Malicious intent

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Doc looked up at the map. "Quite the task. When we last had radio contact with our regimental headquarters, it sounded like the Falcons were coming in from the north, through the lowlands, using the river as their right flank."

  Niemeyer nodded haltingly. "Our forces pulled back into the Bradford Hills district, then escaped northeast to Whitting in the agricultural district. We barely had time to regroup before they enveloped us and started to squeeze."

  Rogers adjusted his glasses. "So, what do you make of this ancient history, Hauptmann Trevena?"

  Doc did his best to ignore the sarcasm, aided in this endeavor by a brave smile from Shelly Brubaker. "The Northlands approach makes sense. You put a screen force out to cover the river and another to cover the Hills, and you're clear to the center of Port St. William. It's definitely the easiest approach. And the one they'll be expecting. Now I may not have seen fire before this year, but it strikes me that an assault against entrenched Clan units is going to be pretty brutal."

  General Winston nodded. "Agreed."

  Doc pointed at the diagram on the wall. "What you've probably thought of already is bringing a force forward to fix the Clans in place along the Northlands and Hills area.

  With a screen up along the northern reaches of the river you can prevent a Clan force coming up and rolling around your flank. They're still going to have to try that, though, which means they're going to head pretty far north until they find a good ford that will let them cross fast enough to secure the far bank."

  Shelly's blue eyes sparkled warily. "That would put them in our rear area, threatening our supply lines from Leitnerton."

  "True. The trick here, though, is that you'll already have a force that crossed even further north and is positioned in the Dales. Once your screen force reports contact, the Dales regiment pops on down and eats up the Clan flank. Then they shoot past it and take the west side of town. That puts them in the Clan rear."

  Colonel Tyrell brushed a hand back through his closely cropped brown hair. "That's one plan we've considered, but we had to reject it. The geography in the Dales is too rough and wild for a force to get through fast and in good order."

  Doc smiled. "Begging your pardon, sir, but that's not right."

  Rogers scowled. "Any unit in there would break up quickly. It's a labyrinth. Getting caught up in there would be suicide."

  "Unless you know the way through it."

  General Winston gave Doc more than a once-over. "Do you?"

  "My scouts and I held a month of exercises in that area earlier this year. We can get you through."

  Brubaker hid her laugh behind her left hand. "Forgive me, Hauptmann, but you've provided a key to a puzzle we couldn't unlock."

  "Glad to be of help." Doc frowned. "General Winston, you said the Falcons have three Galaxies in Port St. William."

  "Yes."

  "Where are the rest?"

  That question brought him stares from everyone. "The rest?" echoed Tyrell.

  "I saw DropShips coming and going the whole time we were in the mountains. I always hoped I'd see them just going, but no such luck. At the range I was watching from, I can't tell you what type of ships I saw, or what they were carrying, but there was a lot of traffic."

  Wayne Rogers waved Doc's explanation away. "It doesn't matter—I handled the challenge and bidding myself. They're defending Port St. William with three Galaxies. That's our problem."

  General Winston shook her head. "That's our immediate problem, Colonel. What Hauptmann Trevena has revealed is a bigger problem. We all knew this wasn't going to be easy." She hesitated for a moment and her eyes hardened. "I just hope we've not underestimated how difficult it will truly be."

  31

  Turkina Keshik Headquarters, Port St. William Coventry

  Coventry Province, Lyran Alliance

  19 April 3058

  Galaxy Commander Rosendo Hazen turned away from the holographic terrain table as the younger members of his strategic operations group stiffened to attention. He smiled casually at Marthe Pryde, saluting respectfully. "If is a pleasure to see you again, Khan Marthe."

  "Of course, Galaxy Commander." Her long-legged strides shrank the distance from the door to the edge of the holographically-projected greensward. Displayed was a model of Port St. William from the north, looking south toward the bay. Small 'Mechs took up their places in the defensive positions manned previously by Inner Sphere troops, with a Galaxy in the Bradford Hills, another in the Northlands, and a third in the city held in reserve.

  Marthe scanned the plan, then nodded. "Standard defense."

  "Agreed, but Arimas here has noted a couple of flaws in the enemy that we had not previously suspected." Rosendo waved a hand toward a tall, slender soldier with a shock of red hair. "Tell us what you have discovered."

  The youngster's blue eyes brightened. "In reviewing the action around Whitting, I noticed something we might be able to use. The Eridani Light Horse secured the Inner Sphere landing zone, then the Dragoons sent their regiments down, one heading west to cover the right flank, the second taking the center. The left, which was apparently an area where they were not expecting trouble, was covered by the Waco Rangers. The movement of the Rangers seemed not to be fully integrated with that of the Dragoons. Supplemental research on the Rangers reveals an institutional hatred for the Dragoons. This hatred appears to be mutual."

  Marthe nodded. "All this is already known."

  "Yes, my Khan, but I thought it would not be useful to review the advance of the lucrewarriors without noting this background." Arimas hit two keys on the noteputer he held. The holographic display shrank in scale, pulling back far enough to show the approaching Inner Sphere forces. Marching along like tiny toys came the Eridani Light Horse regiment sandwiched between the two Dragoon regiments. The Militia held the extreme west flank, and the Waco Rangers were shown back at Leitnerton.

  "It is my belief, Khan Marthe, that the Dragoons would never trust the Rangers with securing their base. Moreover, I do not believe the Rangers would accept being left behind in the battle for Port St. William. The enemy knows that attacking prepared defenses calls for as overwhelming a concentration of firepower as they can amass. That means the Waco Rangers cannot be in Leitnerton."

  Marthe looked at Rosendo and raised an eyebrow. "Your assessment?"

  "I am reluctant to believe the Dragoons would leave Leitnerton vulnerable, but we would be hard pressed for the armor, infantry, and 'Mechs needed to take it, even without the Rangers present. Our bid forces really do not permit us to threaten their rear and adequately defend the city."

  The Khan directed her attention toward Arimas again. "What is your estimation of how the Rangers will be used?"

  Arimas hesitated for a moment, revealing a crack in his composure. "I believe the enemy intends to bring them through the hills of the area called the Dales and hit us when our reserves come out to threaten their flank. Having the Militia remnant acting as the western screen presents us with a tempting target. Moving out and trying to envelop the enemy's western flank is a sound strategy, one we would be expected to employ."

  "Arimas, are you aware we considered such a strategy when we attacked Port St. William?"

  "Yes, my Khan. It was abandoned because the Dales are considered a difficult area to transit. We did not have guides. I believe the Rangers do." Arimas pointed to the Cross-Divides. "According to records we have captured, the Skye Ranger battalion had a light element that spent time in the Dales. Their raids have stopped in the east, so I believe they have linked up with the mercenaries and can lead them on this sweep of our flank."

  Marthe smiled slightly. "Rosendo, is he one of yours, or one of ours?"

  "Neither. He is a Malthus, with some Nygren and Widow-maker mixed in."

  "Remarkable."

  "Just wait." Rosendo nodded to Arimas. "Present your plan to the Khan."

  "As you wish." In response to the command Arimas typed into his noteputer, the display again shifted. The defendi
ng Galaxies had been stripped of a Trinary each, creating a light Cluster of fast 'Mechs. The reserve unit consisted mainly of heavy and assault 'Mechs, while mediums and heavies served as the garrison units in the city.

  "What I intend is for our forces in Port St. William to pull back in the face of the initial onslaught. The enemy obviously intends their frontal assault to pin us in place, so the premature withdrawal will present them with a situation they can exploit before the Rangers are in place to strike. As our forces pull back, our reserve force begins its flanking maneuver. It will hit the screen force ahead of schedule and, given the strength of our unit, should rip through it.

  "This will seriously threaten the enemy's rear area. The Rangers would have to advance more quickly than planned and will fall into disarray. In truth I do expect them to advance early because they do not want to let the glory of taking Port St. William go to the Dragoons alone. When they hit the reserves, the fast Cluster can pour through into the enemy rear and threaten Leitnerton."

  "And if the Rangers do not advance in disorder?"

  "The fast Cluster will speed out and engage them, allowing our heavy reserves to move into the enemy rear." Arimas smiled openly. "The enemy's movements into the city can be slowed by the use of Elementals so that before they have a solid foothold, their backs will be vulnerable. They will be obliged to withdraw."

  "They will, indeed."

  Rosendo looked at Marthe. "We make this plan operational, quiaff?"

  "With one slight change, aff." Marthe pointed toward the enemy's Port St. William assault force. "The Dragoons were once part of the Clans, and the Light Horse claim their tradition runs back to troops who remained behind when General Kerensky left the Inner Sphere. Deceiving them this once will be permitted. After that I want them at their best, and I think we can use this operation to guarantee I get what I want."

  * * *

  ComStar Headquarters Tukayyid

  ComStar Garrison District, Free Rasalhague Republic

  Victor Davion sat back in one of the overstuffed chairs arranged around the fireplace in the study. The room looked ancient, as if it had been on Tukayyid since before mankind left the confines of Terra, but he realized it was a skillful reconstruction. With all the walnut paneling, the built-in shelves stuffed with leatherbound books, and the wooden furnishings, it reminded him of his own office on New Avalon—the office that had also been his father's. Those memories combined with the glass of single-malt Scotch whisky and the roaring fire in the hearth to make him feel very much at home.

  Hohiro Kurita, seated across from him in another of the deep armchairs, took a sip of his brandy, then smiled. "These surroundings are far too cluttered to be considered restful by my people, yet I do somehow find this room inviting."

  Kai Allard-Liao leaned forward toward the fire, his snifter cradled in both hands. "It's the brandy and the fire, Hohiro. They're dulling your senses."

  "Not to mention the fact that we're all bone tired." Victor rubbed his eyes with his left hand. "However, it's a good tired. Your Genyosha really rolled up that Invader flank. Very nice envelopment."

  "I will pass your compliment to Narimasa Asano. He directed our movements."

  "Yeah, you merely led them." Victor had been amazed at Hohiro's boldness in driving his company into the edge of the Invader flank. The maneuver froze the flank, allowing the rest of the battalion to curl around and concentrate fire on the Invaders. As the Invaders began to retreat, the rest of the Genyosha regiment pushed forward and the Invader left wing collapsed.

  "What I did only worked because the Invaders were fighting by Jade Falcon doctrine. They were concentrating on single combat between warriors. This is a tradition warriors of the Combine understand and, perhaps, like too much."

  Victor frowned. "How do you mean 'like too much'?"

  "Had they been fighting as Wolves I would have been blasted back. They would have enveloped me and destroyed my command." Hohiro smiled ruefully. "We would have demanded a great price from them, but I would have been yet one more samurai who met a glorious death in combat."

  "As I recall it was warriors from the Draconis Combine who sent my Uncle Ian to just such a glorious end."

  "Indeed, Victor, and his bravery is remembered among my people."

  "Strange how the glory of battle, the displays of courage, somehow bleed over to color death." Kai took a sip of his brandy. "A hero dies a glorious death and even the warriors trying to kill him are somehow elevated by their participation in his demise. And if the person who actually does kill him praises the fallen warrior as brave, the death and the act of killing rise to an even higher pinnacle of nobility and grace."

  Victor blinked, surprised at Kai's words. "You will forgive me, Kai, but hasn't your career as the Champion of Solaris been built on exactly such glorious combat?"

  "True." Kai hesitated, and Victor could sense his doubt. "There is certainly death enough in the arenas of Solaris, but that isn't really the goal. I managed to win the championship without killing any of my foes. When someone dies in the arena, well, it's usually because of some stupidity or accident, and the death is mourned."

  "We mourn those who fall in combat."

  Hohiro held a hand up. "I think I know what Kai's driving at. The fights on Solaris are contests of skill. Because of the way they're waged and presented, others can enjoy the abilities of the MechWarriors involved. Solaris fights are to war what boxing is to a riot. Death is not the end-goal in those fights the way it is in combat."

  Kai nodded in agreement. "And on Solaris we acknowledge the pity and tragedy of death. But we can't let ourselves do that in war, or we would never find the will to continue waging it. We have to elevate the slain to the ranks of heroes, or at least tragic figures, because doing that puts a benign mask on the ugly face of death."

  Victor set his glass down on a side table. "I understand what you're saying, but I think you're operating from a false premise. Hohiro stated it when he said killing is the end-goal of war."

  Hohiro frowned over the lip of his snifter. "If it is not, what is?"

  Victor sighed, thinking that was a question that had provided historians and philosophers with fodder for generations. "I don't want to oversimplify, but the goal of war is to defeat the other side."

  Hohiro nodded. "Which is best done by killing the enemy."

  "Not necessarily, Hohiro." Kai sat back in his chair. "I have defeated my foes on Solaris without killing them."

  "But those are games."

  "And how different are those games from the way the Clans fight? To them war is a contest to see who is the toughest. On Solaris the toughest warrior wins money and fame. In the Clans the toughest warrior wins glory and a chance for his genes to become part of the breeding program. In essence, the Clan warrior wins immortality. The Clanners fight well and hard, so their prize is fitting for what they do. A warrior's death or survival is immaterial to his reward, so the death of one only makes room for more warriors to take his or her place in the immortality lottery."

  Hohiro shrugged. "It's seductive to believe we could kill enough of them to stop them, but the battle for Wolcott proves that killing the Clans isn't the only way to defeat them. My father outmaneuvered them and they retreated, sparing each side unnecessary bloodletting."

  Victor rubbed his eyes for a moment, then smiled. "I think, in removing death from the formula for defeating the enemy we've just hit on a lesson that has to be learned by each new generation of warriors—a lesson some generations never learn, and others pick up because their leaders failed to do so. That is, quite simply, that blood is not the only currency with which victory may be purchased."

  Hohiro raised an eyebrow. "But can you win a war without killing?"

  "Perhaps not, Hohiro, but that's not exactly the point." Kai brought his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. "No leader who is presented with defeat will march his men straight into the guns of his enemy, unless he's suicidal or stupid, or both. He'll pull back and wait for
another opportunity. Flanking an enemy, isolating him from his supplies, forcing him to divide his strength so you can overwhelm bits and pieces of his force—those are superior means for winning wars because they minimize the blood-price your side pays for defeating your enemy."

  Victor nodded emphatically. "That's it exactly, Kai. That may not sit well with you, Hohiro, but I think all of our martial traditions—including those of the Clans—have a double standard by which warriors are measured. Individual soldiers are judged on their lethal nature. Those who kill great numbers of the enemy are highly lauded. You yourself said my uncle Ian was praised for fighting valiantly and dying bravely, much as you would be for taking vast numbers of Clanners to the grave with you."

  "I see your point. Go on."

  The Prince of the Federated Commonwealth hitched forward to the edge of his seat. "Leaders are judged by how well they defeat the enemy, and the emphasis is placed on skill and cunning, not brute force, because brute force kills lots of the leader's own people."

  "Even so, a leader who avoids war, yet still gets what he wants is somehow seen as less honorable than one who sheds blood to achieve his goals." Hohiro took a sip of brandy as he paused reflectively. "Why is that?"

  "It's because no one trusts an individual who's skilled at deception." Kai shook his head. "He who wins through deception, though he does so without shedding blood, is not regarded as winning a true victory. The decision is not clear, though the results are."

  "And yet, the leader who can win without killing anyone should be the example that everyone tries to emulate." Victor reclaimed his glass and drained it. "Winning without killing may be the final lesson one has to learn to become a truly great warrior. It's one I'm willing to try to master."

  Hohiro nodded. "That has a rather intriguing Zen quality to it—becoming great in an arena without using the tools others resort to. If you wish a study partner for this lesson, please consider me for that position."