Double-Blind

by Loren L. Coleman

  A new group of riders were making a dash at the Awesome, trying to get under the reach of its PPCs. Thomas stepped up from behind and to the Awesome's right, grasping the assault 'Mech's right-arm PPC with his Clint's left hand and pulling it around.

  In any other circumstances, two BattleMechs would rarely get so close. But the Awesome had no reason to suspect Thomas and it was far to late to react as Thomas eased his autocannon up to the Awesome's torso-mounted PPC and sent a fifty-millimeter slug straight down the barrel. The Awesome had been building for another blast, and now that energy spilled out through breeches in the barrel, wasted. But it didn't wash over Torgensson, who Thomas could see was still alive, though looking half-dead. And it ruined a third of the assault machine's firepower.

  That was the opening the desert warriors had been waiting for. Three of them latched onto the Awesome and began to ascend quickly up the side and back. One swung around to the front, slashing at Torgensson's bonds with a wicked-looking curved knife that went right back between the warrior's teeth as soon as the hostage started to slip free. Faber managed to get his 'Mech's left hand under the near-conscious MechWarrior, who slid into the cupped palm of the Clint.

  Good enough. Faber backpedaled the 'Mech, disengaging from the Awesome, whose pilot was suddenly more worried about the black-robed warriors crawling over it. Torgensson's savior never made it away from the Awesome's chest as the 'Mech's block-like left hand came up and smeared the warrior against its armor.

  The Awesome wasn't done with Faber, though. Unable to reach another of the warriors working his way up its back, it turned and fired off its two remaining PPCs and some laser and short-range missiles into the already-awkward Clint. One PPC bolt amputated the Clint's right leg at the knee, while the second evaporated armor from the chest area and cut deep into the internal structure. Rather than fight the inevitable, Thomas abandoned himself to gravity and worked to protect the delicate cargo still cupped protectively in his left hand.

  * * *

  It wasn't the support Marcus had expected, but he and his Angels made the most of it. The left flank of the raider line shattered under their determined assault of point-blank combined fire, which was now degenerating into individual shooting matches. But then the raiders' right flank closed in, threatening to use similar patterns of combined fire to finish off the Angels.

  Marcus pumped his next-to-last Gauss slug into the left arm of a Guillotine, shattering the last of its armor and punching through myomer bundles and ferro-titanium skeleton to lodge somewhere near its shoulder actuator. The arm dropped to the 'Mech's side, lifeless, but the Guillotine managed to return fire with three of four medium lasers and a flight of six short-range missiles. The ruby laser darts chewed into the Caesar's right leg and center torso, stripping off more armor. Four of the missiles hit home but scattered enough that no armor was breeched.

  I can't take much more of this, Marcus thought, fighting to control his 'Mech under so much damage. None of us can.

  The heat in his cockpit had dropped back to tolerable levels ever since the destruction of the Caesar's Clan-tech extended-range PPC meant the 'Mech couldn't generate as much heat. Gauss rifle almost out of ammo, all I've got left are the medium lasers.

  Trying to tell anything from his HUD was almost useless, with so many 'Mechs mixing it up at close range. From what he could make out, the desert warriors had created havoc at the center of the raider line, trading two of their beat-up 'Mechs for the raider War Dog. The horsemen had actually caused the more serious damage, apparently capturing three raider 'Mechs, though only one, the second Orion, had started to move as yet. Through his viewport Marcus saw Charlene's Phoenix Hawk stumble to the ground on the far side of the Guillotine, its right arm amputated at the shoulder and the right leg dangling from the hip by only a few strands of myomer.

  That brings us down to five 'Mechs still on their feet. And two desert warriors, though the Enforcer's main weapon is ruined, and it doesn't look like much more than a walking scrap yard. Marcus traded medium laser shots with the Guillotine, ruby and emerald light spears crisscrossing between them and making more armor melt and run to the ground in red-hot streams. One last Gauss shot, but not for him. Marcus swung away, ready to plow onward and after the Awesome.

  Take down the raider commander and force him to surrender; that's all we've got left. That or retreat. And to pull out now, after losing so many lives and 'Mechs, would spell the end of the Angels as an effective fighting force.

  "DropShip!" a voice yelled over the panic channel. "Overlord coming down hard at half a klick north-northwest. Hegemony insignia."

  No, dammit, no. An Overlord could bring massive weaponry to bear, smashing the Angels like a giant hammer against the anvil formed by raider 'Mechs. Marcus stabbed at his comm panel, unit-wide frequency. "Confirm that," he commanded.

  "Confirmed, Lyre." It was Jericho's voice, resignation bleeding through the airwaves as her borrowed BattleMaster pulled back into a crater for some protection against the advancing right flank of the raiders. "It's being buzzed by a couple of aerospace fighters, but it's Hegemony no doubt."

  Marcus backed the Caesar up as he fought the control sticks to swing his torso around on the Awesome. One shot. It had to come down now, or the Angels would be forced to flee into the badlands if they were to have any hope of eluding the raiders.

  Aerospace fighters?

  The question hit Marcus' mind as he also realized he hadn't taken any recent hits from the Guillotine. The answer was apparent once he'd checked the HUD and then followed it up with a stare of disbelief through his viewport. The raiders were pulling back! A few remained behind, tying up Angels who were still up and active, but the Guillotine was already a good hundred meters away and moving into a run, and beyond it another five hundred meters was the retreating form of the still-intact Awesome.

  Now the rear guard turned and fled, no longer bothering to trade shots but trying to close the distance to their DropShip as fast as possible. Marcus didn't understand, but as the Guillotine passed within two hundred meters of the BattleMaster, Marcus tied through to Jericho's targeting and tracking system and let fly with his last slug of Gauss ammunition. The silvery ball tagged the heavy 'Mech square in its rear-right torso, cracking through the thinner armor and spinning the 70-ton machine forward and into the ground.

  Then some newly arrived BattleMechs appeared from the edge of the badlands, running forward onto the battlefield and deploying into a line separating the Angels from the raiders. A lance, then a company. Each 'Mech bore the insignia of the Magistracy Armed Forces; the three stars over a green closed-crescent field. They seemed content to let the raiders retreat, not wanting to tangle with an Overlord, but they did shield the Angels from any further damage.

  Marcus turned the Caesar in a slow circle and surveyed what was left of his unit. Jericho Ryan in the Battle-Master. Tamara Cross in the Grasshopper. Ki's Archer helping the Marauder piloted by Connor Monroe back onto its feet. And him. Five 'Mechs, presiding over a battlefield of smoking rock and twisted metal.

  More 'Mechs kept pouring from the badlands. Two companies. A full battalion. All bore the colors of the MAF. Not Major Wood's unit, but at this point Marcus wasn't about to be choosy. We're alive, and the Angels can rebuild.

  Then the final lance cleared the rugged twists of the badlands. Four black-painted 'Mechs, three of them with a large death's head standard painted on their upper-right torsos. Death Commandos. Marcus felt a chill at the sight of these infamous warriors and could think of no scenario that would let them show up as part of Canopus forces.

  The final 'Mech was impressive indeed, stately as it moved onto the plateau as if the Mech Warrior had not a care in the world. A 90-ton Emperor, broad-shouldered and with giant LB-X barrels in place of lower arms, the machine looked both imperious and deadly. It was not painted with the death's head, but instead its broad chest displayed the gaundet-and-katana insignia of the Capellan Confederation.

  Marcus st
ood his ground as the assault 'Mech moved slowly up and past his Caesar. It was as though the other pilot felt firmly in control of the battlefield. Arrogant son of a bitch, Marcus thought, then decided to ignore it for now. He twisted The Archangel around to watch the Overlord DropShip take back to the air in a cloud of dust and sand.

  This isn't over, Marcus promised silently. He wasn't sure how, or when, but the Angels would meet up with these raiders again. I'll find you, he promised the raider commander. I'll find you, and then I'll follow you and destroy you. He breathed out in a heavy exhale, tension flowing out of his muscles and ordinary exhaustion moving into its place. But not today.

  Now he had warriors—friends—to see to and a unit— his home—to rebuild.

  BOOK IV

  And therefore only the enlightened sovereign and the worthy general who are able to use the most intelligent people as agents are certain to achieve great things. Secret operations are essential in war; upon them the army relies to make its every move.

  —Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Never place too much trust, power, or confidence in any one person. Too often he will end up failing you.

  —Sun-Tzu Liao, journal entry, 24 June 3045

  42

  The Fringes

  Shaharazad Desert, Astrokaszy

  The Periphery

  11 July 3058

  The Angels met in the shade cast by Sun-Tzu Liao's Lung Wang DropShip. The Pearl of True Wisdom had landed soon after the Overlord's ascent, and now rested peacefully in the open area not far from where the battle had taken place. Jericho Ryan mixed in easily with the Angels, and was now talking with Paula Jacobs. Adair Sildig stood slightly apart to represent the Desert Wind tribe, with the rest of his warriors fanned out alongside the DropShip in various states of repose.

  Most of Marcus' people still wore the sweat-drenched shorts and T-shirts of their 'Mech cockpits, and one or two still had on their cooling vests. The desert warriors all wore their long caftans, reminding Marcus of Nihail, though these robes were light-colored to better protect against the sun. Everyone looked exhausted, even hardened desert-dwellers such as Adair. Marcus could see in their eyes and their weary smiles that they all knew how close they'd come to defeat.

  Only to be rescued by Sun-Tzu Liao.

  Marcus shook his head. He still found it hard to believe, especially in light of Thomas Faber's report on the arms warehouses he discovered in Shervanis. Could Sun-Tzu be trying to play a third aspect of the Astrokaszy double-blind? One Marcus couldn't grasp? He knew it was possible, but somehow it just didn't sit right.

  He took a long pull from a plastic liter bottle of Vita-Orange, a sports drink favored by MechWarriors for replacing the electrolytes lost in the intense heat of BattleMech cockpits. The weak orange flavoring rolled quickly past his tongue as he swallowed, the beverage cool and soothing to his throat. More of Sun-Tzu's generosity. Besides offering the use of his DropShip's medical facilities to all the injured, Astrokaszy native or not, the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation had supplied the Angels and their associates with food and drink. Marcus had to admit that he was beginning to come down on the side of Sun-Tzu Liao.

  'Torgensson's going to live," Marcus said, pacing along the front row of the gathered warriors and rubbing at the soreness left by his 'Mech seat restraints digging too tightly against his right shoulder. "He's got a broken leg and is suffering from time spent in the company of Malachye Shervanis—not to mention being tied to the front of a 'Mech in combat—but he's basically all right. I think he's already making friends with the Capellan doctor."

  That drew a number of smiles, though Marcus caught several apprehensive glances up toward the large Capellan Confederation symbol painted on the side of the Drop-Ship above them. He couldn't blame his people for being nervous. House Liao wasn't known for its generosity, much less acts of humanitarian aid. So far Marcus had met with Sun-Tzu for only a moment, when he'd asked for an opportunity to speak with him after he'd had a chance to rack his Emperor in the Lung Wang's 'Mech bay. Even in that brief exchange Marcus shivered under the gaze of the young Capellan ruler.

  "Shannon Christiensen and Kelsey Chase are suffering a bit from the long exposure to the sun," Marcus continued. "But they're both all right, and Kelsey will be released from the sick bay after a full night's rest. And before any of you start worrying about that, let me tell you it was my idea for her to stay there." Marcus knew his people, and Kelsey would push, herself too hard too fast.

  Case in point being that she had scaled the Orion 'Mech she'd been tied to and taken it over when the desert warriors had failed.

  Charlene spoke up from where she sat on a patch of sun-baked red clay. "Aidar, someone is supposed to be out here to talk to you as soon as possible about your wounded."

  The dark-skinned native nodded. "I am more concerned with the BattleMechs our warriors captured."

  As Charlie said, more concerned with equipment than lives. Marcus thought of the Angels he wouldn't be seeing again, those who'd fallen and would remain forever in the Periphery so far from home. Brent Karsskhov, Geoff Vanderhaven, and most recently Brandon Corbett. Each left a hole inside him that would be a long time healing. "I'll bring that up to the Chancellor when I talk with him," Marcus promised. "As well as a fair share of salvage from this battle."

  Thomas cleared his throat meaningfully. "We aren't going back in to hand Shervanis his head on a plate?"

  "I'd like to," Marcus said, a touch more vehemence in his voice that he'd intended, "but we'll be sitting this one out. Danai Centrella is claiming that privilege for her MechWarriors." Marcus finished off his drink in a long swallow. "Too bad, because we could've used that stockpile to rebuild."

  Charlene nodded. "And our contract?"

  "Closed out," Marcus said. "Our contract ended here, this battle. This shipment of arms and supplies have been disrupted to the Hegemony, and with my report to Danai Centrella the Magistracy forces have been duly alerted to the exact location of remaining stockpiles. And"— Marcus smiled fully—"Danai assured me that no letter of indebtedness ever reached the Magistracy. And even if it has by now, the Magistracy of Canopus takes care of its own—whether regular forces or mercenary. They'll make good our loans, and we'll in turn pay them back. We're covered."

  He let the whistles and exclamations of relief play out before continuing. "I don't know how well or how fast we can re-man or re-equip. We lost good people here, and that will hurt us for a long while." He glanced selfconsciously at Jericho. "But we can also hope that some of those who fought with us will remain. As for material resources"—he shrugged as if that was not so important— "right now we're looking at five to eight functioning or repairable machines. That includes ransoming Vince and his Enforcer from the other desert tribe. With decent salvage from the field, we'll soon be back on our feet.

  "The Angels are survivors." He let his pride in them show in his voice and face. "No one can take that away from us."

  A comfortable silence descended over the gathering of warriors then, broken only when Charlene reached out with her foot to nudge Marcus' boot. She nodded toward the main 'Mech bay door. "Marc, they're coming down. You should go meet them."

  The mercenary commander glanced to where Sun-Tzu Liao and two MAF officers were strolling down the ramp in the company of a squad of guards. "Guess I should," he said. "Coming with?" he asked Charlene.

  She shook her head. "Sun-Tzu brought his Magistracy liaisons. You better take yours."

  Steeling himself against a show of nervousness, Marcus offered Jericho a hand up from the ground. He caught the look of surprise on her face when he didn't let go of her hand right away, but walked partway to the meeting with her alongside. He had also caught several half-amused glances among his Angels, including a nod of approval from Paula Jacobs. It would take time for him to grow comfortable with such public displays, but Marcus promised himself he'd try. He was glad Jericho didn't say anything, seeming to understand his need to keep this light. S
he only gave his hand one quick squeeze as they dropped hands in the last few steps of the approach to Sun-Tzu Liao.

  If the Capellan Chancellor noticed anything of their relationship, he didn't show it. He stood at the center of his retinue of guards, reminding Marcus of the way Rashier like to do the same thing. Sun-Tzu was lithe and looked even younger than his years, which Marcus knew were all of twenty-six or twenty-seven. There was no sign of madness or rage, two traits so often associated with the Liao ruling family. As earlier, Marcus found the Liao even of both voice and expression.

  "Commander GioAvanti," Sun-Tzu said in greeting. He was dressed in his red silk robes of state, though he still wore the black sweatband from earlier in his 'Mech.

  Practical, Marcus thought, blinking away the tears of sweat that burned at the corners of his own eyes. "Chancellor. Please allow me to introduce Commander Jericho Ryan, my Magistracy liaison."

  Sun-Tzu waved off Jericho's salute an unnecessary. "Of course." He then introduced her to the two daughters of Emma Centrella, though Danai excused herself curtly to see after her troops.

  "You will have to excuse my sister," Naomi Centrella said, giving Marcus a disarming smile. "Recent events have left her rather frustrated."

  Marcus had caught the venomous look Danai gave Sun-Tzu in parting and decided he didn't really want to know why. Trying to deal with Sun-Tzu, and now yet another daughter of the Magestrix, seemed more than enough for anyone in a single day.

  Sun-Tzu studied the painted nails of one hand. In true Liao fashion the last three fingernails on both hands were grown extra long. It didn't seem feminine in the least. The nails looked razor-sharp, and he examined them with the same critical eye a samurai Combine warrior might have used on one of his swords. "Now, Commander, there were some points you wished to discuss?"