The merc grinned. “Bet you never thought you’d see me again, poker boy. Least of all here.”
“No,” he said, “I’ll admit, the thought never crossed my mind.”
“Man, you don’t know how good it feels finally getting the upper hand on you.”
“It was just a game.”
“I hate to lose.”
“You realize, of course, that I have enough forces just over that cliff back of town to turn you into a puddle about five million times over.”
“Yeah, well, I have enough just across the big water to come over and clean your guys’ clocks.”
“You’re saying you work for Liao?”
He grinned. “I’m saying I work for her.” He jerked his thumb toward the door.
Erik looked over to see Elsa, dressed in a trim maroon jumpsuit, walking toward him. She smiled. “Erik, you remember Paul, don’t you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Did you know, for instance, that he knows how to fly a shuttle? Not only did he get me off St. Michael, we even made a tidy profit hauling the rest of the passengers down to the planet.”
“Does that include whatever you’re paying the spaceline when they notice their shuttle is missing?”
She laughed softly. “The way things are going, that could be some time, if ever.”
Erik frowned at her. “What do you want, Elsa? I warned you about coming down here.”
“It’s a free planet, Erik. For the moment, anyway. I came to confer with my employers, and lo, they sent me to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? About what?”
She looked at the bartender, who was hovering nearby. “There’s a table in the back corner. It would be more private.”
“Yeah,” agreed Erik, “good idea.”
They moved back to the table. Erik was relieved when the merc stayed at the bar. He looked at Elsa. It infuriated him that he was so glad to see her. “What do you want, Elsa? More spy games?”
Her smile faded, and she looked ill at ease. “Erik, I’ve come to offer you a surrender.”
“What?”
“The local commanders have sent me to offer you terms of surrender.”
He laughed. “That’s absurd.”
She reached over and put her hand on his. “It’s not in the least bit absurd, Erik. You’re vastly outnumbered. You can’t win. Your people will die, which isn’t exactly breaking my friends up. But I told you before, there will be losses on their side as well. Not as many, but it will cost them, in casualties, time, resources. That’s still worth it to them to avoid.”
She studied his face. “Erik, they’ve upped the ante. They’re offering you an officer’s commission and a command in their military. Sang-shao, that’s like a colonel.”
“I know what it is.”
“Or—” She looked into his eyes. “Or, you could just go somewhere deep inside the Confederation. They’d give you a nice country house, a generous stipend.” She paused. “We could be together.”
“So now you’re part of the package, too? I thought you weren’t a prostitute.”
She glared at him. “It’s not like that. I’m not part of any package, Erik. I go where I want to go. I’m tired of this cloak-and-dagger thing. It was fun at first. In a way, it still is. But it’s getting old, getting too personal. And . . . I finally found something worth quitting for.”
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
She suddenly looked angry. “You should be! You’re an idiot, Erik, if you don’t see that.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Then come with me. Let’s leave this war behind.”
“I’d like to. There’s just one problem.”
She frowned.
“I found something worth going on for.”
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled grimly. “No, you don’t. But it’s still not too late to change sides. Come with me. Less safe, less certain, but you’d die of boredom after six months in that country house, anyway. For that matter, so would I.”
“Or we can die in a few days when the Liao forces flatten your base? Do what you want, but I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Erik, but,” she glanced at her watch, “the invasion force has left Georama by now. They’re on their way.”
“That’s good information; thanks.” He stood up and grabbed her wrist. “Come with me.”
She was so surprised that she followed him the first dozen steps toward the door. Then, next to the pool table, she dug in her heels. “Stop! Let me go!”
Erik kept pulling, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the merc, Paul, moving rapidly for them. He hadn’t gone for the gun. Yet.
Erik’s hand fell casually onto the pool table.
Paul stormed up. “Let go of her, or I’ll—”
Erik’s hand found the end of the pool cue that he was looking for. He snapped the cue up and swung it as hard as he could. The heavy end landed across the bridge of Paul’s nose. There was a crunch, and he fell backward clutching his face, gushing blood.
Erik leaned down, reached under the merc’s coat, and fished out the Blazer pistol. He hefted the gun, and looked up to see Elsa running for the door. She ran straight into the arms of four SwordSworn security officers. “Take her back to the base,” he said. “Don’t talk to her, don’t listen to her. Put her in isolated custody. She is a suspected spy. Assume that anything she tells you is a lie. I’ll personally question her later.”
He looked back at the merc, still writhing on the floor, mixing a puddle of his own blood in with the discarded peanut shells. Erik hauled back and kicked him in the groin. “As for you,” he said to the cringing heap, “you go back the way you came. And if House Liao doesn’t kill you when you try to cross their lines, you tell them Erik Sandoval says he’ll see them in hell. You got that?”
The merc nodded desperately.
Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a radio. “Clayhatchee, we’ve got an invasion force incoming.”
Clayhatchee sounded breathless. “Damn, sir, you’re good! The intelligence reports are just coming in. How did you know?”
He frowned. “Bad news travels fast, Clayhatchee. Tell everyone to get ready. The siege of Ravensglade is about to begin.”
19
St. Michael Station, St. Michael
St. Andre system
Prefecture V, The Republic
24 December 3134
Word of the impending invasion traveled fast in Port Archangel. Small boats could be seen leaving the harbor, heading along the coast, or out to sea. A few stragglers appeared at each of the lower tunnel entrances, looking for sanctuary at the base. That was one of the first decisions awaiting Erik when he arrived back at the command bunker.
“Send them up. Put them in one of the unused barracks, under guard just in case Liao tries to send spies or saboteurs that way.” He had a thought. “Also, canvass them and see if you can find one or two who know the local waters and the shipping trade. If Liao is coming by water, some local knowledge might prove valuable.”
The number of personnel in the command bunker had tripled since the last time he was there. The place buzzed with activity, with people literally bouncing off each other as they rushed from place to place. Computers chirped, phones rang, printers whirred. Large holodisplays swirled with colorful patterns that might have passed for somebody’s art project. The room smelled of ozone, hot metal, sweat, and a slight but noticeable stink of fear.
They had, at most, hours. Hovervehicles could arrive at almost any time, and surface shipping would take six to ten hours. Erik’s guess was that, other than probes and scouting by hovervehicles, the big assault would arrive more in that six-to-ten-hour window. Probably shortly before or after dawn.
Intelligence reported several large surface vessels. Unless they had illusions they could take the heavily defended tunnels from below, the ’Mechs would have to come over the cliffs first and try to open
the way for either a sea assault, an air assault, or both.
“They’ve got multiple DropShips in low polar orbit,” reported Clayhatchee. “There’s a formation of four in line for a coordinated drop, and five others spread out evenly around the planet. If they keep making orbit-correction burns, reentry opportunities for the formation come about every sixty-eight minutes, and there’s an opportunity for at least one ship to drop in on us about every eleven and a half minutes.”
“Meaning,” said Erik grimly, “that if they take out our air defenses, we won’t have to wait long for company. Are the natural gas ’Mechs deployed according to plan?”
“Yes, sir,” said Clayhatchee. “Standing by.”
The bunker’s thick outer door swung open just enough for one man to enter. Justin Sortek, turning sideways to fit his wide shoulders through, entered the room. There was an air of urgency about him. “Commander Sandoval, you sent for me? I really should be in my ’Mech.”
Erik shook his head. “Sorry, Justin. You’re going to spend this one in command.”
He frowned. “Commander?”
“I need somebody here I can trust to tell me what I need to know, not what I want to hear.”
“Sir, with respect, I’d be more use out there with my MechWarriors.”
Erik nodded. “Possibly you would, Justin, but this time, it’s going to be me in the ’Mech. You’ve got to stay here as my eyes and ears—focus on the big picture, so I can lead these people into battle.”
Sortek said nothing.
“You know it’s true. Without the Duke here, they need a tangible demonstration that the noble line is with them. Without that, your men can’t do what needs to be done.”
“It’s a terrible personal risk for you, Commander.”
“I know that. I won’t claim I’m half the MechWarrior you are, Justin, but there’s more than one way to fight a battle. I can’t win this by playing it safe. Ever play Texas Hold-’em, Justin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you know what ‘all in’ means.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“If I go down in battle, then this fight is yours to finish. You know what we’ve set up. You know where we’re vulnerable, and you know what their objectives are. Your family has been tied to the noble line for generations. If you have to find some of that divine light, do it.”
He smiled grimly. “Yes, sir.”
He patted Sortek on the shoulder. “I’m headed for my ’Mech. I’ll radio as soon as I’m in.”
For Erik, however, there was one stop to be made on the way. The stockade was located one level below the command bunker.
Even more so than most of the base, it had a dank, abandoned feel to it. The area had been unheated for years, and lichen grew in patches on the concrete walls. Though it was relatively free of rust, paint peeled from the metal fixtures and bars. The bare concrete floors were damp, and a leaking overhead pipe in the hallway had a full-blown puddle forming under it.
Erik found a lone guard leaning against a wall—the brim of his hat over his eyes—dozing or close to it. He walked up to him and stood there for a moment unnoticed, then said loudly, “Private!”
The soldier’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Erik with horror, then came to attention. “That’s Corporal, sir!”
“It was until a minute ago,” he said dryly. Then he smiled just a little. At least he wasn’t talking with the prisoner, which would have been of greater concern. “At ease, Corporal. Be more attentive next time. For now, I’m going to speak with the prisoner. Take a break.”
“Sir?”
“Ten minutes. Go wash up, find some coffee.”
The soldier looked almost pathetically grateful. “Yes, sir! Thank you, Commander!”
Erik glanced down the hall toward the cells. “Has she said anything to you?”
The young corporal looked suddenly uneasy. “Not really, sir. She . . . babbles.”
“Good. She’s either a spy or a lunatic. I’m still not sure which. She latched onto me when I was on Shensi, and she’s stalked me across half The Republic.”
The corporal looked relieved. “Insane? That would explain things, sir. You sure you don’t need me here, in case—” He held up his rifle.
“No, I think she’s harmless. Back in ten. Sharp!”
“Yes, sir!” He dashed off down the hall.
Yet, even after he was gone, his face haunted Erik. The pale, hollow cheeks, the bags under the too-young eyes. He had to keep remembering that face. It reminded him of what he was fighting for. Not the Duke. Not House Davion. These men, who believed in something bigger than all of them. He might have weakened, might have considered betraying those other things, but not these men and women, these soldiers.
He walked down the line of barred cells to the one occupied by Elsa. He found her sitting on the cot, wrapped in blankets, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back against the wall. Her appearance somehow startled him. She’d washed off her makeup, tied back her hair. The sophisticated society woman was gone. She looked young, vulnerable, lost. She looked up at him, and her eyes flared with anger. “Well, this is a fine pesthole you’ve put me in, Erik.”
He shrugged. “It’s the best cell we’ve got. I don’t have the troops to spare to put you under house arrest in a barrack, and it’s easier to keep you from talking to people this way.” He looked at the ceiling. “Besides, this is probably safer.”
“As safe as anywhere at ground zero. Erik, they’re going to walk over you. You don’t have a chance.” To his surprise, she seemed as concerned for him as for herself.
“There’s always a chance.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
She stood, the blanket still draped over her shoulders like a shawl. She held onto the bars and looked at him with desperate eyes. “Erik, I don’t want to die here. Please. This isn’t my fight.”
He shook his head sadly. “It was your fight as soon as you started working for House Liao. Like you said: People like us, we don’t have many choices—and you can’t opt out this late in the game. Neither can I.
“What you were doing—it may have seemed like a game, but it wasn’t. This is what it was about. You made me forget that for a while, but I remember now.”
“Is that what this is? You’re punishing me for your moment of weakness?”
“You know too much to be let go. I never should have let you go last time, but I honestly thought you might get out. Instead, you undoubtedly went back to your controllers and told them how weak Erik Sandoval-Groell was. This attack might not even be happening if I’d done what I should have done with you in the first place.”
“Which would be?”
“You’re a spy, Elsa. An agent of the enemy. What do you think?” He turned and walked away.
The ’Mech bays were underground, along the ’Mech-sized tunnels that ringed the base. Erik trotted his Hatchetman out of one of those tunnels and up the ramp to the surface. The brightest stars still shone in the purple predawn sky, but at this time of year in St. Andre’s arctic, the sun only went down for a few hours each night, and even then, not far below the horizon. Erik could see a glow near the horizon that promised the sun would be back soon.
He switched his viewscreen to NIGHT VISION, and watched the line of armor and artillery along the cliff edge, ready to bring their ranged weaponry to bear against any ship that tried to land. There were sporadic reports of hover scouting vehicles up and down the coast, but they always withdrew as soon as they were fired upon.
Down below the cliffs, there were clusters of armored units guarding each of the tunnel entrances, and squadrons of armored troops inside each tunnel. Armor and ’Mechs were clustered around each upper entrance as well, since any ’Mechs that made it over the cliff would likely make those a target. Beyond that, he had scattered armor, artillery, and infantry units—dug into the abandoned streets of Port Archangel, or hidden close to the cliffs.
He’d kept most of hi
s ’Mechs up above, some out of necessity, since they lacked the necessary jump jets to transverse the cliffs. But in general, he thought they would be more effective on the flats, where they had room to maneuver.
“Commander.” It was Sortek. “We’ve got one of the locals, who says she knows the ins and outs of shipping here.”
“Put her on.”
There was a delay as someone probably scrambled to find the woman a headset. “Commander Sandoval, this is Mary Neskowin.”
“Mary, thank you for aiding us.”
“It’s my planet, too, Commander. What can I do for you?”
“I don’t quite know yet. It would help to know something about your background.”
“Well, I served on a tanker for six years, and I work for the Harbor Authority on dredging and channel maintenance. I’ve seen every kind of ship that operates in these waters.”
“Very good, Mary. If you can stand by there, I’ll consult with you if I need you.”
He trotted the Hatchetman along in front of the line of armor, making sure that every pilot and tank commander got a good look at him.
“Sir.” It was Clayhatchee this time. “We’ve got ships on radar, big and slow-moving. Could be hauling ’Mechs.”
“Mary, are you there?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“If you can give me any kind of information on those ships, it might be useful.”
“I can’t tell you much without visual. Based on the speed and size of returns, they’re probably tankers or cargo-haulers of some kind, but I can’t be more specific.”
“Let me know if that changes.”
“Commander.” It was Clayhatchee again. “We’ve also got some ghosts about thirty klicks offshore. We can’t seem to get past their electronic countermeasures—they could be attack helicopters.”
Erik muttered a curse. Intelligence had reported increased use of attack helicopters and VTOLs by the Cappies. The cliffs would offer no defense against them, and the air-defense towers were designed primarily for aerospace fighters and larger spacecraft attacking from above. They’d be of little use against the nimble and low-flying helicopters. On the other hand, helicopters were vulnerable to ground fire, if anyone was lucky enough to get a hit.
Fortress of Lies Page 24
