He eyed her warily. She could almost read his thoughts. He was wondering how long she had been on Cavanaugh, how long she had been monitoring his activities. Knowing Roderick, he was fighting his suspicions—even of her, even though they had been close all their lives. Trillian decided to go on the offensive and not give him a chance to interrogate her about her activities. She pulled out a hard copy report and tossed it on the table between them, giving it a slight twist so that it spun to face him. The title on the cover sent a flush to his cheeks: The Incident on Algorab.
“You know it all, then,” he said, casting a distasteful glance at the report, then looking back at her.
“I know it all. More than the public, that’s for sure. I know that you were made a scapegoat for the failure of your commanding officer and the men above him. If you had followed the orders of Colonel Quentin, you and many more good people would be dead. This is one of those rare times that the press was right, Roderick. You were innocent.”
“The court-martial ruled in my favor.”
“They didn’t clear your name,” she said. “For God’s sake, you rolled over.” She hoped she sounded as frustrated as she felt. I expect more from you. What are you holding back?
He sat up a little straighter. “I’m an officer. You’re a diplomat. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m family,” she said firmly. She knew it was a cheap shot. Roderick had spent his entire life doing everything he could to avoid her family. His father had been the same way.
“I know,” he said in a repentant tone, sounding more like the young boy she had played with so many years ago. “Okay, Trill, for you, the truth.
“I did what any good officer is supposed to do. I took responsibility for the operation because it was expected of me. I defended myself at the court-martial, but to try and clear my name was only going to draw attention to me. It wasn’t going to bring those men and women back. If anything, it would continue to drag their families through the pain over and over again. Those families had been through enough.”
She watched him. “You were afraid that if you pushed too hard, your secret would get out, weren’t you?”
He snapped back quickly, “I am not afraid of my family, Trill.”
“Bad choice of words—sorry,” she replied. “I was just surprised and a little angry that you took the shot that should have been aimed at Quentin. He comes from a connected family, sure—but that was no reason to spare him and his career at the cost of yours. Screwups should be booted out of the military.”
Roderick hesitated. “Normally, I would agree, but you weren’t there. My orders cost people’s lives. I did violate the orders of a superior officer, regardless of the results. Quentin made sure I knew he would fight it if I tried to label him as incompetent. I couldn’t bear the families being drawn into this.”
She studied him silently for a moment. This trial by fire had not just matured him; recent events had taken their toll on his spirit. He needed something to reignite his spark—and Trillian believed her assignment was just the thing.
“Well, I’m not here to revive all that or to interrogate you. Melissa has put me in charge of some aspects of this operation, and I have a need that you can fulfill."
“Whipping boy?” He grinned at his own comment, but they both knew there was a grain of truth there.
She smiled back. “I need an officer with special talents to lead a new unit being formed under my personal command. This unit will take on special missions, some of which are political in nature.”
Roderick shook his head. “My grandfather always warned me against getting involved in politics. You know that.”
“He warned everyone against politics!” She laughed. “I disregarded his advice, and now you need to as well. Let’s face it, regardless of what Adam Steiner said about politics, he was a very successful archon both politically and militarily. He played the political game when he had to, Roderick. Now is the time for you to test those waters.”
“Why me, Trill? There are other officers with better records and more experience.”
She paced around the table and started at him intently. “Yes, there are those with better records. But you have something to prove—and that’s a powerful motivator. More importantly, I trust you. We have known each other our entire lives. I know you won’t fail me.
“But most importantly, you have something that none of the other officers have—a family name with the impact I might at some point need. You are Steiner through and through. Whether you admit to it has been your choice up to now.”
His face flushed. “You know I don’t use that name. Not outside of family gatherings. I don’t want the rest of the Inner Sphere to treat me differently because of my heritage.”
“I understand your reasoning, but you can’t expect to deny who you are forever. I have no intention of revealing your secret without your permission, though I have told my aide who you really are.
“This unit I’m pulling together is going to be special; part of their responsibility will be to protect the archon. That’s a mission I can only trust to family, Roderick.”
The leutnant looked down, avoiding her gaze. “My grandfather, your great-uncle, told me that this day would come, even though it never did for my father— he was raised in peacetime. You are asking me to risk revealing my identity by openly associating with you on a familiar basis.”
“I’m asking you to do your duty,” she clarified. Both she and Melissa had known he would be a tough sell for this mission. But I’ve worked hard to not lie to him, because I truly believe I will need him to be a Steiner before all this is over. She knew she had him with his next sentence.
“The Lyran command staff is going to hate this. They hate military units that are not under their control, you know?”
“I am aware of their concerns. Frankly, they seemed happy that I was taking you off their hands.”
He chuckled. “I bet. And giving them a little frustration to deal with might just make up for some of what I’ve gone through this last year or so.”
“So you’re interested.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Assuming I do this, I’ll want to pick the troops to be used in this unit.”
For the first time in several minutes, Trillian allowed herself to smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Roderick was already mulling over the possibilities. His face was more animated than she had seen it in a while. His pacing became a little quicker. “There are a few men who graduated with me two years ago from the academy . . . I can trust them and they know me. Spending those few months in jail might also turn out to be helpful. I’m not the only officer who’s taken the fall recently. And those officers talked about good MechWarriors who could use a second chance. Many of these people are looking for a way to redeem themselves. Redemption can be a powerful incentive, cousin—I ought to know.”
She nodded and reached for a small box sitting on the table. She flipped it open and showed him the rank insignia inside: hauptmann. “You will report directly to me.”
He looked at the pips and then at her. “I guess if you’re going to piss off general staff, you might as well do it right.”
Trillian’s grin was his only answer.
“I won’t let you down, Trill.”
"I know," she replied. I only hope I don’t fail you....
BOOK II
Hammerfall
“In strategy the longest way round is often the shortest way there; a direct approach to the object exhausts the attacker and hardens the resistance by compression, whereas an indirect approach loosens the defender’s hold by upsetting his balance."
—B. H. Liddell Hart
Algorab
Former Republic of the Sphere
Months Earlier
“Colonel, the Republic commander indicates that they have formed up on the ridgeline at two-zero-three to the northeast. We should break off from the Jade Falcons and move to cover their flank.”
; “What?” shouted Colonel Drew Quentin. “Say again, Ice Wind.” The colonel had seemed confused since scouts had located him at the perimeter of the battle zone. General opinion agreed that Quentin had never been the brightest bulb in the pack, and a few rounds with the Jade Falcons had left him dazed, panicked and even more confused than usual.
Roderick closed his eyes in frustration. “Sir, we need to break off from the Falcons and fall back to the left of the Republic and militia line.”
“We can’t break off now,” Quentin’s voice came through a hiss of static. “We’ve got the Jade Falcons right on our front.”
Roderick wheeled about his Rifleman IIC and sent a barrage downrange into a Falcon Goshawk. His autocannon rounds caught the side of the emerald-painted BattleMech as it bore down on a hapless Lyran JESII missile carrier. The explosions ripped into the hide of the Goshawk, mangling its shoulder plate and weapons pod. A stream of smoke came from the damaged laser, but the ’Mech continued to close with the carrier.
“Sir,” he said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t our fight. For God’s sake, we came here to go on maneuvers against The Republic, not tangle with the Falcons. If we fight them here, we might invite reprisal attacks along our border.” There was more at stake here than just fighting the Jade Falcons. The lives of many people who lived near the Clan Occupation Zone depended on what the Lyran commander decided.
“I want—” The colonel’s voice was cut off in a wave of static. “Oh God. I’ve lost my ’Mech’s arm. They’re pushing us too hard.”
“Sir, request permission to fall back by lances. We need to get out of here and let The Republic and the locals fight this battle.”
“Damn it, Hauptmann!” Colonel Quentin fired back. “You need to do what I tell you to do.”
Then give me an order, you old fart. He watched as the Goshawk ran to point-blank range with the JESII missile carrier. It pointed its functioning laser at the vehicle at a range of less than a few meters and fired. Thick, ugly black smoke billowed out of the hole it carved. Swinging his right autocannon into play, he locked on to the Goshawk and fired another deadly salvo of armor-piercing rounds into his foe.
It was too late for the carrier. It tried to make a break for it, but the Goshawk fired again, hitting its steering fans on the rear. The hovertank weaved wildly, spinning out of control in a wide circle. Roderick’s shells tore into the side and back of the Jade Falcon ’Mech, sending armor plating flying. Slowly the Falcon MechWarrior turned to face him. He knew that ’Mechs couldn’t smile, but he felt as if the face of the green ’Mech were grinning at him—looking forward to the fight.
“All units, this is Ice Wind. We are going to fall back to the left of the Republic line. Break off your attacks.”
“You insubordinate bas—” His commanding officer’s words were cut off by a swell of hiss.
“You heard me, damn it. All units, break off and fall back by lances!”
“—ou’ll pay for this, Frost!”
6
Loire River Valley
Shasta
Free Worlds League
25 July 3137
The rolling grass-covered hills were divided by a grid of trees and hedgerows. These thick lines of vegetation marked the edges of individual farms and larger properties. The embankments represented centuries of growth, the only openings allowing access for farm vehicles. Seen from above, they created a mosaic pattern. From the ground, they were just barriers that had to be breached.
“This is Guard One,” Vedet said over his command channel. “Moving north toward their base at Jonville, west of the river.” The drop had been flawless. Now his blood was pumping.
It had been a long time since his MechWarrior training. His family owning Defiance Industries had given him access to the best instructors money could buy. Vedet had skipped the rigors of basic training and instead had relied on private instructors to learn the basics of ’Mech piloting. Naturally, he had scored well in his simulations. He was acutely aware, however, that this was not a sim. This was the real thing.
General Nordhoff was overseeing the assault on the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth; his strike was tagged Anvil. Vedet’s army, tagged Gauntlet, was hitting the Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey and consisted of several attack forces striking different worlds. The duke had chosen to lead this arm of the assault personally; the Duchy was anticipated to offer the least resistance, and Duke Vedet wanted his set of targets to allow the media to show him as victorious. He suspected that in this war, his expertise in manipulating the media was going to be important.
The generals that nominally reported to him chafed at what they considered his interference in the battle plan. They were the professionals, and he was willing to grant them that. At the same time, he felt that they were ignoring what he brought to the table in terms of a fresh perspective. Lyran generals understood politics, but were not trained to recognize and consider the political implications of military operations. Politics, Vedet Brewster felt, was an arena he understood.
As much as he disliked accepting her help, he had to allow that Trillian Steiner had supported him in making several important points with the general staff. She had been in most of his meetings, and had provided a voice that understood both the military mind-set and the point of view Vedet was trying to convey to them. They listened to her; it probably helped that she was stunningly attractive, though of course Vedet was not taken in by her appearance. Not once did he forget who she worked for and where her true loyalty lay.
Shasta was a soft target. Not aligned to either the Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey or the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth, it was wedged along the border between the two nations. There would be no reinforcements for Shasta, no cavalry riding to the rescue. The people tasked with defending this planet stood alone. They had days to prepare, to concentrate their forces as the invasion force burned in, but the duke knew that it would not be enough.
His comm unit snapped to life. “Guard One, this is Tiger One. We are on the flank along the riverbed. Our advance lance is picking up signals due north of our position along the river. They appear to be attempting to punch through right where we are. Recommend Command and Dagger companies wheel to an angle. When they hit us we can hold them on the banks of the river. You can sweep in and envelop them.” Hauptmann Klein’s voice was calm and deliberate. He was a professional soldier, as were all the troops Vedet had incorporated into his First Hesperus Guards.
He glanced down at the tactical display. Yes . . . the suggestion made perfect sense. The Shasta Home Guard had deployed quicker than he had expected, and were showing some good insights when it came to moving out. They had not counted on his force anchoring itself solidly on the Loire riverbank with Tiger Company.
They didn’t yet realize just how outgunned they were.
“Very well,” he replied. “Dagger Company, fan out to the north and west. I will hold alongside Tiger Company with Command. We will let them try and punch through. Then I want Dagger to swing in behind them. Drive them into the river.”
There was a chorus of “yes sirs!” as he finished speaking. He grinned. Now all that remained was for the Shasta forces to play along. They flickered to life on his long-range sensors a moment later. Tiger Company drifted back, luring them deeper into the gulf. With the rolling hills and hedgerows, it was impossible to see the approaching troops. Even the Loire River was nothing more than an occasional glimmer of blue that appeared between the hills. They were down there, though . . . his sensors told him that.
“Tiger One to Command. We are engaged. Enemy is two companies in strength.” Hauptmann Klein’s voice remained calm, even in battle. I chose my people well.
He paused for a moment, then switched back to his command frequency. “This is Guard One to Dagger One. Execute your sweep. We are on your flank and will act as the hinge for this maneuver. Get your fastest units on the far end to cut off their retreat.”
He charged his modified ’Mech across the open field. It was a spring plan
ting of oats or wheat that had just been laid, and he cut a swath as the brown and green Atlas moved. Brewster kept waiting for an attack from the hedgerow that he was heading toward, but it never came. When he reached it he leaned his BattleMech forward at a trot, and slammed right into it. The trees and brush were no match for tons of moving machinery, but he almost tripped as he stumbled through the line.
The battle was down below, in the next hedgerow. He saw smoke, and an errant laser blast shooting up into the sky. There was a moan, a low rumble like summer thunder. The sound was all around him. Artillery—autocannon fire, explosions. It was as if Shasta itself were groaning under the weight of the war he was unleashing.
Vedet charged his Atlas forward across the open field. He knew that when he burst through this time he would see the battle. He slowed his gait slightly, found a thin spot on the row, and clumsily punched through, again almost tripping as he made it to the other side.
An artillery round from Tiger Company’s Long Tom hit an enemy Hauberk assault team. The ground under the armored infantry seemed to open up and vomit them into the air. They fell in every direction. He watched two of the men, parts of them anyway, land only a few meters from him. The few survivors tried to flee.
Duke Vedet fired on them.
His company’s emergence from the hedgerow had gone unnoticed until he fired. His large laser shots slammed into the crater that the artillery created, and that was now being used as cover by the survivors. They didn’t stand a chance. His lasers seared swaths, hitting two or three troopers at a time. The others broke and tried to run toward the river. Now everyone in his company opened fire. He watched as a Fox hovercraft, marked with Shasta V, attempted to juke away. On his right Command Six fired a wave of short-range missiles into it. The Fox was enveloped in flames and smoke and what emerged on the far side of the cloud of death was charred and mangled, the vehicle listing so badly that its hoverskirt gouged the tilled soil.
Fire at Will Page 6
