Kuusik took a step forward and started to offer his hand, but Phelan's silent disregard for the gesture stopped him. The other man's face flushed as he dropped his hand and resumed his position. Miraborg's restless eyes drank it all in, and a curious look of respect settled over his face.
The official retreated from the room, leaving the trio of warriors alone. Behind Miraborg, a glass wall gave Phelan a good view of Stortalar City. It looked far different in midsummer than when he'd last seen it, and Phelan decided he preferred the flourishing green of trees and flowers to the white blanket of winter snow. From what he could see as dusk came on below, life continued normally in the city.
Miraborg interlaced his fingers as he rested his forearms on the leather blotter of his desk. "You surprise me by coming here. I thought all negotiations would be conducted via radio transmission. I had not heard that the Wolves negotiate in person."
"I am not here to negotiate." The mask's hollow muzzle let Phelan's voice echo back on itself, giving it a disembodied quality. "I have come to accept your surrender."
Kuusik's eyes narrowed and his urge to fight rode plainly on his face. Miraborg only stared at Phelan, as though his gaze could peel away the mask to reveal the man beneath it. "Our surrender?" He said the word not as though it were a ridiculous idea, but as though it were an option he had long ago dismissed. "Are your terms open to negotiation?"
"As I said before, I am not here to negotiate. Surrender, unconditionally, or your world dies."
The Varldherre sat back and stroked his chin. Kuusik, too, tried to hide the expression on his, face, but he failed. As he spoke, his nostrils flared and contempt edged his voice. "Perhaps we should be the ones offering terms for surrender. We have a formidable force on this world, and we know how to fight you. We almost beat you at Memmingen."
Phelan waited a moment to be certain Kuusik had finished speaking his threat, then he shook his head. "You are not dealing with the same commander who led the forces on Memmingen. As formidable as your force is, we have the equipment and personnel to destroy it. We know, for example, that half the fighters from the Third Drak0ns may have made it to Gunzburg, but less than forty percent of them are operational. We also know that air strikes at Danzig, Felskinka, and Kosparris will destroy your ability to resup-ply and maintain your aircraft. Perhaps you will have air superiority for an hour or two, but destroying those three bases will cost us nothing because we can accomplish it through planetary bombardment."
"You are bluffing!"
Phelan ignored Kuusik and looked at Miraborg. "You are a warrior with a long and glorious history. You have fought against great odds in your time, but none have ever been so stacked against you. What I say about your forces should tell you how much more other information I have. If you choose to fight, many, many people will die."
The Iron Jarl frowned. "I can acknowledge the truth of your information, but that still does not answer the Kapten's charge that you are bluffing."
"Yes," Kuusik chimed in. "We hurt you at Memmingen. You do not have the resources necessary to fight us. We won't roll over and die for you."
"Remember, Kapten, war is not all glory and afterglow." Phelan's menacing tone took some of the sneer from Kuusik's face. "You may be prepared to die for your world, but is your family? Are your friends?"
He fixed Miraborg with a harsh stare. "You know I am not bluffing."
"Do I?"
The Clansman nodded slowly. "You do. What we ask is simple, and in return, we will leave you and your people in power. ComStar will act as liaison to keep us informed of what your government is doing. They will also advise us on your transportation needs for import and export trade with your usual trading partners. Your troops will be disarmed, of course, but they will not be Dispossessed."
"What good is it to have a neutered 'Mech?" Kuusik snarled bitterly.
"Is dying in the husk of an armed 'Mech somehow preferable?" Phelan brought his gloved hands out from beneath the cloak, forcing it behind his shoulders. "I offer you your lives and to spare your world the certain destruction that war would bring. It is your choice, Varldherre. The people will follow your lead. We do not ask that you embrace us as allies or friends, but only that you acknowledge us as master. Is not some loss of pride worth all the suffering it will buy?"
Kuusik dropped to his knees and took hold of Miraborg's right hand where it rested on the arm of his wheelchair. "Send this animal packing. You are the Iron Jarl. You are the champion of Rasalhague's freedom. If you give in to his demands, everything will have been wasted. Your daughter's death will have meant nothing!"
"What!" Phelan's surprise exploded through his mask. 'Tyra is dead?"
He and Tyra had shared three months of passion, then been torn apart when the Kell Hounds left for the Periphery. Though they had said their goodbyes and made a formal end to their relationship, all that had happened to Phelan since his capture by the Clans had not left him the space to put his feelings to rest. No matter how much he loved Ranna, he had hoped to see Tyra again if only to learn how she had fared since their last meeting.
Tor Miraborg yanked his hand free of Kuusik's grip. "Do not tell me what to do, Kapten." A tear trickled down the scarred side of his face. He looked up at Phelan, his eyes lifeless. "Yes, my daughter is dead. It was she who drove her fighter into your flagship. Jaime Wolf said her action killed your warlord and bought us a year's respite from your attacks. Even if that were true, it was not worth my daughter's life."
Kuusik sank back on his haunches, his face utterly drained of color. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying that I have finally learned the lesson that might have saved my daughter. A jeader must be more than simply a focus for his people's ambitions and desires. I am a military man, but my responsibilities extend far beyond soldiery on this world. Before, I could assure our people that their safety was inviolate because the Eagles could and would destroy all our foes. I cannot give them that assurance now.
"The time has come to truly act as a leader. Perhaps Tyra would not have left and joined the Rasalhague Drak0ns had I done so before. I blame myself for her death."
The Kapten sprang to his feet. "You were not to blame for her defection! That mercenary seduced her. He wormed his way into her heart and confused her with stories of glory to be won on distant worlds." Kuusik drove his right fist into his left palm with a loud smack. "I only wish I had killed him when we fought."
"It was enough that you bested him in single combat..."
"Ha!" Phelan's hands clenched in anger. "Single combat? Perhaps you were the only one left standing, but that's because your confederates had been scattered."
Puzzlement knitted Miraborg's dark brows while fear flashed through Kuusik's eyes. Even as Kuusik started toward him, Phelan realized that the Kapten had never told the Varldherre he had jumped Phelan with a gang of men that night so long ago. Of course, the Varldherre would have considered that an act of cowardice! Kuusik had been able to hide the truth because everyone believed that Phelan's protests about the number of attackers was a lie intended to hide his shame at defeat.
The Kapten's lunge came fast, but that mattered little. After Phelan's months of training with Evantha, Kuusik seemed clumsy and sluggish. Like a drunken brawler, the Kapten threw himself off balance as he punched, his fist looping through the air where Phelan's ducking head had been. The man stumbled forward.
Swinging with everything he had, Phelan hammered his right fist into Kuusik's chest. A hollow thump sounded as the blow landed directly below the Kapten's sternum, knocking the wind out of him. Hands clutched to his chest, Kuusik pitched forward and desperately tried to suck in air. Phelan's left hand clipped him behind the ear and accelerated his descent.
A sudden fire ignited in Miraborg's eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
Phelan wanted nothing so much as to tear off his mask so he could gloat over the Iron Jarl. His hands started up toward the mask, but a cold detachment replaced the urge and instead he readjusted t
he cloak that enshrouded him. Revenge was something Phelan Kell would have demanded, but I am no longer Phelan Kell.
It was Phelan Wolf who spoke. "You do not know me. We captured Phelan Kell in the Periphery. I know something of his last days on Gunzburg from his debriefing. He spoke fondly of your daughter, and I know he would have grieved her passing."
"He is dead?"
"He was on the flagship that Tyra rammed. Shortly thereafter, he was no more."
The Iron Jarl looked up slowly. "I see."
"Perhaps you do." Phelan looked beyond him, watching as the city's lights began to glow in the dusk. "You have a beautiful world and are responsible for safeguarding it. I must have your decision."
Miraborg sat so still and silent that Phelan wondered if the man had slipped into a state of catatonia. The office dimmed and Kuusik's moans ceased as he drifted into unconsciousness. Hardly daring to breathe, Phelan, too, remained motionless, waiting for the Varldherre's decision.
Finally, Miraborg's head came up. "I accept your terms for the surrender of Gunzburg. I will inform ComStar of my choice as successor, then I will retire from public life."
Phelan shook his head. "Do not retire."
"What?" Miraborg looked like a man at the breaking point. "All I have done is poison my life and the people around me. Kuusik there is only one of thousands more misguided men and women on this world, thousands whom I have led astray. I cannot continue in this position."
"Yes you can." The Clansman pointed toward the window. "Today, by agreeing to this surrender, you go from being a symbol for your people to a leader of your people. Your discipline, your love of Gunzburg, and your firm hand are still important and vital. And now you show the wisdom of knowing when to change."
Miraborg seemed to weigh Phelan's every word, assaying their truth. "Yes," he said at last, "I created the problem. It is for me to solve it."
Phelan nodded. "I shall return to my ship and inform the ilKhan of your decision." He turned to leave, but Miraborg's voice called him back. "Wait!"
The Clansman faced the crippled warrior. Miraborg slid open a drawer in his desk and took out a pair of mirrored sunglasses. Phelan recognized them instantly as his, and recalled his promise to Miraborg that he would recover them one day.
The Iron Jarl slid them in his direction. "I believe these belong to you." The man's lower lip trembled. "To the victor go the spoils."
Phelan made no move to take them. "If that is true, these belong to your people, for it is they who have triumphed today."
* * *
When Phelan and Carew stepped from the shuttle, they were immediately caught up in a frenzy of activity as bondsmen scurried around the shuttle bay. They waded through a sea of bodies securing the ship to the deck and found Natasha standing by the airlock bulkhead. She smiled broadly and offered Phelan her hand.
"Very well done, Star Commander. The ilKhan sends his warmest congratulations."
Phelan stripped off his right glove and shook her hand. Looking around at the furious activity in the bay, and the lack of people there to greet him, he felt confused. "What's going on?"
Natasha gave him one of those grins that said she'd managed yet another coup. "While you were down there enjoying real gravity, I've been working. I taught Marcos another lesson in bidding and won the right to take Satalice."
Phelan blinked. "Another assault?"
She nodded. "We've just been waiting for you before we jump. The New Black Widows will get their first battle inside a week." She chuckled slyly. "You didn't think we'd let you have all the fun, did you?"
38
Forward Observation Post, Tairakana Plains, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
5 January 3052
The total lack of activity on the Skulker car's sensors made Shin Yodama uneasy. The Clans had grounded their forces fifty klicks east of Luthien, right where the Tairakana Plains began their gentle slope down to Basin Lake. The negotiation between the ground forces and the incoming Clans had not revealed much about the attacker's numbers, so recon vehicles like Shin's had gone out under cover of darkness to learn whatever possible about the enemy.
Shin glanced at the digital time display in the aft section of the boxy armored car. Dawn stood yet an hour away, and it was then that everyone expected the attack to come. Stooping down to duck into the driving compartment, he tapped the driver's shoulder. "Head out another klick. We have to find something."
The driver looked back at Shin with fear on his face. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I really don't think we need to see the whites of their eyes."
Shin gave the man a shrug. "I don't like this any more than you do, but if we can give our air support some fixes, it'll mean less for our 'Mechs to shoot." He turned back to the two Techs at the van's scanners. "We're pulling forward another kilometer. Stay sharp. I have a feeling we'll get our contact."
He slapped the dangling legs of the vehicle's turret gunner. "That goes double for you. If you see it, shoot it."
"Hai!"
The driver eased the vehicle forward and kept the pace at a leisurely 10 kph. At that speed, the triple-axle scout tank handled the relatively smooth terrain like a luxury car, and Shin knew that was important. No only did it make data interp easier, but it prevented shaking up the vehicle's electronics. Without them, the Skulker would be little more than a blind fish in a shark tank.
"Contact. I have a set of blips, intermittent, dead ahead."
Shin hunched over the Tech's shoulder. "Gunner, bring the turret to oh-ninety degrees at five hundred meters. Patch your periscope through to the monitor and magnify one hundred percent."
An image flickered onto the monitor near Shin's head, and he fiddled with the controls to sharpen the contrast. The starlight picture revealed a number of oversized humanoids stalking forward. Standing 2.3 meters high, they wore metallic suits with a laser muzzle where the right hand should have been. On the other arm, a laser was married to the hand. The back of the armored suit carried a boxy missile launcher that, from practical experience, Shin knew would detach after firing its complement of two SRMs.
Beyond these, he saw more similar shadowy forms moving through the night. "Six, seven, eight, nine. I mark nine Elementals."
The Tech at the radar scope cursed softly. 'They have to be jamming us somehow because I only get five or six on the screen."
An explosion rocked the Skulker, bouncing it onto the passenger-side wheels. Shin flew back against the other Tech, cracking the man's head against his magscan monitor. As the Tech flopped limp to the deck, Shin leaped past his overturned chair and dashed to the driving compartment. "Move it! Get us out of here. Gunner, hit anything and everything!"
As the driver cranked the wheel around, the Skulker swung north, its headlights slicing the night. A ruby beam shot from the dome at the tank's center. In the distance, it illuminated the black form of a man and started a small brushfire. Another bolt coursed through the darkness and burned a scar into the landscape, but die tank's quick turn swept the target out of the windscreen's visual arc.
The driver stomped down on the accelerator, launching the Skulker in a sprint across the landscape. Shin glanced back at the conscious Tech, relieved the man had had the presence of mind to radio in their position and the readings for the Elementals. As the Skulker bounced up over one little hill, Shin braced for impact as the tank flew through the air. The landing shivered the whole vehicle like a hammer-struck anvil, driving Shin to his knees.
The driver cursed as the headlights pinpointed an Elemental standing in the middle of the unpaved track along which they raced. He started to shift his foot to the brake, but Shin jammed his own right foot down, crushing the driver's foot to the gas pedal.
"Full speed! Just keep it going! Don't stop for anything!"
The Elemental loosed a rocket from the launcher pod on his back. Shooting straight at the Skulker's nose, it exploded with a hellacious flash and the acrid scent of explosives, but fail
ed to breach the vehicle's armor. The Scout's driver instinctively shied from the flash, but kept his hands locked onto the wheel, keeping it steady. The Skulker burst through the fire and smoke without slowing at all, then bucked and bounced as it rolled the Elemental beneath its entire length.
Through the rearview display, Shin saw the Elemental's body half-buried in the scrubby grasses and a number of his very alive comrades appearing. As those Elementals began to line up, he grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the right. As the tank swerved, heavy SRM fire shot through the air where the recon car should have been.
"Gunner, directly aft. Fire at will." Shin looked back at the radar Tech. "Raise HQ?"
"Help's on the way. We're to make for map coordinate A2536."
"Got it. Gunner, some fire! The Elementals are fast."
A scream and the rushing howl of the wind answered his request. Looking up, Shin saw the gunner's twitching legs disappear up into the turret. The wind gained in volume as the scream dopplered away to nothing. Replacing it was the shriek of metal being bent out of shape and the crackling of ceramic armor breaking.
Shin popped the driver's safety belts and steadied the wheel. "To the back! Blow the aft hatch and go! We've got one on top of us!"
The driver dragged himself out of his seat, and the Skulker slowed precipitously. Shin slipped into the man's seat, tugged the safety straps into place and snapped them together with the buckle over his chest. He heard a muffled whump as the explosive bolts on the aft hatch blew, then watched scraps of debris whirl up through the cab as they were sucked out the back.
The rearview monitor showed that all three men had gotten clear, with at least one up and moving. Alone except for the Elemental burrowing into the Skulker from above, Shin smiled with grim determination. In his first run-in with an Elemental, the damned Clansman had refused to die. "Let's just see if you're as hearty as your ally was!"
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