Binding Force

by Loren L. Coleman

  The other warrior saluted his friend with his middle finger, joining in on the laugh. Aris rose, slurping down the last sip of his soda. He searched about for the waiter, just another impatient customer. So intent on maintaining his cover, he actually didn’t recognize her until she yelled out.

  “Aris! Aris Sung!”

  Aris couldn’t have been more surprised and froze where he was, standing next to his chair. Terry Chan approached his table, drink in hand and weaving a bit drunkenly. She smiled and licked her lower lip, slowly. When she reached the table, she slammed her glass down hard and threw her arms around his neck. Paying no attention to the looks they were getting, she planted a hard kiss on his lips and gyrated her body up against him. Aris maintained enough presence of mind to circle her waist with his hands and tried to look like he was enjoying himself. Truth being that he was completely off-guard, and that made him nervous.

  Terry broke from the kiss. “Aris Sung,” she slurred, turning it into one name, “you bad boy. I been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Well, you found me,” he said, recovering his wits. Smiling an invitation to her, he sat back down. She slid into the chair opposite. “I thought you were seeing Ty these days.” Aris tried not to look anxious as Karl Bartlett and two of his buddies passed by their table, heading for the front of the club. He wanted to follow, but now he would have to maneuver around Terry Chan’s adopted role or risk drawing suspicion from the MechWarriors still seated nearby.

  “Ty, Ty, Ty,” she waved her hand through the air as if brushing away each repetition of the name. “He has other things on his mind these days. You know, though, he did ask about you recently. I think he kind of misses the old days.”

  Aris wasn’t sure how to take that. By now his brain was starting to catch up with the situation, and he could only assume Ty Wu Non had sent Terry in to extract him. But there was his Wraith to consider, as well as the need to pass along news of a Hiritsu traitor. They needed to talk more openly. “Look,” he said, hedging as if struggling with an uncomfortable shyness, “I was about to head out, maybe try another club. You wouldn’t want to come with, would you?”

  Terry’s smile was truly award-winning. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  They stood together, Terry slipping one of her hands into Aris’ back pocket and walking with her head lying half against his shoulder. Aris circled her waist with his right arm and steered her toward the front of the building. They looked like any of several other couples, and Aris was finally beginning to feel comfortable again.

  That comfort lasted all of ten seconds.

  His only warning was a slight tensing in Terry Chan’s muscles as they passed through the front door. She was expecting something. Aris barely had time to consider the thought when he found himself staring at the barrel of a .44 caliber slug-thrower.

  Karl Bartlett stood outside the door, leaning back against a car parked on the street. His weapon was held at arm’s length, centered directly on Aris’ chest. A quick glance left and right placed Bartlett’s two friends, both with their sidearms out and held ready. The realization hit him as Terry Chan slipped away from his side and left him standing on the walk alone.

  She had led him into a trap!

  22

  Tarrahause

  Tarrahause District, Kaifeng

  Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March

  24 July 3058

  The realization hit Aris like a PPC blast. Terry Chan is the traitor! Calling his full name out in the club alerted Karl Bartlett, and she had held him up just long enough for the SMM major and his two friends to get in position outside. A nice, clean trap, and he’d walked right into it.

  Aris’ first impulse had been to fasten his hands around Terry Chan’s throat and choke the life out of her. It was a knee-jerk reaction more than a thoughtful response. She represented an incredible danger to House Hiritsu—threatening not only the success of the assault but the very foundation of the House itself. Aris’ life would be a small sacrifice to protect that. He tensed, ready to spring forward, but his reason prevailed at the last moment. Three weapons aimed at him made for too long of odds. He clenched his hands into impotent fists, willing himself to wait.

  As Terry Chan moved further from Aris’ side, Bartlett’s gun shifted to keep both Hiritsu warriors threatened. “Not so fast, you. I appreciate the tip-off on our warrior friend here, but let’s just verify who you are.” He smiled thinly. “Thus have I heard…” He let his voice trail off speculatively.

  Terry Chan nodded. “That a MechWarrior has the right to exact personal retribution,” she said, staring at Aris Sung.

  “Without fear of reprisal,” Bartlett finished.

  Aris fought to keep his face passive, and met Chan’s gaze evenly. She was obviously expecting some kind of reaction, quoting the Lorix Order out of context in a very self-serving manner. Aris denied her that small sign of victory, though disgust for what she was roiled within. Terry Chan was a traitor to her House, a breaker of the vows and oaths that bound the warriors together. The acidic taste of bile stung at the back of his throat, and Aris swallowed against it.

  Bartlett, for his part, seemed satisfied with the response, and the cavernous barrel of the .44 swung back in line with Aris’ heart.

  “Drop to your knees,” he commanded, very calm, very casual, as though sending a messenger for coffee. Aris complied.

  “Cross your legs at the ankles and sit back on your calves. Hands behind your head.”

  Aris knew the drill, one of the classic positions used by law enforcement for centuries to render a subject non-threatening. People on the street stopped to stare at him, and then quickly moved on at the sight of the Kaifeng SMM soldiers with guns drawn. Aris scanned the passing faces for one in particular, but saw no sign of Li Wynn. If the young thief possessed any sense of survival, he was back in the Zone by now.

  Bartlett crouched down and leaned in close, the .44 held easily in his right hand but still level with Aris’ chest. “So, you’re the one who ruined our little surprise last night. A shame, that.”

  Aris stared over Bartlett’s left shoulder, his gaze locked onto Terry Chan. “Why?” he asked simply, voice hard. There was no disbelief, no further moral outrage. It was as if all that had been burned out of him. He simply demanded an answer.

  Terry Chan half-smiled, her disdain for him twisting her lips into a sneer. “Why? A predictable question, I suppose, coming from someone who I doubt has ever understood the true potential of a House warrior.”

  She paused as if she might stop there. But then with a victorious smile, the air of someone who believes she has won, she continued. “We could be so much more if the House Mentors did not stifle us with all those House laws and traditions. You know the words, Aris.”

  Her eyes tightened into cold slits as she concentrated on quoting the Lorix Order. “ ‘MechWarriors must be afforded the opportunities to advance their various skills and expertise to the highest possible level.’ Do you see that happening within the Warrior Houses? We used to be considered the elite. Now the Capellan Armed Forces ranks half the Houses as regular or even green troops. Green!” She threw up her hands in a gesture of disgust. “And we are courteous and polite and say ‘thank you, sir’ just like our traditions demand.”

  Aris eyed Karl Bartlett, but the man seemed willing to let the conversation take its course. And why not? He was the one holding the weapons, and he probably thought the argument might give him tactical insight into the ways of House Hiritsu. Aris doubted the man could ever understand the inner workings of a Warrior House, especially with Terry Chan as his guide, someone who saw the strength of the House as a mere limitation. “Hiritsu laws and traditions teach discipline, Terry Chan. They are the binding force that holds together the warrior family.”

  “Will you listen to yourself? Hiritsu laws? The warrior family?” Terry shook her head. “Aris, you distance yourself from the family even as you speak. Aren’t they your laws and traditions, your family?”


  Aris visibly flinched away from her gaze because deep within himself he was afraid she might be right. Not that House Hiritsu stifled its warriors—man for man the Warrior Houses turned out some of the best troops in the Confederation, in the entire Inner Sphere. No, what he feared was that even after all this time he did not truly belong. That he was still an outsider, playing at having a family.

  Chan’s voice dropped in volume but increased in intensity, whipping at Aris in a savage whisper. “Some among the House are no longer content with being Sun-Tzu Liao’s lap dogs. His, and the ever-faithful Ion Rush’s. House Hiritsu has been kept on too short a leash ever since the Fourth Succession War. We were not even allowed a proper place in the Liao-Marik Offensive last year. Our leaders have abandoned their duty to us. That will change. We will change it. Advancement by any means necessary—dogma that can govern the group as well as the individual.”

  Aris’ gaze snapped up to Terry Chan’s face, reading her determination and confidence but not finding the fanatical gleam he’d expected. “Advancement by any means? You are a Thugee?” The brutal Thugee cult had gained power in the Confederation and even some measure of respectability with first Romano Liao’s backing and then Kali Liao’s. But the doctrine was so alien to the ways of House Hiritsu that Aris could not conceive of how a House warrior could even be tempted to join them.

  Terry laughed at him, sharp and brittle. “No, Aris Sung. I am not of the Thugee cult. But I do admire their drive to become all they are capable of becoming.”

  “And their methods?” Aris asked. “Is that what happened to House Master York? Thugees would not hesitate to assassinate their leader if it meant advancement.”

  A frown stole over Chan’s face, and she licked her lips nervously. Obviously the conversation no longer amused her. “I never raised a hand against any member of our House.” Aris wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. “By lending tactical assistance to the Kaifeng SMM, I created situations in which the survival of certain warriors depended on their own combat skills. And if I directly betrayed you to the enemy, then apparently you failed in your advance planning for tonight.”

  Words someone else has fed to her, Aris thought. So Terry Chan was not the leader. Could it be Ty Wu Non? Aris found that difficult to believe, that the battalion commander would hurt the House over which he was about to assume control. Aris needed more information. “Place any name on it you wish, Terry Chan. House Hiritsu will never follow a renegade.”

  “Always the loyal son of the House, aren’t you, Aris?” Terry asked with a sad expression. “I wish you could see the possibilities that open before us. You came to the House an outsider, and conformed to the traditions better than many. I wish that had not blinded you.”

  “Is that why you dislike me?” Aris asked. “Because I am content, while the simple truth is that you are merely an oath-breaker and a traitor to your House? I think you give too little credit to our Mentors. House Hiritsu is strong, and it will survive your attempts to force change on it.”

  The roundhouse kick caught Aris on the right side of his head. There was no time to evade, and his kneeling position precluded any strong actions even if there’d been time. Pain exploded against his right cheekbone and ear, making his vision swim. Aris caught himself before his body could fall hard against the sidewalk, but his torso was still twisted around and his balance was slow in returning. Bartlett had backed up a pace to survey his handiwork, and seemed surprised that Aris had not gone down.

  Terry Chan looked on without emotion. She stopped Bartlett with a touch to the shoulder, like a master to her faithful dog. When she spoke, it was like someone explaining a lesson to a child. “You underestimate House Hiritsu, Aris Sung. You of all people should realize that change, even radical change, is built into the core of our philosophy. The will of the House Master is the will of the House. Remember that? And House Masters change.”

  Aris wasn’t allowed to respond. With another touch Terry Chan released her hold on Major Bartlett, who laid a second kick up against his head, and blackness overcame him. In his final thoughts, he cursed Terry Chan for her twisted visions and himself for failing his House by not being better prepared.

  * * *

  As Aris had requested, Li Wynn had loitered around the front of the club to watch for any sign of trouble. The young thief had positioned himself near the side of the building where he could watch the entire front entrance without appearing too conspicuous. The Gold Pavilion’s neon sign cast a yellowish glare over the sidewalk and street, cut only briefly by the headlights of passing vehicles, and Li worked at keeping his face in the shadows.

  Trouble was a very non-specific term, he thought. Usually it meant Djing-cha troopers, but something told Li that Aris wasn’t worried about the local authorities. After seeing Aris’ condition the previous night, after the raid, Li wasn’t sure he wanted to know what did make Aris worry. Then three men had exited the club. Two wore utility jackets with the Kaifeng SMM insignia, and the third had one of those die-hard military haircuts that left his scalp thinly frosted with small blonde hairs. The first man, one of those in a utility jacket, had spun around and walked backward away from the door until fetching up against a parked car at curbside. The other two broke to either side of the door. All three drew weapons.

  Li had decided that this constituted trouble, a thought that was instantly confirmed when Aris stepped out onto the street and was trapped.

  The car parked in front of the Gold Pavilion was an old ground-style car with just enough clearance for Li to crawl under. He walked around to the street side, like he was looking for a cab in the light traffic, then dropped to his stomach and wormed under quickly. The scent of tar and oil clogged his nose, and the blacktop scraped at his forearms and face. He couldn’t see much: Aris’ legs and waist, the feet and pants legs for everyone else. But he could hear. He listened, first for any indication of what they would do to Aris and how Li Wynn might be able to help, then in growing unease as he learned who Aris was.

  Li Wynn could not be described as a patriot. As with most residents of the Zone, he felt little more than contempt for the present state of affairs and his greatest dream was to get away from it through any means possible. Aris was a member of the enemy, or so it seemed. That most likely meant imprisonment and later there might be a trade, Aris for a captured Kaifeng warrior. That was how the game was played in the vids. But there was another term, one that could apply to the aid Li had given Aris. Treason. For treason, Li Wynn could be put up against a wall and shot. Not for the first time since meeting Aris, he felt slightly out of his league.

  What should he do? Not an easy question to answer. The safest thing would be to hightail it back into the Zone and find a deep dark hidey-hole. But what if they made Aris tell them who had helped him? Li Wynn held no illusions about his chances of remaining hidden. Kaifeng could be a big place, full of hiding places, so long as you were small-time. Aiding an enemy spy? They would tear Li out of whatever crack he crawled into. But what else could he possibly do? The internal debate was still raging when Aris toppled over, his head hitting the walk with a sickening thump.

  “Yang,” a hard voice commanded from far above Li Wynn’s line of sight, “go get my car.” A pause. “Harris, you drag our friend here off to the side and watch him, will you?”

  Hands reached down to fasten around Aris’ ankles, and then dragged the unconscious man face down over several meters of paved walk. That left the one Kaifeng Mech-Warrior alone on the sidewalk with the Hiritsu traitor—the woman Aris had referred to as Chan.

  “When can you deliver the battalion commander?” the same male voice asked. “After tomorrow, I’ll need to wrap this up quickly before Leftenant-General Fallon can ask too many questions.”

  The responding voice was airy and distant—almost snobbish. “Not the most private place to discuss these matters,” it observed. To Li, she sounded like any one of the stuck-on-themselves women in the Zone who rated a man o
n his job and the price of his car. What would it be with this one? Rank and the weight of his BattleMech?

  “You picked the location,” the man reminded her.

  “Because I knew that Aris Sung would be dogging your heels by now,” she said in a scoffing tone. “I needed to take him in a public place. He can be slippery.”

  “Well, thanks for the identification.” There was a slight pause. “Makes me wonder how much he heard, eavesdropping on us in the club there.”

  Her voice dropped lower, into a more reasonable tone. “If you’re worried about tomorrow, don’t be. If Aris knew about that, he wouldn’t have been hanging about. He would’ve killed himself getting the information to Ty Wu Non, or even General Fallon.”

  “Fallon?” Bartlett looked a bit taken aback.

  “I told you,” she said, obviously enjoying the other’s discomfort. “He’s slippery.”

  Twice now they had referred to an event planned for the morrow, and Li Wynn felt an uneasy churning in his stomach. That the Kaifeng SMM would deal with a Hiritsu traitor didn’t shock him too much—that was a favorite part of any good war movie on the holovids. But this sounded more like a private deal. It reminded him of another conversation he’d overheard one time, listening to a messenger make private book on the Solaris matches, but then not reporting it to the bookie. Worked out fine, until one of the betters hit it big and the man couldn’t cover the win.

  “Whatever,” the man said, obviously brushing aside the matter. “Our friend won’t see another morning, so problem solved. I’ll squeeze whatever information I can from him tonight, then drop him in a hole somewhere. Good enough?”

  “He’s been out of the loop for days. You won’t get much of use out of him, but suit yourself. As for when we can deliver Battalion Commander Non, I’ll have to let you know over our private frequency. And of course this is all contingent on your men smashing the festival tomorrow.”