"Fatalistic."
"Morbid."
"Driver," he said opening the link. "Can we go no faster?"
"I am sorry, my lord. The crowd presses closely."
He cut the link. "The crowd isn't the only thing hemming us in."
Settling back, he sipped his wine and wondered what karma he had earned in past lives to bring him this life's tribulations. It wasn't until Romano spoke that he realized he had made his last remark aloud.
"Well, are you going to enlighten me, Wise One?"
"About?"
"About what it is that you think is hemming us in."
"Ah, yes. I was just thinking that there is one thing that our old Liao family understood better than the Davions or the Steiners, better than anyone—except maybe the Kuritans—and that is duty. Duty is in the blood of the Liao aristocracy. We may not be Liao anymore, but that blood still runs in our veins. We no longer bow before the Chancellor, but we still have our duty."
Romano's response was preempted as something thunked against the car. Rivulets of light dripped down the window as if some bright liquid had splattered the vehicle. The area was warm to the touch.
An improvised incendiary.
He caught a faint whiff of smoke and combustion and something else. It was the something else that brought a tear to his eye. "I'm sorry, my lord. I did not get the car over to internal air in time," the driver said, stating the obvious.
Gabriel didn't reprove him. There were more important things to be concerned about. If the security people were using gas, the protest had become a riot.
11
Mirandagol District
County Shu, Epsilon Eridani
Chaos March
5 January 3062
Carefully placed foot by carefully placed foot, "Slug" Trahn strutted his Raven bird-like among the boulders. As he watched, Kelly mused that appearance-wise, it was the oddball in the lance. It wasn't a humanoid machine like the others. Instead it partook of another widespread 'Mech look, which consisted of avian style reverse-jointed legs, a carapace of a torso that was oriented more fore-and-aft than vertically, and a cockpit housed in the nose of the beast rather than in a head-like structure atop the torso. Some of its stylistic kin, like the Cataphracts of the Old Guard, had full arm assemblies with weapons in the lower arms rather than battlefists, but the Raven had turret-like weapon mounts attached directly to its shoulders. The lack of arms aind the hook-fronted carapace enhanced the avian image, making Slug's Raven look like a sandpiper searching the waves for tidbits. This bird was searching for tidbits all right—Mech Warrior's tidbits: fat, juicy targets.
Those targets were not hidden among the stony debris through which the Raven waded, but out among the Red Elk River badlands where MAD-disrupting metallic deposits and widespread radar-scattering mineral layers made the electronic search for the opposition difficult at the best of times. Of all the 'Mechs in Veck's Vigilantes, Slug's Raven was the unit's best bet for that job, having the most sophisticated electronic suite.
Of course, Prentis Moy and his Raven were out there, too, making things as hard as possible for Slug, but so far Slug seemed to be winning the electronic part of this match-up between their lance and Commander Chun's lance. Already Slug had helped them catch Reese Fu's Vulcan isolated from the rest of Chun's Champions. They'd put a lot of hurting on Fu before he rejoined his lancemates. That little encounter had tipped the odds in their favor and set Veck's Vigilantes on what Kelly was sure was the course to victory in the training skirmish.
"Chun's people won't be calling us Veck's Virgins after we hand them their butts, eh?" Kelly commented to the his umpire. The nickname stuck on the lance by Bayard Sten had galled Kelly from the moment he'd heard it, even more than JJ's privately applied Veck's Victims had. The intra-lance tag he could live with, but he wanted to see the other erased. He poked the umpire the way he might a living listener. "Well?"
The gray box ignored him.
Or did it?
Three missile strike registered on the Commando's left leg. Sensors hadn't recorded any incoming and the phantom missiles of the exercise should have showed on sensors. Nevertheless, he was now listed as having damaged armor on his left leg. To add insult to illusory injury, the status monitor of his arm-mounted streak short-range missile launcher started blinking red.
"Streak-2 system off-line," the computer announced.
It might be a human umpire making the game a little harder—they could embed delayed glitches into the program to keep things interesting for the trainees—or it might just be yet another malfunction in the box. Annoyed, he slapped the umpire's casing. The Streak launcher came back on-line.
"You have an appointment with Force Leader Lajoy-Bua, my friend."
Meantime, however, they still had hostiles out there to deal with. Slug reported a new blip.
"Solid contact six hundred meters out, two o'clock my relative," the Raven's pilot reported. "Mass makes it one of their big boys."
Chun's Champions, their opposition of the day, matched their own lance in three out of five 'Mechs, having a pair of Commandos as well as the Raven. Their remaining machines were the big boys, medium 'Mechs, two to Veck's Vigilantes' one. The Champions had owner-operator Reese Fu's much-patched, energy weapon and machine gun-armed Vulcan, which had a ten-ton mass advantage against JJ's missile-armed Javelin. The Vigilantes regained half of that tonnage disadvantage in the match-up between Veck's forty-five-ton Vindicator against Chun's forty-ton Strider. Five tons wasn't much of a disadvantage.
But the mass difference was somewhat misleading, because the Strider was an OmniMech. It was "only" an Inner Sphere Omni and far less fearsome than the Clan 'Mechs that had introduced the OmniMech concept to the Inner Sphere, but any Omni tended to have a battlefield advantage over an ordinary BattleMech of the same tonnage. That technological effect lay with the Vigilantes' opponents today.
In their favor was the fact that lance leader Chun's machine was a cast-off, once a near wreck not considered worth repairing by the House Kurita military. It was one of a pair offered on the gray market to buyers less fortunate and less picky than the mighty Draconis Combine. Aaliyah Shu-Bua, acting as Count Shu's buyer, had snapped up the bargain, and County Shu technicians had labored long and hard to get them up and running. They no longer boasted the latest tech and their armor was a patchwork job, but they were still formidable. Of the two Striders that the CSVB boasted, in Kelly's humble opinion, Chun's was more practically armed. Chun's Strider had both large and medium class lasers as a complement to its LRM launchers, a better mix than Shu-Bua's purely missile-armed personal machine.
As if Kelly's pondering on the opposition lance leader's machine had been some sort of magical summoning, Slug announced that Chun's Strider was the 'Mech he had detected. What might have been bad news turned out to be good, because for some reason, Chun had separated from his lance. It wouldn't take much to get all of the Vigilantes in position to pile onto him.
"Looks like King Chun has goofed," JJ observed.
"Children, today's lesson is: take advantage of the enemy's mistakes," Veck said. "Trahn, keep updating vectors and watch for bogies. I will flank long on the left. Jurewicz, flank short on right. Liu, Kelly, advance down the middle. Double Weave."
Kelly heard Sam acknowledge the order and did the same. He grinned with anticipation. "Double Weave" was the code for a tactic that he had suggested, inspired by his own confusion on the day he'd taken possession of his 'Mech. It was intended to take advantage of the fact that the lance was equipped with two, nearly identical 'Mechs. The two Commandos were supposed to advance in alternate rushes, taking full advantage of cover, continually crossing paths, and never letting the enemy see both of them at the same time. In a sensor-spoofing environment like the Red Elk River badlands, an opponent could get confused, possibly terminally so, by a Commando appearing where it ought not be, faster than it could possibly move. At the very least it might get an opposition pilot to confuse which of
the two 'Mechs he was dealing with at any given moment.
The trick wouldn't have its full effect on Chun's Champions since they all knew the Vigilantes had two Commandos. Still, Kelly was more than eager to give it a try.
Sam was the first to get Chun's attention, catching a laser shot and a pair of LRM hits. She snap-fired her Streak-2 in effective retaliation before hugging cover behind a jut of rock. As Kelly advanced out from cover on his turn, he sighted Chun near one of the many out-croppings of boulders directly ahead. Kelly drew fire like Sam, but the OpFor commander only scored with a glance from his big laser. The umpire rated the hit as striping half the armor from the Commando's left torso.
Nothing but armor, Kelly told himself as he took an immediate turn on the rush. He hit his target with a laser shot, a clean strike on the Strider's waist. His Streak-controlled missiles failed to lock on the dodging Strider and aborted their launch. His Artemis-guided six-pack wimped with a measily single hit. Chun's missiles didn't use the Streak system and launched whenever he punched the firing stud. Two of King Chun's spread caught Kelly before he was under cover again.
Both he and Sam were taking damage, but the plan appeared to be working. Chun seemed off stride, as it were. Forced to split his attention in unpredictable ways, the OpFor commander was shooting poorly. It got worse when JJ's Javelin rushed forward and dumped a full spread of SRMs on him. Chun had three targets to keep him busy now.
Still, a single hit from Chun's big laser was enough to scour armor from the most heavily protected areas of the Vigilantes' light 'Mechs. A hit on any other area, like the one JJ took on his second pass, started the umpires calculating serious damage.
By the time Veck completed his flanking maneuver, there wasn't a trainee 'Mech that Chun hadn't scored on, but the sacrifice proved worth it because the Whipmaster came up on Chun like the lightning that flared from the Vindicator's PPC. The long-range missiles that the computers said Veck had fired scored well too. The Strider staggered. Kelly couldn't tell if Chun's umpire had somehow arranged that or if Chun was hamming it up. Either way, Chun didn't manage to get the Strider turned around before Veck blasted him with another salvo.
Limping, the Strider started to withdraw just as Slug yelped that he'd been jumped. What the Vigilantes had done to Chun was about to happen to Slug. It might even have been what Chun had planned. Kelly turned his Commando as Veck barked the order, "Rally on Trahn."
"The Strider?" Kelly didn't want even Chun's wounded OmniMech loose in his rear.
"I'll cover," Veck responded. "Go."
Kelly doubled back to help Slug. JJ's Javelin paced him, but Sam's Commando accelerated past. She was moving faster than him, not having taken leg actuator damage. Thus, she was the one Moy's Raven caught when it emerged from hiding.
What happened after that was a bit confused. With both lances' Ravens in close combat, neither team had a controller to vector them on the enemy. A hide-and-seek melee ensued.
Looking to sort real 'Mech contacts from among the confusing sensor ghosts, Kelly found himself shifting from hunter to hunted as Fu's Vulcan stalked him. He broke contact and then managed his own surprise, jumping one of the Champion Commandos—he thought it was Stiibel's—and put some hurting on it.
From the sound of his lancemates' chatter it seemed the Vigilantes were getting the better of the encounter. Then Slug howled as he got caught in a cross fire by a Commando and the Strider. The umpires declared that Slug had safely ejected before his remaining ammo exploded and gutted his 'Mech. The Vigilantes fought back hard. In a series of slashing attacks, Kelly, Sam, and JJ served Moy as Slug had been served, cheering when the umpires noted the Champion Raven's demise.
The Champions got more cautious after that, but it didn't help. Like three furies, Kelly, Sam, and JJ battered any Champion they caught alone in the continuing game of hide-and-seek among the rocks. Veck joined them to finish Stiibel's Commando, having gotten Wong's Commando by himself. Stiibel's loss was the end of it for the Champions. Chun's crippled Strider withdrew under the covering fire of Fu's Vulcan.
All of the Champion light 'Mechs had been declared dead while Slug's Raven was the sole total loss among the Vigilantes. Had the fight been real, they would have been limping home, but as all their damage was only in the umpires' electronic brains, they strode their 'Mechs in smartly. Kelly dismounted as fast as he could. A snapped salute was the only acknowledgment he made of turning the Commando over to the techs. The trainees had won their first lance-to-lance exercise. They congratulated each other with slapped backs, wide grins, and whoops of joy. Stony faced, Veck strode through their celebratory knot. "After action debrief. Hut 12. Now."
"Crack goes the whip," JJ whispered.
They encountered Commander Chun and his trainees, also on their way to a debrief. Veck paused to confer with Chun, and the Vigilantes took the opportunity to taunt the day's losers. Veck damped the chatter with a barked, "Who told you to stop marching?" Both lances double-timed to their respective debrief huts.
Kelly thought that the Champions took their ribbing well, and said so as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Only the beginning, Mr. Chill." Sam looked radiantly pleased. "Wait till tonight in Hall A."
It didn't take Veck long to join them in the hut. "Damage" reports from the umpires flashed onto the screen as he entered the room. Striding to center stage, he faced the screen, hands behind his back. His head moved back and forth as he scanned the images.
Kelly contemplated the results as well, grinning to see three of the hostiles showing solid black, indicating kills. The other two had lost limbs and were heavily marked with red for serious damage. The Vigilantes were heavily into the red, except for Veck's Vindicator, but that didn't keep the trainees from flashing each other the thumbs up.
"I see a lot of black on the OpFor 'Mechs. That is good. Hurting the enemy is good." Veck turned to face his pilots. His jaw was set, but a hint of a smile played on his lips. "And I can see by the grins on your faces that you're pleased with yourselves.
And why not? Kelly thought. We won and won big.
"You look like happy little children." Veck's manner suddenly lost any hint of approval. "Perhaps you 'Mech monkeys would prefer to go back to playing games in cyberspace because that's how you won this engagement, like children playing in dreamland. Well, I have news for you, you aren't children anymore. The 'Mechs you are piloting are real. They are not some virtual shadow. They will not repair themselves after an action. Repairs cost money. Repairs cost time. During a campaign, the need for repairs can cost battles. They will cost lives. Someone will pay if you have not had the good and necessary sense to preserve your 'Mech from the enemy's fire. Maybe it'll be your best buddy. Maybe it'll be you.
"Think hard about that," Veck glared at them.
"Right now, I have an exercise for you. Each of you will calculate the cost in C bills of repairing the damage suffered by your 'Mech. You will divide that cost by one hundred thousand. The result is the number of 'volunteer' hours of general maintenance you will be performing on base this week. Stifle the groans! I am not an unreasonable man. Anyone who cannot complete the requisite hours and still log four hours of sleep per night may extend his volunteer hours into next week.
"And you will forward your calculations to my comp. And I will check them. I wouldn't want anyone accidentally overworking himself or herself. Are we clear, 'Mech monkeys?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
"Very good." Veck turned smartly and marched for the door. As he opened it, he looked back over his shoulder. "One more thing. We are replaying Commander Chun's lance again tomorrow at 0600. Same field. Same rules. Sleep well, 'Mech monkeys."
Veck shut the door on unstifled groans of pain.
12
Government Palace
Palatine of Duvic, Epsilon Eridani
Chaos March
5 January 3062
Cara Price smiled politely as Major Kingston Crawford entered her office. He was a hulkin
g brute of man, nicknamed "the Claw," a cognomen given because of the gleaming metal prosthetic he wore in place of his lost left hand. When at rest, his artificial hand tended to curl like the half-flexed talons of some monstrous bird of prey. Such a device was a deliberate choice in a day and age when almost unnoticeable replacements could be had on any civilized planet. Why such a choice? The naked metal talon, when set beside his shaven skull and bushy beard, did give him something of the aspect of a mythical pirate. Some might say there was nothing mythical about his piratical nature. Nothing at all. For was he not a mercenary MechWarrior, one of the real pirates of the thirty-first century?
Cara Price could not afford such melodramatic nonsense, at least not when she wasn't making a public speech. Crawford was a hireling, her hireling. He might be also working for others and he certainly had an agenda of his own, but who didn't? The trick in dealing with men like Crawford lay in staying one step ahead of them, and in being prepared for the moment when they tried to take advantage of that positioning by stabbing you in the back. Price always had, and always would, keep a close watch on her back.
Still smiling, she stood and waved her hand at the rynth-hide upholstered chair before her desk. "Good morning, Major. Please have a seat." She said not a word about his appearance. He wore nothing above his belt save an open cooling vest. It showed off his muscular arms, hairy chest, and the slablike muscles of his torso, but it also revealed the smooth expanse of a well-maintained beer gut. Like the oversized twin slug-throwers he habitually wore cross-holstered on his hips, it was all part of the image. Image projection being something Price understood very well, she was willing to allow him his show.
Crawford passed a gimlet eye over the offered seating and snatched a straight-backed antique Windsor chair from the corner. He plopped it near the corner of the desk, checking to make sure he would have a view of both her and the door through which he had entered, and sank onto it, his belly to its back. The over-stressed wood creaked in protest. Crawford folded his beefy arms on the back of the chair.
Initiation to War Page 7
