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Highlander Gambit

Page 1

by Blaine Lee Pardoe




  "GO MAROON. SAY AGAIN, GO MAROON...!

  Concentrate your fire on those hovercraft and the Galleons," Fuller called over the communications channel.

  The brilliant blue energy blast of Jaffray's PPC sheered the hovercraft Pegasus, sending a spray of steam and boiled-off armor into the air. The impact was so hard on the Pegasus that the hover tank drifted to the shoreline where it collided with a tree stump and slammed to a halt.

  Loren fired his PPC again, feeling the wave of heat in the cockpit as the weapon discharged. There was another flash of light as the armor exploded off the Pegasus and showered into the river. The wounded hovercraft teetered slightly in the middle of its turn as its driver fought to control it.

  Still his target did not flee but instead accelerated and cut across the river, taking a direct interception course with Loren's Gallowglas.

  What in the name of Liao is this guy up to? Although it's obviously suicidal, not just one, but all of the enemy craft are pressing into us. Why? Unless they know something that we don't....

  "Trap!" Loren transmitted to every friendly 'Mech within range. "It's a trap!"

  BATTLETECH

  LE5381

  HIGHLANDER GAMBIT

  Blaine Lee Pardoe

  ROC

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,

  London W8 5TZ, England

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

  Victoria, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

  First published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

  First Printing, June, 1995

  10 987654321

  Copyright © FASA Corporation, 1995 All rights reserved

  Series Editor: Donna Ippolito

  Cover: Romas Kukalis

  Mechanical Drawings: Duane Loose

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA BATTLETECH, FASA, and the distinctive BATTLETECH and FASA logos are trademarks of the FASA Corporation, 1100 W. Cermak, Suite B305, Chicago, IL 60608.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN BOOKS USA INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

  To my wife, Cynthia, and my children, Victoria and Alexander ... without whom this book would mean nothing. To my mother and father, Rose and David, for allowing me to play all of these games when I was a kid. Bill Murphy deserves credit for teaching me to appreciate the classics and for encouraging me to be a writer. The Hartford brothers deserve their due as well.

  I want to thank Sam for this chance; Donna and Sharon for taking the time to teach me how to be a better writer. And Mike Stackpole for his encouragement.

  And finally to Central Michigan University ... home of the mighty Chippewas and The Central Michigan Life—for some of the best experiences of my life.

  As I have said, when those states that are acquired are used to living by their own laws and in freedom, there are three methods of holding on to them: the first is to destroy them; the second is to go there in person and live; the third is to allow them to live with their own laws, forcing them to pay a tribute and creating therein a government made up of a few people who will keep the state friendly toward you.

  —The Prince, Niccold Machiavelli, 1514

  Prologue

  DropShip Stonewall Jackson Orbiting Elgin

  Tikonov Commonalty, Capellan Confederation

  21 December 3028

  "Lads and lasses, after centuries of waiting, our time has finally come. We are soldiers, mercenaries proud of our independence and prowess. We have fought long and hard, won and lost many battles in service to others. Now, under your eyes, the eyes of the warriors of the Northwind Highlanders, we must choose our destiny." Colonel Alastair Marion of Marion's Highlanders spread his arms wide to include every member of the Warrior Cabel gathered around him in the bay of the DropShip Stonewall Jackson. As he spoke the music of several bagpipes booming in the background gradually drifted into silence.

  There was something poignant about the choice of Marion as a spokesman, for his regiment, Marion's Highlanders, had been nearly destroyed by the Third Royals RCT on Ningpo.

  But he would rebuild his regiment and like the commanders of all three other Highlander regiments Colonel Marion had responded immediately to the call by the Clan Elders for a Cabel. With them had come delegates to represent the will and interests of every Highlander, no matter his or her rank. They'd chosen the Elgin system, where MacCormack's Fusiliers were in the fight to save the Tikonov worlds, as their meeting place. The Fusiliers' DropShip had met them at the jump point, and that was how they came to be assembled aboard the Stonewall Jackson this day.

  Marion let his gaze wander over the faces gathered around him. "Hanse Davion of the Federated Suns has made us an offer that we, as a military unit and as a people, must vote on. He has offered us something denied our blood for decades—the return of Northwind!" Wild cheers and applause greeted these words. As the cheers echoed off the metal walls of the vast bay, it sounded like hundreds more MechWarriors and support staff were present. And, in a way, they were. The Highlanders were loyal to each other above all other things and they always acted as one.

  "Never in all my years did I dream we might one day be considering such an offer, yet we have received word from Prince Hanse Davion that he is willing to turn control of the planet Northwind over to the Highlanders. It is a dream come true, yet even dreams have their price. The only way to accept this offer is to abandon our long-standing contract with House Liao and the Capellan Confederation. Turn our backs on a people we have defended since the days of the Star League. Desert a government that has sustained us and our families in both good and bad times."

  The hint of regret in his voice changed quickly with his last words: "That is the price for once again regaining control of our homeworld!" A hush seemed to fall over the bay as the Colonel triumphantly raised both arms in the air.

  Then another voice rose from the floor, booming loud and deep. "This is an opportunity we Highlanders have only dreamed of over the centuries. But I contend that the cost is too high. The price is not a change in contract, fellow Highlanders—the price is our honor. My honor is not for sale, even if the prize is the return of our homeworld."

  "Major Jaffray is right," came the voice of another Highlander, a female wearing a warrior's sash of bright blue and orange tartan. "But if we don't accept, what chance have any of us to ever see Northwind in our lifetimes? Even now, as we meet here, the Capellan Confederation is in flames, under attack by the armies of Hanse Davion. There is little hope of the Capellans ever winning Northwind back and turning it over to us again. No one in my family has yet set foot on the soil of Northwind. Nor
can any of our children look forward to ever knowing Northwind unless we accept this offer. Before I die, I must see with my own eyes the rolling green hills of our heartland."

  Colonel Henry MacCormack of the infamous Fusiliers climbed up on a transit crate next to Colonel Marion. "Let there be no illusions, Highlanders. Hanse Davion's surprise attacks have the Capellans on the run, but we might still be able to save the Tikonov worlds. Perhaps even turn the recent series of routs into a Capellan victory. That is ... if we decline the Davion offer." A chorus of "no's" rang through the DropShip bay, drowning out the few assenting "ayes."

  Corwin Jaffray spoke up again from the floor of the bay. "Do not delude yourselves, fellow Highlanders. Hanse Davion dangles the offer of Northwind before us only because he knows the threat we represent. If we jump ship now, the Capellans will lose dozens of planets that we now defend, and all it will cost the Federated Suns is one world—Northwind."

  Colonel MacHenry of the Second Kearny Highlanders, unable to wade through the crowd to the makeshift podium, had climbed up on another crate at the back of the gathering. "We've been warring with the Davions for years, lads. We know them for the dogs they are. What good is the word of someone like Hanse Davion? How long do you really think he will let us rule Northwind? Only 'til this little donnybrook is over. Then we become his lap dogs.

  "I say we dunna trust this devil. Think about what they're actually offerin' us. Northwind will not be ours free and clear, but will remain a Federated Suns world, with us at its head. That is not what the Liao has promised us—that Northwind would be an independent world under our total control. Mark my words, once this war is over, the Fox will forget all about this agreement, like as not exchanging the carrot for the whip to make us dance to his tune."

  "Aye," came the voice of another female in the crowd, one whose sash marked her as a Sergeant Technician. "Hundreds of our kin have died at the hands of Davion's dogs. Now he expects us to bow to them as our lords, or worse, as consorts. My honor is no' fer sale!"

  Another officer, a rough-faced major of the First Kearny Highlanders, garbed in the tartan of the MacLeod clan, spoke up from the floor. "I hear your words, brothers and sisters. But the one bond that has held us together as a unit over the centuries was the thought of once again returning to Northwind as a free people. Now, finally, after centuries of war, we have a chance to fulfill that dream. I, for one, do not want to lose that chance. I will stand on the soil of our beloved Northwind!" Cheers rilled the dim confines of the bay as the assembled warriors began to stomp so hard against the plating of the deck that the whole ship seemed to vibrate under their boots.

  Colonel Marion again took the floor of the Cabel. "This debate could continue until the end of time, but in case we've all forgotten, there's a war going on out there. Every man and woman here understands the issues we face. There is not a lad or lass among us whose heart is not torn by this offer. Some of us will break ranks with the Highlanders, regardless of the decision we take today. But no matter what the outcome of the vote, I ask that each one of us remember our code of honor."

  Colonel Marion's voice rang out like a bell. "Remember that once a Northwind Highlander, it is with you for life ... and beyond. Those of you who decide that our decision today calls for a parting of the ways, remember that a place for you or your kin will always exist among our ranks. Blood is the only bond that cannot be broken, not even by the mighty lords of the Inner Sphere. When all is said and done, nothing can destroy the Northwind Highlanders!"

  The voting was done by hand and took less than twenty minutes. When it was over the Cabel voted to ratify the Northwind agreement. All four colonels immediately issued orders for their regiments to pull out of the Capellan Confederation and to make posthaste for Northwind, acknowledging Prince Hanse Davion of the Federated Suns as their liege lord. In the weeks that followed more than two hundred dissenting MechWarriors, technicians, and their families left the Highlander ranks. There was no mutiny, no bitterness. Those who chose not to return to Northwind would continue to long for the day when they could, and those who went grieved at this parting with dear friends and comrades.

  The desertion of the Capellan Confederation by the key regiments of the Northwind Highlanders sealed the fate of the Capellans in the Fourth Succession War. Millions died and millions more came under the dominion of the seemingly unstoppable Davion war machine.

  1

  Marik Palace Atreus

  Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

  8 August 3057

  Sun-Tzu Liao studied his host very carefully as he and Thomas Marik sat talking in the study where Marik carried out most of his official business as Captain-General of the Free Worlds League. Though his eyes never left Marik's scarred and somber face, the younger man was also taking in everything around him—the candles, the tapestries, the hardcopy books, the antiques, the models of ancient aircraft. It was not the first time he had been in his chamber, but like any predator, the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation knew he must be ever alert to his surroundings, ready to respond to any clue, any hint of possible danger, possible opportunity.

  "You maintain and support a variety of subversive groups and revolutionary forces in the Sarna March, do you not?" Thomas was saying, slumped deep in his massive chair as if it were the only thing in the universe that could support him and the burdens he must carry. Sun-Tzu noticed that Marik's gaze seemed to wander as he spoke, as if his thoughts were light years away from this conversation. But there was no mistaking the gravity of his tone.

  "I do," Sun-Tzu responded. "My Zhanzheng de guang are active on a number of Davion worlds. I also have ties to certain tongs and Liao loyalist groups." What is Thomas up to? he wondered. He knows perfectly well that I've been busy stirring up trouble for Victor Davion in the Sarna March for some time now. The only possible answer was that Thomas had taken the bait his agents had planted—a fake blood sample that "proved" Davion had replaced Marik's dying son Joshua with a double. The boy had been ailing for some years and been sent to the doctors on New Avalon in a last desperate hope of saving him.

  "Good," Thomas said thoughtfully, his attention now turned full force on his visitor. "A situation has arisen that will require me to enter 'negotiations' with Victor Davion." Marik's emphasis on the word "negotiations" made it obvious he meant much more than the word usually implied.

  Thomas paused and seemed to study Sun-Tzu curiously for a moment before going on. "I would like to use your agents in his Sarna March to pressure him in a way that will incline him to speak in good faith with me. To do this, I wish to create the impression that we have had a difference of opinion on certain matters. You will leave immediately and return to your capital on Sian."

  Sun-Tzu chose his words carefully, speaking slowly and evenly. "I know you do not intend this, Captain-General, but some might interpret what you have suggested so far—a feigned split and my forces stirring up trouble in the Sarna March—as an attempt to force me away so you can conspire with Victor Davion to split my realm. I do not think this of you, but there are those who might."

  Thomas straightened up and looked directly into the Liao's eyes. "It could seem that way, I agree. What sign would you have of me to prove that I do not intend to throw you to that rapacious wolf?" If Sun-Tzu had doubted Thomas, he did so no longer.

  The young Chancellor held up one of his hands and casually studied the fashionably long fingernails of the last three fingers. The intricate designs painted on them in black lacquer and gold leaf caught the flickering of the candles like tiny stars. "There is the matter of setting a date for my wedding to your daughter." Thomas had been stalling on Sun-Tzu's marriage to Isis Marik for five years now, a fact that had given Marik the upper hand in all their dealings.

  The Captain-General gave the slightest of smiles, like a chessman acknowledging the rightness of his opponent's play. "Yes, Isis," he said sofdy. "Six months from now we shall announce that the wedding will take place roughly another six months he
nce."

  Sun-Tzu hid his surprise. It was as if a crossroads had been reached, a milestone passed. "That is acceptable, but covenants are easily broken. Not that I would accuse you of such a thing, but if there were a coup ..." This was his moment, and Sun-Tzu did not let it pass. Another chance like this might never come.

  Again Thomas studied him, the light of the candles making his fire-scarred face look like a ritual mask. "Take Isis with you to Sian," he said, and it was obvious to Sun-Tzu that this was no snap decision. "You may hold her hostage as Victor has my ..." The hesitation at the mention of Joshua's name struck Sun-Tzu hard. Proof positive, he thought, that his agents had succeeded.

  "She will not be a hostage, but cherished as my bride-to-be."

  "Yes, I know that you would keep her safe. I will cover your expenses for creating this added pressure, and my troops will stand by to repel Davion invaders if they decide to strike at you. I will also coordinate with the Capellan military to move troops to make life more difficult for Davion intelligence."

  Sun-Tzu listened and understood. These were not rash decisions on the part of the Captain-General, but carefully calculated and coordinated moves. Had he underestimated Thomas, the man he'd considered an idealistic old fool? "Very good. When do I leave?"

  "Within the week. Precentor Malcolm can help you send our orders to your subversives so their activities can begin before you arrive in Sian. You should be there by mid-September, I would think, but I need matters underway before then."

  "It shall be done, Thomas." Sun-Tzu wanted to shout in elation, but all he did was imitate Thomas's slight smile.

  "Together we will teach Victor lessons his father never learned."

  "Yes," the Captain-General replied. "The time has come and the lesson to be learned is that of justice." The anger is his voice was sharp and cold as a knife.

 

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