Binding Force

by Loren L. Coleman

  24

  Lake Ch’u Yuan, Tarrahause

  Tarrahause District, Kaifeng

  Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March

  25 July 3058

  The Raven walked into the middle of the intersection, its hook-nosed head bobbing like the bird that was its namesake. Twin medium lasers mounted to its stubby right arm spat out emerald darts that chewed into a nearby building. Smoke billowed around its right-torso launcher as six short-range missiles flew out and speared into an abandoned automobile, tearing it apart and igniting the fuel tank. The car jackknifed into the air, rising on a column of fire, and then slammed back into the street with fender-crushing force.

  An impressive piece of work, Leftenant Kevin Yang thought bitterly. Maybe there’s a threatening ice cream stand nearby that would make a worthy target.

  Yang twisted the Raven’s upper torso, searching for a new target far from any people. Panicked Tarrahause citizens were everywhere, most running away from his position, but a bewildered few actually moving toward him as if lost in a maze. Yang swallowed against the constriction in his throat that threatened to suffocate him. “Just following orders,” he whispered to the empty cockpit. Now there was an original defense.

  It was just as well Yang’s communications system had been shut down for this mission. He’d been talking to himself ever since the outskirts of the city, and it wouldn’t do for another member of the Kaifeng SMM to overhear him. Maybe it was a secret wish to be caught, discovered, ordered off the mission. Certainly there was no turning back now that he’d actually fired on Tarrahause. He had to play this through to the end.

  Actually, it had been too late from the time he walked into that twice-damned terminal with Karl Bartlett and Paul Harris. Yang had always respected Bartlett, and sometimes feared him as well. Kevin Yang was a good MechWarrior. He would never make a living on the game world of Solaris, and he doubted he would ever rise very high in the ranks of the Sarna Supremacy military, the army of a fledgling state. But not everyone was cut out for command positions. No, he was a decent ’Mech pilot and a loyal follower, and for two years he had put his trust in his company commander to make the hard choices while doing the only thing he knew how—pilot a ’Mech.

  Now that was all falling apart. He no longer trusted Karl Bartlett. He thought Bartlett was way out of his depth, trying to deal with the Hiritsu traitor without the Leftenant-General Fallon’s knowledge, and now he even questioned the man’s ability to command. Yang felt lost and alone, and his actions had become like those of an automaton. He wished for something, anything, that could end his misery.

  Heat washed over him as he again triggered both medium lasers and his short-range missiles. This time he’d targeted trees standing in K’ung-fu-tzu Park, and they splintered and blew apart under his weapons. He winced, remembering many pleasant evenings spent in the cool of the park. As if in retribution, his ’Mech’s sensors screamed warnings at him, and for a moment he feared to see the spirit of K’ung-fu-tzu himself rise from the scarred landscape to confront him.

  The Raven’s computer painted a red circle on the heads-up display. Behind him, according to the tactical placement, was the BattleMech known as a Wraith. The very name of the ’Mech seemed an echo of his thought of the moment before. Yang twisted the Raven around, tracking his targeting reticule to the far left-hand edge of the screen and holding it while a combination torso-twist and sidestep brought him to face the lake.

  The Wraith moved through waist-deep water, wading for the shore. The gun-metal blue of the ’Mech glistened, at once beautiful and deadly. Yang was too stunned to fire on it right away. He thought of the tale of Ch’u Yuan, for whom the lake was named—the ancient poet who’d drowned himself out of despair over the warring Chinese states. It was said the old gods had granted him a form of immortality and that his spirit still continued to walk, trying to bring peace to those who would not lay aside the tools of war.

  Kevin Yang’s first barely coherent thought was that Ch’u Yuan was packing a large laser.

  His last thought, just before the scarlet beam sliced through his cockpit, was a desperate half-formed wish that what the old religions taught was indeed true and that he might hope to be reborn and yet find his true place in life.

  * * *

  The heat levels of Aris’ Wraith were just edging into the yellow band when he finished off the Raven. He left it in the middle of the intersection, a smoking corpse. His first salvo had ripped up the left leg and spread into the center torso. His second had speared directly into the cockpit, melting armor, viewscreen, and the pilot inside. And without any return fire, Aris thought, hoping his luck would hold.

  His answer came in the form of two 32mm autocannon slugs that shattered armor plates off his left rear torso and were accompanied by the screaming of warning sensors.

  Aris kicked his Wraith into a walk, moving past the intersection and the broken Raven and around the protection of a nearby building. A glance at his HUD had revealed the Blackjack in perfect position nearly a block behind him. Either caution or heat considerations on the other pilot’s part had spared Aris the wrath of the Blackjack’s four medium lasers, and he wasn’t about to chance that again. Not against his weaker—make that nonexistent—rear armor.

  When he’d spied the Blackjack from the dragon boat, Aris had worried that it might have been the OmniMech he’d encountered at the Jinxiang Bridge. That would have meant fifty tons of state-of-the-art BattleMech; twenty-six point five tons of weapon pods. Enough to gut his Wraith in a single, if lucky, volley. The battle computer allayed that fear, though. BJ-1, it tagged the red triangle. Aris knew that meant four medium lasers and two of the smallest autocannon available. Not very fast, but jump-capable. All considered, his Wraith held a decided edge.

  The BJ-l’s first preference would be to fall back to extreme ranges where only the small autocannon could reach. Not very practical in an urban environment, where combat tended to get up close and personal. The next best would be to come in at extremely close range, where its medium lasers would offset the heavy punch of Aris’ large pulse laser and rob the Wraith of its advantage of mobility. A cautious pilot would choose the former, an aggressive warrior the latter. Aris triggered his jump jets, angling to jump over the building he’d taken refuge behind and straight toward the last known position of the Blackjack.

  He was betting on the other man being a warrior.

  The Wraith responded sluggishly, still unbalanced from losing two jump jets at the Jinxiang. But it cleared the building. And as Aris dropped to the other side, his targeting computer reacquired the Blackjack moving underneath him, going straight for the same corner Aris had disappeared around. He twisted his control sticks. That and the neurohelmet signals pivoted the Wraith in midair like some kind of armored ballerina doing a pirouette. He came down behind the Blackjack, his golden targeting reticule sweeping directly over its rear torso.

  Regardless of Aris’ advantageous position, the Blackjack was by no means defeated. The enemy ’Mech swung its arms up and over to fire directly to its rear, calling on the design feature that made Blackjacks so popular, the lack of arm actuators. It could bring two thirds of its weapons to bear, the autocannon and two of its lasers. Amber beams worried at the Wraith’s leg, melting armor that ran to the ground in fiery rivulets. The depleted-uranium slugs hammered at his left torso and even chipped some armor off his cockpit.

  Aris rode out the damage, retaining control of his ’Mech with practiced ease. He tied all three of his weapons into his main Target Interlock Circuit and triggered them. Scarlet beams pulsed into the back of the Blackjack, tracking to the center and then drilling deep into its internal structure. He glanced at his tactical readout on the enemy ’Mech and saw a blossom of heat spread throughout its main torso section. An engine hit, and a bad one at that. He knew the Blackjack must feel like a walking furnace to its pilot, but the other warrior’s quick response to his maneuver told him the battle wasn’t over yet.

  Tru
e to form, the Blackjack’s arms snapped back to the front as it turned a tight corner to face Aris’ Wraith. Aris knew what he’d do if he were sitting at the controls of the other ’Mech—run the heat and try to score deep with the four medium lasers. But he had no intention of putting his Wraith through that much damage again. He walked the Wraith backward until it was moving at its maximum walking speed of just over seventy-five kilometers per hour. It was enough to back off almost two hundred meters, placing the medium lasers at the edge of their effective range but still close enough that the Wraith’s large pulse laser could score easily.

  The Blackjack pilot’s luck was quickly running sour. Only a single burst of its autocannon fire nipped the Wraith. In return, it caught a full stream of scarlet energy in its own left torso and one of Aris’ medium lasers dead center. The Kaifeng SMM warrior was faced with unpleasant alternatives. Aris had the best ranged weapon and the mobility to keep at optimum distance for it. A face-off would only lead to a slow death. The pilot’s other option was to run for it, but the Blackjack’s back was already sliced open. They traded weapons fire again, Aris taking a single laser hit to his right leg and the Blackjack losing twice as much armor in the center torso.

  That decided matters for the other MechWarrior. Engaging his jump jets, he lifted the Blackjack on streams of plasma and banked to place the building between it and the Wraith. Aris held his position, lining up for the easy back shot just as the Blackjack rotated at the apogee of its flight. His large laser missed completely, surprising him, and one of the mediums only scoured more armor from the Blackjack’s left leg. The last medium hit true, however, penetrating the open scar in the back and digging deeper into the fusion engine shielding.

  Aris saw the pilot ejection seat blow free of the cockpit not two seconds before the entire ’Mech blew apart. Small pieces of its armor plating struck about the Wraith, but none with enough mass or force to damage it. The largest chunk of BattleMech fell on top of the building it had tried to jump over, smashing through the roof and who knew how many floors beneath.

  Time to be going, Aris thought. He checked his tactical display. The first Kaifeng SMM ’Mech was just coming on his screen, over a kilometer away along the northern shoreline. There would be more, though. Aris had blown his hiding place in order to save a few civilian lives. Well worth it, as far as he was concerned, providing he could now escape the city.

  And maybe he had a few more seconds to spare. Aris located the Blackjack pilot, gliding toward the ground in his parafoil. He lined up a careful shot, letting the parachute cross his targeting reticule while it was still a good ten meters above the ground. One burst from his single medium laser left the chute burning, and the pilot fell the last ten meters to hit the ground hard. That kind of a fall will break something, Aris thought. Or at least shake him up bad enough to prevent a fast escape. Either way, he’d have some questions to answer. Satisfied, Aris walked his Wraith back to the lakeshore.

  Now there were three Kaifeng ’Mechs, two to the west and one south, all taking advantage of the open shoreline. Traveling through the city was a death sentence waiting to be carried out. That left Aris one last option. He would have to go for cover again, and make his break in a—hopefully—secluded spot. Over twenty kilometers of shoreline, he reminded himself, engaging his jump jets and angling as far out over the lake as he could. For the second time since beginning the assault on Kaifeng, Aris readied himself for splashdown.

  He was really beginning to hate water.

  25

  Jinxiang River Port Terminal 5 South

  Tarrahause District, Kaifeng

  Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March

  25 July 3058

  The port terminal lay along the southern stretch of the Jinxiang River, fifty kilometers below Lake Ch’u Yuan. A full company of Hiritsu BattleMechs stood a tight formation in the loading yard. Three others patrolled a healthy perimeter, backing up the infantry posts set up nearly three kilometers beyond them. Two more BattleMechs were undergoing routine maintenance in the large hangar-style warehouse while Ty Wu Non and Terry Chan held a private conference in the second-floor office.

  The battalion commander stood in front of the air conditioner, eyes closed as the machine’s cool flow of air blasted him in the face and chilled the light sheen of sweat he’d gathered by walking to the warehouse. He kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back, knowing they would betray his frustration. A House Master must always seem to be in control, he reminded himself. Even when he is not. Especially when he is not.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral. A request for clarification, not a doubt of ability. “It was Aris Sung?”

  Terry Chan remained at attention next to the office desk. He had not invited her to sit, or even put her at ease. Clearly she’d expected it—House Master York had always kept private meetings relaxed. Ty would not be taking such an informal approach to his position. He knew he did not possess Virginia York’s matronly charisma, and from the standpoint of discipline he had not always agreed with that policy anyway.

  “I’ve seen Aris in combat,” she said. “I’ve trained next to him. No one else could have been piloting that Wraith. It”—she gestured at the air as if searching for the right word—“It moved like Aris.”

  Ty nodded once. “So, Aris Sung is not only alive, but he’s been in possession of his Wraith all along. And we also have two MechWarriors of the Kaifeng SMM posing as Hiritsu warriors, and attacking their own city. Finally, Aris brings both of them down and disappears again.” Ty glanced over at Chan. “You were there. What are your thoughts?”

  Terry hedged, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Her eyes would not meet those of her battalion commander. “Sir, I can only assume that Aris Sung has turned renegade.”

  Ty blinked his surprise. Terry Chan held no love for Aris, that was certainly true and partially his own fault, but the accusation still shocked him. “Proceed,” he said in a level voice.

  “Aris has never gotten on well with you, Battalion Commander. And ever since the ambush near the moon Nochen, his assault plan has come under constant criticism. So now he is fighting independent of the House. In his own reasoning, I’m sure he has justified any and all actions. But the truth is that he has broken from standard House doctrine on the conduct of military operations.”

  Ty set his face against any show of encouragement or discouragement. He wanted Terry’s full, unbiased evaluation. She could be right. He didn’t want to believe that, not even of Aris Sung, but if it would be anyone, it was him. “And the staged attack against Tarrahause?”

  She was ready for that question. Her hesitation had vanished when it became clear that he would hear her out. “Aris is a highly trained operative. I do not believe it beyond his capabilities to recruit local malcontent warriors and turn them against their superiors. His plan is the same as ever, to somehow provoke the defenders into coming out to meet us. It appears to have worked this time, but in doing so he violated the cease-fire.”

  “And you were able to confirm a build-up of forces in Tarrahause?”

  Terry Chan nodded. “It was all over the city that Leftenant-General Fallon is bringing at least a full lance of ’Mechs out of Mahabohdi to Tarrahause. This Major Bartlett is calling the entire affair an Hiritsu ploy to turn Kaifeng’s own warriors against each other and violate the cease-fire at the same time. Bartlett’s screaming for our blood, but that might be an effort to push the public outrage onto Fallon.”

  Ty Wu Non turned back to his desk, pacing slowly as he thought. Was this the opportunity they’d been waiting for? Luring the defenders out from the city where House Hiritsu could overwhelm them?

  “Aris Sung is to be considered a renegade,” he said, dealing with that issue first. “He is to be placed under House arrest upon any sighting. If he resists, House warriors are authorized to use whatever force necessary to bring him in. Pass those orders to the duty officer for transmission.” He waited for a respondin
g nod. “So you think they will be coming out?”

  “I think they have to, or face a riot.”

  Ty Wu Non studied Terry Chan with hard eyes. Finally he nodded. “Then we will meet them and crush them. I will order another full lance from Beijing. If the Kaifeng SMM and their mercenary fodder take to the field in any strength, this could very well be the deciding battle for Kaifeng.

  “Dismissed.”

  * * *

  “Where are they now?”

  Major Karl Bartlett flipped on an overhead projector while the general’s aide darkened the room by spinning down the dimmer switch. The projector splashed a full-color map of the Tarrahause District onto a blank wall in the major’s office. Bartlett, Leftenant-General Cynthia Fallon, and her aide, a Major Cabander, stood in silence for a moment as each studied the layout. The Jinxiang River was a ribbon of silver running northeast to southwest, opening up at the middle of the wall into the inverted L-shaped Lake Ch’u Yuan. Tarrahause itself was a gray splotch that surrounded the northern and western shore of the lake.

  “My scouts say here,” Bartlett said, using a laser pointer to highlight a dark spot along the Jinxiang’s southern reach labeled Port Terminal Number Five South. “We confirmed that by aerial reconnaissance high flyovers before that Overlord crowded them away. And of course, our Hiritsu friend also verified it.” He paused, giving the general an obvious opening to jump into.

  “How did House Hiritsu get a BattleMech into this city?” Fallon asked sharply, her eyes never straying from the map.

  Bartlett cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We think he entered the Jinxiang River near the northern bridge and walked underwater, south, into the lake. We’ve never considered that a reasonable threat because of the inherent problems in underwater operations. Especially at anything greater than lance strength.”