“Seems that it only took three BattleMechs to throw all of Tarrahause into a panic.” Fallon looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Two of them your own, piloted by two SMM MechWarriors.”
Bartlett could feel a tightness in his chest and swallowed with some difficulty. “As I told the general, I take full responsibility for my men. That Kevin Yang and Paul Harris could be swayed by Capellan bribes or threats or whatever it was Hiritsu used still turns my blood cold.”
Cyndi Fallon stared at him, not blinking for longer than Bartlett would have thought possible. “You believe they may have been threatened? With what?”
She had picked up on it. Bartlett shrugged feigned indifference to the question. “I mention it as a possibility only. Kevin Yang has relatives on the southern continent, in Franklin District. Paul Harris’ wife is on rotation to the recharge station.” He shook his head lightly. “We’ll probably never know for sure. We’ve scraped enough of Yang out of the Raven’s cockpit to fill a small box, maybe. I rode in with Paul Harris, hoping to get a statement of any kind, but he never regained consciousness.” I made sure of that.
Karl Bartlett noticed the general’s small shiver when he described Kevin’s death. All MechWarriors—himself included—feared burning alive in the cockpit. It probably came from planting your butt on top of a fusion reactor. Engine explosion, inferno rockets, lucky PPC hit to the head—they were the terrifying bane of a warrior’s existence. And he had counted on her reaction to help gloss over Harris’ death. The last thing he wanted was for her to order a full-scale autopsy, not after the hospital had already ruled shock-trauma.
“Major,” General Fallon said calmly, almost as if by afterthought, “intelligence in Mahabohdi has learned of a transfer of four more BattleMechs from Beijing to the Hiritsu forces in the Tarrahause District.”
Karl Bartlett nodded and tried to act as if he’d already suspected as much. “They know we’ll come after them now. No way around it. There’s already a lot of talk about how we’re cowering in the city, hiding behind civilian shields.” Carefully controlled talk, started by a word or two in the proper place. “Some of those accusations turned fairly nasty when people learned of Yang and Harris. If we don’t act, we could find Tarrahause in a state of rebellion.” Which also helped explain more of Terry Chan’s desire for that staged attack. She wanted them under pressure. He’d missed that possibility, but then he hadn’t thought of his people’s identities being discovered. Well, he had some trump cards of his own left to play.
“What about our friend?” Fallon asked. “Is she still willing to trade information for limited engagements?”
Just what I knew you’d ask, Bartlett thought. “According to her last transmission, she believes that if we come out in force, House Hiritsu will back off again. We can chase them for days.”
“But can we keep this up long enough to gain reinforcements?” Fallon said, rubbing at the side of her face in worry. “The blockade around Sarna is going surprisingly well for the Confederation, mostly because no one has recent experience fighting such a tactic involving warships. I mean, what could we do if Sun-Tzu parked that kind of firepower in orbit around Kaifeng? Nothing but sacrifice a few DropShips maybe. The only thing in our favor is that Sun-Tzu has no reserve left either. He stretched himself too thin last year. If not for the blockade, Sarna could reinforce us and take this opportunity to hit Sarmaxa or maybe even Randar.” Fallon’s face lit up at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be a nice gift to our Warrior House friends, to find their homes in ashes and under the Sarna Supremacy when they return?”
Bartlett felt his patience wearing thin. He needed a commitment before Fallon left the room or he might not get it at all. “Such speculations are beyond me, General. But we should be able to hold for a week or more in the field, then we can come back to the city and hole up again. Certainly long enough to get reinforcements onto the planet, and then Hiritsu will have to withdraw.”
Actually Bartlett doubted it would last two days, if he could set his plans in motion. Once Terry Chan delivered her battalion commander and a few of his closest supporters, Bartlett would be in the position to crush the Warrior House completely. And he would make sure everyone knew who had done it. Not Cyndi Fallon, that was for sure. Karl doubted the general would even see the end of the campaign.
If Terry Chan could request special targets, there was no reason he couldn’t either.
26
Jinxiang Port Terminal 5 South
Tarrahause District, Kaifeng
Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March
26 July 3058
Aris stood over the unconscious guard, in the moonlit shadow of the port terminal’s main warehouse, nursing a bruised knuckle on his left hand. He’d been slightly off on his ridge-hand strike, clipping the base of the infantryman’s helmet. It had taken a follow-up kick to finally lay the man out. Aris counted himself fortunate that no alarm had been raised.
Infiltrating the Hiritsu staging area had been easier than he’d thought. He knew Ty Wu Non well enough to assume that the battalion commander would not deviate much from standard House Hiritsu military doctrine. Infantryman posts were set on a perimeter three to four kilometers out, backed up by a roving BattleMech patrol no larger than lance-sized. Once through that, all Aris had to deal with were the port-terminal infantryman patrols.
And the battalion commander’s personal security.
For the third time, Aris had taken his Wraith under water. Entering the river six kilometers upstream—just to be sure—he’d exited his cockpit just as he had in Lake Ch’u Yuan. Except this time he tied the marker rope to a tree on the bank. Unless a wide-ranging foot patrol literally tripped over the rope, he was confident the ’Mech wouldn’t give him away.
The way Aris had been able to second-guess the placement of patrols and standing guards both in the surrounding jungle and once inside the port terminal gave him pause, however. Any competently trained Hiritsu warrior could probably infiltrate standard security every time. It just wasn’t considered a possibility that a Hiritsu warrior would ever want to—or need to—act against the House.
The danger of routines and traditions, Aris thought, more convinced than ever that this was what had killed House Master Virginia York. Providing he could convince Ty Wu Non of the threat within his own House, Aris expected much of that to change. He didn’t like to think about what this could do to House Hiritsu—to his family. That was the reason behind his stealthy approach. If he could get to Ty Wu Non before an alarm was raised, just maybe there would be a way to heal the wound before it festered.
Aris dragged the guard over to the warehouse wall where some empty barrels had been stacked, and stashed the unconscious man behind them. This was the first major problem of the night. It put Aris on a timetable. He had to reach the battalion commander and persuade him to listen before the guard was discovered, woke, or failed to check in on time.
Aris gave himself ten minutes.
The large doors at the front of the warehouse had been rolled back to open the building to the cool tropical night. Light flooded the loading yard, falling down between the rows of BattleMechs that stood there in silent formation. Aris heard the sounds of welders and hoists and a few shouted orders as techs continued to work in the warehouse. There would be battle tomorrow, just as Aris had thought, which always meant a busy night for the technicians.
He saw what he was looking for at the far side of the loading yard. A long, squat brick building with air conditioning units in every other window. Government-supplied housing for the port-terminal management and workers who didn’t relish the idea of a long commute into Tarrahause every day. And if Aris had any doubts that Ty Wu Non slept in one of the rooms, the two guards posted at the building’s main door erased them. But he had to cross the lighted loading yard to get anywhere near. Circling around in the dark would take too long and was an invitation for another run-in with a guard.
So Aris hid in plain sight, using the same principl
es of misdirection that had served him in the Gold Pavilion. Served him until Terry Chan recognized him and gave him away, he remembered bitterly.
Slipping around the corner of the warehouse, he moved along the wall until almost to the wide doors. Then he stepped into the light and strolled out toward the BattleMechs. He had changed back into the clothes he’d picked up in Tarrahause. They were still wet from his swim out of the river, but no one could tell that at a distance and it looked less suspicious than wearing his only other clothing of shorts and a cooling vest. He even welcomed the cool touch of the wet clothes, though the water-logged shoes chafed at his feet.
It took him less than a minute to cross the loading yard while trying not to pass too close to any technician. The only guards this deep into the port-terminal were those at the building door, and Aris passed in full view of them to tie his shoe and send them a lazy wave. One of them waved back. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strolled along and even forced himself to whistle until he was safely past the corner of the building and hidden from sight again. It was only then that he noticed the layer of sweat that had broken out on his forehead.
But the demanding part was over. To enter the building, he pried out a screen in the upper half of a window that held an air conditioning unit. By standing on one of many empty crates that lay scattered all over the terminal, he managed to enter without making much noise. His luck was holding; the room was unoccupied.
Five minutes, he told himself, keeping silent track of his time limit. He moved into the hallway and began a stealthy search of the main floor.
Ty Wu Non had a single guard stationed directly outside his door, a man armed with a Nakjama laser sidearm and a radio clipped into a belt holder. It was an interior room, so there would be no open window leading to the outside. The door was midway down a long hallway, giving the sentry ample time to identify and challenge anyone approaching. Smart man. Aris knew the clock was still ticking, and that his luck couldn’t hold much longer. It was time to act.
With no way to approach by stealth, Aris decided to hide in plain sight again. He unbuttoned his shirt, giving him access to his own Nakjama, which rode in a nylon shoulder holster. Then he stepped around the corner and into the guard’s sight.
Aris immediately looked over his shoulder as if maintaining a conversation with someone back around the corner. “I’ll see to it,” he called down the empty hallway. “What?” He turned and walked the way he’d come, slowing. Nothing out of the ordinary, he thought, trying to impress the thought on the guard. Would a dangerous person draw so much attention to himself?
Whether or not his mental cajoling affected the guard, no threatening sounds came from behind him and Aris stole his right hand up into the inside of his shirt. “All right,” he called out as if responding to a simple request. Then he spun, laser pistol extended in a classic two-hand grip and pointed directly at the infantryman’s left eye. “Think carefully, Leon,” he whispered, recognizing the sentry and noticing the man’s hand flinch toward his own weapon.
The guard apparently thought better of his position. He relaxed, raising his arms out to either side of him. “What…” he started to ask loudly, trying to warn the battalion commander through the door, but Aris thrust his pistol up until the muzzle was only a hair’s breadth from the man’s eye. When Leon spoke again, it was in a soft, calm tone. “What do you want, Aris Sung?”
“I wish to speak to the battalion commander.”
The younger man licked his lips nervously. “You have been declared renegade and ordered arrested.”
“I figured on something like that.” Terry Chan probably hadn’t been able to figure out how to get him ordered shot on sight. Though any member of her little cabal would surely dispose of Aris immediately.
“I cannot allow you to enter armed, Aris Sung. You know that.”
Aris saw the tension building in the young man’s face, read that he intended to make a play for his own weapon. “Wait,” Aris cautioned. “I’ll surrender my weapon. To the battalion commander. You call him, but do not say my name or raise an alarm. Just bring him to the door.”
The guard thought it over and nodded slowly. One hand reached back cautiously to find the door and knock softly. On the third try, a voice finally called out. “What is it?”
“Sir, could you come to the door please?”
The request, coming through the door, was sufficiently out of place to put Ty on his guard. “For what reason?” he asked.
“You have a visitor,” Aris said, speaking clearly and distinctly.
There was a pause, followed by several long uncomfortable seconds. Then the door opened and a third Nakjama joined the party, this one held in Ty Wu Non’s small but steady hand. “Drop the pistol, Aris.”
Aris let the Nakjama spin down to where he was holding it by the trigger guard. Then he extended it to Ty. “Company Leader Aris Sung reporting to the battalion commander,” Aris said quietly as Ty accepted the weapon and the guard drew his own, just to be safe. “I have an immediate report to make on Tarrahause and the death of Virginia York.”
Aris almost missed the flash of surprise that flashed across Ty Wu Non’s face and then was gone. Ty was getting much better at concealing his thoughts. The infantryman was agog. “Indeed?” Ty asked. “Then perhaps you had better come inside, Aris Sung.”
“Sir,” Aris said, stopping his commander before he stepped back into the room. “It would be wise if no one knew of my return, at least until after we talk. After that I leave it to your discretion.”
“You are hardly in the position to advise me, Aris.” Ty Wu Non’s voice was frosty. Then he paused, and relented. “Very well. A minor point to grant you, I suppose.” He turned to the infantryman. “Leon, you will remain at your post and communicate Aris Sung’s return to no one.”
“Yes, Battalion Commander.”
“And there’s an unconscious guard behind the warehouse,” Aris informed Ty.
This time there was no mistaking the tension in Ty Wu Non’s face. “Get on your radio, Leon. Send a patrol to wake him. Tell him he failed a readiness check by the battalion commander and is confined to his room until further notice. He is under an order of complete silence. No speaking.” They waited while Leon relayed the order. “Now get in here, Aris,” Ty ordered, straining the very limits of his courtesy.
Aris grabbed Leon’s radio on his way through the door, lifting it right out of the holder on the sentry’s belt. The younger warrior seemed at a loss, glancing to his battalion commander to see if he should make something of it. Ty Wu Non stepped inside the room and shut the door forcefully. “You had better have a damn good story to tell,” he said through clenched teeth, no longer bothering to hide his fury.
Aris did.
Two minutes into the tale, Ty sat down heavily on his bed and except for his facial expressions did not move until Aris had finished. Aris read alternating waves of shock, disgust, fury, and wide-eyed denial that broke over Ty Wu Non’s features at irregular intervals during the telling. When it was all over he made Aris repeat the scene from in front of the Gold Pavilion and then sat in stunned silence to consider it all. Aris waited more than five minutes for him to speak.
“If I hadn’t been your Mentor, Aris, I doubt I would have believed what you have just told me.”
“But you do,” Aris said quietly.
“But I do,” Ty agreed. “It all makes sense, as long as one can accept the idea of outright betrayal in House Hiritsu.” He glanced up sharply. “You can prove this?”
“I can.”
“And the death of House Master York. How does that fit in?”
Aris shook his head lightly. “I’m not really sure yet,” he said, only half lying. “I don’t think Terry Chan did it, but I believe these events are related. I only used that to get your attention.”
Ty Wu Non shook his head in disbelief. “By the elder gods, Aris, do you realize what this could do to our House?”
Our House. Always befor
e, Ty Wu Non had called it “my House” as a way of distancing Aris Sung. That simple inclusion, even if only an oversight due to the shock of Aris’ news, warmed Aris for perhaps the first time since Virginia York’s death. Right then, Ty Wu Non had made him feel as if he belonged.
“Yes, Battalion Commander,” he said. “It would mean inquiries, hearings, executions. And by the time the dust settled, House Hiritsu would be broken. It would take generations to repair the internal damage to the family, and that is if the Chancellor did not disband us.”
Ty Wu Non blinked rapidly. “You do not try to guild it, do you?”
“I need to be sure we understand each other, Ty Wu Non.”
Aris’ familiar use of the battalion commander’s name shocked the elder man back into a more active state of mind. “Why is that?” he asked cautiously.
Aris drew in a deep breath. “Because I may know a way we can bypass the inquisition and turn the entire situation into an advantage for House Hiritsu on Kaifeng.”
Nothing showed on Ty’s face or seeped into his voice. “That is a tall order. What will it cost me?”
“You have to be prepared to bury this entire matter, including the death of Virginia York. As far as anyone is concerned, she was killed by a Sarna operative. You would also have to accept my counsel on tomorrow’s battle plans, and in a few other areas.” For once in your life, you will have to listen to me and trust me, Aris thought. Can you do that?
Ty Wu Non surprised him. “Let’s hear it,” he said.
27
Jinxiang Port Terminal 5 South
Tarrahause District, Kaifeng
Sarna Supremacy, Chaos March
26 July 3058
Binding Force Page 22
