

  "Are they moving?"

  "Looks to me like they may be setting up camp. You'll have to analyze the photos we took, but I count between twenty-five and twenty-eight BattleMechs over there, plus many vehicles and men."

  "If they're camping, they must be planning on moving in the morning," Grayson said. "They won't try the passes at night."

  Martinez's voice was clearer now as the two DropShips grew larger in the sky. Grayson could make out the pulsing flicker of their main drives now.

  "That's my thought, Colonel, but it still doesn't help much. A BattleMech could cross any of those passes inside of an hour or two. If they set out at first light, they'll be on us long before your Kurita friends get here."

  The tongues of flame lapping beneath the two Drop-Ships were longer now, and much brighter, as their pilots increased power to slow the nuclear-fusion craft to gentle landings side by side on the Vermillion Plain.

  "Maybe not," Grayson said. "I think I have an idea or two to slow them down just a bit."

  29

  Grayson refolded the map printout, spreading the central portion flat on a convenient rock so that all of them could see. The Nagayan Mountains rose around them, their glacial peaks tinged with the first rays of the new day's light. The sky overhead was the deep, royal blue of evening, with the brightest stars still visible in the morning sky. In the shadowed valley where they had gathered, there was barely enough light yet to see.

  "We've got too main problems," Grayson said. "The first is that we're going to have to cover three separate routes—three ways that Langsdorf can try to get at us. We're here." His finger passed across the words "Vermillion Plains" on the map. "Langsdorf's people are camped up here, northeast of the mountains, pretty close to where we were camped yesterday. Between us—" his finger moved north to a mass of tightly spaced contour lines—"are the Nagayan Mountains . . . and these three passes."

  It was Captain Martinez who had brought the news that it was not Lord Garth who was commanding the Marik army, but Colonel Langsdorf. While monitoring Marik radio transmissions, she had picked up references to the Marik commander broadcast in the clear. Somehow, that news did not surprise Grayson. He had guessed as much from the speed with which the Marik force had maneuvered south, a feat that Garth probably could not have accomplished in less than three days.

  Lori looked up from the map. "You said two problems, Gray. What's the other?"

  Grayson smiled. "Our other problem is that Langsdorf probably has enough men and 'Mechs to come through all three passes at once."

  "Gods," Clay said. "You're sounding too confident, Colonel. I don't think I'm going to like this."

  "Langsdorf has two choices," Grayson continued. "He can mass his army and push it all through any one of these passes. Or he can split his army and move it through two ... or all three."

  Lori looked uncertain. "What do you think he'll do?"

  Grayson shook his head. "I don't know Langsdorf. I've heard he's a good regimental commander, and he certainly fought well at Cleft Valley. Let's assume he's good . . . and then try to look at it from his side of the map."

  "If he divides his army, he'll be committing the classical tactical error," Clay said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "He'd be setting up his forces to be defeated piecemeal . . . and on ground of our choosing. If he keeps his force together . . . well, there's no way we could more than dent it. That army would just come blasting through and knock us aside like target dummies."

  "True," Grayson answered. "But if he comes through as a single force, he's going to have to choose which pass. Look—" Grayson pointed out the passes on the map in turn—"The main road south from the Northern Highlands runs through Drango, in the Drango Gap. There's not a whole lot of problem there. The pass is narrow, but there's room enough to deploy a fair percentage of his total force if we attack him. The ground is high, but pretty smooth. He could move his whole army through, and move fast.

  "Now ... off to the northwest here is Lee's Pass. It's higher and a lot rougher, partly blocked in places by boulders, with twists and turns and kinks and places where sheer cliffs create blind pockets. Langsdorf would have to be a total idiot to put his whole army through there, things are so tangled through here that it would take a week for him to sort things out . . . and we'll be long gone by then.

  "Now back here, east of the Drango Gap, is the Nagayan Canyon, and the Vermillion River running through it to the south. See, it comes in here at the northeastern end of the Drango Gap, but splits off to bypass Drango, here. The ground is rougher than around Drango, but not nearly as bad as Lee's Pass. The main problem is the Vermillion River. It arises from an underground lake . . . here. There are fords in the river, but Langsdorf's lance leaders won't know where they are. It will take time to find them, and time to get their main force across."

  "So what's the answer?" Lori asked. "Are you saying he'll do the obvious ... or pull a switch and do the unexpected?"
/>   Grayson smiled. "A good commander would do the unexpected, but Colonel Langsdorf doesn't have that option here. If he's going to mass his army and send it through in one chunk, he has to do it here," Grayson's finger stabbed the map. "At Drango. He'd be risking losing us and his whole army if he tried it at either Lee's Pass or the Vermillion River."

  "Aye, laddie! You're sayin' he's ae' goin' tae split his army, then," McCall said, his face brightening.

  "He almost has to. As Delmar said, he'd be committing something of a classical tactical mistake, but that's what makes that choice unexpected. If he keeps his force together, he has to choose the Drango Gap. He knows it, and he knows we know it. He has to assume that if we know it, we'll try to do something about it. He doesn't know for sure what forces we have. We might have enough explosives to mine the whole pass . . . or we may have scraped together a large enough army from the local militia that we could delay his army long enough for our DropShips to get clear. Remember, it isn't just that he wants to get through. He has to stop us from leaving . . . capture our transport if he can. He can't risk getting bogged down in these mountains.

  "Now, let's say he splits his force. He could send the main part of his army through here—" Grayson pointed at Drango—"Or here." His finger slid east to the Vermillion River. He looked thoughtful. "If it was me, I'd choose the river. It's more difficult, but less likely. I'd send enough of a force through Drango to attract the other guy's attention. Maybe send it through fast, try to catch him by surprise and get a strong force in our . . . in the enemy's rear, threatening his DropShips. That would make them pull south out of the mountains altogether, and solve the whole problem. Then the main force would come through along the Vermillion River. It would take longer that way than through Drango, but it would arrive in time to help the Drango force catch the enemy . . . maybe catch the enemy between our two forces."