Binding Force

by Loren L. Coleman

  “Which slowed those teams from reaching the bridge and auxiliary control. It also put everyone on alert. Who do you think turned in the alarm?”

  Lindell kept his voice neutral and face blank. The company leader was known for his strict control over himself. “Well, we’re guessing that it was a technician who saw one of our advance teams. Both the bridge and aux con teams moved through that area. The tech hit the nearest alarm, and then hid.”

  Virginia York’s face tightened just marginally around the eyes, and her gaze broke from Lindell’s and then returned as if to guard some thought she didn’t want to reveal. Aris recognized the expression—the faint precursor to an important question, one to which she already knew the answer but had to make sure. He leaned forward, waiting.

  “Which team passed closest to that fire station panel?”

  Lindell looked nonplused by the question. “Mine.”

  “And the closest intercom panel that would give them voice communication with the bridge?”

  “Well, there’s a secure circuit to damage control right there on the fire-station panel. But damage control isn’t manned except in an emergency.” Lindell thought for a few seconds. “It would have been in main corridor Twenty-one Tach Thirty-two Bravo. But Company Leader Non’s commandos passed that way, and if the tech saw them I doubt he would have risked sticking his head out into a main corridor.”

  Aris didn’t see what the House Master was getting at, but she routinely thought several steps ahead and he couldn’t always keep up with her. He did disagree with Thorn Lindell, though, on a small point. From what Aris had seen of the Sarnese technicians’ fierce response to his own team, he didn’t think any of them would have waited for the bridge team to pass before venturing to the intercom. But then people were often braver in groups, so he let it pass.

  “All right.” Virginia York nodded. “Not entirely according to plan, but everything worked out.” She favored Ty Wu Non with a smile and half-bow. “Good work forcing the bridge crew to capitulate, Ty. I wouldn’t have wanted to blow the door. Better to keep the bridge in perfect order.”

  Aris swallowed against a sour taste building at the back of his throat. As far as he was concerned, Ty Wu Non had botched the plan. Granted, he had not been as fortunate as Aris, who’d managed to trap the Sarnese sentries outside of the comm center. Those sentries had retreated back onto the bridge, and locked Ty out. The senior company leader then grabbed a half-dozen hostages and proceeded to eliminate them one at a time until the watch officer on the bridge finally had enough.

  But in the meantime the bridge crew had been trying to send an alert back to Kaifeng. If Aris hadn’t knocked out the transmitter, the entire operation would have failed. He didn’t expect House Master York to mention that. She couldn’t praise him without drawing attention to her senior company leader’s failings, which would have been inappropriate.

  He was surprised, therefore, when Lance Leader Terry Chan spoke up from her seat next to Ty Wu Non with that praise instead.

  “House Master,” Terry Chan began, then waited to be recognized. “I’d like to extend a commendation to Lance Leader Sung. His timely action may have saved the element of surprise.”

  Aris missed the setup. Terry Chan was Ty Wu Non’s other lance leader, and recognized by Non as his chief lieutenant. If anyone in House Hiritsu treated Aris with less respect than Ty, it was Chan. Caught off-guard by the unexpected praise, Aris actually let himself feel a measure of pride in having served his House. Then Ty spoke up and he realized that Chan’s comment had merely been part of a prearranged dialogue meant to expose him to criticism.

  “Instead of timely, we could also say rash,” Ty said, frowning at Terry Chan as if the two of them had not set this up beforehand. “A lack of message traffic from the station will alert Kaifeng as surely as a warning message would have. If we cannot repair the damage Aris has done to the transmitters and focusing dish soon, this whole plan falls through and we’re right back to a standard assault.”

  Aris felt a warm flush spreading out from the base of his neck and up over his scalp. Normally, only the House Master was allowed to speak out directly with negative comments in regard to a House warrior. But anyone could offer praise. And by Chan expressing false praise for a rash action, Ty stood within his rights in correcting her for praising Aris.

  And perhaps there might have been another way. Aris certainly wasn’t about to open the subject and invite discussion. It would change nothing, and would only serve to weaken the House—the family. He glanced over at Terry Chan, who looked properly chastened. But Aris caught her gaze flicking from the tabletop to the faces of other House officers, carefully judging reactions to her performance.

  Sitting directly across the table from Chan, Company Leader Lindell wore his stone-faced expression that no one, not even Aris, could accurately read. Lindell could be counted on, though, to maintain traditions and not question Ty’s methods. Ty Wu Non would be House Master one day, and his will would become the will of the House. Until that time, it was Virginia York’s place and the right of none other to hold him accountable.

  However, also across the table and one seat away from Aris, the third Company Leader, Jason James, looked ready to leap blindly to Aris’ defense. James did not possess the stoic acceptance of Lindell. He had, quite the opposite, a quick temper only held in check by devotion to Virginia York and House Hiritsu. The color flushing James’ normally pale features told Aris that the other man also recognized the setup and was prepared to take issue with it. Aris moved his head only fractionally, a slow shake that said he would rather drop the matter. James looked at him for a moment, then nodded slightly to show he understood.

  House Master York finally broke the tense silence. “Aris Sung, have you checked into the communications down-time?”

  “Yes, House Master.” Aris did not meet her gaze. Did not want her to see the anger smoldering in his eyes. Not anger against Ty Wu Non and Chan, though perhaps they deserved some amount of ire, but at himself. Whether or not his action with the transmitter was the best solution, he had acted rashly. And now he was a point of contention, which was the last thing he would ever want for House Hiritsu.

  “The transmitter was positioned using myomer bundles and actuators rather than with gears, same as in our BattleMechs. Apparently I snapped a few of the artificial muscles and ruined an actuator. Those should be repaired within the next few hours. The focusing dish is being replaced completely out of stores. Faster than attempting to repair the one I damaged, but it still won’t be operational for four to six hours.”

  “So a full twelve hours at most.”

  “Yes, House Master. And a twelve-hour silence would not be unusual.”

  Virginia York nodded once. “Good enough,” she said to him, and then turned again to the rest of her officers. “I want this next phase to run smoothly. We will delay leaving the station for twenty-four hours or until we’re sure that Kaifeng thinks there’s nothing amiss up here. That makes reestablishing communications and then faking several transmissions our top priority.”

  “I would like to oversee those procedures, House Master,” Aris offered. “As Company Leader Non said, it is my responsibility.”

  Ty Wu Non was quick to speak up. “As to the repair of the communications system, I agree. But I will oversee the bridge transmissions, House Master. It was my team that took the bridge intact.” He stressed the word as another subtle dig at Aris’ damaging the transmitters. “We can handle the bridge crew. This Leftenant Harris already fears me, and with her in line the others would not dare oppose us.”

  Aris thought again of the four technicians who had faced him, armed with nothing more than a few tools and bare hands. He had seen the hatred naked on their faces. He did not believe these Sarnese would be cowed as easily as Ty Non seemed to think.

  “Then let it be so,” Virginia York said simply, ending the discussion. “Ty, I want the first bridge transmission ready to be sent as soon as Aris info
rms me the transmitter is fixed. Recorded messages only. No live transmissions. Everyone else not specifically needed by Senior Company Leader Non report to the Tao-te. Infantry Commander Jessup and his infantry can maintain security. Dismissed.”

  Aris sat where he was as the others filed from the room. Ty Wu Non, first up and out the door, looking very happy with himself, did not notice Aris remaining behind. Thorn Lindell did, though his face gave away no reaction and he filed out with the others.

  “You had a question, Aris?” Virginia York asked as the wardroom door finally closed, leaving the two of them alone.

  “An observation, House Master.” Aris bit down on his lower lip, trying to decide how to proceed. “I am concerned over the transmissions to Kaifeng.”

  Her chin came up slightly in warning. “Aris, I have assigned Ty Wu Non to that chore. It is his command and you may offer recommendations only if he solicits them from you.”

  As if he ever would, Aris thought, but did not say. If Ty Non could split hairs concerning the traditions, perhaps he could too. And here, before the House Master alone, it did not become a matter of contention. “I would not think to presume upon his wiser judgment, or yours, House Master. My observation concerns the Sarnese who attacked me outside the comm center.”

  She thought a moment and then nodded carefully. “Very well.”

  “I wasn’t sure if my written report conveyed the level of the resistance they put up. Even facing a trained warrior armed with a laser weapon, they were not cowed nor even visibly concerned for their lives. I would like to believe I seemed at least somewhat threatening.”

  The joke fell flat as Virginia York merely looked him over, carefully, head to toe before proceeding. “You would judge them as fanatics?”

  “Let us say zealots,” Aris said carefully. “Fanatics sometimes fight against any odds. Zealots are smarter, more likely to wait and martyr themselves at an opportune moment.”

  “Such as?”

  Careful, Aris, he cautioned himself. The situation was beginning to remind him of his first interview with the House Master, eleven years before. It was like walking through land mines, having to be careful for the least misstep. “Let us say I was able to force my way into the comm center just as a technician was concluding his preparations to send a live message to Kaifeng. With five weapons pointed at him, and given the choice to surrender and live, I believe he would turn the equipment on so it would record his death for the benefit of Kaifeng.”

  House Master York neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. Aris held her gaze, using the same technique as eleven years ago to refrain from blinking. You have to make the connection, he silently willed.

  “I have ordered Ty Wu Non to use recorded messages,” she finally said. “No live transmissions.”

  “Were we talking about Company Leader Non?” Aris asked innocently. “I just wanted to make clear my report. Yes, I cannot think of any way the station crew could sabotage a recorded message.” Aris rose to his feet. “With your permission, House Master?”

  Frowning at the wall, she nodded.

  Aris paused in the doorway and glanced back. The House Master still stood there, staring off into space as if at some problem only she could see while mentally working out all possible solutions. Good enough, Aris thought. Everything would be fine with Virginia York watching over the House.

  5

  Kaifeng Recharge Station Jodo Shinsa

  Zenith Jump Point, Kaifeng System

  Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March

  11 July 3058

  The bridge of the recharge station felt unfamiliar and cold to SMM Petty Officer Shen Dok To. Panels with their switches, gauges, and flashing lights intimidated him. The overhead lighting, which twelve hours ago he would have called subdued or even inadequate, now seemed to beat down harshly, stabbing into his eyes and making him sweat. The difference wasn’t the House Hiritsu warriors who stood nearby to ensure proper behavior. Not exactly. No, the bridge itself felt different. Because it was no longer theirs—the Sarna Supremacy’s. He now sat in Capellan state property—Liao property—and that thought left him feeling disconnected from reality.

  Shen sat at the master control panel again, having just relieved one of the Capellan technicians the Hiritsu warriors had brought along specifically for the purpose of running the station. Two other SMM officers were also here. Behind him at the watch officer’s station sat Leftenant Ellen Harris, and on his immediate left, working the bridge communications panel, was Petty Officer Davidson. Petty Officer Belko had not been allowed back onto the bridge, his station and presence not required for a transmission, and of course there would be no Sarnese sentry. All the marines were dead.

  Belted into his seat against the low gravity, Shen felt trapped and helpless. From the other side of his waist-high console, a House Hiritsu warrior stared down at him like he was some insect waiting to be dissected. He’d learned that her name was Terry Chan and that she was his minder for the transmissions. It was her job to make sure Shen didn’t get any ideas about trying to get a covert warning to Kaifeng during the transmission. Shen was a primary concern, she explained, because the camera normally used to record the watch officer’s reports also captured him and part of his console. What’s more, Shen was her primary concern. Then she hit him, driving a fist into his stomach and forcing him to double over, then bringing her knee up into his chest. Nothing, of course, that could show up on camera.

  Just a reminder of who was in charge.

  Shen held no illusions about who was in charge, not at any level. He had met their commander twelve hours earlier, when the arrogant bastard had taken over the bridge after killing four crew members just outside the door. Shen remembered the muffled report of every shot, followed each time by requests from the marine sentries to open the door so they could fire on the Capellans. Leftenant Harris had denied permission to unlock the door, and had held out through four deaths while trying to send an alert to Kaifeng. Finally Petty Officer Davidson admitted defeat, that the main transmitter couldn’t be realigned without extensive work, and Leftenant Harris surrendered the bridge.

  No, Shen thought, correcting himself, Leftenant Harris simply surrendered.

  He glanced back over his shoulder to where Ellen Harris sat strapped in at the watch officer’s desk, a defeated slump to her shoulders. Her minder stood menacingly over her. It was the one who’d ordered them to call him Senior Company Leader Non but whom Shen privately referred to as The Jackal. The man who’d been last to enter the bridge, uniform and face spattered with blood from the messy executions in low gravity, but still moving with the air of one totally in command. Exchanging his slug-thrower for a laser pistol, he had personally executed the two sentries at the door and then threatened to kill the entire bridge crew one at a time for Leftenant Harris’ resistance.

  Even while cowering in his own seat, wishing there was something—anything—he could do to stop them, Shen had been amazed at how quickly Non dominated the leftenant. Unable to tear his eyes away from the scene, he’d helplessly watched the final push that sent Ellen Harris over the edge. She’d ordered Davidson to help establish communications with the Liu. For that, Non had thanked her and reached out almost kindly to trail a finger down her cheek. The blood mixed with her tears left a runny red smear down the side of her face. Shen would never forget the sad half-smile that trembled at the edge of her mouth as her will crumpled completely.

  The Jackal was speaking to her now, continuing what seemed a personal crusade to break her without realizing he already had.

  “Where do you live on Kaifeng?” he asked her in casual, almost friendly tones.

  “Tarrahause.”

  “Yes.” Shen could almost hear the smile in The Jackal’s voice. “That is what your station record says. Also that you have children. Two of them. Staying with your husband while you pull duty here?” Shen assumed there was a nod; The Jackal sounded sure of himself. “Do you have holopics?” There was a slight pause and the so
und of movement. “Fine-looking boys.”

  Then Non was beside Shen, having drifted over silently. If only I had a beltknife, Shen thought. Or even a simple pair of scissors or a screwdriver. A quick thrust into The Jackal’s side might have been enough to kill him. But Shen had nothing like that to hand and so he did nothing.

  Non handed the holopics across to Terry Chan. “Enter those into the file,” he told her. “Possible subversives.”

  He drifted back to the watch officer’s desk, out of view again. Shen wanted to throw up.

  “Now, would you care to repeat your instructions to your bridge crew? Let them know that you are determined to assist us.”

  “This station—”

  Non interrupted her with a quiet snarl. “You had better get some life into your voice. If I get the idea that you’re holding back, trying to sabotage this transmission, your children will answer for it.”

  “This station is the property of the Capellan Confederation, in service to his Celestial Wisdom, Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao.” Harris’ voice broke off, choked with tears, but quickly strengthened. “Our responsibility, as loyal Capellan subjects, is to assist House Hiritsu with their operation. So we will not make any attempt to communicate, by direct or covert means, the actual military situation on this station.”

  “Very good,” Non said. “I believe we can begin now.”

  While Leftenant Davidson worked at the communications console under the watchful gaze of her Capellan observer, Shen carefully reached for his noteputer, feeling his hands shaking. Terry Chan glared down at him, and then awarded him one sharp nod of permission when she realized what he was doing. Someone must have briefed her on bridge operations. At least once every hour, the technician sitting at the main control panel was required to log the readings of his few active gauges and to make a written report of bridge events. Shen decided it would give him something to do while Ellen Harris recorded the bogus message.

  He scrolled down to the Comments section and then sat there, idly tapping his stylus against the ’puter screen. What could he write? Maybe he could use the opportunity to organize his thoughts. Zero-eight-forty-five, he wrote, became loyal Capellan subject.