Bred for war

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Precentor Malcolm nodded. "It turns out that the leader of the guerrillas was Karl Jirik. According to a report from your SAFE intelligence, his family has a long history of treasonous activity against the Mariks. His grandfather died in the aftermath of the Civil War and a brother was killed when SAFE evacuated Castor a quarter-century ago. It seems he was helping expose SAFE agents to the Federated Commonwealth. Karl was only a child at the time, but he apparently considered his brother a martyr."

  "It must have been in the blood." Thomas gently rubbed his face with his left hand, feeling the rough tracery of scars beneath his fingertips. "I've seen first-hand the kind of passions aroused by familial love and hatred."

  "Yes, Captain-General."

  Thomas smiled politely. "This, then, ends the contention for all the worlds we lost to the Federated Commonwealth in the Fourth Succession War."

  "Yes, sir. There is still scattered fighting on some of the worlds—Nanking, most notably—where your mercenaries secured footholds for Sun-Tzu's troops. The rest of the Sarna March is fragmenting into independent worlds or multiple-world associations. Sarna and Styk have formed their own defensive alliances with nearby worlds and are sending ambassadors here to Atreus and on to New Avalon."

  "They ignore Sun-Tzu?"

  "They are aware, Captain-General, of where the true power rests."

  "I see." Thomas pursed his lips for a moment, then hit a button on his desk that banished the datastream. "Well, the only reason for having power is to use it, is that not so?"

  "That is what the Blessed Jerome Blake believed, as well you know, sir." Precentor Malcolm looked down at his noteputer. "Calling up program five-seven-one-two-one-four Pol/Mil will give you the breakdown of forces in the Sarna March and some likely targets for our next strikes."

  "I don't think that will be necessary."

  "You have already selected the targets, then. I should have guessed."

  No, Malcolm, you could never have guessed. "No, to the contrary. I am going to send a message to Victor, offering him a truce."

  Malcolm's jaw shot open. "You can't be serious, sir."

  "No? You forget, Malcolm, that I started this war because of what my son and I suffered at the hands of Victor Davion. My anger was righteous and my actions justified. My troops have taken back the worlds the Federated Commonwealth took from us, and we did it without seriously damaging our economic base. So far, the fighting has not been costly. Of all our forces, the mercenaries have taken the most damage."

  "But the whole Sarna March lies open to you."

  "And to take it would leave me vulnerable to attack. You know as well as I that Victor Davion has not struck back because of a temporary dearth of JumpShips. As things stand now, he will strike at worlds owned by Sun-Tzu once he solves that problem, not at me. Moreover, if I were to push deeper into the Sarna March, I would anger Sun-Tzu. Though his nation is small, he is most vexatious in his tenacity and paranoia. Were Victor able to woo him to his side, or were he to sponsor Kai Allard-Liao in some Capellan civil war that toppled Sun-Tzu, he would regain all he has lost and have a dagger pointed at my nation's belly."

  Malcolm hesitated, clearly searching for some argument that could sway Thomas from his, chosen course. "But what of Sun-Tzu? Will he not be angry with you for ceasing your support of his efforts?"

  "Indeed, he might. I will mollify him. I will issue orders for mercenaries to reinforce Nanking and give him his Wolverine factory. If he wants more, I will offer to sell him the contracts for my mercenaries. Then if he chooses to push his war with Victor, I will wash my hands of him."

  Precentor Malcolm laid the noteputer on the desk. "I still fail to understand. You know what the Word of Blake teaches about unbelievers and how they must be persuaded to embrace what we teach. This is your chance to bring billions of people into the fold and enlighten them."

  Thomas took caution from the hints of betrayal in Malcolm's pleading. "Understand this, please, Precentor Malcolm, because what I will tell you is critical to our realizing the vision of Jerome Blake, a vision that ComStar has betrayed and defiled."

  "Blasphemers and heretics all."

  "Indeed. They have secularized ComStar and have purged it of the spiritual guidance it once provided. In this, ComStar errs grievously because they look to technology alone as the means by which humanity will realize its destiny. Perhaps their confusion is understandable because they believe that if was technology alone that defeated the technological juggernaut of the Clans at Tukayyid.

  "What they forget is how important was the role of the spirit of the defenders on Tukayyid in deciding that fight."

  "They do not forget it, but they underestimate it, Captain-General. As the Blessed Blake said, 'The outcome of a battle depends not upon numbers, but upon the united hearts of those who fight.' "

  "Yes, Malcolm, Jerome Blake was fond of quoting Kusunoki Masashige." Thomas slowly shook his head. "We must never let our fervent loyalty to the spirit divorce us from reality. Jerome Blake was a good man, a wise man, but not the only good man or wise man ever. His greatness came in his ability to understand the past and project its lessons into the future. The future he envisioned was a Dark Age into which humankind must fall, and out of which ComStar would raise humanity back up into the light. The situation is directly analogous to the recovery of Europe on Terra after the collapse of the Roman Empire. ComStar serves as the Christian Church did then to lead the way."

  "But ComStar rejected its role, sir."

  "Yes, and you overestimate the Word of Blake's role. You have forgotten, or refused to acknowledge, that while Europe was in a dark age, the Arab, African, Chinese, and Mayan cultures flourished. Indeed, a vast amount of scientific information discovered by the Greeks was almost lost in that Dark Age. The only reason it was not was because the data was preserved by the Arabs and then was later uncovered with the liberation of Spain. In other words, Malcolm, the dire collapse you see as necessary is an illusion. The important thing is to present the people with an example and a means to finding the right path. It is not a battle between the secular and the religious, technology versus spirituality, but the necessity of showing the people that the two can be integrated."

  Malcolm glanced up at him. "Your Knights of the Inner Sphere are a step in this direction?"

  "Yes, Malcolm, yes, they are. Those warriors combine superior technology and skills with pure spirit and a commitment to making the universe finer. By combining the drive and abilities of the Word of Blake with the technology possessed by great states like the Federated Commonwealth, we can build a great society, create an interstellar ideal, to which people will flock of their own accord."

  Thomas smiled slowly. "I will offer Victor peace, provided he returns my son's body and feeds us research so we can modernize more than our weapons factories. I will even continue to produce war material for him in exchange for a promise from him to re-direct his efforts toward the Clans. I will not oppose him in any attempt to stabilize his Sarna March—less, of course, the worlds I have taken back into the League—provided he agrees not to try to take my worlds from me."

  "You will require him to make a public announcement about all this, yes?"

  "No, Malcolm, I will not. I will permit him to save face and even publicly refuse to relinquish ownership of the worlds we have retaken, if he so chooses. A threat from without unites those within, and one should never deprive an enemy of the opportunity to present one face to his public while pursuing different policies in private. That sort of contradiction often proves valuable later."

  Malcolm smiled. "As it did with the unfortunate death of your son."

  "Exactly." Thomas thought for a moment of his Joshua, the boy's laughter and intelligence and happy smiles in the time before he fell ill. "Had he lived, Joshua might have done great things. Now it is up to us to do great things in his memory."

  46

  Nothing helps a fighting force than correct information. Moreover it should be in perfect order and don
e well by capable personnel.

  -Che Guevara, Memorandum

  Daosha, Zurich

  Zurich People's Republic, Capellan Confederation

  18 December 3057

  Xu Ning lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and then smiled as Colonel Burr entered his office. With the single desk lamp as the only illumination, the room was like a dark cavern. Xu took his glasses off and laid them on top of the disks he had been reviewing, then stood and extended his hand to the mercenary leader. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Colonel."

  "My pleasure to serve you, Director."

  Xu Ning noted a reduction in the melancholy that had seeped into Burr's voice whenever they'd spoken over the last month. "You have heard good news, Colonel? Your pilfering problem?"

  "We have, in fact, solved the problem of the theft of some of our munitions, yes. We found a warehouseman at Kaishiling stealing det-cord and plastique. The man has been shot."

  Xu ning winced. "I wish you had not done that. He might have had information."

  Burr's face closed up. "To be effective, justice must be swift and sure."

  "This I understand, Colonel." Xu well knew Burr did not like the information extraction methods his SecCom employed when interrogating suspected terrorists, but narcotics combined with torture seemed very swift and very sure to him. "Have you catalogued your losses in explosives?"

  "Five kilos, more or less. A minor amount." Burr shrugged stiffly. "But I came in response to your summons. You have something you wish to tell me?"

  "Tell? No, I have something I wish to ask of you." Xu expected to see Burr frown and begin to make excuses, but the man did not revert to his usual behavior. This does not bode well. "A month ago you mentioned steps I should take to end the threat posed by the Dancing Joker. Though I doubt you expected me to heed your advice, I did. I have an agent inside the Dancing Joker's organization."

  Burr arched an eyebrow. "You do?"

  Xu could see Burr wanted to ask more, but that he was restraining himself in the interests of security. "The man was brought into the organization by relatives, so he is considered completely trustworthy. In fact, SecCom had picked him up for black market activity even before he joined the Dancing Joker. He has sold us other information for money that he uses to maintain a mistress here in Daosha. According to his information the Dancing Joker intends to strike at the Jihuaide Chumai power station two nights from now. The reason I asked you to come today was to ask whether you would participate in the operation to take him apart?"

  Burr slowly began to smile, but the expression was restrained. "In two nights? Yes, we would be happy to participate. Think of it as our going-away present to you, Director."

  Xu Ning's eyes narrowed. " 'Going-away present?' You are leaving us?"

  Burr nodded and Xu suddenly understood the source of Burr's recendy elevated spirits. "Captain-General Marik has decided that it's a waste of money to leave us here cooling our heels on Zurich. On the twenty-first we leave for Nanking to rescue what's left of Smithson's Chinese Bandits."

  Xu Ning dropped back into his chair. "So, you will be leaving us defenseless?"

  Burr shook his head. "No, I'll kill your problem—the Dancing Joker—and then I'll go kill the Bandits' problem. A mercenary unit thrives on action, Director, and finally the Black Cobras will get to see some."

  47

  Nobody blunders twice in war.

  -Latin proverb

  Stanleyfield, Australarctica

  Morges, Lyran Alliance

  20 December 3057

  Warm inside the cockpit despite the howling blizzard outside his Nova, Phelan glanced down at the map on his secondary monitor. "By the map, we're right on top of them. Weapons control positive." He punched all of his OmniMech's weapons online. "Remember, Ghost Wolves, in this cold you can run hotter than normal. Keep shooting."

  In a staggered line the Fourth Wolf Assault Cluster pushed forward toward the Jade Falcon position. Far to the west, in fighting at Carson Rift, the 279th and Sixteenth Battle Clusters were slowly being driven back by a concerted assault from the Fourth Falcon Velites Cluster, 89th and Fourth Striker Clusters, and the Peregrine Eyrie Cluster. Garrison troops had also secured the Falcon base at Broken Hope. All the way around to the eastern side of the continent, the Fourth Striker Cluster and 17th Falcon Regulars were keeping the Fourth Wolf Guards Striker Cluster and the 328th Battle Cluster pinned down at Archangel Glacier.

  Despite their successes, the battle at Carson Rift was eating up a significant amount of ordnance for the Falcons. Because the Wolves were in defensive positions, killing them was very difficult. The Jade Falcons' overwhelming firepower was winning them ground, but only at a high cost in ammunition. Pressing their attack meant the Falcons had to be resupplied from Broken Hope, and the Fourth Wolf Guards were out to see that didn't happen.

  Moving through the blizzard, Phelan knew he'd gotten lucky. The blizzard that was hiding his unit had blown in from the east to settle over Australarctica like a blanket, freezing all units in place, including the resupply convoy that had started out from Broken Hope. Before the storm had become so dense that no satellite observation was possible, an old mineral survey satellite had passed over the pole and pinpointed the concentrations of 'Mechs on the southern continent. When a mass of metal showed up in a position where it wasn't supposed to be, Phelan knew he had a group of Falcons caught out on the open plains of Stanleyfield.

  The Fourth Guards—newly christened the Ghost Wolves in honor of their white camouflage—reconfigured or traded their OmniMechs for other machines within the Wolf force. They became a lighter unit than usual, with speed as their primary concern. Their weapons were swapped out for armaments suitable to short-range battling and sloppy target acquisition situations. The fight would be tight and decidedly nasty.

  And, if we're lucky, it will be short.

  The problem Phelan faced was that he had no accurate way of assessing the strength of the forces arrayed against him. Though he was fairly certain they would be garrison troops, that hardly meant they were harmless. Phelan didn't want to fall into the same error Angeline Mattlov had committed by underestimating the Kell Hounds because they were mercenaries.

  As Phelan switched his scanners over to magnetic resonance, the holographic display started tagging targets out on the snowy expanse. Choosing a humanoid silhouette that the targeting computer identified as a Hellhound he dropped the golden crosshairs on it. As he did so, his squat Nova's arms came up. When a gold dot pulsed in the center of the crosshairs, he punched his thumb down on the firing button on his joystick.

  A wave of heat surged into the cockpit, and a tone told him the targeting computer had locked all three pulse lasers onto the left side of the Hellhound's torso. Three volleys of ruby darts sizzled through the storm and hit the Falcon 'Mech hard. In two seconds, more than a ton of ferro-fibrous armor plates were converted into vapor that immediately condensed into a thick, gray fog. As the fog drifted away from the Hellhound, the 'Mech staggered but managed to stay up.

  The Falcon brought his 'Mech's weapons up and pointed them at the Nova, prompting Phelan to fire the bank of pulse lasers built into his 'Mech's left arm. The Hellhound's large laser sent a green energy spear wide to Phelan's left and one of the medium lasers missed high, but the third beam slashed a line through the armor over his Nova's right flank. A warning buzzer sounded in Phelan's cockpit, and the armor diagram on his auxiliary monitor reflected the damage, but nothing had gotten through the armor to cause real problems.

  Another tone accompanied Phelan's return shot in which all three pulse lasers poured their fire into the wound gaping open on the 'Mech's right side. Gouts of smoke jetted from the muzzles of the two lasers mounted on that side of 'Mech's body. Glowing structural supports dropped from the cavity and sank steaming through the snow. The Hellhound started to list toward the left, then fell backward as the pilot overcorrected and lost his balance. The giant machine went down, and the dead 'Mech was immedi
ately blanketed in snow.

  All around him Phelan saw the phantom 'Mechs of the Fourth Wolf Guards move into the Falcons' makeshift camp. To his right Ranna's blocky Warhawk stabbed two green laser lances into the right side of a Goshawk, boiling away every bit of armor on that side of its chest. The elegantly slender Goshawk returned fire, but only hit with two pulse lasers. One melted a scar on the Warhawk's left breast while the other boiled armor from the big 'Mech's left leg.

  A gust of wind suddenly raised a white wall between Phelan and Ranna, and when it fell Phelan found himself at point-blank range with a Man O'War. The eighty-ton, solidly built OmniMech was constructed as if to be the very embodiment of physical power and strength. It outmassed the Nova by thirty tons and was built to take a lot of damage.

  Phelan cut his 'Mech hard to the right and pushed down on the throttle pedals to build speed. The Man O'War brought its right arm up and fired both of the particle projection cannons built into the 'Mech's forearm. Two blue bolts of synthetic lightning missed to the left, but the medium and large pulse lasers built into the 'Mech's left arm hit home perfectly.

  The red energy darts nibbled away at the armor over the Nova's right thigh. The green laser flechettes from the larger weapon bubbled armor off the left side of the Nova's chest, reducing its effectiveness by more than sixty-five percent. One more shot like that and I'm hurting. Phelan didn't even want to think about ejecting from a 'Mech in the middle of this storm, much less leaving the combat.

  The Nova stabbed both arms forward and tracked the Man O'War as it slowly twisted to follow the Nova's movement. The crosshairs dipped low on the Falcon 'Mech's outline, a gold dot appearing when the sight settled on the 'Mech's right knee. Bracing himself for the heat, he hit both thumb triggers on his joysticks.