"And Alphard? How close can one of your ships come in?"
'Two days," O'Reilly said immediately. "But why bother? I can divert a raiding team. And you can look into Sun-Tzu's motives."
St. Jamais did some quick calculations. "Because by the time you get word to your raiders, I could be there on the command circuit we worked out for rapid deployment."
Worked out with more Word of Blake JumpShips than you own, St. Jamais thought, and hoped the Caesar was reminded of that fact as well. Command circuits were an established method of bypassing a JumpShip's long recharge time, a prearranged string of starships waiting at jump points along the way to pass the DropShips along in a relay. "And I think these Angels might require my personal attention. Do not worry," he said, raising a hand to forestall another outburst by the Caesar. "I will pass along the orders about Sun-Tzu Liao before I leave. And if he is interfering, I will order him eliminated. Having Kali Liao looking toward Canopus to avenge her brother's death would move my plans along that much faster."
O'Reilly's lopsided smile added his silent endorsement of the order. "And these Angels? Do you really think they could be so dangerous?"
"Perhaps not," St. Jamais admitted, rising to his feet and collecting the reports in a neat bundle. "But that no longer matters. I will meet them in a manner of my own choosing and destroy them." He matched gazes with the Caesar, thinking suddenly of preparations he could make to handle Demona the same way. "Before they can use the same tactics to destroy me."
And again, it was not just the Angels he meant.
13
Planetary Administration Building
Jubilee, Marantha
Magistracy of Canopus
The Periphery
18 May 3058
Most mercenary units making planetfall on their employer's world would touch down at a spaceport near a principal city and then be paraded through the streets in a spectacle meant to bolster the spirits of the people. As an offensive unit, the Angels were rarely required to perform such displays. That made it all the more surprising when Marcus was invited to shuttle down to the capital to meet with the Marantha planetary defense coordinator as the Angels' pair of DropShips received clearance to ground at a remote facility. Leaving Thomas Faber in charge, he took Charlene Boske and Jericho Ryan with him. Marcus didn't like becoming separated from his people as they made their initial drop onto a new planet, but he thought accepting the invitation might save them all any additional diplomatic nonsense.
Met at the Jubilee Spaceport by some minor official whose name Marcus couldn't even remember now, he and his two companions had been escorted to the planetary administration building in the city of Jubilee. From the third floor of that building Marcus now stood staring out the window as he slipped into a steadily darker mood. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head to an offered drink after Jericho Ryan decided to raid the office's small liquor cabinet. The clinking of ice being dropped into the bottom of two glasses told him that Charlene had accepted.
Marcus was worried because Jase Torgensson hadn't turned up waiting for them on Marantha. Neither was there any indication that he'd been there nor any message on his whereabouts delivered care of the spaceport. Without Jase's scouting, the Angels would be forced to raid a Hegemony world to try to discover the source of the weapons obviously being supplied to the Marian Hegemony from outside. That would increase the level of opposition set against them. On a more personal level, it also meant Marcus had a lost Angel somewhere inside either the Free Worlds League or out here in the Periphery. Given the sabotage attempt in Andurien, he wondered if Jase would ever be heard from again.
And despite his attempts to remain detached, the loss ate away at Marcus.
The door to the office opened, and he turned to see a woman wearing the turquoise and black uniform of the Magistracy Armed Forces enter the room. Her gloves with spiked wrists and knee-high leather boots, similar to Jericho's, said she was a Mech Warrior. A single gold and diamond insignia proclaimed her a major, the Magistracy rank for a senior battalion commander. She shut the door hard behind her. "Stupid, self-important, deluded bureaucrats," she said, almost spitting the words back at the closed door. Marcus began to feel better.
With an exaggerated exhale, the major turned to the room's occupants and then walked straight to Marcus with hand outstretched. "Commander Avanti, sorry to keep you waiting. Major Judith Wood. Commanding officer of the Second Canopian Highlanders, McGraw's Marauders."
Marcus remembered the unit from the briefing Jericho Ryan had given him on MAF units he was likely to run into. The Canopian Highlanders had started out as two mercenary battalions with a long-term contract to the Magistracy. With the Magistracy's help, they'd expanded over the past thirty years into three short regiments of two battalions each. McGraw's Marauders were the best of the lot, a veteran regiment with several crack lances of the famed Marauder BattleMechs. While still technically a mercenary unit, the Highlanders had so adopted Magistracy traditions that the distinction was token at best.
"I asked that you be brought down," she continued, "and some idiotic official decided that you would be more comfortable waiting here." She shrugged and looked around in obvious distaste. "They assigned me this office along with the title of defense coordinator."
Shaking her extended hand, Marcus again marveled at the Magistracy's female orientation. Judith Wood was a handsome woman, with a strong face that he was sure could show both sternness or compassion, depending on which was called for. Her chestnut-brown hair was grayed only slightly at the temples, and the laugh-lines at her eyes made her look more amiable than old.
"Major," Marcus said. "Allow me to present my executive officer, Charlene Boske." Marcus waited while the two women shook hands, and then the major turned to Jericho and returned an old-style salute—fingertips to brow and hand turned inward until the palm almost rested against her cheekbone.
"Now then, Commander GioAvanti, I imagine your first concern is this missing man of yours."
"Yes," Marcus said, silently thanking her for her directness. "I was hoping a message had been left in the care of the MAF . . ." He broke off abruptly as Major Wood shook her head.
"Afraid not. And I radioed for a check of passenger lists from all DropShips grounding in the past month. The name Torgensson doesn't appear anywhere." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she kept her voice carefully neutral. "I suppose he could be traveling under another name."
Which would mean false identification and a number of other things you would rather not know about. Marcus appreciated the subtlety of her questioning. "I doubt that," he said, then waited for Charlene, who jumped in perfectly on cue.
"But if you were to run those checks again, Major, could you do the Angels a favor?" She paused to sip at her drink and Marcus let her take over the conversation. "We might have some friends in the neighborhood, so to speak. Dispossessed mercenaries who we might want to sign on. If you could check on the names Jon Howard and Peter Triskalion, we'd appreciate it."
Major Wood nodded. "Of course. But I have to ask you what you plan to do if Mr. Torgensson doesn't show up? According to the dispatch I received, you are acting independently of my command?"
"Yes, Major," Jericho said, stepping forward to answer. "The Angels will be allowed to use Marantha as a base of operations and to leave their civilians here." She had mixed another two drinks, handing one to the major and offering the other to Marcus, which he now accepted.
"And if the raiders attack while they're here?" the elder woman asked.
Marcus reentered the conversation with a shake of his head. "The Angels are not required to serve as garrison troops, Major Wood. We'll only be here long enough to settle in our families and decide on a course of action."
He took a sip of the drink and found it generously laced with the dry taste of good bourbon. "We can't afford to involve ourselves unnecessarily with Marantha's defense."
"I'm afraid that is correct," Jericho backed hi
m up, though a trifle uneasy. "The Angels' contract even specifies the right to abandon any military position assigned them as a base, at the commander's discretion."
Major Wood's brow furrowed and her eyes hardened. "I see. And if I were to offer you an auxiliary contract?"
Both Charlene and Marcus looked up, then glanced at each other in obvious surprise. Auxiliary contracts were not unknown, but they were rare. It could only mean that the raiders were pressing harder than Marcus had thought. Negotiations were usually handled by Charlene and Torgensson. At Marcus' cautioning nod, Charlene asked, "What exactly do you propose?"
"On my authority as planetary defense coordinator, the government of Marantha could offer you recompense for any assistance you would be willing to lend us in a crisis situation. Your contract with the Magistracy taking precedence, of course."
Charlene considered that for a moment, and silence fell over the room as everyone waited. Most of them used the time to sip at their drinks, though Marcus barely wet his lips while he tried to second-guess what Charlene would propose. Finally his executive officer set her glass down on the desk and leaned back against its edge. "The Angels retain full autonomy. You would have to set your forces without us, and then we would decide our own response."
At the slight shake of the major's head, Charlene added, "We're an offensive unit. Within our tactical doctrine, it couldn't work any other way." Another moment's pause. "Full salvage rights. Reimbursement for damages to our equipment. Bounty on each enemy unit, including percentages based on damage we inflict."
Marcus smiled thinly at that last condition. It allowed the Angels to drive off attackers without having to engage hard enough to destroy them. Not bad, Charlene, but we might be able to do a bit better. He crossed his arms, resting his drink against the crook of his left elbow. Let's see how desperate Major Wood really is. "And half standard garrison pay any time our 'Mechs are on Marantha," he added.
Jericho's eyes widened in shock at such a request, and she stared incredulously at Marcus. Then Major Wood let out a short laugh of admiration. "You certainly know when to press your advantage, Commander." She thought a moment. "Let's say a quarter of standard garrison pay, based on how many 'Mechs are on planet at any given time. I'll still have to run that condition past the new planetary governor, but she seems ready enough to spend the Magestrix' money."
"New governor?" Marcus asked. "Commander Ryan described Sonia Hastings as a safe-seat politician."
"She was," the major said, her tone suddenly solemn. "She fell to an assassin almost two months ago. The new governor then appointed me as defense coordinator."
"And part of your job is to coordinate the defense of the governor's mansion, I'll bet." Marcus smiled and the other two women chuckled when the major rolled her eyes in a look of comical resignation.
The humor had barely run its course when a junior officer entered after a brief knock at the door. He handed a dispatch to Judith Wood and stood by. The major's face clouded over. "How long since contact?" she demanded of the ensign.
"An hour, Major. They swung around the outer moon, decelerating at one point five gravities. No one could locate you." He swallowed hard. "You never come here."
Wood threw up her arms in exasperation and stalked to the middle of the room. She glanced at Jericho and then at Marcus, "Raiders," she announced. "An Overlord and three Unions coming in under heavy fighter screen. They'll be on the ground any minute."
Up to two full battalions! The mix of anger and disbelief Marcus felt must have showed on his face, because Major Wood was quick to speak. "I know what you're thinking, Commander. I had no idea the raiders were in-system. They came in at a pirate point less than a day out, and sneaked in behind the moon's shadow."
Marcus didn't feel mollified. "Then you won't mind if we sit this one out?" he asked with sarcastic politeness.
"You won't be able to." Judith Wood sounded truly apologetic as she handed him the message. "Unless the Overlord changes its trajectory, this one intends to touch down on or near Indian Island. That's where we stationed the Angels." She took a deep breath. "They're dropping right on top of your unit."
14
Marantha Defense Complex
Jubilee, Marantha
Magistracy of Canopus
The Periphery
18 May 3058
"I need a map of Indian Island!"
The Planetary Control Station was a part of the Jubilee 'Mech yard, which sat just off the spaceport. Major Wood drove them all there in her personal hovercar, a '56 Canopus Motorworks Highlite that lived up to its advertising— fast in straight-aways and cornering at better than 30 kph with minimal lateral drift. As they made the six-kilometer trip in just over three minutes, Marcus was glad when she finally had to slow for the fist security checkpoint. Then the major dodged between two hangars and plunged down a ramp that led into a large underground bunker with vault-like doors. After parking the civilian vehicle among a row of APCs and jeeps, Major Wood waved Jericho Ryan and the two Angels past four different checkpoints, giving them instant access to her seat of defense.
Marcus watched as the ensign with the wrong map retreated and another ran up with the correct one, a large rolled sheet of colored plastic. The coloration would give him the topographical information he needed to plan detailed BattleMech movements. Around him the frantic activity of the room continued—clusters of MAF officers hovering over maps and around war-boards, enlisted personnel running the computers and scanners and communications that kept the room tied into all aspects of Marantha's planetary defense. He unrolled the plastic over a table-top viewer, clamping it at two edges and then hitting the light switch. The table surface brightened, back-lighting the map where his Angels had been dropped.
Indian Island was actually a fat peninsula connected to the far northwest corner of Marantha's largest continent by only the thinnest strip of land. Covered with well-forested hills and a few deep valleys, the terrain lent itself to stealthy movement by large numbers of BattleMechs. On the eastern side of the peninsula, right up against the waters of Freyja Sound, was a large spot of gray that stood out among the greens and browns. Major Wood had informed him on the drive over that the only thing beside hills and trees on Indian Island was an ordnance depot. In all, it consisted of two DropShip pads, outlying buildings, and the openings to underground bunkers for the storage of live ammunition. And nothing but an infantry platoon guarding it. Major Wood had intended the Angels for that duty, and so had transferred the demi-company there only this morning.
Will our luck ever change? Marcus wondered.
He grabbed a magnifying screen connected to a telescoping arm and shifted it into place over the ordnance depot. Someone had been thinking when they built that place, he thought. Except for a few light stands, the trees had been cleared for over a kilometer both north and south of the facility and almost as far to the west. A few hills, and in a few places BattleMech-size breastworks, provided good covering ground for defending units.
But as commander of a unit that specialized in breaking the defenses of others, Marcus could already spot several flaws that a determined force could take advantage of. There. He stabbed a finger down onto the map, feeling that heat of the light bleeding through glass tabletop and thin plastic map. His finger looked huge under the magscreen, but it helped him commit the terrain to memory as he traced it alone treelines and hills. This is where the enemy should make their attempt.
Directly to the west of the depot the woods ran closer to the installation than anywhere else, less than a quarter-klick. The trees would make approach nearly undetectable, but the ground leveled out from the edge of the forest into a straight run into the compound. To the north and south of the compound rose two hills that turned the flat terrain into a bottleneck for pouring down a murderous crossfire. But Marcus saw that any unit breaking from the woods could swing north and totally bypass one of those hills, cutting off half the defenders or forcing them to come down and fight it out in open ter
ritory. Then the raiders' longer reach could work its devastating results.
Marcus glanced up from the map, squinting his eyes as he tried to keep the geography straight in his mind. There were several possibilities, but he would have to orchestrate it in his head first. When he reopened his eyes, he saw that Charlene had appropriated the headset of some communications tech and was busy arguing with someone on the other end. Jericho Ryan stood nearby with Major Wood, the two watching a computer screen and talking in low voices.
"Major, what can I count on for reinforcements? How many and in how long?"
Judith Wood and Jericho both turned. "For what!" Wood asked, but as her brain caught up with the questions being asked she quickly answered without need of further explanation. "Nothing."
Marcus shoved himself away from the viewer and approached the major. "Nothing?" He jabbed a finger back at the map, which glowed on the viewer in the greens and browns of its topographical display. "I have an Overlord dropping on my people and you can't spare a damn lance?"
"Commander GioAvanti, I don't even know that we can get you back to your unit in time, much less route a Drop-Ship out that way." Wood nodded toward the computer screen she'd been observing. "Flight mechanics say that the Overlord is coming in light. Maybe twelve hundred tons worth of BattleMechs. That puts them at a very light battalion, or more likely two strong companies. That's the best I can do right now in the way of support."
Waving at the computer, she continued. "We have three Unions holding low orbit with their aerospace fighter screen, and ready to drop anywhere. My BattleMech forces are spread thin as it is trying to keep units in position to reinforce each other. These raiders don't mind hitting civilians targets such as transit or industrial centers, and I have to protect all of that. They could hit anywhere, so until they commit themselves I can't promise you reinforcements."
Biting back his anger, Marcus tried to sympathize with Wood. He knew how hard it was to protect against a raiding force. The Angels relied on that same factor of uncertainty. But a full battalion, even a light one, was no small force. "Any chance those infantry troops have some anti-Mech capability?"
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