"I think it better to have a thousand living men think of me as a deceiver than one corpse to support my fame as a masterful warlord." Kai smiled thoughtfully. "I, too, would join this course of study."
"Very good, my friends." Victor held his empty glass aloft. "From this day forward our aim will be to forestall death instead of aiding and abetting it. Even if they don't want to call us great warriors, at least we won't be filling graveyards with the evidence to damn us."
32
The Dales Coventry
Coventry Province, Lyran Alliance
21 April 3058
Had he still been piloting the Penetrator, Doc would have taken a shot at Colonel Wayne Rogers' BattleMaster. "Colonel, I don't care if the Jade Falcons are lining the streets with banners and handing cold beer to advancing Dragoons, we're not supposed to advance until General Niemeyer reports Buckler Force has made contact. We don't know where we're going or what we're going to run into."
"That's what your little scout company is for, Trevena." The BattleMaster pointed south with the gunlike particle projection cannon in its right fist. "The Falcons are collapsing in Port St. William. With you out in front of us, we'll know what's coming and be able to prepare for it."
But you won't stop. Doc had known Rogers would pull some bonehead stunt. The man wasn't stupid, but he just didn't think straight when it came to the Dragoons. At the time the Dragoons had revealed their true origins as former members of the Clans, Rogers and his people had tried to form a mercenary coalition to destroy them. While he'd calmed a bit on that score, Rogers was so obsessed with proving that his people were the equal of the Dragoons that his desire rolled off him like sweat off a fat man.
The Crazy Eights weren't much better. Their commander, Captain Symerious Blade, didn't really have any grudge with the Dragoons, but he seemed willing to be dragged along in Rogers' wake. The Eights stayed away from the Dragoons for the most part, but when they did run into them seemed almost as ready as the Waco Rangers to pick a fight.
Shelly Brubaker had laughed when Doc told her his concerns about Rogers. "Of course he'll do something stupid. That's why we refer to them as the Wackoid Rangers and why they'll be in the Dales while we do some fighting."
Doc sighed and keyed his microphone. "Colonel, let me ask you this: if I go out there and report back that every Jade Falcon on the planet is coming to nail your hide, you won't pull back, will you?"
"I don't deal in hypotheticals, Trevena," Rogers growled. "Get your people out there. Run the river and tell me what you've got."
"Get me an order from General Winston, and it's done."
The BattleMaster's PPC swung into line with the Centurion's cockpit. "You take your orders from me, boy. You're attached to my unit. Now, move out."
"Yes, sir, Colonel." Doc started his 'Mech forward. "I hope like hell nothing goes wrong out here because when this is all over, we're going nose to nose. And I'm gonna hit you so hard you'll end up lower than my opinion of you."
"Better men than you have tried that, Trevena."
"If they couldn't do it, Colonel, they weren't better men."
Doc and his people headed south along the banks of the Ridseine in a line approximately two kilometers long. The terrain through which they moved had the rolling hills for which the Dales were known, but gradually flattened out into wide meadows carpeted with the first green vestiges of Coventry's spring grasses. Tall stands of trees that had served as windbreaks and boundary markers in the past broke up their line of sight and limited them to only three or four kilometers of visibility in any direction.
Doc didn't like it at all. Because of the trees that grew parallel to the river out to a kilometer from the bank, he couldn't always see the furthest end of the line that he and Isobel Murdoch anchored with their heavier 'Mechs. Andy Bick had his lance at the far end, and though Andy had become a pretty good commander, Doc was afraid he might somehow miss something out there. Of course, Andy has more variety of combat under his belt than I do at this point, so I guess I'm just going to have to trust him.
Doc's radio crackled with static. "This is Buckler calling Dagger."
Rogers's voice came back through in answer, and was far stronger than Doc thought it should have been. "Dagger here, go ahead, Buckler."
"We have contact in sector 2843."
"Hang on, Buckler. Dagger is on its way."
Doc glanced at his auxiliary monitor. "Dagger, this is Scabbard. Sector 2843 is fifteen kilometers south of my present position. We'll need an hour to clear it."
"Buckler doesn't have an hour, Scabbard. My force will be there well before that."
Doc could already see Waco Rangers moving through the treeline in his aft arc, with the Crazy Eights grouped closest to the river. "Dagger, they just reported contact. We have orders."
"Yeah, well, battle plans never survive contact with the enemy. Move your people, we're going through."
"Be reasonable."
"I'd rather help Buckler."
Doc switched his radio over to the Titan tactical frequency. "Titans, on me. Speed to sixty klicks—repeat, six-oh klicks—when you link up, hold a line on the river. Murdoch, you have point."
"Roger, Doc."
The Titans moved forward, their line shrinking, setting their speed at just less than the maximum for their slowest member—Murdoch's Hunchback. The fact that the Hunchback packed a solid punch made it a good 'Mech to have when traveling into hazardous areas without knowing what was out there. Doc's Centurion could also hit hard in a tight battle, a trait he thought they'd need since a Clan force wasn't likely to travel far ahead of its scouts.
He punched up the radio frequency Mace force was using, but he couldn't raise either General Winston or Shelly Brubaker. This is wrong, this is all wrong! He could feel disaster looming up beyond the next woodline, or the one after that. His Titans—in their small 'Mechs with mottled and mixed colors—willfully and daringly burst past one barrier and plunged on into the next, and behind him the Waco Rangers came across a front nearly a kilometer wide. Uniformly painted in tan and olive, with blue and red stars on their torsos and arms, the Rangers were a sight to behold as they moved out at speed. Even the mismatched, gaudy 'Mechs of the Crazy Eights added to the majesty of the advancing 'Mechs.
The Falcons, I assume, are not going to be impressed.
"Contact, Doc." Andy Bick's voice had none of the doubt and hesitancy from when Doc had first met him. "Moving to speed."
Doc saw he'd been right: the Falcons did have a small scout Star ahead of their main body. Five Baboons were launching salvos of long-range missiles at the Titans, but the burst of speed by the lighter 'Mechs ruined the Clanners' aim. The two that had targeted the Centurion and the Hunchback made hits, but the damage proved minimal. Doc cut his 'Mech to the left in reaction to the missiles slamming into the cockpit, then had to fight to avoid spinning full around as other missiles hit the 'Mech's left arm and leg.
"Bel, you okay?"
"Yeah, head and shoulders, but I'm okay. Got him in my sights."
The Hunchback's shoulder-mounted autocannon vomited fire and metal at one of the squat, long-armed 'Mechs. The stream of slugs chewed the Baboon's arm from wrist to shoulder, then blew through the joint. The 'Mech's twisted, broken arm whirled away as autocannon fire ate its way through the left side of its chest, leaving only an eggshell-thin layer of back armor in its wake.
Doc slid his cross hairs onto the outline of the 'Mech that had hit him, then triggered the medium lasers in the Centurion's chest, slashing deep wounds into the armor over the Baboon's heart. The Centurion's right-arm autocannon also stabbed fire at the Clan machine. The rain of depleted-uranium shells struck the left side of its chest and peeled armor off in long sheets. The projectiles continued on into the Baboon's chest, shredding internal structures.
Doc wasn't that surprised at how much damage he and Murdoch were able to do to the first two Baboons, but the savaging his light 'Mechs gave the others left him completely
astounded. Bick's lance picked its target apart, blasting open the Baboon's chest, tearing up its legs and melting its left arm off. The other two lances dispatched their targets with equally ruthless efficiency, then circled around and tore the other two Baboons apart before Doc and Isobel could close the gap with them.
The Waco Rangers thundered on past the Titans and entered a green field ringed on three sides by two-kilometer-long lines of aspens. The brief glimpse that Doc got through the trees before the Rangers dashed in there looked so peaceful and benign that he wanted to deny the evidence of danger that lay smoking at his 'Mech's feet. Even the glint of sunlight off metal in the far row of trees seemed as if it would have a harmless explanation, but deep down Doc knew it meant the Waco Rangers were doomed.
Colonel Rogers and his people reached the midpoint of the box approximately a minute and a half after entering the field. Somewhere back beyond the far tree line, Falcon missile boats began to launch hundreds upon hundreds of long-range missiles. Explosions created a wall of flame across the front of the Ranger formation. With all the smoke raised by the barrage, Doc couldn't really see much from his position, but he knew the Rangers had gone down.
"Doc, we've got company to the west."
"Roger, Julian." Pulling back around to the right Doc picked up movement and 'Mech outlines. He hit his radio. "Dagger, this is Scabbard, pull back out of there. It's a trap. Repeat, trap. 'Mechs are coming in toward you from the west."
Colonel Rogers did not reply.
"Doc, what do we do?" Concern overrode the trace of fear in Isobel's voice.
"Titans, pull back north. When we get to Shallot Ford, we go across and head back toward Leitnerton."
"We can't leave the Rangers, Doc," came Andy Bick's voice.
"Sorry, Andy, but the only thing we'll accomplish if we follow them is die." Looking back toward the Ranger position Doc saw the first of the Falcon 'Mechs moving forward from cover to engage. "We have to get to where we can let Mace know what's happening."
"But, Doc ..."
"No protests, it's an order." Doc wrenched his Centurion around. "They wouldn't let us do our job before, and now there's nothing we can do for them. Dying with them won't help anyone, but alerting the others will. If any of the Rangers or the Eights straggle out, we'll help them, but that's the best we can do. Understand?" Doc filled his voice with as much conviction as he could muster, and his lances turned and formed up around him. They're good kids, they trust what I'm telling them. I just hope what I've told them is true.
33
Tharkad City Tharkad
District of Donegal, Lyran Alliance
30 April 3058
Tormano Liao found he could not read Katrina Steiner's expression, and that disturbed him. Not because he thought he'd lost any of his skill at sensing the moods of others and reacting accordingly, but because he was seeing Katrina in a new state of existence. Never before have I had to deal with her when she is being .. . thoughtful.
With the quick flick of a finger against a keyboard, Katrina put the holographic projection hovering above her white desk through a day-by-day shift. The diagrams showed the relative positions of Jade Falcon and mercenary troops on Coventry, with the Falcons in green, the mercenaries in red, and the remnants of the Lyran troops displayed in a light blue. Each day the perimeter shrank, pushing the mercenaries back toward the mountain hamlet of Leitnerton. On the 27th the mercenaries lost a third of the force, effectively dropping from three regiments to two, but the statistics running along the side of the diagram had predicted that collapse days earlier.
On the 28th of the month a fourth Jade Falcon Cluster was added to the Clan force.
Katrina, wearing her hair in a long golden braid tied with blue and red ribbons, looked up at Tormano. "The situation is indeed most alarming. How reliable are the identifications of the units attacking our people?"
"I would consider them all but unimpeachable, Highness."
She nodded slowly. "That means our forces have faced and fought elements from eight different Clan Galaxies during the campaign that's forcing our people back to their base. How is it possible for the Falcons to field so many troops? The war with the Wolves should have devastated them. It's a trick, quiaff?"
Tormano ignored the Clanism. "I don't know, Highness. In the ancient past, warlords were known to try to deceive foes by building more campfires than they had troops, or by marching the same troops past a spy in a great circle, so the same people were counted more than once. The purpose, obviously, was to make the enemy overestimate the size of the force. While that sort of thing would be of value if the Clans were truly outnumbered, we're seeing members from these different Galaxies in actual combat. There's no doubt they're there."
"Where?"
"The Chakulas continent. Graf Mannervek appears to be playing host to them, or at least tolerating their presence. Some of our intelligence analysts believe the Falcons are using the third continent as a staging area. Units are prepped there, then shipped to the Veracruz continent to fight. Letting us know how many troops they have available on Coventry is a mistake, but I'm not accustomed to being the beneficiary of Clan mistakes."
"Providing us that information does seem foolish, but the Jade Falcons aren't seen as intellectual giants by their peers." Katrina focused distantly. "Their inability to simply sweep our forces away points up their weakness. The crushing defeat of the Waco Rangers was one thing, but they haven't been able to duplicate that level of success again. Why?"
Tormano shook his head. "I don't know the answer, but pondering that question might be diverting us from more important considerations."
"Such as?"
"Such as the very real threat to Tharkad. Eight Galaxies are the rough equivalent of twelve Inner Sphere regiments. Fortunately, Thomas Marik has responded to your appeal, and his Knights of the Inner Sphere are en route now. Sun-Tzu has also sent the Harloc Raiders to represent him." And to anger me, for I would have destroyed the Raiders years ago had my plans not been ruined by his and Kai's meddling. "Your Eleventh Lyran Guards are here, the other three Dragoon Regiments are inbound, and you also have the First and Second Royal Guards on Tharkad. If we call up the Militia and bring in the Reserve, that would put us roughly equal to the Clan force on Coventry.
"Of course, it would be prudent for us to keep up the pressure on Coventry to keep the battle being fought there instead of having it come to Tharkad. We need more time to collect troops sufficient to defend us here, but in the meantime we might actually be able to wipe the Falcons out on Coventry."
"To do that I would have to shove more troops piecemeal into the grinder the Falcons have created on Coventry. I would be trading lives for time."
"That would be the size of it." The old man shrugged and knitted his fingers together. "A most difficult decision, Highness."
Katrina arched one eyebrow. "Is it? I think the trade quite worth it, provided I'm trading someone else's lives for my time. Come now, Mandrinn, you didn't think I held some romantic view of combat, did you? Combat is where people die, and I would rather have my people memorializing the valiant foreigners who died in their defense than mourning their own dead. And, think of it, one of the first units I would consider using is your nephew's, so you will be rid of it."
The latter suggestion did little to warm the chill her voice had put into his bones. The image of innocent beauty that had lurked at his core conception of Katrina suddenly vanished, replaced by that of a woman with a razor's edge to her voice and a darkness in her soul. The image did not repulse him, but merely taught him again to be on his guard.
"Where is Victor?"
"Still on Tukayyid, Highness."
"Good."
"Good?" Tormano frowned. "That makes him close enough to threaten your border. If he wished, he could move down with his troops and amputate the Lyons thumb, consummating your technical loss of that area to the Combine. Having him this close is not good."
"True, idle hands are the devil's pl
aythings." Katrina smiled, then tapped a fingernail against her teeth. "The only person I'd wish to bleed more quickly than Sun-Tzu is my dear brother. I think I shall give him a target for his attention."
Tormano held his hands up. "Perhaps you wish to reconsider drawing your brother into all this, Highness. It sets a precedent for him to bring troops into your space for the good of the realm. It wouldn't take much to stretch that into a need for military occupation."
"True, but I don't anticipate my brother continuing to plague me for much longer." Katrina sat back and stared at the holographic display. "What you will do is this, Mandrinn. You will have a report prepared on the operations on Coventry. You will note that the previous attacks were devastating, and that we have been blacking out news of it to hide our weakness. Go so far as to hint at some civil unrest and animosity toward me because of the deception. Indicate that I have taken personal charge of what is going on and that I am micro-managing every aspect of the situation on Coventry."
A smile grew on Tormano's face. "You will make it impossible for Victor to stay away from Coventry."
"And impossible for him to get away from Coventry. Your report will show the correct troop strengths for those we have on the ground, and suggest that their survival is doubtful. You will also indicate that elements of four Galaxies have been confirmed to be on the planet. Note that I am going to send the rest of the Dragoons, the Knights of the Inner Sphere, the Eleventh Lyran Guards, and the Harloc Raiders to Coventry to end this thing. You will time their arrival to be close to the time Victor could possibly get there."
The simplicity of her plan sent a shiver down Tormano's spine. Victor will arrive under-strength and engage the enemy, facing defeat or death, or both. "I was alive when your Uncle Ian died fighting against the Combine."
"Ian is Victor's middle name." Katrina leaned back in her chair. "He's already courted death at the hands of the Clans more than once. Perhaps out of guilt for having murdered our mother, hoping to redeem himself by preventing the Clans from leaping to Tharkad, he throws himself into combat and is killed. A tragic and heroic death."
Malicious intent Page 22
