Highlander Gambit

by Blaine Lee Pardoe

  "All right, people, stop and find some shade," he replied. Such a task was not difficult in the forest. If anything, it would have been hard to find a place where the bright yellow Northwind sun could get through. Loren gently backed his Gallowglas up against a massive oak and throttled back the 'Mech's reactor so that it produced only a trickle of power. Then he unbuckled his seat harness and pulled a thermal concealment tarp from a small compartment at the back of the cockpit.

  Opening the cockpit hatch, Loren stepped out onto the shoulder of the Gallowglas. With a heavy toss he unfolded the heavy tarp over the cockpit and front chest of the BattleMech. Nearby he saw Lieutenant Frutchey performing the same ritual on his Warhammer, throwing additional smaller tarps over the crossed PPC arms of the weapons to further cloak their emissions.

  The tarps were designed to suppress the heat and magnetic signatures of a 'Mech from a wide-area scan. Woven into them was filament that also helped shield the 'Mech's fusion reactor from magnetic sweeps. Such tarps had been common for centuries and were useful against aerospace forces running broad sweeping scans. Loren was counting on the tarps, combined with the heavy forest cover, to keep even a Davion satellite in orbit from getting a position fix on them.

  Loren descended the ladder down the 'Mech's side and walked over to meet up with Frutchey, Carey, and Fuller and their 'Mechs in an area of thick grass. All three looked tired and worn. The little sleep they got was usually taken in the periods between the flyovers, and most of their movement and reconnoitering was accomplished during the night and early morning hours. Fuller's eyes were shadowed with dark circles, and Loren felt his own puffy from lack of sleep. Four days of sprinting across the rugged Northwind outback terrain was beginning to take a toll on them all.

  The roar of the aerospace fighters overhead was reassuring, even though none of them could see any sign of the craft through the overgrowth. Loren checked his personal chronograph and shook his head. "There's one thing that a large military always fraks up. That is acting too consistently. Those Davion fighters are running their scanning patterns right out of a Federated Commonwealth regulations and procedures manual. Sloppy work for such a crack unit."

  Jake Fuller took a long gulp of water from his canteen. "If I'm ever in command of a regiment I'm going to remember all this. Vary the flight times and patterns to keep the enemy off guard."

  "You, in charge of a regiment? Talk about illusions of grandeur," Frutchey said, craning his neck in an effort to relieve the muscles there. His fresh new Lieutenant's bars showed up as black stripes in the dim shade.

  "You should talk. At least the ink is dry on my commission, green-horn," Fuller retorted. "I've at least been in some real battles before this one."

  "What was the latest communication dump from the regiment?" Loren asked Laurie Carey, deciding he'd heard enough parrying. Seated on a fallen log, Carey was methodically rubbing her right knee, stopping only long enough to hand Loren a printout of the daily transmission. Judging by the scar, she'd been injured badly before and the prolonged recon was making the old pain surface.

  "Nasty scar you've got there," Loren said knowingly.

  Carey looked up and nodded. "I got it during the so-called Second Skye Rebellion when we went in to help the Gray Death Legion clean up on Glengarry. Tough fight, too. It was a freak shot really, a nasty laser blast that fractured my cockpit glass and defragged on the broken shards. Burned my knee to the bone and then some." The two other Highlander officers winced slightly at her story, but not Loren. Instead he pulled off the harness straps of his cooling vest and pointed to the triangular pattern of hole-like scars on his right chest.

  Carey grinned. "Where'd you get yours?"

  "I can't tell you the name of the planet," Loren said. "Part of the fun of being a Death Commando—the location's a state secret. Hell, according to the Confederation the mission never happened in the first place. I was in a Trebuchet sprinting all-out when a full flight of LRMs slammed into my cockpit from out of nowhere. Three of the missiles blew the cockpit glass all over my lap. Shredded my cooling vest, but I guess I was lucky. The last warhead entered the cockpit but didn't blow. Instead its fuel cell fractured against the wall and I caught three pieces of shrapnel in the chest. Those little buggers were hot! My lung collapsed, but I was able to hang in the flight for another two minutes, long enough to send my would-be assassin to her grave."

  "Damned lucky, if you ask me," Frutchey said in disbelief.

  "Luck had nothing to do with it," Loren returned. "It wasn't my time to die, so I didn't."

  "Your time to die?" Carey echoed.

  "Ever since I was a kid I've believed I was put here for a purpose. Maybe that's why I've never given a thought to death in all my missions. That's changed since coming to Northwind. I don't know why."

  Laurie Carey smiled knowingly. "It's because you feel part of the family—the Highlanders—and you're fighting for that. We're family and the Colonel has brought you in. In the past you've fought for nation and ruler. Now you fight for yourself. That's why it feels different."

  Her words struck Loren deeply. Was she right? As a Death Commando he'd been a member of an elite unit. His missions were ones of the highest honor, protecting the interests of the Capellan Confederation. I was part of the defense of House Liao, first and foremost. A part. But here it's different. Was it true that he now felt more kinship with the Northwind Highlanders than the Great House he'd served for his entire life? All those words my grandfather spoke, they prepared me for this moment. He couldn't have known that I'd end up here, but somehow it happened. Karma ... or fate? No. I'm a Death Commando, first and foremost. I wouldn't be here if not for the Chancellor.

  Loren felt that for the first time in his life he belonged to something rather than just being part of a great whole. The feeling was deep and stirring, almost overwhelming. To regain his composure, he began to read the printout Carey had handed him. The only anchor that kept his mind focused was his mission. He must neutralize the Northwind Highlanders. If Carey, Fuller, and Frutchey believed that he was one of them, so much the better.

  Catching Loren's cue, Carey smiled but dropped the subject entirely. "Apparently the assault on The Castle is going well but slowly. According to the transmission, they've been able to take part of the interior, but some explosives work by the Davions have left them literally digging their way through. Those flights we see overhead everyday are making bombing runs on our troops in the river valley, but MacLeod has mounted a strong anti-air defense. According to this communication, the Colonel expects to complete capture of the bunker sometime this afternoon. The Gurkhas are fighting their way in against the infantry." Reading the details of the report, Loren noticed that casualties had been minimal in the assault, but that precious time was being lost.

  Jake Fuller took out a small kerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm beginning to think we were the lucky ones, drawing this mission over that one. The Castle is a tough nut to crack."

  Loren was quick to cut in. "Don't delude yourself, Jake. This mission is no Marik tea party either. How's the communications signal with the regiment, Laurie?"

  Carey held out her hand and waved it back and forth. "Shaky at best. The lance MacLeod sent after us is catching up, but the signal is hard to get locked. They're getting out data feeds though, and our pathfinding is going to eliminate a lot of hours from their trek once they start the link up."

  "That's good news anyway. Now then, tonight we're going to move in a tight delta formation with Carey at point and me on the right flank. Just two more days of this hellish running and we'll be just outside Tara. I want everybody to be crisp and sharp. We can't be sure where the Third Royals are and I sure don't want to stumble into them blind."

  "What are your plans once we reach the outskirts of the city, Major?" Fuller asked.

  "We'll hide our 'Mechs in the marshland and make our way in on foot."

  "Sir?" Frutchey asked in dismay.

  "You have a problem wi
th that, Lieutenant?"

  "Well, sir, on foot we don't have much in the way of offensive gear. If we run into trouble, we're going to be pretty unprepared to deal with it."

  "Frutchey, we're not here to run into trouble. We're here to gather information. I know that we're a lot safer in 'Mechs, but I have a suspicion the Third Royals are not about to let us tour The Fort in our BattleMechs. Sneaking into a city in a 'Mech is quite a stretch, even for me. A good MechWarrior always sizes up the limitations of himself and his foe. The 'Mechs remain behind.

  "We'll enter the city on foot, shoot some film, get an idea of where they've positioned their 'Mechs and tanks and HQ. Then we leave. No firelights and no heroics. There'll be plenty of time for that when the Colonel and the rest of the regiment arrive. Without our information the regiment will be moving blind."

  "We all go into the city, then?" Fuller asked.

  "No. One of us will stay back with the 'Mechs. That person is our equivalent of a dead-man's switch. If we get captured he or she will escape with all the information we've gathered up to that point."

  "Will it come to that, Major?" Frutchey asked.

  Captain Carey answered for Loren. "It might, so we'd better be prepared for it. If the Royals are in Tara they're going to consider us hostile. No neutrality, no rules. The plain truth is that we might be captured or killed. If captured, chances are pretty good they won't handle us with kid gloves. They're likely to label us as terrorists just like they did with Major Jaffray. There's no telling what they might do, especially with a war on."

  The two younger officers were listening with perfect attention. Carey had definitely made her point.

  "All right, then, on that happy note everybody get some sleep," Loren said, breaking the tension. "We lay low until those flyboys return to their base. Once they're back home we move all night. Check your water collection units too. The last thing we want is to run out of provisions in the middle of the mission."

  * * *

  "You've barely touched your food, Major," Catelli said, pointing at Mulvaney's plate from across the table. Though Marshal Bradford's regimental cook had managed to scrape together a fairly good meal from the rations stored in the training camp as well as from supplies brought with the Third Royals, Mulvaney's mind wasn't on the meal, but on the coming battle. The few bites she did take had little taste for her.

  "I guess I'm just not hungry," she said, tossing her napkin onto the plate.

  Marshal Bradford studied her face carefully as he chewed his fish. "What's the latest field report on MacLeod's forces, Colonel Mulvaney?" he asked, fully knowing the status from his own reading earlier in the evening.

  "From what we're able to determine from our daily flights, virtually all of MacLeod's Regiment is tied down at The Castle. We're unable to raise our task force inside, but thus far nothing indicates that they've been routed."

  Catelli chuckled slightly as he took a deep drink of his wine. "And while the good Colonel MacLeod spends his days and nights trying to open an almost empty fortress, we've started repairs on our battle damage using the Highlanders' own supplies." His tone was so arrogant and cocky that Mulvaney quickly looked away for fear of what she might say or do.

  "Indeed," Bradford said, raising his own wine glass in mock salutation. "My last communiqué with Colonel Morrow said that the Highlander families have begun some organized resistance. Minor incidents so far. Of course they deny any knowledge in the death of Consul Burns. Morrow has his troops positioned to keep peace in the city, though, and order is being maintained."

  "Any word on Cat Stirling's regiment?" Mulvaney asked.

  "Still inbound. They sent a landing confirmation signal to The Fort, and our NAIS forces holding the facility responded with the proper code. Chances are Colonel Stirling is waiting for some word from MacLeod, but when that doesn't come she'll land. When we took The Fort we got hold of the Highlanders' authorization codes and signals, though our NAIS troops paid a heavy price for it. Don't fret, Colonel Mulvaney, I assure you that the Third Royals are more than capable of handling the Fusiliers if they opt to slug it out.

  "Our surveillance of the other Northwind Highlander regiments shows they've all abandoned their garrison postings and are apparently also on the way here. It will be a month before any of them pose any sort of a threat to our operation, and by then we'll have MacLeod under control."

  "You seem so low lately, Colonel," Catelli said. "Most people participating in such a chapter in history would feel the invigoration of it You seem almost disinterested."

  "History, Colonel?"

  "Of course it's history," Bradford put in. "War is erupting in the Inner Sphere. Great armies are on the march. And we're here—a part of the great unification of the Northwind Highlanders with the Federated Commonwealth. I'm shocked that you don't see the significance of this affair, Colonel. Your actions and our own will shape the face of this planet and the future of your people for centuries to come. This is an exciting time for all of us!"

  Mulvaney shook her head slightly, the only defiant act she could muster. "No, sir, this is a matter of honor for the Northwind Highlanders. You are witnesses to it, but it's a matter that Colonel MacLeod and I have to settle. It's the only way for our people to survive as a whole. This fighting will purge one side or the other. Otherwise, the Highlanders would fall apart. This is not about our assimilation into the Federated Commonwealth. This is about us surviving as a people."

  Bradford's voice had the slur of semi-intoxication. "You speak about this as if we were mere spectators. The political implications of what this Capellan Jaffray has proposed and what MacLeod is doing are staggering. The Federated Commonwealth cannot simply stand by while worlds demand independence. That would rock the very foundations of our government. Remember, no matter what anyone thinks, you are part of a greater whole, a mighty star empire that one day will become the core of a new Star League!"

  He took up the decanter and poured himself another glass. "MacLeod and this Jaffray have forgotten the rules of law. But you must never forget who your liege lord is, Colonel Mulvaney. I would hate to think that your loyalty is in question as well." The threat was far from veiled and Mulvaney felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  Bradford stopped his barrage at the sight of the expression on her face. 'Then again, I am a military man like yourself. Too often we're so busy executing the orders of state that we don't appreciate where we are and what we are doing. Like all good soldiers, you and I, Colonel, we follow orders."

  When I was MacLeod's executive officer, I knew my place, Mulvaney thought. Now I'm just a player in a great drama. They see this struggle for what it means to their little games of politics. I hate being just a player in a game. Before I was much more, I was part of a family. God, how I long for that feeling again. She rose silently from the table and gave the Marshal a nod as she left. Catelli watched her walk from the tent, careful to wait until she was gone before speaking.

  "She may prove to be a problem for us in the later phases of this operation."

  Marshal Bradford swirled his wine in the glass slowly and methodically. "She will not be a threat for long. With Colonel Morrow holding their precious Fort and their communications code books in our hands, her usefulness is beginning to wane. We have enough information to lure Colonel Stirling and her regiment right where we want them. Straight down into the middle of Kohler Spaceport."

  "And then?"

  The Davion Marshal took a deep gulp of his drink, consuming the remaining wine in one shot. "Then there will be no more Stirling's Fusiliers. Gone! In an instant! Their loss, and the eventual crushing of MacLeod's Regiment will shatter the Highlanders. If Mulvaney is stupid enough to resist ..." He tossed the empty wine glass into the side of a transportation case, shattering it into tiny crystal fragments. Bradford never finished his sentence. He didn't have to.

  30

  Peace Park Tara, Northwind

  Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth

  11 October 3
057

  Tara had a dark, almost forbidding appearance as Loren Jaffray led his team along the side of a small building at the end of the street. Looking about he remembered how different the city had seemed to him before, fresh and untainted. Gone was the Tara of his grandfather's stories and whose sights had intrigued him only a few short weeks ago. What was left was a tomb, silent and morose, with danger and death waiting around any corner.

  The clouds rolled past the slice of moon in the sky, occasionally dampening what light did reach the city. Lieutenant Frutchey had remained behind with the lance's 'Mechs in the swamplands just south of town while the three of them had slowly made their way through Tara's outskirts. Frutchey had protested vigorously, but Loren finally succeeded in impressing him with the importance of his part of the mission. Every few minutes Captain Carey typed in a message relaying the information they discovered and compressed it for a short microwave transmission. Such a short-burst transmission would be virtually impossible to trace and difficult even to detect. If the mission failed to report in, Lieutenant Frutchey was to escape with the information they'd gathered up to that point.

  "Awfully quiet," Jake Fuller whispered, pulling the dark knit cap over his blonde hair. "It's still not that late. There should be traffic on the streets, people enjoying the air. Where is everyone?"

  "Holed up or gone altogether," Laurie Carey replied. "We've seen lights going on and off in the buildings. They must be running under a curfew. And a curfew requires enforcement, which must mean the Third Royals are already here."

  Loren nodded agreement. There were other signs that his trained eyes had caught to substantiate Captain Carey's thought. One of the wider streets they'd passed a few blocks back had been barricaded and equipped with electronic sensors to detect any disturbances. If Loren hadn't been using surveillance binoculars he and the others might have set off the alarm. He'd also noted an empty Rotunda armored car positioned nearby to create the illusion of police troops in the area. Loren scanned the street with his electronic binoculars and made sure the path was clear before leading the team across the street toward Peace Park. Loren quickly tucked and rolled under a dense bush, followed by the rest of his team.