Highlander Gambit

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  MacLeod looked even more incredulous. "Loren, forgive me, but since the day we left the Confederation thirty years ago there's been little love lost between House Liao and the Highlanders."

  MacLeod looked away, his expression saddening for a moment. "The Homecoming was a great moment for our people, but it cost the Capellans both lives and worlds. I'm good, damned good, but not good enough to change the past, Major."

  "That's true, Colonel, but it's also the past. Sun-Tzu Liao is not his mother."

  "How do we know what you're telling us is the truth?" Mulvaney demanded sharply. "You arrive here on Northwind and we're to believe that suddenly, after decades of animosity, the Capellans want to be our friends? What do you take us for?"

  Loren shook his head. "There isn't anything I can do to prove that I'm telling the truth, Major, and besides, neither of us can really know what's going on in the mind of the Chancellor. I can only repeat that he wishes me to deliver a proposal to your Assembly of Warriors. The decision is for them to make, not you, Major Mulvaney."

  Colonel MacLeod shook his head. "The Assembly of Warriors needs a quorum to meet, Major, and we don't have one now. The other three Highlander regiments are either on Ozawa or posted along the Clan border. The Assembly of Warriors won't meet again until the Fusiliers rotate here from Ozawa toward the end of next month."

  Loren felt his heart skip a beat. Had he come all this way to fail in his mission within an hour of landing on Northwind? No. There had to be another way—there was always another way. He tried to remember anything he could, either from his briefings about Northwind or from memories of his grandfather. There had to be some way to fulfill his mission. Then it came it him, some history and hope, and in a way that he knew MacLeod would understand.

  "My grandfather told me of a special gathering the Highlanders used to call in times of emergency. I believe it was called the Cabel—a Warrior's Cabel."

  Mulvaney cut in. "We used to call Cabels, Major. That was before the formation of the Assembly of Warriors. Now that we have the Assembly I'm not even sure anyone has the authority to call a Cabel. Such conclaves were only called by the Commanding Officer in times of need when a formal base camp had been established."

  Loren was not about to give up. "Maybe it's just that there's been no reason to call one. Now that the base camp is once again Northwind you do have the authority to call a Cabel. And as for the need, you'll have to take my word."

  "You're right, Jaffray. Technically, at least," MacLeod said. "We haven't needed a Cabel in years. But, then again, we've never had half our regiments so far from Northwind. Even if we did call a Cabel, the vote is non-binding. The most you might hope for is that the Warrior Cabel will agree with you and vote to recall the Assembly."

  Loren nodded with excitement. "Exactly, sir. At least it will be a body of Highlanders hearing the Chancellor's proposal."

  Mulvaney shook her head. "You can't be seriously considering listening to him, Colonel. He's an outsider. He has no right to ask you to summon a Warrior's Cabel."

  Loren caught her eye and held it. "What's your problem, Mulvaney? Ever since I stepped off the DropShip you've been acting like I've got the plague. Have I offended you somehow? If so, I'm sorry, but if I didn't, get off my back."

  Mulvaney squared off in front of him, her muscles tensing and a flush rising in her face. "Your presence here does offend me. Major, I worked hard to become a member of MacLeod's Regiment, even harder to be an officer. In you walk, two generations removed from even knowing a true Highlander personally, and I get ordered to treat you like an equal. Well, you're not an equal to me, not by a laser shot."

  "I'm a Mech Warrior just like you," Loren retorted, "and I've ranked as one of the best in the Confederation. And while you're digging those fancy boots into the ground spouting off about your pride, remember one thing—I and my family have faithfully served the Confederation for centuries. And while it may not carry weight with you, my grandfather was a battalion commander in the Highlanders and decorated nine times for bravery under fire. I won't even bore you with a discussion of my great-grandmother and her deeds. You place a lot of weight on history, and I'm here claiming my rights as true-blooded Highlander kin."

  Mulvaney sneered in response. " 'Best' for the Confederation may mean something to the rest of the Inner Sphere, but here on Northwind it doesn't mean spit. You want to prove to me that you've got what it takes, Jaffray?"

  "Yes. Any time. Any place." If I can't win her over, I'll defeat her. Whatever is required to fulfill the mission.

  Suddenly MacLeod stepped between them, one hand extended to take the long red tartan sash Pluncket was holding out to him. Loren heard the scrape of chairs all around them, the other Highlanders rising from their seats to see what was going on. He wasn't sure what kind of challenge he'd walked into, but he sensed that he would have to win if he was also going to succeed in his mission.

  "I know you've got your head full of steam," MacLeod said to Mulvaney as he tied her right wrist with one end of the heavy wool sash. "Try and keep cool. He's a little bigger than you so stay low and you can probably bring him down." The regimental commander then stepped over to Loren and took his right wrist, tying the other end of the sash tightly around it.

  "Mulvaney is fast and usually spills her energy quick in a fight. She's a wildcat but loses her steam in a drawn-out match. I warn you though, lad, she's never lost an honor match in the three years she's been in my command," MacLeod said as he checked his handiwork.

  Then the Colonel stepped back and Loren saw that he and Mulvaney were about three meters apart and bound to each other at their right wrists. She lowered herself to a crouch, fury in her eyes. Loren looked from her to MacLeod and then to the small gathering of Highlander officers that had begun to form around them.

  "Majors Loren Jaffray and Chastity Mulvaney, in the way of true Highlanders, you must settle this question of honor. You will fight until one of you is down for the count of three. You will begin at the sound of the horn. In the eyes of your peers let honor be served!" Mister Pluncket handed a small brass horn to MacLeod. All round them the other Highlander officers, each clad in the various tartan kilts of their clans, made bets on who would win the match. Loren listened for a full minute to the bidding and realized that his odds of winning were being set very low.

  Like his opponent he lowered himself to a short stance and held his arms out to prevent her from flanking him. The sash hung between them just above the floor. Loren closed both eyes for a moment and drew a long breath. He was becoming more accustomed to Northwind's thin atmosphere, but it was still going to limit his ability.

  He heard Colonel MacLeod blow the horn and in less than a heartbeat Mulvaney was springing into the air like a jaguar leaping for prey. She loomed over him and he thought for a moment that she must have misjudged, jumping too hard. He dropped to his knees and threw himself forward as she landed behind him.

  Then suddenly his right arm was yanked behind him as Mulvaney pulled the sash hard and across his back. Loren lost his balance and Mulvaney leaped onto his back with both knees, knocking the wind out of him in one fell blow. His ears rang as he gasped for breath, but Mulvaney did not let up. Seizing more of the sash she pulled again and turned him over on his back as he finally managed to get his breath. Around him he heard cheering and jeering while she straddled his chest and pinned the sash down on both sides of his neck, choking him with her full body weight. His lungs ached for air and he felt his vision begin to tunnel like a drunk's. Sounds also began to fade, except for the pounding of MacLeod's tankard on the bar. Once ... twice ...

  In a last desperate effort Loren thrust his legs up and seized either side of Mulvaney's head, scissoring her back and off of him. Gasping for breath he rolled to the side and then up onto his feet. The cheering of the crowd rose as Mulvaney also came to standing. Loren was still struggling for breath against the dizziness resulting from her assault.

  She jumped again, this time feet first,
with a flying kick to his waist. Loren pivoted as she flew past, striking her back with both fists. As she landed he pulled the sash hard, throwing her off balance and sending her rolling to the floor. Still full of fury she rose again to face him, this time looking more harried.

  Mulvaney threw a wild punch with her tied fist, just catching the corner of Loren's face. Instead of reeling, he jammed his elbow back, catching her in the center of her rib cage. She staggered back slightly under the impact as if fighting for breath. The tables had turned. It was time to strike and strike hard.

  In a sweeping move, Loren grabbed the sash halfway and pulled it back with all his body weight. As Mulvaney came rushing straight at him, he rolled down onto his back and extended his legs to catch her at the chest and flip her over him and into the air. Loren continued his somersault, ending it with her body pinned. Dazed by the impact of his landing square on her back, Mulvaney lay there without moving. The three poundings of MacLeod's beer tankard seemed to take a lifetime. When it was done cheers rang from the gathered officers as Loren rolled off Mulvaney and sat watching her struggle to get up. Both MechWarriors were drenched in sweat and Loren's heart wouldn't stop racing. Each drag of air seemed to leave him wanting for more.

  It took several minutes for the two of them to finally stand upright. Neither spoke and MacLeod only smiled and ordered more ale. Loren still fought the humid air, but finally able to function, despite the hot pain in his jaw and neck. Mulvaney looked exhausted too.

  "A wonderful display, both of you!" MacLeod said. "Now then, Major Jaffray, you've seen a little sample of how we Highlanders settle our disagreements. Instead of letting petty grudges build and fester, we let them out. Perhaps it's the only thing we and the accursed Clans share. But honor has been served."

  Colonel MacLeod looked over at Mulvaney. "Major, I believe there is something you owe our visitor." Mulvaney nodded. She rose to her full height and looked Loren in the eye. He could still see some of the previous fury, but the outright hatred had faded. "You have proven that you are worthy of your Highlander blood claim. I was wrong about you."

  Loren rubbed his neck and felt the skin raw from where the wool sash had burned his flesh. "This sure is one hell of a way to settle disagreements."

  "That it is, Major," MacLeod said proudly. "There's been tension between you two since the moment you met. Now it's vented. And more important, no one was killed. This is the way we Highlanders settle conflict."

  Loren reached out and took a deep drink of ale. The cool liquid seemed to relax his muscles. "Colonel MacLeod, about my proposition."

  "Lad, if you're wondering if this changes my position, banish the thought. If anything, my respect for you just went up a notch or two. I feel a little guilty, though."

  "Why is that, sir?"

  "I put ten C-bills on Mulvaney to win."

  "Who bet for me?"

  "I did," came a voice from behind the bar. Loren looked over and saw Mister Pluncket give him a wink. "If there's one thing a bartender can spot it's a winner."

  MacLeod put his hand on Loren's shoulder. "You've had a long day of it, lad. Major Mulvaney will take you to your quarters. We'll meet tomorrow and talk about this proposal a little more."

  "Yes, sir." Loren let go a long breath of air and turned back to Chastity Mulvaney. "After you, Major." She nodded, combing the hair back out of her eyes with her fingers. Loren followed her outside, wondering about the wisdom of turning down the offer to stay at the Davion embassy. Now he would have to walk with Mulvaney after beating her in a test of honor.

  As they crossed the massive courtyard of The Fort, Loren stepped up his pace to come alongside her. "No hard feelings, then, Major?"

  She didn't look at him, "No, Major Jaffray, not on the question of honor. I acknowledge the Highlander blood in your veins, but that doesn't change my opinion of you. I'm just not used to getting beat."

  "A good MechWarrior never relishes defeat."

  "Like I said, this is a new experience for me."

  "I hope that at least we can still work together. I have a lot to learn about Northwind and the Highlanders. From what I saw tonight you're the kind of person it would be an honor to call a friend." Loren remembered the fire in her eyes and wondered what might have been if they'd met under other circumstances.

  Chastity Mulvaney stopped and turned to look at Loren. Her face as wan and tired. "You don't understand me at all. Do you know why I don't like you, Major? Haven't you figured it out yet?"

  "Please, call me Loren. And the answer is no, I have no idea why you dislike me so. As far as I know I've done or said nothing to offend you."

  "Major, in my eyes, you're here for only one reason. To harm the Highlanders. And I know it in my gut."

  "But Major, I'm—" How could she possibly know?

  "I know ... I know ... you're here to present your precious Chancellor's proposal. To you maybe that's all it is. But ever since we received your request to visit I've sensed that it could only mean no good."

  "That isn't my intention and you know it." Does she know? Impossible. Loren deliberately kept his face stiff and emotionless, not revealing his sudden concern. If I've been betrayed I know what I must do.

  "Oh, I'm sure you're what you seem to be, a MechWarrior and not a diplomatic messenger. Fine. That Loren Jaffray I actually admire. The question I have is, do you even know your real mission? I've read about how you Death Commandos all swear an oath to serve the Chancellor to the death. Maybe you're just a pawn in his hands."

  The words stung Loren as deeply as if Mulvaney had stabbed him. Ever since leaving Krin he'd been wondering the same thing. But that couldn't be. He was a trained professional. He'd been chosen because he was the only person who could infiltrate the Highlanders and draw them away from service to Davion. That was all ... it had to be. "I understand what you're saying and I'd be a liar if I didn't tell you that the same question has crossed my mind. Politics is politics, after all, but I'm only a soldier. My intent is clear, and my mission is straightforward."

  "I won't debate this with you. I don't care what you think your intentions are, it's their results I'm interested in. You're like the eye of a hurricane that's just blown onto Northwind. The eye of the storm is always calm, the real damage happens all around it.

  "But no matter what happens, remember this night and our little test of honor. I know I won't forget it. And Loren," she said, stressing his name rather than his rank, "mark my words. At some point you're going to have to choose between being a Capellan Mech Warrior or a Highlander kinsman." She gestured to one of the buildings off in the distance. "That's the BOQ. I'll meet you for mess at 0700 hours ... Major Jaffray."

  With that she moved off into the darkness as Loren wondered whether Chastity Mulvaney might know something he didn't.

  6

  The Fort

  Tara, Northwind

  Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

  12 September 3057

  "I trust you found our mess to your liking," Colonel MacLeod said as he, Loren, and Mulvaney passed down the maze of corridors winding through The Fort's huge interior the next morning.

  "There is one constant in all militaries, sir, and that is the food," Loren said. MacLeod chuckled in agreement.

  "How's the jaw this morning, Major?" Mulvaney asked.

  "I hope as good as your ribs, Major," Loren retorted. He wouldn't admit it, but his jaw was still very sore from the fight the previous night.

  MacLeod chuckled softly again at their sparring. "Now then, Major Jaffray, you mentioned that the Chancellor has sent me a gift."

  "Yes, sir. A new Huron Warrior. A BattleMech right off of the assembly line."

  "Splendid! What do you say we take her out for a trial run?"

  "Yes, sir. She's prepped and ready at the spaceport. Unfortunately I have no 'Mech myself." Loren's disappointment was genuine. Since the first day he'd piloted a BattleMech, his pleasure in it had never paled. For him it was a way to relax, despite the fact t
hat some of his most dangerous and deadly moments had taken place in the cockpit of a BattleMech. Piloting a 'Mech gave him a feeling of oneness with himself that he not only missed, but craved.

  "Not a problem. I usually pilot a Gallowglas. You take her while I check out exactly what a Huron Warrior can do."

  Loren nodded. He'd operated a Gallowglas once before. Similar to a Griffin in its humanoid appearance, it was equally good at mauling an opposing 'Mech.

  "I'll arrange for you to use the Southern Training Range, sir," Mulvaney said.

  "Excellent. Why don't you join us?"

  Mulvaney shook her head. "If you'll excuse me, there are a few other matters I need to take care of this morning." Her cold gaze told Loren that she still had not forgiven him for her defeat at The Pub.

  "Too bad," Loren added. "If you're half as good in a cockpit as you are in a brawl I'm sure you'd prove a true challenge."

  Mulvaney squinted slightly. "Major Jaffray, I assure you that I am much better at piloting a BattleMech than I am at fisticuffs. Pray that you are never on the receiving end of that set of skills, sir." With that she turned on her heel and started down an intersecting passage, while MacLeod and Loren continued on toward the massive 'Mech bays at the far end of The Fort.

  * * *

  An hour later MacLeod and Loren had walked their massive war machines out to the staging area of the Highlanders' Southern Training Range. Around them the rolling hills were carpeted with deep, lush grass that rippled in the breeze, and in the distance were the famous moors of Tara.

  BattleMechs were the pinnacle of military technology and had been so for the past six hundred years. Standing upwards of ten meters tall Loren's Gallowglas could top sixty-five kph at a full run and even had the ability of limited flight, with a jump capacity of ninety meters. MacLeod's new Huron Warrior could, at a full run, move at more than eighty kph.