“How will you cope with the lack of HPG communications? “ Trillian asked.
“Ah.” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “We’ve been working on that. Simply put, we plan to seize several working stations. Bondurant has one, and is targeted in the first wave. So does Shasta. We are hitting Millungera for the same reason.”
Wehner spoke up. “Sir, Millungera does not have a functioning hyperpulse generator.”
The general gave him a coy grin. “They will by the time we land. ComStar apparently has come up with a way to restore HPGs. It’s a slow and cumbersome process, and they are trying to keep their repair schedule under wraps, but our intelligence people indicate that the Millungera station is at the top of the list.
“Combined with a healthy number of contracts with commercial JumpShips that we can use as a pony-express system, allowing us to shuffle troops and information between the two target Marik realms, we believe we will be able to cope with the time lag in communications. “
“I agree with this proposal,” Trillian said, casting a glance at Klaus. He stabbed furiously at his noteputer, but paused to give her a reassuring nod. “I do have some minor suggestions—not in target worlds, but in units. We’re going to form a new unit that will be involved in this operation—under my personal command.”
The general bristled. Trillian could practically watch the hair on his flattop stiffen even more. “Lady Steiner, forming a new unit takes time and planning. Getting them operational and then adjusting the logistics of Hammerfall to incorporate your changes will be difficult.” He chose his words carefully, and she recognized that.
“General, I appreciate your position. I do understand what this request means, and I hope you can accept that it is necessary.”
He bowed his head stiffly, attempting to hide the angry flush that rose to his face. “I understand. Arrangements will be made.”
“You and your staff have done an excellent job, General. Duke Vedet and I will do our best to make sure that Hammerfall lives up to its name.”
4
LCAF Staging Base Boelcke
Cavanaugh II
Bolan Military Province, Lyran Commonwealth
18 May 3137
General Bernard Nordhoff studied the hard copy of Operation Hammerfall, including details of the troops being deployed, time schedules and all the other minutiae that went into a successful invasion plan. Nordhoff’s rank was new, a perk of being “the duke’s man”—a phrase he had already learned to hate. It was a temporary field promotion, but he was as proud of it as if he had earned it under fire.
The plan summary included a noteputer and five data cubes containing modules of the necessary drill-down data. Duke Vedet pretended to give his attention to the stack of work on his desk, but repeatedly found himself staring at Nordhoff as he meticulously reviewed the summary and read each of the modules. Nordhoff said nothing as he read, which only fueled the duke’s impatience. He glared at his aide, to no avail.
After an hour, the duke broke the silence. “Well, Bernard,” he demanded. “What do you think of the operational plans?”
Nordhoff scrubbed his face with his hand and set down the noteputer. “Sir, the briefing from Trillian Steiner and the command staff was quite thorough, and I told you then that I believed Hammerfall was an impressive, complex operation.”
“But now you’ve seen the details,” he said, pointing his long finger at the data cubes. “Now what do you think?”
General Nordhoff shifted in his seat. Vedet Brewster considered fidgeting a sign of incompetence, and scowled at his underling.
“Sir, I’ve only been looking at this for an hour or so, and have only been able to skim the summaries. The number of details is staggering. As you well know, up to now I’ve only worked on operations of a significantly smaller scale—raids or defensive actions. I need time to absorb all this.”
By a supreme effort, Vedet managed to not say what he was thinking, that the promotion to general apparently was not enough for Nordhoff, and that he wanted more before he would choose to be useful. “Tell me, Bernard, what do you need in order to be able to tell me what you think?”
“A larger staff. To stay on top of an operation of this scale, we are going to need more people working under us. I can tell you this—from what I’ve read so far, I think Trillian was telling the truth. The archon does not appear to be setting you up to fail. This operation obviously has been in the planning stages for years. But the real challenge to your success will be in the details, and to wade through all of this and find those risks, I am going to need bodies.”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re willing to admit this is too much for you,” the duke said scathingly. “Maybe I should bring in some of the operations folks from Defiance to assist.”
Nordhoff frowned, but Vedet was encouraged to see that he didn’t lose his temper. “Duke Vedet, with all due respect, corporate people, even those who work in the defense industry, are not equipped to understand this kind of operation. As I suggested during the burn-in, we will need some good officers under us, but we want to make sure that we don’t duplicate the efforts of the general staff. The last thing we need in an operation on this scale is redundancy and obfuscation.”
“But in your opinion, this is not a trap set for me by the archon?”
The general shook his head. “No, sir. This seems legitimate from top to bottom. If this is an elaborate trap of some sort, I can’t see it. And in fact, some aspects of this plan are downright brilliant. Seizing HPG stations will both cripple our opposition and give us a higher level of communications access.”
"ComStar—bah!" The duke waved his hand as if to dismiss the words. “They want to play corporation, but all they did was hamstring themselves. The loss of HPG communications has almost bankrupted them, and now, suddenly, they’ve found a way to reactivate some HPG stations. Fairly convenient, don’t you think?”
Nordhoff nodded, because he knew that was what Vedet wanted. And it was in his best interests to do what Vedet wanted—and had been for many years.
Nordhoff’s father and grandfather both had been senior managers at Defiance Industries. Bernard had worked there himself during the summers when he was a teen. He had shown some talent for engineering and the duke had chosen to show an interest in him. Vedet Brewster had sponsored his application, along with those of other children of loyal employees, to the premier military training ground, the Nagelring Academy. The duke knew that at some point, contacts within the military, people who owed their careers to him, would be important in his own ascension.
Bernard was one of his first protégés, and Vedet had done quite a bit to pave his path to power. The duke had made sure that he was introduced in the right circles, negotiated to get him assignments that would accelerate his promotions. It had proven to be a good investment. Nordhoff had risen to the rank of colonel quite rapidly—and at least partially on his own merit. Now he was a general—a promotion entirely to the credit of Duke Vedet.
Duke Vedet hoped the general appreciated the depth of loyalty he owed to his patron. You owe me, Bernard . . . for everything you are.
“All right, then, pull together the staff I will need,” he ordered. “I have a number of reassignments for you to issue as well.” He handed a data cube to his subordinate.
Bernard stared at the cube for a moment, then inserted it into his noteputer. He studied the screen. “You’re forming a new unit?”
Brewster smiled. “Yes. They are going to form the core of the First Hesperus Guards. If Trillian Steiner can form a unit under her direct control, so can I. I want people around me whom I can trust. You, of all people, know that I demand loyalty above all else.”
General Nordhoff rose uneasily to his feet. “Sir, if I understood your ultimate goals for this operation, it would be easier for me to ensure that there are no challenges to those goals in the Hammerfall details.”
Duke Vedet stared at his general for a long moment. This was a matte
r of trust. He needed Bernard to be successful in his new role; at the same time, giving the young general information also gave him ammunition. How loyal was Bernard Nordhoff? Brewster stared into his eyes, looking for any hint of betrayal. He found nothing—yet the man had always maintained a streak of independence that he didn’t like.
So, he did what any good negotiator did—he chose the middle ground. He would tell Nordhoff what he needed to know; no more, no less. “I am going to do what the archon has asked me to do. I am going to unleash a war on the nations of the former Free Worlds League. You will lead the assault into the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth. I will pummel the Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey. We will move faster than the timetable the general staff has laid out, and by the time Trillian Steiner realizes how severely we have crippled our foes, there will be no peace for her to negotiate.
“The worlds that fall will need leadership—new leaders, not one of these Steiner women. Someone strong, someone the Lyran people can respect. Victory will give that role to me.”
He stopped speaking. What he wasn’t telling Bernard Nordhoff was that once he ruled the worlds he had conquered, he knew the press and the Lyran people would see him for what he was—a true leader, a leader in both war and peace. It was simply a matter of time before he consolidated his holdings on Hesperus II with the realms he smashed in the war. A matter of time before a new archon came to power.
By the time Melissa Steiner knew what was happening, she was going to find herself part of a former regime.
General Nordhoff saluted. “Very good, sir. Now that I know what you intend, I will do all I can to ensure your victory.”
As his pocket general left the room, Vedet said firmly, “See that you do.”
Bernard shut the door behind him and walked briskly to a sparsely furnished office set aside for his use. As soon as that door closed behind him, he let out a long sigh. Being around Duke Vedet always made him nervous. The man was difficult to read, as befit a successful businessman; it was hard to figure out where his mind was headed at any given moment. Of course, Brewster was tremendously successful. But if you own the largest armaments business in the Inner Sphere during a time of war—well, it was hard to see how anyone could fail to succeed.
Nordhoff looked at the noteputer clutched in his hand, then tossed it to the table. Walking to the window, he stared at the parade grounds below. Three squads were marching, drilling, preparing for war. The sergeant’s voice barking out commands was muffled but audible.
“I hope he dies.” He startled himself by saying the words out loud, but then grinned at the idea of speaking his true feelings. He’s playing war with the lives of thousands of good men and women simply to advance himself.
This callousness toward others, this selfishness in achieving his own ends—Nordhoff knew it was typical behavior for the duke. Even though the duke had sponsored Bernard’s training at the Nagelring—an act that might be considered charitable—Bernard knew the duke only did it to achieve his own goals. His family had served the Brewsters for generations, and on the surface the duke had rewarded that loyalty. When Bernard’s father was diagnosed with poisoning caused by exposure to fumes in the smelting unit he managed for the duke in the early years of his career at Defiance Industries, he was provided excellent medical care by the Brewster family; but in the end he still died from working for them.
Bernard doubted the duke even knew how his father died. From his perspective, he continued to support the Nordhoff family by improving Bernard’s position in the military—all in anticipation of the moment when he could leverage him for his own gain. There were other wide-eyed cadets and graduates that he would rally to him when this war erupted. The First Hesperus Guards was a collection to the duke, more than a unit. A collection of people that he owned, controlled, dominated.
He doesn’t own me.
Hammerfall would put the duke at risk. It was a military operation, regardless of who he gathered to protect him. He would be shackled to the plan, and if things went well, it would kill him. If he were killed or captured, then it would be possible—even reasonable—for Bernard to rally his own loyalists to seize the worlds the duke conquered. Duke Vedet envisioned a fiefdom for himself, but if circumstances came together correctly, it would be Bernard who took a throne. With the head of the Brewster family out of the way, the rest of the family would be momentarily crippled. If he moved fast, Bernard could even seize control of Hesperus II.
All it would take was shuffling a few resources. The duke is right about one thing—loyalty is everything. And there are many officers who resent the duke as much as I do. We will see who is in charge. . . .
Eliminating the duke and seizing his assets would not bring back his father . . . but it might set a few things right.
He smiled at the thought.
5
LCAF Staging Base Boelcke
Cavanaugh II
Bolan Military Province, Lyran Commonwealth
21 May 3137
The BattleMech, a King Crab, stomped the ground hard, so hard that everything around it shook. A wave of missiles swished out of the launch tubes mounted on the Pegasus hovercraft and crossed the field, slamming into a row of houses. Orange blooms of flames billowing sickening black smoke burst from the remains of the buildings. Hapless infantry tried to flee the building. Two were on fire and dropped and rolled, but one didn’t get up. In a defiant gesture, a handful of the survivors fired back at the ’Mech with assault rifles. Their small arms fire was nothing against the fury of the BattleMech.
The King Crab strode over a once-pristine fence, smashing it with its massive footfall. It paused for a moment, leaning forward. It fired again—this time a blast of autocannon fire. Not at the buildings—this was directed at the tiny infantry that dared to fire at it. The autocannon rounds turned the pavement and grass where the infantry stood into a furrow, as if a massive blade had tilled the soil. The ground erupted as each of the high-explosive shells went off. Sod, chunks of concrete and bits of the defending infantry rose into the air and fell. They didn’t stand a chance.
The holocamera image swung back to the King Crab and focused on the image on its torso. A shimmering hawk in flight, claws extended, painted in silver and outlined in regal purple. The image froze.
“Memories of the Silver Hawk Irregulars remain vivid with the people of the Lyran Commonwealth,” the voice of the news commentator said. “The Silver Hawk Irregulars have led numerous incursions in their history, as this footage from the early thirty-first century shows. They have always been the vanguard of attacks on our borders by the Free Worlds League.
“And now this ghost from our past has resurfaced.” The image switched from the BattleMech to stock footage of Anson Marik. “Lyran intelligence has confirmed that Anson Marik, leader of the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth, has reformed this infamous unit. In a public statement two weeks ago, Anson confirmed LIC findings but claimed that the Irregulars were being rebuilt for defensive purposes. At the same time, Duke Fontaine Marik of the Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey announced that he was increasing his military presence along our borders to discourage any Lyran intrusions into Free Worlds League affairs.
“This reporter wonders who they would be defending against. The Republic? Hardly. The Republic of the Sphere is no threat to anyone at this point, especially now with the formation of Fortress Republic. Jessica Marik? Are any of the Free Worlds League governments a serious threat to each other? And since when has the Free Worlds League ever had to defend its borders from us? Haven’t our people always suffered the brunt of invasions by our neighbors? When was the last time we launched a war against the Free Worlds?”
The holoimage changed to that of the reporter standing at a military base; vehicles, ’Mechs and infantry all could be seen moving purposefully in the background. “The answer to that is, of course, never. It seems obvious that these movements along our border are a prelude to some sort of military operation. The question we all have is, Are we prepared to deal with it? W
hat will be the response of the archon to this threat?
“This is Frank Folgar, Donegal Broadcasting System. Back to you, Jayne.”
Trillian rose and shut off the newscast. It had begun, just as she and Melissa had planned it. Digging up the old footage proved that the Silver Hawk Irregulars still had the power to inspire fear.
And fear was a powerful tool.
Leutnant Roderick Frost was a man of medium height with short blond hair. He frowned at his surroundings until he spotted Trillian. Suddenly, his stern face was transformed by a broad grin. He quickly crossed the room as she rose from behind the holoviewer and gave her a hearty embrace. “I should have known you were behind these cryptic orders, Trillian,” he said, holding up the paperwork that had summoned him.
“I figured it was the best way for us to meet without drawing too much attention.”
“Pretty funny joke,” he said. He looked at the papers for a moment and then quoted from them: “ ‘Report for a meeting with the archon’s liaison to oversee the formation of a new military unit.’ At first I figured it was a mistake, and then I assumed it was a joke.”
Trillian shook her head. “Think again, Roderick. The orders are no joke.”
He lifted his eyebrows, and his green eyes, uncommon in his family, widened slightly at her words. “I’m working for you?”
“It appears so.”
Roderick laughed. “I assume my superiors had no objections to my transfer.” His words dripped with sarcasm.
“Oddly, no,” she returned in the same tone, then continued more seriously. “To be honest, I was pleased when I saw you piloting your ’Mech the other day. I was afraid that after Algorab, you’d still be piloting a cubicle.”
Fire at Will Page 5
