Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  14

  Governor General Nagumo hitched one thigh over the comer of his desk, leaned back with his arms folded across his unadorned black jacket, and smiled. The young woman seated before him cast glances nervously about the room, taking in the spartan furnishings, the azelwood desk piled high with hardcopy printouts, the floor-to-ceiling windows looking down onto the Regis University central campus. She had soft, short-cropped brown hair, and her eyes were cold and distant.

  "So, Miss Klein," Nagumo said. "May I call you Sue Ellen? Good. How are you settling in at the barracks?"

  "Fine, my Lord," she said. She brushed nervously at the sleeve of her Kurita-issue uniform tunic. "Everything is... fine."

  "Good, very good." He waved toward a collection of bottles and glasses on a table along one wall. "Would you care for a drink?"

  She shook her head. Puzzlement, a hint of worry showed on her face. "No, thank you, Lord."

  "As you wish. Well, I suppose you're wondering why I wanted to see you."

  She nodded, still refusing to return his gaze. "The Governor General cannot be in the habit of talking to every mercenary Aerospace Fighter pilot in his command. Lord. Or every...prisoner."

  "Well, girl, you are a very special case. You must realize that, yes?"

  She nodded again.

  He continued. "You signed on with this new mercenary unit. The Gray Death Legion, you called it? Yes, and while running our blockade, you fought bravely but — for some reason — your comrades abandoned you."

  She leaned back slightly in her chair, her knuckles showing white against the chair's carved wooden arms. "There's no mystery there, Lord. If my...my comrades had stopped to pick me up, they would have had to fight the Leopard that was closing on them. They didn't have the armor or firepower to win such an engagement They were forced to abandon me and...and my wingman, to escape into Verthandi's atmosphere." Pain and a touch of fear crossed her face. "Lord, I went over all of this with your interrogators weeks ago!"

  "Yes, well, I'm terribly sorry for what you've been to go through. Poor girl! The commander of the Subotai was quite right to pick you up when she found you in Verthandi-orbit, but Admiral Kodo should have informed me that he had you and not turned such a...prize over to his interrogation teams. It was a week before I knew that my people held you, and another week before the whole story was known and I could order you released! Certainly, you should have been offered the opportunity to join us at once, rather than having to endure that blundering fool Kodo's doubtful hospitality on Verthandi-Alpha! I promise you. Sue Ellen, that the officers responsible will be disciplined!"

  She raised her head, her chin firm. "Thank you, Lord, but I really am fine now. As far as your officers were concerned, I was just another enemy prisoner. I'm not complaining about my treatment"

  He looked at her thoughtfully. "You are a remarkable young lady, Sue Ellen. I wonder at the... * He seemed to grope momentarily for the word. "I wonder at the callousness of your commander in leaving you behind." He looked straight at her then, pursuing another line of thought. "And your comrade, the one who died. He was dear to you, I gather."

  "Yes." Softly.

  "You fired into the cockpit of his Chippewa. You followed his fighter into the atmosphere, firing into it until it exploded."

  "Yes." Softer still. Her face twisted in pain. For a moment, she struggled to control it. "He was...burning. I heard him over my comlink. He couldn't eject, and he was wounded...bad... and as he started re-entry, he was burning alive. I...couldn't...I...couldn't..."

  She cried silently, barely suppressed heaves wracking her shoulders. Her face was contorted and wet, her grief an inner torture become naked. Nagumo slid off the desk and stepped alongside her, laying a hand protectively across her upper back.

  Sue Ellen Klein did not realize that Nagumo had learned of her capture less than a day after the event That, he thought with a smile, was something she need never know. The testimony of the officer who had made pick-up on her had made it clear that Klein was broken completely by the torment of having to Wow her lover to oblivion. As she was already numb with grief and loss, normal interrogation techniques had not been necessary. In any case, her state of shock would probably have made interrogation useless.

  Nagumo's orders to Kodo had been quite explicit: hold her, observe her, question her, but under no circumstances allow her to come to harm! Nagumo sensed that Lieutenant Sue Ellen Klein was a very special catch indeed, perhaps the key to destroying the mercenaries recently come to Verthandi.

  Dr. Janson Vlade, one of House Ricol's interrogation team psychiatric specialists, had been assigned to monitor Klein's progress in the weeks following her capture. It had been Vlade's recommendation that she was strong enough now for Nagumo to proceed with recruitment He had briefed Nagumo carefully in what to say and do in this interview.

  "That was a brave thing to do," he was saying to her now. "I know how tremendously difficult it must have been. But it shows your special strength. You could not abandon a comrade to such a horrible death. You acted as you did to spare him that fate, at such terrible cost to yourself."

  "I...I didn't know what to do." She gulped hard acouple of times, fighting past the tears and the constriction of her throat "There was no way to get Jeffrie out No way...Nothing I could do..."

  "Your comrade fought bravely. I respect his memory."

  "Th-thank you."

  "I respect you as well. Lieutenant for doing the honorable, the heroic, thing. You made a sacrifice more dear, I suspect, then giving up your own life."

  "N-no. It was nothing like that Lord." The tears threatened to retum. My Lori I really...can't talk about it...".The tears threatened to return.

  "I understand." He massaged her neck, rubbing gently. "But I wanted you to know I respect such courage. It is why we are offering you the chance to sign on with the Red Duke's household troops.

  Duke Hassid Ricol; my master, respects such bravery as well. We have a place for you here, Lieutenant. Laying your oath with Duke Ricol could take you far indeed. Promotion...Reward..."

  "My Lord, please understand when I say...I don't want to go far. I just...I just want to forget."

  "Of course. Well, you may go now. Take some time to become acquainted with your new comrades. Do you have enough money? Your quarters are adequate? Good. You'll find, I believe, that things are not as terrible within the service of House Kurita as enemy propaganda may have led you to believe. Take your time. Get to know us. I'll want to talk to you again in a week or so, after you've had time to settle in."

  "My Lord, you are too kind."

  "Notatall, my dear. I need people like you within my command.”

  “Thank you, my Lord."

  He watched her leave the office and waited for some minutes after the door had closed behind her. Then he touched a key on his intercom. A man's face appeared on the comcircuit screen, a lean face, dry and sharp. The red piping of a House Ricol Spec tech showed at his high-closed collar.

  "Well, Vlade, your conclusions?"

  "She will come over, Lord, but she is not ready yet."

  "The readings?"

  "We were picking up excellent readings through the chair's electrodes, yes. Let me see..." The man picked up a sheaf of printout paper and thumbed through it. "Your hints of promotion, of reward...she didn't react at all to those stimuli. Lord. I'm not even sure she heard them. Her grief is real. It is going to take her time to recover."

  "Go on."

  "Ah, well..." He looked at the printouts again. "There were markedly strong responses each time you brought the conversation around to her former commander, to his abandoning her and her comrade, the one she calls Jeffrie, and to Jeffrie's death. We can't know for certain, but I feel it very likely that this Jeffrie was a lover. It is difficult to account for the depth and scope of her grief in any other way.”

  “Go on."

  "What particularly interested me was her response when you touched her. From what I knew of her profile,
I expected her to react negatively, if at all. Instead it was positive. Quite positive."

  "Hmpf! And how do you interpret that?"

  "She is lonely, afraid...a very vulnerable young woman, right now. Lord. She doesn't realize it herself, I'm sure, but she is hungry for companionship."

  Nagumo snorted. "Are you suggesting I make love to her to get the information I want? I'm getting rather old for such games, Vlade!"

  "Of course, Lord, that is for you to decide, of course. I mean... you’re certainly not too old—" Vlade broke off, embarrassed or at least flustered.

  "Never mind. Doctor. Get to the point."

  "Well, Lord, I must point out that the reaction to your touch was not necessarily a reaction to your touch, but only to the sense of closeness, the erotic stimulation itself. I point out that she has already opened a conversational relationship with one of the young men you assigned to her squadron."

  "Which oner

  "Captain Vincent Mills."

  "Ah, good."

  "He is one of yours, of course."

  Nagumo ignored the statement "Is she ready to be approached yet, do you think?"

  Vlade frowned. "She needs more time, Lord. Time to get her bearings, to establish a relationship with Mills or some other strong person whom she can trust She needs to realize her loneliness after the death of her lover, and time to come to terms with what she may perceive as her own betrayal of his memory. At some point, though, her grief may become so great that she will need comfort, seek closeness with someone she perceives as a strong protector."

  "How much longer?"

  "A week? Two?" Vlade shrugged. "It's impossible to say. This is, after all, a young, grief-stricken woman, not a machine.”

  “Mmm. And if I order you to use more traditional interrogation methods?"

  Vlade paused, licked his lips. "Lord, we could use more direct methods, certainly. But there is still considerable risk. In her present mental condition, the pain and terror of interrogation would heighten her sense of being betrayed again. She could be driven so deeply into shock that she would never recover. She might possibly go insane, become catatonic."

  "And what I want to know might be lost forever. Or she could die before she reveals it. Very well, Doctor. I don't have much time, but I can wait. If we can get Klein to co-operate of her own free will, so much the better."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Compile a report on the readings you took. I want this in her dossier."

  "Yes, Lord.”

  “Dismissed."

  Nagumo studied the blanked screen for a moment before turning to gaze out the window into the overcast sky above Regis. Psychiatrists were so quick to remind others that the bundles of hopes, dreams, fears, and griefs that they studied were people and not machines. Well... perhaps. But Nagumo was used to playing upon those tangled emotions in much the same way that a master Mech-Warrior like Kevlavic played upon the controls of his Marauder. It did not take Dr. Vlade and his hidden sensors and computer printouts to tell Nagumo that the Klein girl had responded to his touch. He had sensed her response, had felt her loneliness in the same instant that he'd guessed that she would not draw away from him.

  Klein must know something of this Gray Death Legion that had come to Verthandi. Sometime within the next several weeks, he would learn it from her, learn how to use it against her former employer. In the meantime, he could afford to watch and wait for the rebel force's next move.

  Governor General Nagumo was supremely confident of the outcome.

  * * * *

  Hassan Khaled's Stinger rose dripping from the waves off the beach close by the mountain-hemmed fishing village of Westlee. It was still dark, though dawn was only moments away. It was a bad time for reconnaissance of a possibly hostile area, but there was no other choice.

  The Phobos had made the crossing, was already within sight of this port. With the rising of Norn, the DropShip would be clearly visible from land. If there were unfriendly forces here, they would have to be neutralized first. Tollen Brasednewic's information indicated that Westlee was a haven for rebel sympathizers, and that the rare Loyalist force that came to the village never lingered, but still....

  He studied the screens arrayed across the tightly enclosed confines of the Stinger's cockpit. The infrared scan showed a heat source, some distance off in that direction. Now what could that be? With rapid strides, he paced his Stinger up the beach, bringing it into the shelter of some ramshackle and weather-battered buildings above the tideline. The buildings would offer shelter as the day approached.

  Khaled was Saurimat, an ikwan of the Quick Death, and that basic fact would never, could never change, though his brothers would kill him now if they met him face to face. The memory of their final parting was still dark, dark, indeed. As Saurimat, he had drilled relentlessly to understand what it meant to command, to make life and death decisions that put responsibility for the mission's success in his own hands. The Saurimat masters taught that such decisions were best made in the ice-blooded embrace of farir kalb, literally "empty heart". In that self-induced, emotionless state, love and hate, fear and bravado receded to the point where they could not touch the warrior's mind, or his decisions.

  He had been studying the young commander of the Gray Death ever since signing on with the Legion. Carlyle's passions, the turmoil of emotions he carried constantly within himself, were easy to see. And yet the idea of converting the stricken DropShip for travelling over the sea had been inspired! The gamble should have failed, and yet somehow the ship had made it Even blinded by emotions, Carlyle possessed a gift for leadership that Khaled did not fully understand. There was much to be learned here.

  Movement!

  A ‘Mech, a Wasp with Kurita markings, was approaching, only dimly seen in the half-light of the predawn. Its pilot had not yet seen him, but the machine was moving toward him with long strides. In another moment...

  There was a crackling rattle of gunfire, sharp and crisp in the morning air. The spark of a ricochet winked against one massively armored shoulder. The Wasp paused; its squat turret-head rotating, seeking the source of the attack, the medium laser held rifle-like in massive, mechanical hands.

  Someone was attacking the Kurita ‘Mech with small arms! Though that fact told something about the political leanings of the town's population, it said little for the same people's intelligence. Or, had someone in the town seen Khaled's own emergence from the sea and known that he must be with the mercenary forces lately come to Verthandi? If so, the attack was a timely one, staged deliberately to provide him with opportunity.

  Inshallah! He willed his mind and heart cold, repeating the phrase that swept him into the grip of farir kalb.

  The heart is empty, the body a weapon, the mind and body are one.

  He seized the opportunity. The mind and body are one...

  The Stinger sprang forward, closing the range to the Wasp in twenty rapid strides. He dared not fire and risk slaughtering his new allies, nor could he risk alerting other Kurita forces that might be nearby. One of his Stinger's arms descended in a lightning stroke that crumpled the Wasp's laser from behind. His right leg swept around and up, smashing into the Wasp's knee in a crushing blow that sent the enemy machine lurching to one side.

  Inshallah! The mind and body are one! Allah Akbar!

  Before the Wasp hit the ground, one of Khaled's armored fists had rocketed down, fingers knife-edged, penetrating the target ‘Mech's cockpit at the weakest point. The enemy ‘Mech went limp as Khaled straightened, withdrawing his Stinger's hand from the shattered head Only then did Khaled will himself to think again.

  The townspeople emerged from their hiding places, weapons in hand, cheering wildly. In the harbor, the light of the early sun caught the Phobos's hull in a wet and golden gleam.

  15

  Another week passed. Runners from the Azure Coast carried word to Grayson that the Phobos had arrived safely at Westlee. Storm and cloud cover had cloaked much of the sea passage. On the few
clear nights, an ocean was a big place to hide something so small and unexpected as a DropShip. Now, Martinez had her command safely berthed, well under the sheltering lee of a massive cliff. Friendly rebel forces in the village had helped defeat the few Kurita and Loyalist troops in the area, actions that would probably be written off to random rebel activity rather than to the arrival of a damaged mercenary spaceship.

  Use had included a scrawled message of her own for Grayson: You were right. Damn you for being a genius. Repairs proceeding— Use.

  That single piece of news cheered Grayson more than he'd thought was possible. Though the Legion's situation was still serious, there now existed at least a slight possibility that the DropShip could be repaired—given time, material, hard work, and decent facilities. One day, the Legion might yet escape this world. Despite the good news about the Phobos, other concerns were more critical than ever.

  "General, in my estimation, four weeks is simply not enough time!"

  "Captain, that's longer than I was at first willing to grant you. We cannot sit by doing nothing and watch the destruction of our world. The army—including the Free Verthandi Rangers—must be ready to move out in three days."

  Grayson had been expecting and dreading this interview for weeks. His mission of turning a rabble of mostly youngsters into MechWarriors and support troops had become instead a bitter struggle—the struggle with himself as much as with the rebel army command. On one hand, his contract obliged him to transform these people into soldiers. That meant that the longer he had to work with them, the better their chances of survival. On the other hand, Grayson felt that it would take years to mold this motley group into soldiers ready to take on the dreaded Kurita ‘Mech forces of Governor General Nagumo.