Blood legacy

by Michael A. Stackpole

  42

  Tairakana Plains, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  5 January 3052

  Shin's stomach lurched as the pilot jerked the helicopter up and over in a hard turn. Before Shin could demand the reason for that sudden, sharp maneuver, a pair of SRMs exploded on the ground.

  The pilot yanked up on the pitch control and cranked the throttle wide open. "Clans fighter. He figures us as a spotter."

  "Can you evade him?"

  "If not, we'll die trying."

  "What can I do?"

  The pilot jerked his thumb back toward the crew compartment. "Man the twelve-five. I'll give you a shot if I can."

  Shin tossed the headset back to the co-pilot and pulled on a gunnery harness. Snapping it into the restraining straps near the aircraft's left door, he slid the gun and mount from their stowed position. Locking it into place and laying the first part of the ammo chain through its chamber, he readied the gatling cannon for use. Ashai pulled the compartment door open, giving Shin a 170-degree arc of fire.

  Shin pulled the gunner's helmet onto his head and adjusted the microphone. He flipped the eyeshades down and switched the gun's targeting laser to the On position. Immediately, a crosshair appeared on the eyeshade over his right eye. He knew that when he had the gun on target, a dot would pulse in the center of the cross, just as in a 'Mech. Unlike piloting his Phoenix Hawk, however, he had to aim the gun manually.

  "I'm in and ready, Anjin-san."

  "Hai, Sho-sa. Brace yourself."

  The pilot stood the copter on its tail, then let it sidle over in a maneuver that pitched Shin forward. Despite the warning, if not for his firm hold on the twin grips of the 12.5 millimeter machine gun and the restraining straps of his harness, he would have followed Ashai's cap on the long drop to the battlefield below. As it was, he barely got his feet under him in time for the pilot to level off and give Shin a quick shot at an approaching Clan aerofighter.

  Shin's thumb stabbed the firing button. The cannon's whine drowned out the flutter of the helicopter's prop. Bits and pieces of ammo chain rattled around the crew compartment as the six barrels spun their way through 100 rounds in two seconds. Shin fought the weapon's recoil, but having lost the target dot a half-second after acquiring it, he was fairly certain he'd not managed to keep the weapon on target.

  Then the aerospace fighter exploded.

  Black on red and red on black, Kell Hound and Wolf's Dragoon aerospace fighters swept through the air like fire-hearted thunder-heads. A flight of LRMs from one of the approaching fighters blasted the Clan fighter from the sky. Trailing thick smoke, its wreckage spiraled toward the ground and the helicopter pilot brought the copter back on its express vector for Imperial City.

  From his vantage point, Shin had a stunning view of the battlefield. The Smoke Jaguars still held off their opponents, but more by happenstance, Shin thought, than by strategy. Because the Combine forces on both sides of the line outnumbered their foes, the Kurita warriors had fewer targets and fewer opportunities to shoot. Anxious warriors in the back ranks crowded their comrades, driving them in closer than they wanted to get to the Clan lines. Already it looked as though the Kurita leadership was issuing orders to combat the problem, but the damage already done had won the Clans time to deploy the Nova Cats.

  The Nova Cats had run head-on into the Dragoons and Kell Hounds. Airborne, Shin saw how the mercenaries had arranged their lines to stop the advancing Clans. One regiment of Dragoons held the roadway toward the capital, with the two Kell Hound regiments deployed in the hills on either side. Behind that trio of regiments, three Dragoon regiments repeated the formation. The Dragoons had held their last regiment in reserve, but it, too, now started to move forward to bolster the Kell Hounds' First Battalion.

  Fighting down on the roadway looked particularly fierce. The smoke overlaying the battlefield still allowed the brilliant fire of missile detonations to burn up through it. The hot red light of lasers and the electric blue flare of PPC beams filled the gray haze with splashes of color, but they were nothing compared to the nova-white fireball of a fusion engine burning out of control.

  Up on the northern flank, the battle between the Nova Cats and the Kell Hounds' first regiment looked particularly savage. 'Mechs equipped with long-range weapons laced the Clan lines with barrage after barrage of murderous fire. 'Mechs built for infighting closed with the enemy, but avoided direct physical contact. Concentrating their fire on Clan 'Mechs already weakened by their distant comrades, the Hounds took them down quickly and efficiently.

  The Clan reprisals came swiftly, but did not have the same degree of organization that made the mercenaries so effective. Shin was at a loss to understand this confusion until he saw a Kell Hound 'Mech standing virtually alone on a knoll near the road. Even from such a distance, he recognized the blocky body of an Archer. It launched multiple flights of missiles at its enemies as they charged and directed more fire from its supporting fire lances, then picked the enemy apart with its lasers as they closed to shorter range. Alone yet very deadly, it made itself a perfect target.

  The Clan warriors seemed to be doing their damnedest to make the pilot of that 'Mech pay for his arrogance, but their efforts were hardly successful. The Kell Hound missile fire fell with murderous effect, blasting Nova Cats back down the hill. As Clansmen rushed forward, the Hounds' close assault lances bored in, picking a target and savaging it until its smoking skeleton lay at the feet of the Archer. The Archer itself moved with a fluidity that told Shin a masterful warrior piloted the hulking 'Mech. As it dodged away from missile barrages, or squatted to make itself a more difficult target, Shin guessed that it could only be Morgan Kell, leader of the Kell Hounds, in the cockpit.

  The chopper coursed through a narrow canyon, then popped up to give Shin another view of the battle. The Nova Cats and Dragoons had met in the roadway, and broken 'Mechs of both sides littered the ground. From the mixture of shattered hulks, it looked to Shin that the mercenaries had driven the Nova Cats back a hundred meters or so, blunting their momentum. The Dragoons had then begun an orderly withdrawal, forcing the Nova Cats to win back the ground they had taken initially.

  As the slow snake of Nova Cat 'Mechs started forward, the Dragoons pounded them hard. From his vantage point, Shin saw the second Dragoon line moving forward. He assumed that just as the whole column of Nova Cats intended to continue pressing toward Imperial City, the Dragoons would charge and stop the advance. That would force the column to stop again. Not only would the stop-and-go progress be frustrating for the Clanners, but it provided more time for the mercenary airwings to hit the enemy.

  The chopper pilot dropped the aircraft down behind a line of hills and shot it straight toward Imperial City. Shin directed him to land at a rear headquarters unit near a regiment of BattleMechs. The pilot radioed in for landing clearance, got it, and set the helicopter down on a spot midway between the BattleMechs and a nearby tent.

  Shin unbuckled himself and dismounted. He gave the pilot a thumbs-up, then ran clear of the metal bird. When an orderly intercepted and handed him sealed orders, Shin recognized Theodore's chop on the rice-paper packet and tore it open. His jaw dropped open as he read the contents, then he refolded the sheet and sprinted toward the assembled 'Mechs.

  Shin shivered as he mounted the ladder spilling down from the Phoenix Hawk's breast. I am not ready for this sort of responsibility, Theodore! Once inside the cockpit, he hit the switch that retracted the ladder and sealed the 'Mech's faceplate in place. Stripping off his jumpsuit, Shin donned a cooling vest and helmet, then strapped himself in and went through his initiation procedure.

  The second the computer made the Phoenix Hawk fully operational, Takashi Kurita's voice blasted through the helmet's speakers. "I warn you, I will not tolerate being ordered by one of my son's hoodlums. To him you may be special, but to me you are yakuza! I've dealt with your ilk before, and I can do it still. I demand you release my 'Mech!"


  Shin swallowed hard. Theodore's orders, making him the liaison with the reserve unit Takashi had cobbled together, told him that the override code would allow the Coordinator and his comrades to bring their 'Mechs into full operational status. It also told him how crucial it was to keep them back until orders to commit them were issued. Being set 10 kilometers behind the initial lines put them midway between Imperial City and the front. This was not the optimum position for defense, but the valley they were assigned to defend gave them the latitude to move quickly to bolster any point that might break in the line. Theodore's message had communicated all that and more, and Shin felt like a grain of rice beneath a millstone.

  "Iie, Kurita Takashi-sama. I have been given specific orders. I cannot release you yet."

  "Damn you, Shin Yodama, and damn my son. He leaves the Combine in the hands of bandits and mercenaries. Free us!"

  Takashi's imperious tone slapped at Shin's pride, but he fought back the rise of anger. "No! Your son has placed you here for a most specific reason."

  "Ha! He has placed me here, defenseless, for only one reason: he hopes the Clans will kill me so he can be the Coordinator of the Combine."

  "He has you here because he trusts you to accomplish what he needs done."

  "You have been deceived by him, yakuza." Takashi spat out the last word like a piece of bitter root. "My son trusts me with nothing. For the third and final time, free us."

  "No!" Shin turned his Phoenix Hawk and located the Grand Dragon with Takashi's crest on its right breast. "I have my orders and I will follow them."

  "You will obey me now, yakuza! I am the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine!"

  "Coordinator, I know who you are and have only the highest respect for your office." Shin gritted his teeth to keep his temper in check. "I understand your demands, but I cannot bow to them until I am given orders. If you wish to order me or your son to commit seppuku for this breach of honor, we will do so later. When the Kanrei tells me the time is right, I will release you."

  "That time is now," gloated the Coordinator. "I have had my technicians review the software and I know what the release code is. Three times I have asked you to release us, and thrice have you refused. Honor has been satisfied. I am now free to act."

  "If you do that," Shin intoned in a low voice, "you force me to use a second code I have been given. If I broadcast it, you will all die, and with you goes Imperial City."

  "This is madness. My son is insane!"

  "Iie, Coordinator. He is not mad, but only a man who knows his father so well." Shin's hand hovered over the keypad on the right side of the cockpit. "He knows you would be ingenious enough to find a way around his security measure. He also knew that if you knew nothing about the second code, you would have no time to find it in any analysis. He is serious about your remaining in position to deploy when needed. He could not risk your leaving this place."

  "He was afraid I would steal his victory from him."

  Shin shook his head. "No, Coordinator, not at all. He was afraid to trust anyone else with what must be done here."

  Takashi's exasperation sliced through his words. "How can you continue to tell me my son trusts me when I know he does not?"

  "I say this, Takashi Kurita, because it is the truth." Shin felt the packet of orders pressed against his flesh. "I say this because he told me your granddaughter refused to evacuate Imperial City. You and your men are all that stand between Omi and the Clans, and your son wants you here to stop them."

  43

  Satatice

  Free Rasalhague Republic

  5 January 3051

  "I copy that, Firebird One. You have no visual on the Ostsol." Phelan Wolf cursed under his breath. "Make another sweep. It has to be around here somewhere."

  "Roger, Dire Alpha." Carew did not sound too hopeful.

  "Dire Alpha to Dire Star. Anything?" Phelan glanced at his auxiliary monitor and its map of the local area. The computer updated him with the locations of the rest of his command, with Dire Gamma limping along in the rear. The terrain, as broken and uneven as one might expect from a lava plain, was glossy with a treacherous layer of ice. Live steam vents pulsed out mist like ethereal whales surfacing from the rock to spout. The mist instantly crystallized in the cold air, and Phelan had to keep his Wolfhound running hot just to keep the ice from blinding his sensors.

  All reports came back negative, but Phelan had the distinct feeling that the others in his Star were deliberately holding back. Though Natasha had harangued her Wolf Spiders into working cooperatively, the others in Dire Star were veterans who refrained from interfering in what they saw as Phelan's rightful kill. The Ostsol had attacked him first, which meant, under the old ways, that the target was his.

  The others were willing to course it, but they'd not take it down until Phelan had died trying.

  Phelan shook his head in disgust. He knew why they deferred to him, but he would have preferred a team effort. Because he was their Star Commander, was younger than any of them, and because he had singlehandedly taken Gunzburg, they offered him yet another chance at honor. Well, change is bound to come slowly. The Star League wasn't built in a day.'

  The secondary monitor gave Phelan an inventory of the damage he'd taken. Most of the armor had been blown off the Wolfhound's right arm, but the extended-range large laser was undamaged. Grinner had lost a little armor from his chest and right leg, too, but other than that, the BattleMech was running at the top of form. The Ostsol might outmass his Wolfhound by twenty-five tons, but the two were closely matched in sheer firepower.

  The humanoid Ostsol had toothpick-thin arms, one of which had been burned clean off by a snap shot with the large laser. That did little to hurt it because the 'Mech carried all its weapons in the torso. The pilot had recovered quickly and escaped, but not before Phelan savaged the armor on its chest. From what he could tell, though, both large lasers and the twin forward-pointing medium lasers were still operational. The Ostsol also boasted two rear-arc medium lasers in its barrel-shaped torso, but Phelan had not followed closely enough to give the pilot a chance to use them.

  Phelan took another look at the map and switched his visual display over to infrared. The landscape instantly took on a cool blue tint. Steam jets shot tendrils of yellow fire into the air, and heat rose in red curls from the Wolfhound's heat sinks. The jumble of colors, with streaks of red and gold marking ground warmth, was not so confusing that a 'Mech couldn't be spotted by the heat it generated, but the steam vents made sorting viable targets from spurious ones annoyingly difficult.

  Still marching the Wolfhound forward, Phelan slowly worked toward a canyon that closely resembled a jagged scar ripped through the planet's crust by a dull knife. The legion of side canyons were large enough to hide a 'Mech or two. The cold wind twisting down through it could easily mix the hot air generated by a 'Mech with fresher air, hiding all traces of an ambush. As smart as the other 'Mech pilot had already proved himself, Phelan had no doubt that his enemy was, indeed, waiting therein.

  "Firebird One to Dire Alpha."

  "Go ahead, Firebird."

  "Negative for heat. Magres is useless because of the ferrous content of the ground. Sorry."

  "Roger, Firebird. Give me CAP if you can. Dire Star, I am going into the canyon. Beta and Delta, cut off the north end, if you please. Gamma, maintain your position. Epsilon, back me.

  Phelan wiped a sweaty palm against the outside of his cooling vest. He started to work his way down into the canyon, but hesitated before he reached the floor. He hated the idea of offering the Ostsol the first shot, especially when all the enemy had to do was wait for a thermal signature to target and kill. There has to be a way to decoy him, give him bait.

  A chunk of stone gave way beneath the Wolfhound's left foot, but Phelan successfully kept the 'Mech on its feet by reaching out with its left hand to steady the 'Mech against the canyon wall. As he watched the stone rolling down to the canyon floor, it gave him an idea. Stooping the 'Mech, he pick
ed up a hunk of volcanic stone. Holding it carefully by the thumb and forefinger of his 'Mech's left hand, he trained all three pulse lasers on it, dialed their power down for a three-second burst and triggered them.

  The trio of beams filled the rock with fire. It glowed white hot on Phelan's holographic infrared display. He pulled the Wolfhound's left arm back, then brought it forward in an easy underhand motion. Lofted forward, the rock bounded down through the canyon. It caromed around like a bowling ball in a surreal alley, then popped up and hung seven meters above the floor about halfway down the canyon.

  Four laser beams flashed out at the rock. The two large lasers struck it full-on and smashed it back against the far canyon wall. The two medium lasers passed below it, but had it been the Wolfhound, they would have slashed through the armor on its belly. The rock, performing as would the Wolfhound had it caught that fire, dropped to the canyon floor.

  The Ostsol stepped from the break where it had hidden, then halted only two steps clear of cover. Phelan, realizing the pilot had switched over to visual and discovered his mistake, brought the large laser up and punched the firing button on the right joystick. The hurried shot hit the Ostol's back leg, vaporizing armor from mid-thigh down to the ankle.

  The Ostsol's pilot pivoted his 'Mech to the left, bringing all its weaponry to bear on the Wolfhound. One large laser and one medium laser combined to make the armor on the Wolfhound's right leg run like water. The air refroze much of it, and warning lights on Phelan's control console told him the knee and ankle had been fused. The other medium laser sliced armor from the right side of the Wolfhound's chest. The remaining large laser did the most damage as it cored through the armor on the Wolfhound's center chest. A wave of heat passed up through the cockpit, informing Phelan that part of the fusion engine's shielding had been damaged.

  Phelan concentrated, despite feeling broiled alive in his cockpit. He dropped both crosshairs onto the Ostsol's conical outline and triggered every weapon he had available. The large laser again blasted the Ostsol's right leg. The spear of coherent light sheared away the last of the armor and boiled off the myomer muscles controlling the leg's movement. The 'Mech buckled instantly, and flailing impotently against the air, the Ostsol crashed to the ground. The trio of pulse lasers picked armor off other parts of the Rasalhagian 'Mech, but as the machine settied onto its chest, Phelan knew its fighting days were permanently over.