"About my brother," McCall said easily. "I assume there's somethin' you want, since y' would nae ha' waited so long otherwise. Did y' give these two a trial before trussing them up like tha'?"
Wilmarth looked at Folker and smiled. "You said he was smart, Major."
Folker grinned back. "In most ways, Governor. If we could just break him of that nasty idealistic streak ..."
The Governor looked back to McCall, still smiling. "There is indeed something you could do for us, Major. We've, ah, heard that your regiment will be ordered here soon."
"Aye, y' did, did ye?" McCall said, and his smile was as cold and tight as death itself. "An' you think th' Gray Death may be able to help you wi' the locals if the Federated Commonwealth picks up our contract an' sends us here."
"They will order you here, Major," Folker said. "We've had definite word on that, shortly after we put in a call to Tharkad for help in the face of this revolt."
"Then, Governor, I can't see where you need my help, noo. I'm nothin' but one of Grayson Carlyle's officers, after a' ..."
"Oh, don't be so modest, Major," Folker said. "You're number three in the line of command. And you're one of Colonel Carlyle's oldest friends. Not to mention that your family is quite important on this world. We expect you have a certain amount of influence with them. And they have a certain influence over Caledonia's population."
"Aye, so that's the way of it, eh?"
Alex heard the deadliness in McCall's voice and took his cue from the glance, so quick it almost wasn't there at all, that the Caledonian flashed his way from the corner of his eye. He knew that look. Get ready! Watch me!
"I want to see m' brother," McCall declared, his voice hard and low. He took a step forward ... and Alex heard the sharp snick-snack of a heavy weapon being readied, followed by a high-pitched whine of machinery. Above and behind the governor, the two weapons pods raised to either side of the Locust's torso had shifted position, bringing the muzzles of their heavy machine guns to bear on McCall.
Alex stiffened. The two of them stood directly beneath the looming gaze of the eight-meter-tall combat machine. On one side of the room, a panel slid open in the wall, and three men with assault rifles appeared.
Alex wasn't sure what was next, but it suddenly looked like there would soon be some additional entertainment in this room, with him and McCall as the featured players.
13
The Citadel
Caledonia, Skye March
Federated Commonwealth
1035 hours, 1 April 3057
The Locust shifted position again, its sharply back-angled knees flexing to bring its body a bit lower. The machine-gun pods to either side of the cockpit remained fixed on Alex and McCall. "Don't move!" Folker ordered.
"I would come no closer, if I were you," the Governor added. "Lieutenant Dahlgren, here, tends to react badly to anything he perceives as a threat to my person. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"
"Right, Governor," a voice boomed" from the Locust's external speaker overhead. "I got the bastard covered."
"Aye, an' now I'll do the talkin' an' you'll listen to me, y' fat, slicket weasel." McCall seemed totally oblivious to the BattleMech standing a few meters in front of him. "You will release my brother, an' you'll release these two people here, an' you'll release all th' other folk y' been keepin' inside your foul house. I'll do wha' I can t' quiet things down, aye, but I'll nae be able t' stop this revolt until y' stop washin' your hands in the people's blood! Alex! Cut those two down."
"Stop!" Wilmarth demanded, rising in his chair. "I'll have you—"
"You'll have me wha', y' puir sick bastard? Shoot me, worse, shoot this lad here, an' when the Gray Death does ground here, no power on Caledon would stop 'em from renderin' your fat carcass down to aye a kilogram or three a' lard! You'll want to pull this mountain down a' top of ye to hid from th' likes a' Colonel Carlyle, and I'll tell you somethin'. He'd still find you, lad, an' make you curse th' day you were born! Alex! Do it noo!"
With a clean, swift movement, Alex freed his vibroblade from its vest sheath and keyed the power switch. A low hum sounded in the room, and the slender blade, its atomic structure set to vibrating by powerful oscillating mag fields, began glowing, leaping up the spectrum until it was white-hot. Spinning, he slashed the blade just above the bound woman's head, parting the wire with a loud ping. He took a step as she sagged, catching her on his left arm and lowering her gently down from the ice. Reaching up again, he snicked the wire looped around the man's neck. Both prisoners were trembling now as they slumped on the carpet, and he didn't want to risk burning them with the hot blade. Sheathing it once more, he pulled out the monowire, two button-sized reels of heavy metal that, when drawn a few centimeters apart, exposed the dangerously fine, almost invisible monofilament thread. With quick, deliberate movements, he used it to slice neatly through the metal shackles binding their wrists behind their backs. The fragments clinked cheerfully as they hit the floor.
"Y-y-y-you can't do this!" Wilmarth screamed, pointing, his pudgy hand shaking up and down. "Folker! Dahlgren! Do something!"
Kellen Folker was drawing his sidearm, a heavy laser pistol. Alex saw McCall move ... a lightning snap of body and hands almost too fast to follow. Before either Folker or the Locust pilot could react, McCall was standing behind Folker, his arms thrust across the man's shoulders, his clenched fists held rigidly just in front of the man's face.
Nobody moved.
"G-God, Davis," Folker said, breaking the silence. He still held the laser pistol, its muzzle aimed now at the room's ceiling. "Don't—"
"Why don't y' lay your wee toy there on th' table, noo?"
Moving very slowly, Folker did as he was told, clearly terrified of what McCall held in his hands. Alex recognized the stance. McCall had pulled out a monowire of his own and was holding it taut between his fists. One misstep on Folker's part, and that invisible thread would snick back through his neck and send his head bouncing across the floor.
"Alex?" McCall said. "Do me a favor an' retrieve the Major's gun."
When Alex had the pistol, McCall stepped back, the monofilament reels vanished somewhere into his vest. "Keep th' gun on our friend, here. You! You! Ay, an' you too!" He pointed at the trio of Blackjacket guards who'd appeared out of the side doorway. "Let's have your weapons, as weel."
"Lieutenant Dahlgren!" Wilmarth screamed. "Step on that little bastard!"
Alex snapped the muzzle of the laser pistol from Folker's head to the Governor's. "I'd countermand that, were I you, Governor!"
Wilmarth squeaked. The Locust shifted back slightly but did not otherwise move. With the gun no longer pointed at his head, Folker stiffened and started to turn, but Alex brought the pistol back and tapped him behind the ear. "Don't. Sir. I'd hate to stain the Governor's nice carpet."
McCall, by this time, had snatched an assault rifle from one guard's hands and brought the weapon up to his shoulder. "I wouldn't worry m'sel' too much about that, Alex," he said. "Th' carpet's red, after a'. You two," he called to the two former prisoners. "Can ye handle a rifle?"
"Try us!" the woman cried, pulling an assault rifle from the hands of another of the guards.
"We'll take this bluidy damned place apart," the man said in a heavy burr, picking up the third weapon where the trooper had dropped it and snapping back the bolt, chambering a round. Both of the ex-prisoners were still trembling, but now Alex sensed that the trembling was a barely suppressed rage. The woman, especially, bore a flame in her eyes and a hunger in the expression behind her bared teeth that must have been terrifying to her former captors. Whirling suddenly, she dropped one of the soldiers to his knees with a sharp rifle-butt thrust to his kidney.
"Easy there, lass," McCall told her. "Why don't you both find y'sel's somethin' to wear. It's a bit nippy ootside. Boots, too. We hae a bit of a walk ahead of us, an' a drive after that."
As the prisoners relieved two of the guards of various articles of clothing, McCall turned back to face
Wilmarth, who was seated on his throne, fists clenched as he glowered at the scene being played out before his unbelieving eyes. "Lad, we're goin' to walk oot a' here, an' we'll be takin' your wee F-C friend here wi' us for a bit a' the way, as insurance, y' ken. I suggest you sit vurra still where you are for as long as you can see us. I assure you tha' I could pop off the top of your head wi' this rifle all the way from the front door a' this place.
"An' while you're watchin' us go, I suggest you think aboot jus' wha' might happen to you if the lad here or I ended up bein' killed or wounded because you were foolish enough to try to stop us ootside. Colonel Carlyle is nae so forgivin' an' gentle a man as I am."
"I want that son of a bitch," the woman said. Dressed now in black boots, trousers, and a combat jacket, she took a step forward, raising her rifle to aim at the governor.
"No, lass," McCall warned. "There'd be no stoppin' the hornet's nest if y' did that."
"You don't know what these bastards did?"
"Aye, I have a pretty fair idea, lass, an' I'm sorry. But this is nae th' time t' settle auld scores. Or the place."
"What about your brother?" Alex asked him.
Alex could see McCall assessing options, weighing the chances. The Caledonian shook his head slightly. "No, lad. We'll hae t' come back for him. D' ye hear that, Governor? I'll be back for Angus McCall, an' when I come, ye'd best hae him safe an' sound an' ready t' come wi' me!"
They backed out of the room together, Alex, McCall, and the two ex-captives, with Folker still in tow, the muzzle of Alex's laser pistol prodding him along. The governor, the Locust, and the three disarmed guards watched them go, un-moving.
No one tried to stop them as they hurried through the outer offices or when they emerged into blinding sunlight in the courtyard outside.
"I don't understand, Major," Alex said as they hurried across the courtyard. "Wasn't that our best chance to get your brother out? Wilmarth's going to be waiting for you now. Worse, what if he decides to just kill Angus?"
"I don't think he'll do anything as foolish as tha',"
McCall said. "What'd' ye say, Major? Is the governor tha' stupid?"
"You've made a bitter enemy there, McCall," Folker said. "You made him lose face in front of his own people, and he's not going to forget that God, I'd hate to be in your boots when Wilmarth gets hold of you."
"I don't intend to let him get hold of me. But tha' was nae th' question, lad."
Alex prodded Folker harder with the laser. "Answer the question, Major."
"Your brother is safe," Folker admitted. "For now, anyway. You were smart not to press your luck back there, though. He's well guarded. You'd never have made it to him.
"Aye, tha' was my thought a' th' time. But, y' ken, I cannae let tha' wee bastard keep Angus as a gun against my head."
"I don't see what you can do about it."
"Weel, noo. I could bring the Gray Death in, a company or so a' heavy 'Mechs. Wha' would he say t' tha'?"
"That when your mercenaries are brought in to Caledonia, they'll be under contract to the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth. To me, in other words, Major, and subject to my orders. Break your contract, and you and your mercenaries are finished!"
"Still, it might be fun to see how far we could press your boss, wi' a BattleMech or four a' our backs. Here we are; You won't mind seein' us t' the bottom of the hill noo, will ye?"
Together, they entered the gatehouse where the groundcar was still parked. Under the impassive gaze of a dozen armed soldiers, the five of them squeezed into the vehicle, with Folker pinned uncomfortably between the two freed Caledonians in the back seat. No one tried to stop them as they drove out of the barbican, across the bridge, and down the mountain road. Alex was turned in his seat, watching the quad-mount autocannons tracking them, but there was no last-second burst of flame, no sudden ripple of explosions to hurry them on their way.
Ten minutes later, they reached the outskirts of New Edinburgh, and McCall pulled off the road to release Folker.
"No!" the man in the back seat said. "We should take him back to—"
"James!" the woman snapped. "Shut up!"
"We can question him! He could tell us how many 'Mechs and soldiers—"
"I dinnae think tha' is such a good idea, lad," McCall said. "Major, you're free t' go."
"That's decent of you, McCall," Folker said. " 'Mercenary's honor,' eh?"
"If y' like t' think so, aye. Get oot! An' Major!" McCall added as Folker clambered out of the back seat. "One more thing. You remind tha' governor a' yours tha' he's just liable t' find he's ridin' a tiger, here."
"What's a tiger?"
"Like an Arcturan razorcat," Alex told him, drawing on a bit of lore picked up from an education vid about extinct Terran animals some years before. "Only bigger."
"Aye, an' faster an' meaner," McCall said. "Wilmarth's goin't' hae a wee bit a trouble haulin' his fat carcass doon off th' beast again wi'oot turnin' into dinner."
He touched the accelerator, and with a rising hum the groundcar swung back onto the road and off into the city, leaving Kellen Folker standing there at the side of the road.
"Well done, Major!" Alex exclaimed, leaning back in the seat. "I thought they had us boxed there for a while!"
"Aye, lad. It was a bit tight there for a second or two." Half turning in the seat, McCall grinned back at the two passengers. "I'm afraid we nae hae had th' time for proper introductions. I'm Major McCall, an' this good-lookin' lad here is Captain Carlyle."
"Delighted to meet you both," the man said. "I mean, really delighted! I'm James Graham."
"Allyn Mclntyre," the woman said. "You two came along just in time, Major. My feet were so frozen on that ice, I couldn't feel a thing from my knees down."
"Glad to be of service," McCall said. "I take it you two were in tha' gatherin' by the spaceport yesterday."
"She was the woman standing on that statue," Alex pointed out.
"Aye, we were there," the woman said. "An' the bluidy Sasunnach bastards came at us wi' their hovercraft infantry an' a thunderin' great BattleMech. James an' me were caught by the soldiers before we could get clear."
"How many more prisoners in the Citadel now?" Alex asked.
"I dinnae ken for sure, Captain," Graham replied. "But a goodly many. Perhaps as many as a hundred. If ... if your brother's there, Major, I'm afraid I don't know who he was."
"We weren't kept wi' the others long," Allyn explained. "Wilmarth dragged us oot early this morning t' hae his fun wi' us. Told us our bodies would be dumped in Malcom Square when he was done wi' us as a warnin't' others."
"The Governor appears to be playin' for keeps," McCall said. "I take it you've got an organization behind you, lass?"
"What makes y' think tha,' Major?" James said.
"The way y' both handled th' weapons back there," McCall said easily. "You've both had some experience, I could see. You've got some vets wi' you, I would guess, t' show you how to handle assault rifles at least. An' you, James, vurra nearly let the cat oot a' the bag when you told our friend back there tha' you wanted to take him somewhere for questionin'. Tha' tells me you hae an intelligence apparatus of some sort."
"Not a very good one," Allyn admitted. "Not yet, anyway. But you're right. We hae a group. We call ourselves the Reivers."
"How many are you?" Alex asked.
"Enough t' make a start," James said. "Jacobites, most of us."
"Aye," Allyn added. "An' Jihaders."
"The Word of Jihad?" Alex asked.
James nodded. "They hae a personal reason for takin' on Fat Willie's BattleMechs, y' ken. See themselves doin' God's work by takin' the machines down."
"I cannae say I agree wi' the Jihaders' ideas," McCall said. "But I'd like t' meet them an' your people just the same. I'm a Jacobite m'sel'. Or was. It's been a few years since I was home."
"You're a McCall a' the McCalls," Allyn said. Her eyes widened. "Oh. Tha' Major McCall! I dinnae connect you wi' what I'd heard, at f
irst."
"We heard you walked oot on your family an' clan," James said slowly. "Tha' you'd been disowned."
"Perhaps. But I'm back noo."
"We'll certainly want to take him to the General," Allyn told James. "He could help th' Reivers a lot."
"Unless ..." James stopped, thought a moment, then shook his head. "Major, don't get me wrong, but I heard the talk between you an tha' bastard Folker. If your unit comes here, will it be t' fight against us? T' put down the rebellion? Because if they do, it will be you against us, an' we're not goin' to simply lay down our arms t' be butchered by tha' bluidy monster in the Citadel!"
"Lad, d' you think I'd fight for a madman like tha' Wilmarth?" He shook his head. "I hae to live wi' m'sel', y' ken."
"I think my father would shoot the Major if he even suggested such a thing," Alex added. "That's one reason we're here, anyway. To find out whose side we should be on!"
"Mercenaries who care which side they're on?" Allyn asked, her eyebrows raising. "That's a new one!"
"Not so new," Alex told her. "We pick our fights when we can. We wouldn't last long, as a unit or as a business, if it were otherwise."
"Aye, but this contract Folker mentioned. Between your unit an' the FedCom. How do you expect to get around tha'?"
"There are ways, lad," McCall said. "But we're not in th' habit a' discussin' trade secrets wi' folks we've just rescued from the enemy."
"Y' know," James said, relaxing slightly with a grin. "I like these men, Allyn." He laughed. "Major, that was a slick piece of work you pulled with that monowire on Folker."
"Never saw you move so fast, Major!" Alex said, laughing. He patted the combat vest pocket that held his own paired reels of monothread. "I didn't know you had one of these with you."
McCall gave him a wry grin. "Aye. An' who said I did?"
Alex's jaw dropped. "That was a bluff?"
"Weel, noo. Monothread's aye a wee bit hard t' see, unless it catches the light just so." Holding the car's stick for a moment between his knees, McCall held up his fists a few centimeters apart. "An' if y' think I might be holdin' the reels in each hand, just in front of your throat, weel, it's possible y' could see things that weren't really there."
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