Star Captain Bauer’s face reddened. “The prowess of the Black Stallions of the Purifiers is acknowledged by my Omicron Stealth Cats Trinary, but we cannot accept the implication that we are not the most worthy. I bid two Points for the right to travel to this Wyatt.”
Cox let the last bid hang in the air. He would be pleased to win the right to challenge Star Captain Bauer for the right to investigate Wyatt. Several Star captains did not bid, their units most likely undergoing refit and repair from other engagements. Now was the time for him to make his bid, to give honor to the Spirit Cats.
“Galaxy Commander,” he said slowly. “This disappearing star also has spoken to me. My visions also have shown me a man holding the light of a vanished star. While I wish I could grant the honor of battle to my Purifier Pouncers Trinary, I must instead honor them with a victory in their name. I bid myself, augmented, against any who would challenge for the right to confirm your vision.” He turned to face Star Captain Bauer.
She gritted her teeth as she moved restlessly on the opposite side of the bonfire. The choice was hers. She could let him go, or contest him. Her eyes seemed to flare as she returned his gaze. “Such bravery cannot be proven by words alone. With your permission, Galaxy Commander, I shall face Star Captain Cox in a Trial of Equals, a test of our skills. The winner between us shall fulfill your vision.”
Kev Rosse smiled, only for a second. “Such is the way of our people. Bargained well and done. Prepare your ’Mechs for battle.”
3
Schuler’s Restaurant
Kinross, Wyatt
The Republic, Prefecture VIII
18 April 3135
“So your first day was quite busy, from what I heard,” Patricia said as she stirred her soup. The bustle of the restaurant distracted Tucker, but he felt safe talking there. It was unlikely anyone could hear him over the sounds of conversation, the clanking of dishes, and the throbbing music bouncing off the cheap decor.
“Word travels fast,” he replied, taking a spoonful of his chili and blowing on it to cool it before eating it.
“It’s a small city, and an even smaller compound. You’re new, and I’ve been here long enough to build up some contacts in our organization. From what I gathered, you and the demi-precentor spent most of your time locking horns.”
“Faulk is a . . .” he hesitated. If he had been sitting with anyone but his sister, he would have cursed the man. Instead, Tucker drew a long breath and blew it out, focusing on his control and composure, then stirred his chili and finished with, “. . . complex person.”
“You’re the master of understatement,” she chuckled.
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t know you well enough to hate you, Tucker.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t hear him chew me out when that core arrived. All I was doing was scanning it for magnetic residue. Standard-freaking procedure and he yells at me for a good ten minutes.”
She shook her head in a mirror of his own motion a moment before. “Tucker, you’ve just got to accept that he considers you a threat. He’s faced a few lately, not the least of which is a Knight Errant being sent here to oversee this installation and reactivation.”
Tucker cocked his head. “Yeah, he mentioned that when I arrived this morning. Why has a Paladin dispatched a Knight here?”
Patricia daintily drank her soup, taking a moment to wipe her lips. She glanced around to make sure that no one was close enough to listen. “Bear in mind, no one’s really saying anything solid. But it sounds to me like the new Exarch is putting pressure on ComStar to get the HPG network back up and running . . . right now. A Paladin named Sorenson has sent out a few Knights Errant to worlds like this one, where we are close to finishing repairs and restoration. Their mission is to ‘encourage’ us to get the repairs done faster.”
Tucker allowed himself a chuckle. “What does a Knight Errant know about HPG operations?”
“She seems to be a quick learner,” Patricia countered. “I haven’t met her yet, since no one has offered to introduce me. But I have talked to some of the other station personnel. This Knight Errant seems really to be wrapping her head around the problem that you’re going to be dealing with.”
“What’s your take on all of this?”
“I think it’s a political hot potato. The Republic is under pressure to get the HPG back up, so they’re putting pressure on ComStar, which in turn is going to put pressure on you. None of this helps us get the HPG network repaired; in fact, the unnecessary pressure is a distraction. I understand their logic, though. Until the network went down, The Republic was safe and doing fine. Since it went down, we’ve faced invasions, incursions, betrayal, you name it.” She took another sip of her soup and paused for a moment. “Which brings up the question, how is it going with the new HPG core?”
Tucker made a face and was immediately embarrassed by letting his feelings show. Patricia was the member of his family he felt closest to, and he always wanted to impress her. She was the one person whose opinion of him mattered. Maybe she’ll just think the chili is too hot. “After Demi-Precentor Faulk made sure I knew that if anything went wrong, it was my butt in a sling—not his,” he said brightly. “I oversaw the delivery of the new core from the DropShip. We’ve begun the preliminary testing that needs to be done before we install it. So far, it looks like it arrived intact.”
“So it appears this core will work?”
Tucker shook his head. “The last core tested perfectly, too. It wasn’t until they fired up the HPG that it began to send out duplicate messages, overloading the network. It’s too early to say. I’m not one-hundred-percent convinced that the problem is the core to begin with.”
“Meaning?”
He gave her a grin. It was the same expression he used for any layman when it came to explaining technical matters. Stellar communications was a complicated process, and Tucker had discovered that his so-called peers and family members found the technical details too overwhelming. It only took a few sentences of explanation for their eyes to glaze over. “Everyone is focused on the core as the root of the problem. I’m just saying that I’m going to take a look at everything.”
Patricia lowered her spoon. “I know that you’ll do what is necessary, Tucker. It’s just that ComStar seems to have a lot riding on this. If you can fix this HPG, well, you’ll be doing a lot to improve the organization’s image, and not just on Wyatt.”
Tucker understood. There was more on the table than just Wyatt. The presence of the Knight Errant told him that this was not an ordinary repair job that he had been sent on. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make this startup and re-initialization a success, Patricia. When we power up that core, it has to work.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
There was a short silence as they both applied themselves to finishing their food.
“You haven’t asked about Mom and Dad,” he said in a neutral voice. He looked at her as he spoke, and he saw that for the first time since she had picked him up at the spaceport, she refused to make eye contact.
“I got a message to Mom right before I was assigned here. I assume that they’re okay or you would have said something.” Her tone changed as well. Patricia and her father had done more fighting than talking in the last few years.
“He’s getting old, Patricia. Maybe the two of you could patch things up.” He allowed a little hope to creep into his voice.
She shook her head. “Tucker, you know better than anyone what he’s like. You went into the technical side of the organization. You were always his favorite because of that. Me, I opted to work on nontechnical things. Dad’s just set in his ways; he’s old-school ComStar. He’s not going to be civil to me until I become a tech like you. You know I’m right.”
Tucker frowned. “I know that he’s getting older and is someday going to die, and if you don’t work things out with him, you’ll have missed your chance forever.”
Patricia paused for
a moment. “You’re probably right. Maybe after this assignment I’ll rotate to Terra for a few days—drop in and see them. Will that make you happy?”
“It’s a start,” he replied.
She glanced at her wrist and winced. “It’s getting late, and I assure you that our demi is going to want you up and at ’em first thing in the morning. You’d better get settled in.”
Tucker nodded, pulled his napkin off his lap and tossed it on the table. “You’re right. Walk you back to the compound?”
Patricia shook her head. “No, I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll pop in tomorrow and see how you’re doing—deal?”
“Deal.”
* * *
Sitting at a small booth on the other side of Schuler’s Restaurant, he stared down at his noteputer as it hummed with activity. Her image came up. Patricia Harwell. INN researcher. He cocked his eyebrow. It had taken a while for the data he had requested to arrive, and her file was pretty thin for a career adept.
He studied her image on the small viewscreen and glanced over as she and her brother Tucker rose from their table. The data had cost a lot of money to obtain; ComStar personnel files were pricey, but his benefactor was willing—eager—to spend the cash. Wyatt was an isolated world, the last place anyone would suspect that Jacob Bannson would have any people or hardware.
Tucker Harwell’s data was more intriguing. A child genius. It appeared on the surface that, by sending Harwell to Wyatt, ComStar was serious about repairing the HPG. But his trained eyes cut through the data quickly, reading between the lines. He’s young, smart, but never had a hands-on assignment in his career.
Reo Jones leaned back in the booth and shut off the noteputer. Damn peculiar. ComStar sends in a researcher with a scanty resume, then sends in her brother along with a new HPG core. Add in a new Knight Errant, and the backwater planet that he had come to suddenly seemed like the center of the universe. There was more going on here than what he saw.
Reo wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew that he needed to get to the bottom of it. His inquiries about Knight Alexi Holt’s presence had offered few results. He already knew her background. From the gossip he had picked up from the ComStar adepts who frequented the local bars and restaurants, he had learned that she was in an ongoing battle with Demi-Precentor Faulk . . . who was irritated with her unwanted inspecting and questioning.
Reo allowed himself a silent chuckle. I wonder if she’s learned just how much of a wimp our dear legate really is? Reo knew that Legate Singh had his own secrets. His connections were the kind that could get someone killed. Wyatt suddenly had all of the makings for going from a boring little world to a world of potential excitement.
The Mill Tails of McPherson
Marcus
The Republic, Prefecture VIII
The scrap ore and debris piles rock rose up like small gray-and-tan mountains. Atop of each of the perimeter mounds, as much as a kilometer apart, small fires burned and warriors of the Spirit Cats stood and sat. They formed a great Circle of Equals, marking the boundaries of the combat trial. The early-morning sunrise over Marcus was slow in coming. The thick storm clouds made it seem more like twilight than morning. Gusts of wind whipped into the valleys of flat rock that filled the spaces between the mill tailings, sending small clouds of grinding dust into the air.
Star Captain Cox moved his Warhammer IIC, the “Harbinger,” slowly around the base of one of the mounds, watching both his secondary tactical display and his cockpit view of the combat area. The fight had started off quickly. Star Captain Caitlin Bauer was piloting a Vulture, painted in the gray-and-white-striped pattern of her Trinary. His ’Mech wore two shades of gray and a long diagonal stripe of red across the torso, like a sash of honor. Bauer’s Vulture mounted four Type XX “Great Bow” long-range missile racks, each holding twenty warheads. The Vulture was a deadly missile boat and at long range could eat him up.
Tactical doctrine in fighting such a BattleMech either on the battlefield or in trial combat was simple. Rush in, move fast, get close, and rip it up. Harbinger carried twenty more tons of armor and weapons. What any warrior should do in this kind of fight was clear.
Cox smiled. He knew he was not any warrior.
He hadn’t rushed in. He held back, whittling away at her with his General Systems large lasers. The emerald green beams of light from his lasers had found their mark several times, scoring blackened scars across her legs and torso, searing off armor plating in the process. She had given back what she could; several deadly salvos of missiles had savaged his right arm and torso, pockmarking them with smoking holes from warhead bursts. This minor damage he attributed only partly to luck.
He heard the hiss-pop of an open channel. “Blast it, Cox, come out and fight me like a warrior.”
He grinned to himself. Good. She was losing her composure. Her defeat was near. “I am in no rush to win this trial, Star Captain.” He continued to slowly move his ’Mech around the mound. His sensors picked up a faint magnetic anomaly reading from behind another mound a few hundred meters away. It could be a trick of the ore, or it could be her fusion reactor.
“Show yourself, you surat,” she yelled back. “This is not a child’s game.”
“Indeed it is not,” he said, angling forward into the open. “Perhaps you would like to capitulate now and save yourself the indignity of defeat.”
She paused. He knew she had picked him up on her sensors. “It will be a cold day before I lose to an un-blooded warrior,” she spat.
Most Clan warriors would have been infuriated by such a remark. Bloodnames, the highest honor available to Clan warriors, were won on fields of honor such as this. Star Captain Cox had only one name, the name he had been given as a child. Caitlin had won the Bauer Bloodname two years ago. I have earned my Bloodname already; you know that. Just as I know this is not yet the time for me to assume it.
“Bold words, Star Captain. But I do not need to hide behind a Bloodname to prove my mettle. If you were worthy of the Bauer bloodline, you would have ended this fight twenty minutes ago. You have left it to me to teach you the ways of a true Spirit Cat, and it is a task I shall finish in my own time.”
Her reaction was just what he had hoped. She moved quickly, breaking into a run, determined not to let him slip away. Her Vulture was a birdlike ’Mech, narrow, with gangly legs that made it hop slightly when it jogged forward. Cox remained in place, concentrating on targeting her. A warning alarm beeped in his neurohelmet as she locked on with her missile tracking system. He had expected her to do that.
The missiles came like a wall of spears aimed at his head, disgorging smoke as they streaked across the space toward him. He juked his Warhammer hard to the right at the last moment, causing some of the shots to miss and fly past him. There was a roar in his ears as the rest of the warheads found their mark.
His secondary display flickered as it tried to track the loss of armor. Flames from one or more warheads lapped up the torso of Harbinger and blackened the lower portion of his cockpit ferroglass. His ’Mech careened under the rumbling impact of the missiles, staggering drunkenly to one side. Smoke, black and gray, wrapped around the Spirit Cat ’Mech, hugging it like a deadly snake attempting to crush the life from him.
Cox fired back with two of his large lasers, both shots hitting the Vulture in the legs. The emerald beams stabbed into the knee area, and he saw one plate of her ferro-fibrous armor actually pop off from the sudden heat searing a joint. The temperature in his cockpit rose slightly, but was easy to handle. His sensors painted the picture he expected to see; she was reloading her missile racks, planning to finish him off. Caitlin Bauer was probably still puzzled about why he was not rushing forward and taking away her advantage, but she also probably didn’t care.
So he turned and ran.
He broke his Warhammer into a full run away from her, dodging around the mill tail pile to get out of her line of sight. Glancing at his tactical display, he saw that he was getting what he wanted; she
was running as well. He stopped, swung hard to the right, twisted the torso of his ’Mech and fired again, this time with all four of his large lasers.
One shot missed, but the other three found their mark, biting in at the very heart of Bauer’s Vulture. His pursuer hesitated under the assault, and from the splatter of green, he knew he had hit her coolant system. She fired again, two racks of missiles at once.
The salvo of missiles was more of a snapshot than a well-aimed volley, but it was true to the mark. This time the left side of his Warhammer rumbled and moaned under the impact. He felt his footing slip slightly on the gravel and his head roared as his gyro sent a nauseating wave of feedback into his neurohelmet. The neurohelmet compensated balance in the ’Mech, feeding back his own bio-impulses to the gyro control. He tasted bile rising in his mouth, but turned again and ran.
Star Captain Caitlin Bauer followed in a full run.
He moved another hundred meters around the mounds of scrap rock and ore, keeping out of her line of sight, then swung out again to the right, moving to where she could see him.
They both fired at the same time.
His large lasers reached his target faster, searing into her right arm, right torso and into the armored cockpit of the Vulture. The gray-and-white ’Mech reeled heavily under the cutting beams, but before he could enjoy the successful attack, he felt the thunderous impact of the missiles on his own ’Mech. Nearly every part of his Warhammer took a hit from at least three or four missiles. He saw one piece of armor plating peeled upward, just under the cockpit . . . a reminder of how close death could be. Cox fought the controls, leaning into the roaring blast. He sneered at the damage and fired again the moment his lasers cycled through. He heard a pop as one of the relays in the cockpit overloaded from the stress of the battle. He caught a whiff of ozone.
Three of the brilliant jade beams hit the right leg of her Vulture, blackening the remaining armor. From the looks of it, there was damn little left. Myomer muscle fibers, used to power the limb, were severed and flapped as power tightened and released them. The Vulture sagged slightly.
Target of Opportunity Page 5
