“A spy?”
Patricia nodded. “You’d better tell the Knight about this.”
“What about the legate?”
Her eyes narrowed, just a tad. “Who do you trust, Tuck? Unlike the Knight Errant, Legate Singh has expressed an interest in surrendering you to anyone and anything that threatens the Militia. I don’t necessarily like Alexi, but I trust her.”
“Let me break the encryption first,” Tucker replied. “Then we bring in Alexi.”
* * *
Captain “Fox” Irwin swung the arm of the ForestryMech like a knight wielding a sword. The spinning chainsaw blade slammed into the base of the trunk of two trees at once and both were felled in a millisecond, toppling with a whooshing noise. The blade roared like a jet engine as it revved for another sweeping pass. Alexi watched in fascination and admiration. Progress was slower than she had projected, but they were definitely making headway on the new road. Captain Irwin used the massive claw hand of the ’Mech to grab the felled trees and toss them off to the side of his path as if they were merely matchsticks.
Surveillance said the closest pursuit force was the Cut-Throats Company of Bannson’s Raiders. The Donar had spotted them several hours away, apparently setting up camp for the evening. From where they sat, they believed the Wyatt Militia was trapped, bottled up at Crater Lakes. Captain Chaffee, the mercenary commander, had to be chuckling at the fact that the militia had run out of road. I will wipe the smirk off his face, and make him pay for what he did at the ComStar compound.
Surveillance reported no signs of the Spirit Cats, but she had no doubt that Star Captain Cox was still out there. This was a matter of honor to the Clan warrior. She had bested him in battle, and he was not going to leave Wyatt with a loss against her on the books. That was something she liked about Clansmen—they had some predictable elements in their personality.
Alexi turned to walk back to camp and discovered two people wearing dull-green jumpsuits standing only a few meters away. The Harwells. Brother and sister stood with their arms crossed and serious expressions on their faces.
This can’t be good news.
She acknowledged them with a wave and closed the distance between them until they were all standing face to face. “What brings you out here?” she yelled over the churn of the ForestryMech’s blade.
Tucker yelled back, “We have a problem.”
“Go ahead.”
“I picked up a message last night. It was relayed from one of our vehicles and bounced to a commercial satellite using the systems in the mobile HQ. It was encrypted, so I set up an algorithm that would allow me to—” His sister cut off his long technical explanation by yelling, “Knight Holt, there’s a traitor in the militia. He’s apparently working with another faction on-planet.”
“On Wyatt?”
“Well, someone accessed the messages he sent, and they used a military prefix code,” Tucker replied.
Alexi held up her hand to stop Tucker from talking so she could focus on what Patricia had just said. “Another faction. Who?”
“The Oriente Protectorate,” Patricia yelled.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The traitor blocked certain IFF transponder codes in the HQ. If we were attacked by these troops, we wouldn’t be able to see them on long-range sensors,” Tucker added.
Alexi didn’t feel her hands ball into tight fists. She didn’t feel the blood rush to her face in anger. After all we’ve been through, and there’s been a traitor undermining us all along? And working with the Oriente Protectorate? “Who is it?” she demanded.
Tucker looked at Patricia, and she nodded. He looked at the Knight. “I was able to break his encryption and pull down at least part of his last set of orders. I have confirmed it. Legate Singh has sold us out.”
Tucker drew a deep breath and sighed heavily. “His orders are to allow the militia to be wiped out. The Protectorate forces will sweep in and rescue him and capture me. Apparently, I’m the reason they’re here.”
24
Crater Lakes
North of Kinross, Wyatt
The Republic, Prefecture VIII
21 May 3135
Alexi watched as he scanned the eyes of the men and women of his command, people he had betrayed. Legate Edward Singh was bound by the wrists and feet and seated against a log next to the bonfire they had lit to keep warm. She had thought about giving him some measure of privacy, perhaps interrogating him alone, in the mobile HQ, but had thought better of it. Weariness of days of fighting and fleeing had left the Knight Errant bitter and angry. Worse, there was a part of her worried that if she was alone with him, she might do something she would regret.
Singh had tried to rally some of the officers to his aid, to convince them that the evidence was false. He had even invoked the Black Paladin’s name in hopes that his deeds might tarnish Alexi. It didn’t work. She had been with them for weeks, helped train them, fought with them, kept them together as a cohesive unit. She was their leader now, in reality as well as in name. When the legate realized that he had lost his hold over his own command, she saw the energy drain from his face.
“How long have you been working for the Oriente Protectorate?” she demanded, standing over him with crossed arms. The semicircle of personnel closed in a half-step closer with her words.
“You can’t prove anything,” he replied confidently.
“Actually, I can,” Tucker said from the ring of people. “I broke your code. I even downloaded your last set of orders. You were going to let this unit get wiped out just so that the Protectorate could get their hands on me.”
For a moment Singh said nothing. He drew a deep breath. “My family was from the Free Worlds League. We were part of the refugee movement into The Republic. We are intelligence operatives. I am a loyal son,” he answered with a hint of desperate pride.
“What Protectorate forces are on Wyatt?”
He laughed in response. “You’re vastly outnumbered. Bannson’s mercenaries will hit us in the morning. Even if you take them out, there’s the Spirit Cats. And even if you survive them, the Protectorate forces are fresh and ready for action.” He pleaded his case to everyone within earshot. “You’d be better off turning over the adept and letting them leave. Save yourselves.”
Alexi stepped closer and watched him squirm. This time she spoke louder, firmer. “What Protectorate forces are on the planet?”
The legate still clung to his veil of assurance. “You don’t really think I’ll answer that, do you?”
Alexi knew what she wanted to do, and it took every bit of restraint she possessed to refrain. The legate had betrayed The Republic that he had sworn to defend. He was placing countless lives at risk, including hers. She wanted to beat him, hit him until she was covered in his blood. She wanted to hear him scream in agony in her grip. Alexi uncrossed her arms and reached for him. Then she caught herself. No, I’m a Knight of the Sphere. I’m better than this.
She reached down and grabbed him by his uniform collar, instead. In a swift move, she lifted him to his feet and stared him in the eyes, her face inches from his. “No, I guess I don’t expect you to answer me. So I’m putting you in the mobile HQ. If we are attacked, your own people may kill you. When we get through this, you will stand trial for treason. Being a traitor is still one of the few crimes that carries the death penalty.” She shoved him to the ground near the bonfire and stepped away. She was satisfied when she saw fear in his eyes. For now, that was the best she could hope for.
“Take this scum to the HQ and secure him there. If he causes a problem, do what is necessary to silence him.”
* * *
Adept Kursk, seated at the long-range sensor station in the mobile HQ, spotted the vehicle first. “I have a contact at maximum range,” she said. Tucker and Patricia moved in behind her to check the display. There was a lone target moving at the extreme edge of Higgins Lake, coming out of the dense forest. As the ComStar staff stared at the display, Tucker noticed that
former Legate Edward Singh, secured on the floor in the back of the HQ with a plastic tie, was squirming around to try to get a better view of the screen as well.
Patricia activated a secondary display window in the lower right corner of the sensor screen. “Punching up the war book now for ID,” she said calmly. The war book was a battle computer technical readout of every known vehicle and ’Mech made in the last three hundred years. It took the computer only a second to identify the vehicle and show its schematic. “Maxim Mark II class, hover armored personnel carrier.”
Tucker transmitted the information to Alexi Holt. “Command One to Miss Direction,” he spoke into his headset mike. “We have a contact on the southern end of Higgins Lake. One Maxim Mark II transport.” He checked the long-range sensors. “It looks like it’s heading right across the surface of the lake right at us, moving slow, though.”
Knight Holt’s voice replied a moment later. “Sound the alert. Everyone hold your fire until we get target ID confirmation.”
“You’ll see,” Singh sneered. “This is just the start. Surrender now, Harwell, and spare the lives of your sister and the others. I can help you make contact with the Protectorate.”
In perfect unison, Tucker and Patricia turned and barked, “Shut up!” then turned back to the screen.
A voice came over the broadband channel into the mobile HQ speakers. “This is Reo Jones in the Maxim approaching the Wyatt Militia. Hold your fire. I’m bringing in supplies.”
Tucker smiled for the first time in days. “Reo, is that really you?”
Jones voice boomed. “Sure is, kid. You didn’t think I’d miss a party like this, did you?”
* * *
The Maxim was resting on the grassy shores as the members of the militia surrounded it. Reo was leaning against the deflated hoverskirt of the craft, casually smoking a cigarette, despite the fact that numerous weapons were trained on him. Tucker was amazed that he remained so relaxed after taking the risk of driving into an armed camp in an enemy vehicle. But then again, he had come to know and appreciate that laissez-faire attitude in his friend.
The Knight Errant approached him first with Tucker and his sister a few paces behind. Reo glanced at her, then returned his attention to savoring his smoke. “Jones, you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
“I thought it was obvious, Knight Holt,” he said, tossing the butt of the cigarette to the ground and grinding it with the heel of his boot. “I’m here to help you.” Tucker was glad that Reo had showed up, but so far he seemed to be the only one.
“Why should I trust you?” she asked. “We’ve had our share of betrayal here already.”
Reo smiled his trademark casual, confident grin. “Well, to start with, I snuck into the Cut-Throats’ camp and stole this from their supply train,” he patted the Maxim with his hand. “It’s loaded with ammo, repair armor and parts.”
“How do we know that the stuff isn’t sabotaged, booby-trapped, or that this isn’t a bomb?” Alexi pressed. Her last words caused the ring of troopers to take a half-step backward, making Tucker smile—like a half step would make any difference if it was a bomb.
“You have a lot of reasons not to trust me,” Reo said. “The Cut-Throats set you up with the Spirit Cats, but I didn’t know they were going to do that. I admit that I’ll do what is necessary to get by, but I don’t start wars and I don’t kill children. Chaffee may condone that stuff, but I don’t. When you captured Chaffee, you threw the Cut-Throats into confusion, so I took advantage of the chaos to borrow the Maxim. They’re panicking now, because they need to succeed in their mission. People who stick it to Jacob Bannson and fail him don’t usually find work anywhere else.”
“What do you mean?” Tucker cut in. “We didn’t capture Chaffee.”
Reo frowned slightly. “You took out a Blade, right?”
Alexi nodded.
“Chaffee piloted that Blade,” Reo said. “If you have the pilot, you have Chaffee.”
Alexi called for two of the infantry. Tucker heard her give them an order and they took off at a jog, rifles at the ready.
Tucker felt vindicated by the arrival of his friend. Everyone had told him to avoid Reo. Now, when they most needed reinforcements, he showed up on their side. “How did you get that hovercraft through the forest?” Tucker asked.
Reo looked back across the calm waters of Higgins Lake to the dense forest beyond. “It wasn’t easy, but I’ve had a lot of experience piloting vehicles through worse terrain. Needless to say, it needs some body work and a paint job now.”
There was a commotion behind Tucker and he turned to see the two infantry returning, the older, overweight prisoner struggling between them. As the crowd parted, he saw Reo. Tucker almost burst out laughing when he saw the smile that came across his friend’s face.
“You traitor!” Captain Chaffee howled.
Reo leaned back against the Maxim’s hull and crossed his arms. “They took you down first. . . . That’s funny, you old fart.”
“Bannson will see you hang,” Chaffee cursed.
“You might be right,” Reo said. “That assumes that you’ll be alive to tell him what I’ve done. Right now, your precious unit is being commanded by a junior officer. I’m willing to bet that these folks can take them out. Cut-Throat, you’d be smart to signal them to stand down. It’s not worth getting everyone killed.”
Captain Chaffee swore again. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to take suggestions from a traitor. I won’t call them off. I won’t tell them to stand down. They’re going to hit you, hit you all,” he turned and yelled at the troops surrounding him. “When they do, they’ll take that ComStar wimp and leave the rest of you dead.”
“That’s not very honorable,” Reo pressed.
“It’s that or face Bannson’s wrath. Do you know what happens to mercenary units that break their contracts with him?”
“Why don’t you tell us?” answered Alexi.
Chaffee grinned nastily. “You never hear from them again. They disappear. Killed to the last man. Hunted down like animals. My people will come because that’s what they face if they don’t do their job.”
Reo stepped away from the Maxim and walked over to Alexi. “It sounds like we’re in the same boat, Knight Holt.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Reo smiled. “Well, Chaffee’s not going to be needing that Blade for a while. I’m a MechWarrior. Tucker here is the only person I’ve met lately that hasn’t branded me one thing or another. How can I let him down?”
* * *
Star Captain Cox came to a bend in the highway and slowed his Warhammer IIC to a walk. His long-range sensors had greater distance than their Inner Sphere counterparts, so he already knew the exact location of the mercenaries he had been pursuing. The maps of Wyatt in his battle computer told him that the highway ended up ahead in a mass of lakes and dense forests. If the militia was still ahead of the mercenaries he was following, they were bottled up there.
There was more. His rear guard had picked up some military comm traffic. It was faint, but it suggested that there was at least one unit behind his command. Whoever that force belonged to, they were smart enough to stay out of his sensor range. It was beginning to seem like everyone in The Republic and beyond had an interest in Wyatt.
No. That was not correct. They had an interest in the man who had restored the HPG on Wyatt—this Adept Tucker of ComStar. Even he was on Wyatt for Tucker, to find out if this man was the Lightbringer from his vision. The difference between his goal in finding Tucker, and the goals of the other forces seeking the man was not lost on Cox. I have come to save people, to keep my Clan alive. These other factions seek him to gain profit or power. My path has honor, theirs does not.
He slid the throttle to a full stop and the rest of his command followed suit. Point Commander Barton was a good intelligence warrior. He worked only with facts, leaving the extrapolation to his commanding officer. It was likely that Bannson’s mercenaries had trig
gered the conflict between the Spirit Cats and the militia for their own benefit. It was also possible that they were somehow working together. The unknown force to their rear could be tied to one of them, or an entirely new threat to be dealt with.
The Star captain popped open the visor on his neurohelmet and rubbed his tired eyes. He pushed hard, and in the darkness he saw the twinkle of lights, like multicolored stars. Cox paused and drew a long breath, holding the pressure against his eyes. Help me find the right path. Let the right choices come to me at the right time.
Removing his hand, he closed the neurohelmet. “Pouncer Trinary, prepare to move out. Shut down your active sensor sweeps and kill all nonessential chatter. We need to move like our name, the predator that stalks its prey and strikes with fury. Pouncers, follow me and I will give you victory and honor.”
* * *
Tucker blatantly listened in on the conversation, as did all of the techs in the HQ. Lieutenant Tooley was one of the most outspoken members of the militia. His Furies, the infantry and vehicle support, had been battered but had held their own so far—mostly due to his expertise and experience. When he approached the Knight Errant, he spoke with authority.
“Do you really trust this SOB?” he asked, chomping on his cigar.
“Jones?” she verified. “No, not entirely.”
“But you’re going to put him in a ’Mech. Do you really think that’s wise, sir?” Tooley was trying to keep the conversation private, but his normally booming voice carried even at a whisper.
“Lieutenant,” Alexi began, “I understand your reservations. I share them. But let’s face facts. We’ve got the Legate’s Panther, operational even with a bad leg, and the Blade. We need them in the fight, but we don’t have Mech Warriors with the experience to pilot them. Personally, I have little use for Reo Jones, but he is a skilled MechWarrior. I’m making the call. We put him in the Blade.”
“He’s a known traitor, ma’am,” Tooley added. “Hell, he’s just turned on the freaking mercs he was supposed to be working for.”
Target of Opportunity Page 25
