Initiation to War

by Robert N. Charrette

  The Lineholder was at max, pounding forward as fast as myomer muscle could propel endosteel bone.

  Kelly was close enough that his external mikes picked up the crackle of the gauss cannons reaching discharge capacity.

  Slow. Too slow.

  The Lineholder cleared the buildings that protected Crawford from Kelly's avenging fury. The death tableau wasn't quite where he thought it would be. Crawford had backed Sam downstream.

  Kelly swiveled the Lineholder's torso. He had to get enough weapons on target!

  The shift brought howls from his gyros as mass fought momentum. Vertigo flooded through his neurohelmet's circuits. Instinctively, he fought to keep the Lineholder on its feet.

  It cost him his chance to fire.

  Sam was seconds from obliteration. Seconds he didn't have to save her.

  His terrified, focused concentration was torn from the immanent destruction by motion behind the Killer.

  A shattered hulk rose, dripping, from the depths of the canal.

  It might have been a ghost of vengeance, leveling an accusing arm at the guilty. It was Snell's Commando. It stood on one leg, a feat of piloting skill worthy of the greatest House warriors, and the arm that it pointed at Crawford's Pillager carried a Defiance B3M medium laser.

  The vengeful spirit image dissolved as Snell struggled to keep his machine upright. The 'Mech's arm drifted off target, compelled by the need to counterbalance the machine's sway. Snell fired anyway. His shot was off.

  Still, the laser vaporized a channel in the water and struck the Pillager's left knee. Actuators spasmed. The leg buckled just as Crawford cut loose. Only the edge of his deadly barrage caught Sam's Commando. The gauss rifles missed entirely, and the lasers, though they staggered the Commando, didn't cut through to its core.

  Sam's Commando abruptly sat down.

  The Pillager turned. Crawford, screaming vengeful oaths, unloaded on the near defenseless Snell. The ravaged Commando disintegrated under the assault.

  First JJ. Now Snell. It was too much.

  Much too much.

  The scarred and ravaged Pillager began to turn on Kelly. It was not finished.

  Neither was Kelly.

  He blasted with his lasers, triggering them as fast as they cycled. His computer warned of heat rising and the chance of an ammo explosion. His response was to hit the override and to use as much of that ammo as he could. All he could see was Crawford's Pillager, and all he could do was send death at the Killer.

  The LRMs were woefully ineffective at the close range. The lasers didn't care. They cut and sliced and melted and vaporized. Like a mountain toppling, the Pillager heeled to one side under the pounding and crashed down. Its fall sent up a wave that splashed high enough to wet the Lineholder standing on the embankment. The waters closed over Crawford's Pillager, leaving only bubbles to mark where it had stood.

  His enemy gone, Kelly's thoughts were only for "Sam? Sam?"

  "Okay," came her groggy voice. "I'm okay."

  A weight he'd only just noticed lifted from Kelly's heart.

  "Crawford?" she asked.

  "He's down."

  "Lots of incense for Buddha tonight."

  Kelly jumped the Lineholder into the water. He had no jump jets to ease his landing, and he sank deeply into the mud that made up the canal's bottom. It took him a few moments to regain his balance and get the 'Mech under control. When he did, he started for Sam, eager to help her up.

  To his left, something stirred. He turned, horrified to see the Pillager, shoving itself up by its arms, struggling to get to its feet.

  "No," Kelly said. "Not today."

  Kelly kicked the Lineholder's leg out. The broad foot connected with the Pillager's left arm. Armor crumpled. Kelly felt the shock of contact all the way up his spine. He yelped in pain as an actuator short sent a jolt through the neurohelmet's feedback system. But his kick was good. The Pillager's arm slipped out from beneath it. The massive 'Mech slammed face first and disappeared again beneath the dark swirling water.

  A burst of bubbles roiled the surface.

  Bubbles?

  Light exploded in Kelly's brain with all the energy of that escaping air. The Pillager was holed, its structural integrity gone! He remembered the damage he'd seen on the Pillager's head. The cockpit had to be leaking air!

  Switching his viewscreen to full infrared, Kelly could see the multi-chromatic shape of the Pillager struggling beneath the water. The motion was not the smooth coordination he was used to seeing from Crawford. There was a desperation in the mercenary's obvious attempts to get his cockpit clear of the water.

  "Not today," he told the Killer.

  Kelly hooked the Pillager's damaged left arm with his Lineholder's foot and pulled. The Pillager's claws must have gouged furrows in the muddy bottom, but they did nothing to stop Kelly from sweeping the arm away from beneath the Pillager. The monstrous 'Mech slipped again beneath the surface of the canal. Kelly stomped down on the Pillager's arm, forcing it into the muck. He leaned the full weight of his Lineholder down on it.

  The strength inherent in the myomer pseudomuscles that empowered a hundred-ton BattleMech was enormous. But even its vast power had limits. The Pillager hit those limits as it struggled. Try as it might, it didn't have the myomer strength to displace fifty-five-tons of BattleMech.

  Most of the Pillager's weapons were torso-mounted. Face down in the mud, it could not use them. Its right arm-mounted Ceres Arms lasers flashed, boiling away water and blasting holes in the canal bank, but with the Pillager jammed into the mud of the canal bottom, Crawford couldn't bring them to bear against Kelly. All that was left for him was brute strength.

  The Pillager heaved.

  It bucked.

  Kelly rode it out. This was not BattleMech combat as he had once dreamed of it. This was defeating the enemy the way it had to be. Brutal. Blunt. Ruthless.

  This was war.

  Kelly had no doubt that he was a true MechWarrior.

  Eventually, the bubbles stopped rising.

  The Pillager stopped moving, too.

  Slowly, the waters stilled.

  39

  Hinchuan

  Duvic Palatine, Epsilon Eridani

  Chaos March

  6 May 3062

  Helping Sam get her Commando unmired was physically tough, but confirming that there was nothing to be done for Snell was hard in a way Kelly hated. Scraps of machine were all Kelly was able to dredge up. An empty, shredded pilot's couch was the final piece he bothered to examine.

  Aldo Snell had died a hero. But he had died, and nothing would change that. Just like Stiibel. Just like Slug. Just like JJ.

  Kelly was glad to heave his 'Mech out of the canal and join the other two surviving 'Mechs on the landing field of Huang-Lu Spaceport. He looked over to the spoils of their victory. The DropShip sat there, squat and sullen. Crawford hadn't succeeded in prying open any of the DropShip's hatches; they stopped him in time. The Vigilantes had paid a steep price to do it.

  Motion caught his eye. There were people moving in the deeper darkness beneath the ship. As he watched, another dropped from the belly of the ship, hit hard, and rolled.

  The prisoners aboard the DropShip had obviously not been idle. Somehow they had worked out a route through the innards of the ship and found a way to an access port that they could open. Most of the escapees were making tracks away from the landing field, but Kelly spotted two skulking toward the hangar where the half-assembled 'Mechs lay.

  He was in no mood to play games, and he had already warned those people. His BlazeFire laser lit the night. The would-be MechWarriors were no more.

  Just to be sure, he wrenched open the hanger door. The darkness within was undisturbed.

  He set Trahn on watch to stop any further escapes and took Sam to recover JJ's remains, if they could. Mauled BattleMechs rarely offered much of their unfortunate pilots for reclamation.

  To his utter surprise and joy, they found JJ, broken but alive, in wha
t was left of his Javelin's cockpit. Given the condition of the wreck, it was a miracle. Kelly offered a prayer of thanks to every version of God that came to mind.

  With his leg splinted and a couple of painkillers in him, JJ tried to sound like he was as good as new. "Hey, we won. Either that or the judge of the dead made a mistake and sent me to the wrong place."

  "Don't worry, Jurewicz," Sam said. "You haven't accidentally been assigned to heaven."

  "Didn't think I had been. Mistakenly assigned there, that is. So where are Trahn and Snell?"

  "Trahn's back at the DropShip." Kelly couldn't bring himself to say the rest.

  "Snell saved me from being toasted," Sam said somberly.

  JJ nodded. He understood.

  Sam carried him back to the landing field cradled in her Commando's palm.

  The town lay quiet. Trahn's long-range scans were empty of anything that could threaten them. Once she got off the mission accomplished signal, the order came back to stay put for the time being. They set up a makeshift camp at the spaceport and the weary Vigilantes rested from their labors.

  Toward dawn, the citizens of Hinchuan emerged from whatever hidey holes they had wisely taken up during the night. A crowd slowly grew around the edges of the spaceport. Despite mangled and trampled boundary fences that couldn't offer the least barrier, no one ventured onto the field.

  Kelly announced that the township was under Count Shu's control. There was muttering, but the citizens knew better than to challenge BattleMechs. He was glad of that. There had been enough death.

  But neither did the crowd disperse. Not until two hours later when it began to melt with notable speed. Some people were actually running away.

  "Not enough show for them, I guess," JJ said.

  Kelly had suspicions. "Trahn!"

  "I wasn't asleep," she replied. Her startled voice told the truth, that she had indeed been dozing.

  "Check scanners."

  "No," she wailed. "I'm picking up two light 'Mechs coming in fast. Got to be Jenners. There's a third behind them, slower.

  "The 48th," Kelly concluded. "That third 'Mech will be Namihito's Panther."

  There wasn't a lot they could do to prepare to face the Kuritans, but they did what they could. Trahn kept monitoring the approach, providing updates to the others as they worked to get one of the partly assembled 'Mechs up and running for JJ to pilot. It wouldn't last long, but it had weapons they could use for the moment. Kelly didn't like the idea, but JJ insisted, saying, "I'm no gropo, and I'm not going out that way."

  The work to get that skeletal machine going took too long. The Vigilantes were unable to get out and meet the incoming Kuritans as they had met Kingston's Killers. Firing positions from the town's edge would have been good to use against the incoming lights, but there were options nearly as good. The clear fields of fire from the DropShip berth would now serve the Vigilantes as they had served Crawford.

  Kelly thought it a strange turnabout.

  They waited, tense, while Trahn reported on the approaching 'Mechs. The Jenners slowed at the outskirts, but only briefly before pressed on to move cautiously through the town. Kelly expected the Jenners to charge straight onto the landing field, but they didn't. Instead they took up positions nearby, but out of sight.

  "Waiting for their boss," JJ suggested.

  The fact that they didn't move again until the Panther joined them confirmed it. The three machines started working their way closer. Kelly caught glimpses of them, but the Kuritans were moving with their characteristic stealth and fluidity. The chances of a good shot were nil.

  "Something's up," Sam said. "Their launch tubes are shuttered."

  Trahn agreed. "Yeah, and their energy weapons don't seem to be charged."

  "They want to parley?" JJ asked incredulously.

  "Looks like," said Kelly.

  "The Panther's moving up," Trahn reported.

  In moments the 'Mech was in sight, making its way across the rubble Crawford had created when he tried to nail Trahn after she tagged him with the NARC beacon. The Panther's right arm hung down, the muzzle of its PPC pointing at the ground. Kelly was impressed, but not surprised at the piloting skill it took to keep that weapon arm still while negotiating the tricky ground.

  "Be our best chance to waste him, boss," Sam said.

  "You really spoiling for another fight?" he asked.

  "Got to do what you got to do."

  "We don't need to lose anyone else. Time's oh our side for this round. If they want to talk, I'm willing to listen. For a little while anyway." More for the morale benefit than because he believed it, he added, "Every minute our groundpounders are getting closer."

  The Panther halted at the edge of the landing field, its foot assemblies toed up to the wire tangle. Tlie pilot's hatch opened and a dark-skinned man emerged. Kelly used magnification to confirm that it was Namihito. The Kuritan dropped his access ladder and started to climb down.

  "Gutsy snake," JJ commented.

  "We already knew that," Sam said.

  "I'm going to go meet him," Kelly told them.

  "Is that bright, boss?" asked Sam.

  Kelly heard the concern in her voice. "Who knows? But I think this one really is a 'got to do what you got to do.' "

  He dismounted and met Namihito in the middle of the field. The Kuritan stood to attention and bowed in greeting. "Commander Kelly."

  "Major Namihito." Kelly saluted.

  "Your machines have been handled roughly."

  "They'll still fight."

  "Major Crawford?"

  Kelly gestured over his shoulder toward the canal. "Impressing the bottom feeders."

  "So ka. He was a fighter of notable skill, though even a poor warrior is dangerous in a large BattleMech." Namihito bowed respectfully. "You have done well."

  "Thank you." Kelly made an awkward bow in return. He decided he didn't like standing out in the open and decided to cut to the chase. "So what are you doing here?"

  "BattleMechs to fight BattleMechs, yes? Swift machines to cover ground and strike at secondary targets, political targets, while the heavy machines fight in the big battles. Such a disposition of forces is familiar to you, yes?"

  The Kuritan had summarized the comital high command's plan. Of course, he shouldn't have been here to do it; the plan stated that all Duvic BattleMechs were to be drawn to the "big battles." Obviously, the plan wasn't being executed perfectly.

  Namihito's recitation of the basic strategy was disturbing. How much did the Duvics know? And What, exactly did Namihito mean about political targets? Did he know what the Vigilantes had come here to prove?

  "I was hoping you might be more specific about why you're here," Kelly said, trying to sound casual, to have the air of a man in command of the situation. "You didn't come in shooting, and that makes me curious."

  "I bring you news. Unfortunate news for you, I am afraid. Your infantry column will not be arriving. They encountered a company of Duvic mechanized infantry. They fought bravely. The survivors have surrendered."

  "Are you trying to tell me our position here is untenable?"

  "You must decide for yourself the strength of your position. I merely report the situation."

  But how honestly? If the main battle was going well enough for the Duvics that they could afford to detach the Kuritans, the situation couldn't be good for the committal position as a whole. Kelly knew the Vigilantes' situation wasn't good. With one man gone and another injured, they had only three and a half operational 'Mechs. The mercenary Kuritans were fresh, or nearly so. Fighting such expert warriors would be tough. And if the follow on force was really gone, the Vigilantes couldn't expect help. Could the Kuritans expect reinforcements?

  The evidence that the Vigilantes had gained here in Hinchuan was important to the Shu cause, more so than ever if the military situation wasn't going their way. The brass needed and wanted what the Vigilantes had gained. There'd be a relief force. The Vigilantes wouldn't be abandoned.

>   "We're not pawns to be sacrificed carelessly," Kelly said.

  "All men are pawns, if only to fate. Fate decrees that Count Shu's forces will not achieve their goals. But politics are not fate, and they need not have unconditional sway over a man's destiny."

  Kelly got the sense that the Kuritan was trying to tell him something important, but he couldn't figure what. "I have only your word that the count's forces are losing."

  "The battle continues. If they do not lose this one, they will lose the next. You have my word. It will happen."

  "It's a trick," Kelly accused. He might as well have spoken to a stone. "You're bluffing," he tried again. "I know a bluff when I hear one."

  "Then your ears are defective."

  "Maybe it's because I'm not hearing anything worth listening to. If I want riddles, I can crack open fortune cookies."

  "Some things may only be said in riddles. But some may be spoken plainly. You wish bluntness, yes? Consider this. I am permitted to take the surrender of your force, but it is not required. If you capitulate, you will all be interred. If you will not surrender, I am to eliminate your force. There is also a bounty upon your head."

  A bounty? "Do Kuritans still take the heads of their slain enemies to lay before the feet of their lords and masters?"

  "Very few follow the ancient customs."

  "But you do."

  "I try to hold to the ways of honor."

  "Just how much honor can a mercenary have?"

  "Enough to satisfy his soul, but every man's soul is different, yes? Some say that loyal and unquestioning service is the path to honor. Some say that the lord's honor is the samurai's honor. Some say a warrior must find his own path to honor. Where does your own honor lie, Commander Kelly? Do you know your own path?"

  What was Namihito driving at? What did Kelly's honor have to do with anything? "We were talking about you. Didn't you tell me once that you were roninT'

  Namihito shrugged. "Even a ronin can have honor. Or do you not believe that?"

  Kuritan concepts of honor were, as far as Kelly understood them, not very different from those espoused by the great Warrior Houses. But when ronin came up in the news, they sounded more like bandits. He found it hard to think of the man standing before him as a bandit or brigand of any sort. Namihito's quiet calm, assured manner, and demonstrated skill were attributes that Kelly had admired among the greatest of the Warrior Houses. To have such virtues standing embodied before him unsettled him a little.