Warrior, coupe

by Michael A. Stackpole

"When he bowed to me, he trapped me. We had agreed to fight so that the victor could be merciful to the vanquished. I had lost, and because Bushido bound me to do so, I was forced to withdraw. To do otherwise might have won the battle, but it would have shamed Takashi Kurita. He could live without Mallory's World, but could he live without honor?"

  Yorinaga swallowed hard. "I returned to Luthien and reported what I saw and felt to the Coordinator. I then resigned my commission and asked to be allowed to commit seppuku. The Coordinator exiled me to the zen monastery on Echo V while continuing to refuse my request. Eleven years later, he finally agreed to grant it, provided I first create and lead our elite unit, the Genyosha."

  Akira pointed off toward the rubble representing Ryde. "We will meet the Kell Hounds then?"

  Yorinaga nodded gravely. "Yes. Just as Morgan Kell studied to know me and use that knowledge against me, so I studied him while on Echo V. I know him ... I share his abilities. Kell and I will meet again on Ryde, Akira. And there we will destroy one another."

  BOOK ll

  DECEPTION

  It is double the pleasure to deceive the deceiver.

  —Jean de la Fontaine

  11

  Bethel

  Capellan March, Federated Suns

  9 April 3029

  Justin Xiang stood in the middle of the 'Mech bay in the Leopard Class DropShip Ganju and stared up at his BattleMech. Over five times his height and massing fifty tons, the Centurion known to Solaris Vll fight fans as Yen-lo-wang towered above its master. Humanoid in configuration, its left arm ended in a mechanical hand while the muzzle of an autocannon formed the right arm's terminus. The 'Mech's faceplate had been opened upward, and a rope ladder spilled down the machine's breast to the deck.

  Justin smiled to himself. You saw me safely through my battles on the Game World. Let us hope you’ll make this raid work, too. Justin had just reached out for the ladder when he heard someone call his name. He turned, the smiled still on his lips.

  Alexi Malenkov, Justin's chief aide on the crisis team, jogged awkwardly in his direction. A black jumpsuit covered the lanky blond from hooded head to feet and gloved wrists. A mirrored faceplate rode clipped to his shoulder, but when in place, would give Alexi complete night vision in addition to cleaning the air of all harmful gases and smoke. A bulky backpack contained his parafoil, and a rucksack belted to his middle contained all his weaponry, except for the needle pistol riding in a holster beneath his left armpit.

  Justin's smile grew wider. "I think, were we to drop you alone on the facility, the Feds would surrender straight away," he said, chuckling at the sight of Alexi. "You look pretty fearsome."

  Alexi joined in the laughter. "Thanks. After this raid, I'll go into holovids. There's got to be a commando series coming out of this."

  Justin nodded. "Malenkov the Mercenary. I can see it now: dolls, holovids, clothes. Probably earn more than the guy who does the Immortal Warrior series. Hope you remember your friends when you get rich."

  Alexi nodded confidently. "No problem." His smile slowly died as a frown creased his brow. "A couple of our people seem to be a little too anxious about notching their guns, though. We'll be down and in gassing the lab while you and the other three 'Mech pilots bring your 'Mechs up. What do you want me to do with any trigger-happy folks?"

  Justin frowned. "Our people have to return fire if they're opposed, but if they start shooting things up, you'll have to kill them." Justin pointed toward the Centurion. "Once I strap in, I'll remind everyone we're here to steal the golden egg, not kill the goose. When we've driven Davion back, we'll want to use these people to our own benefit."

  Alexi flashed Justin a thumbs-up. "Got it. Good luck."

  "And to you, Citizen Malenkov." Justin punched Alexi lightly in the shoulder. "Shoot straight, but keep your head down."

  Alexi turned away, leaving Justin to mount the ladder to his 'Mech's cockpit. Nimble as a monkey, Justin ascended the ladder and reached the cockpit despite his mechanical left hand. Once inside, he settled into the command couch and touched a button on his right that reeled in the ladder and dropped the faceplate down into position. With a hiss, the cabin pressurized itself.

  Justin unzipped his black jumpsuit, revealing the cooling vest he wore beneath it. Plastic tubes of coolant ran between the goretex material next to his skin and the vest's outer layer of ballistic cloth. Justin snaked out the vest's power cord and snapped it into a socket on the left side of his couch. He felt the ticklish sensation of fluid moving through the tubes as the vest pulled heat away from his body.

  Through slits on the thighs and upper arms of his jump suit, Justin pressed medical monitoring electrode pads to his flesh. He then opened a panel on the right side of his couch and pulled out four cables. He clipped one end of each to the pads, then snaked the cables up through the appropriate loops on his cooling vest. He let the plugs hang limp at his throat.

  Reaching up and behind himself, he pulled his neurohelmet from the shelf above his command couch. He settled it down over his shoulders, adjusting it to rest comfortably on the vest's padded shoulders, with the neurosensor ring pressed snugly against his head. With the triangular faceplate centered, Justin presed some velcro tabs to keep the helmet in place, then plugged the four sensor wires into the sockets on the helmet's throat.

  He grinned to himself. It's been far too long since I've been in a 'Mech. What I have been doing is vital to the war effort, but being denied a 'Mech is almost unbearable. I'm a MechWarrior first. Nothing will ever take that from me.

  Justin reached over to his metallic left hand with his right and tugged back on the middle and ring fingers until they pressed nearly flat against the back of the hand. With a click, a small compartment cracked open at Justin's left wrist. He slid the panel back, allowing a ribbon cable to spring out like a striking snake. Justin snapped the connector into a socket below the joystick on the command couch arm.

  With his right hand, he punched a button on the console to his right. The computer's voice echoed within his neurohelmet. "I am Yen-lo-wang. Who presents himself to the King of the Nine Hells?"

  "Your humble servant, Justin Xiang."

  Light static played through the speakers before the computer replied. "Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Proceed with your supplication."

  Justin narrowed his eyes. "Vengeance is justice when visited upon the unjust. Grant me the power to dispense justice."

  "Authorization confirmed. All I have is yours to use." As the computer's voice died, all the 'Mech's screens blossomed into color. The computer filled the primary monitor with a green and gold tactical readout of Yen-lo-wang and its unusual weaponry array. The Centurion had been modified for combat on Solaris. In place of the LRMs normally found in a Centurion's torso, Justin had an autocannon magazine. The Luxor autocannon in the 'Mech's right arm had been replaced with a heavier Pontiac cannon that gobbled up ammo at double the Luxor's rate of fire—hence the need for the additional magazine.

  Justin glanced at his inert left hand and the colorful cable running from his wrist. Just thinking about moving the hand to manipulate the targeting joystick accomplished the job for the lasers, fore and aft. Right hand takes care of the autocannon. With any luck, though, our little ruse will mean no 'Mechs show up and I won't have to shoot anything.

  Justin punched up a radio link with the DropShip's Drop-Master. "What is the situation out there, Master Chung?"

  The older man's seamed face appeared on an auxiliary monitor. "It would appear, Citizen Xiang, that your assessment of Captain Redburn is correct. We show the ion-trail of an Overlord DropShip in a low arc heading for the reactor assembly plant. We are continuing to send and receive messages to and from the Maskirovka cell in that area. Redburn took the bait. You are to be congratulated."

  Justin smiled to himself. I taught Andrew Redburn a great deal as his commanding officer. Andy's getting his people into place in preparation for the Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers' diversionary drop. "As nearly as you ca
n tell, the Ganju has remained safely hidden in the Rangers' DropShip scanner shadow?"

  "Roger, Citizen." Chung glanced at a monitor, then looked back at the communications camera. "All radio traffic appears normal, and I've heard no mention of anything other than an Overlord incoming. We're ten minutes to atmosphere and fifteen to split off. Davion's people have sent up no fighter cover, so I would anticipate a smooth run at the target."

  Justin nodded. "Good. Keep me informed. Out." Justin hit a switch that transferred him to the tactical frequency all twelve of his people were monitoring. "Look sharp, people. We're about twenty minutes from the paradrop and twenty-five from unlimbering our 'Mechs. Let me stress once more that this is not designed to be a 'wet' mission. Yes, we've practiced it with opposition just to keep us sharp, but we're not on a search and destroy mission. The Chancellor wants these scientists kept alive so we can use them later, after we throw the invaders back."

  Ling's voice broke into the circuit. "Why don't we just take them with us?"

  Justin narrowed his eyes. Citizen Ling asks too many questions. "We are to leave them here because to take them with us would necessitate moving the whole lab. The Chancellor believes it is better to steal the eggs than to pay for the goose's upkeep. That is beside the point, however. Keep yourselves ready for a fight, but you are not to murder those who have been overcome by the gas. Understood?"

  Verbal confirmation came from everyone as the Ganju bucked through its first impact on the atmosphere. "Jumpers report to the jump bay. Mech Warriors finalize all facets of your preparation. This is it, gentlemen and ladies." Justin smiled cruelly. "This is the beginning of the end for Hanse Davion."

  * * *

  Sparks showered and shot from Yen-lo-wang's legs as the 'Mech strode through the NAIS facility's electric fence. Justin pointed toward the darkened road that ran off to the west. "Kwok, Ivanov, head off that way and secure that approach with your Ravens. Livinsky, watch our backtrail to the Ganju. When the team comes out, it will be your responsibility to buy the time to get to the ship if we have trouble. Make sure your Vindicator is in position to do just that.”

  “Roger, Justin."

  Marching the Centurion over to the three-story glass and brick building, Justin saw an individual on the roof wave his hands in an "all clear" sign. Justin nodded, bringing the Centurion up to the building. They've pumped that gas in for five minutes. Everything should be under.

  Justin took one last look at the holographic display the 'Mech provided him of the whole area. The Prince and my father are to be congratulated. This place is hidden in plain sight. It functions like a normal electronics plant—an electrified fence for night security and a checkpoint for daily visitors—but it's not built up enough to attract unnatural attention. That a 'Mech company is billeted close enough to react to a raid seems like careful planning on the part of the plant's owner instead of any governmental attempt to protect it. Justin smiled. It's just too bad we knew where to look.

  He punched a button on his console, opening the Centurion's faceplate. He unsnapped his cooling vest from the couch and released his left-wrist cable from the couch's arm. He stuffed the cable back into its compartment and snapped it shut. Unplugging the sensors from his neurohelmet, he shoved it back up into place, then zipped up his jumpsuit.

  Before he slid from the command couch, Justin opened the compartment below it. From there, he withdrew a needle pistol and shoulder holster. He donned them immediately, adjusting the holster to fit snugly beneath his left armpit. Feeling around in the compartment carefully, he found the other item taped to the compartment's roof. He pulled it free and stripped the tape from it.

  Candace's holodisk for the Prince. The item, barely twelve centimeters in diameter, could contain over an hour of holovid message on its bottom rainbow surface. The blue and white crest of St. Ives had been emblazoned on the obverse, and the bold labeling made Justin uneasy. I will have to be careful with this or someone will wonder why I'm leaving it behind.

  Justin slipped it into the slender pocket on his jumpsuit's right thigh. He pulled the jumpsuit hood up over his head, then reached behind the command couch to another storage area. From there, he pulled one of the mirrored facemasks Alexi and his men had already donned. Tightening it into place by pulling on the straps, Justin crossed to the Centurion's chin and leaped the one-meter gap to the lab's roof.

  Justin caught up with the other eight commandos at the doorway leading down into the lab. It already stood open, and two men had reached the bottom of the stairs without injury. Silently, the others followed, tension winding inside them like a viper.

  Justin watched the two pointmen move into the brightly lit corridor. He found himself tensed against the sound of gunfire. When neither man evaporated in a hail of plastic flechettes or bullets, Justin started breathing again. Both men signaled that the corridor was secure.

  Justin smiled as he stepped into the passageway. Lab Techs lay in the corridors as if it were naptime in a nursery school. Halfway up the corridor, a number of fluids puddled into an oily slick where a Tech had dropped a tray of samples. As the puddle neither smoked nor bubbled, Justin simply ignored it.

  He pointed to the doors up and down the corridors. "Fan out in pairs. Eliminate dangerous situations—shut off burners or boiling things and don't go wrecking anything. Use the cameras you were issued to document anything interesting. Scour this level and look for the stuff our scientists showed us as being a clue to a myomer experiment. Let's do it fast. We don't want to take more time than necessary."

  The black-clad Maskirovka agents spread out like living shadows through the facility. Though the third and second levels were filled with wondrous machinery, none of it yielded their quarry. On the first level, though, back in a lab tucked in a corner, Ling reported success.

  Aside from the two people posted at the door, the team crowded into the small lab. Standing over the snoring body of a white-haired researcher, Ling pointed at a thick, black bundle of myomer fibers. Two meters long, it was anchored at one end to a steel I-beam and attached at the other end to a piston-like, spring-loaded tensometer. A digital display on the piston reported the tension to be at 4,000 kilograms.

  Justin glanced at Alexi. "That's a finger flexor. That's muscle four times as powerful as the fibers on my Centurion! Can you imagine what a full arm muscle or leg muscle could do?"

  Alexi shivered. At a nod from Justin, he worked the piston's controls and reduced the tension to nothing. The myomer fiber fattened as it grew shorter. Alexi unhitched it from the piston, then shook his head. "Justin, this stuff is so light. Using this, we'll be able to add more weaponry to our 'Mechs."

  Maximovitch, poking around in a container of holovid disks, laughed aloud. "Looks like I've got documentation on two series of tests run with this stuff, as well as the notes on its development."

  Justin nodded. "Good, Georgi. Take them." Justin directed one other commando toward Alexi. "Li, I want you to carry the muscle. We had planned to cut it up, but that's when we thought it would be heavy. The rest of you form up out in the hallway and head toward the front of the building. It's time for us to get out of here."

  Justin waited for the others to leave the lab before he crossed to the container Maximovitch had rifled. He pulled Candace's holodisk from his pocket and dropped it in with the others, then cried out as a horrible, high-pitched wail screamed through his skull.

  Both hands went to his ears, but the sound died quickly enough for him to hear a needle pistol being cocked. He turned slowly to face Anatol Ling and stare down the barrel of the agent's pistol. Raising his hands, Justin let steel fill his voice. "What is the meaning of this, Ling?" I hope someone picks up the broadcast and comes to investigate.

  Justin's distorted image pendulumed back and forth across Ling's curved faceplate as the agent shook his head. "The squeal was a jammer, Xiang. No one can hear you." Waving the gun's muzzle, Link forced Justin back and away from the holodisk collection. "Well, well, what have we
here? Treason on the part of the Duchess of St. Ives?"

  Justin stared at the pistol. Ten meters between us. I can cross that distance before he gets a second shot off, and the needles don't have the mass to stop my charge. "You're working for Romano Liao, aren't you?"

  Ling's nod was almost respectful. "You are quick, Xiang. Yes, she wanted to make sure you would not return from this mission. I think, however, she will be more interested in hearing about this disk than a description of your death. She wanted me to shoot you first in the groin, you know. Your death will earn me her thanks, but this disk ..."

  As Ling shifted his pistol from his right hand to his left preparatory to grabbing the disk, Justin reacted. Moving to his own left, he cut the distance between them in half by the time Ling's finger tightened on the trigger. Fire exploded from Justin's flank as needles raked like barbed claws through his vest and flesh. The pain shocked him and cost him a second as Ling thrust the gun at Justin's stomach and pulled the trigger again. Two gunshots sounded as one. Ling's faceplate fragmented into a thousand mirrored splinters as a cloud of darts slammed into the left side of his face. Already dead, he spun away from the impact, crashing against a slate-topped lab table. He slid to the ground in front of where Justin Xiang knelt with both arms clutched around his midsection.

  Justin looked up as Alexi dropped to his knees beside him. Concern and fear shot through the Tikonov native's voice. "Take it easy, Justin. We'll get you out. You'll survive."

  Justin nodded heavily, then coughed. "Yeah, I will. My flank feels like it's on fire, and my stomach hurts like hell." Hearing Alexi gasp, Justin forced himself to laugh. "It's not as bad as you think, Alexi."

  Malenkov patted Justin's shoulder reassuringly. "You're in shock. He shot you twice at pointblank range, Justin."

  Justin could hear what Alexi was thinking. Needle pistol shot in the stomach at that range, my insides should be pate. Justin eased his left hand out as he straightened up. "I'm fine, Alexi. If I'd not been so close, I'd have been in trouble."