No sooner had they caught their breaths when a deep quaking sound filled the air. Looking down the boulevard Loren saw a light Battle Hawk 'Mech making its way down the street, possibly scanning Peace Park or the surrounding buildings. The 'Mech was impressive, the golden coiled rattlesnake emblem of the Third Royals Regimental Combat Team gleaming under the lights of the street lamps. Loren took out his small laser camera and captured the image of the 'Mech as it passed. At least we know where one of their 'Mechs is. It's wandering down the street only a few meters away from us. The Battle Hawk's pace increased slightly as it passed them, moving into the darkness of the park. Fuller let out a long sigh of relief as the 'Mech disappeared from sight.
"Carey, transmit to Frutchey that we've finally found confirmation of the Third Royals' presence here. Stress that it's 'Mech forces. Let him know where we are," Loren whispered.
"Let's go to The Fort, Loren," Fuller said in a low tone. "If they've set up camp anywhere it will be there."
"Too risky, Jake. We'll approach, but the only way for us to know what they've got inside is to go over the wall. No dice." Loren checked his chronometer and the small map he carried, holding it up to catch the light. He's like the others. They're taking this personally. This is their home and I have to remember that. They see occupation by an outside force as a desecration of everything sacred to them. Maybe that's one of the reasons Colonel MacLeod gave me leadership of this recon. He figured I'd be objective, not influenced by sentiment. Loren would not fail MacLeod, especially since a successful recon would help lead to the fulfillment of his own mission for the Chancellor. Leading the Highlanders into even a marginal engagement with the Royals would weaken them enough that the Death Commandos somewhere over Northwind could easily mop up the survivors.
"We'll cut across the park and make our way to the spaceport. Time is short," he said, elbowing his way under the brush to the other side. Carey and Fuller followed slowly and cautiously.
Being in Peace Park brought back sharp memories of the attack on him and MacLeod. His wound had also begun to ache slightly, as if it had a memory of its own. Jaffray ignored the pain as they moved over the small hills and knolls of the tree-filled park. I could have died here. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the treeline again. I won't let it happen that way again. Next time I'll assume my foes are more devious than I am.
They stopped to get their bearings near a cluster of small trees when the sound of someone running made Loren and the others freeze in place. The footfalls were fast but sounded odd, almost uneven as they smashed against the dried leaves and crashed through the underbrush. The running feet were heading almost directly toward them, the runner making no effort to conceal either his location or direction. Loren reached for his needier pistol and pulled it out. Whoever it is seems intent on running right into us ... but I'm not going to go down without a fight. Blast! Everything was going so well.
The figure burst into the open across from the trees as Loren and his two team members leveled their weapons. Carey's pulse laser carbine was the most menacing of their team's firearms. Fuller carried an old battered and beaten laser pistol that he claimed had been in his family for over four centuries. From its age and condition Loren might almost have believed that fable. The figure staggered two steps, then fell face forward into the open.
Suddenly four other armed figures appeared behind the running man. They strode boldly into the open and stood over him as he attempted to roll over and get his breath. As he tried to rise one of the men swung the butt of his rifle, hitting him squarely. It was a blow to subdue, the force of it drawing a loud moan of pain from the man on the ground.
Davions! Their uniforms are Davion. I'd know those epaulettes and boots anywhere. Loren motioned for his compatriots to hold their fire as they watched. Their mission was to gather information. Opening up would expose their presence and deprive them of the chance to find out what was going on.
"Hey Danny, it looks like we caught up with your prisoner," the tallest of the figures said. As the speaker turned, Loren saw that he was waving a menacing needier rifle over the fallen form.
The smallest of them stepped up and gave the man on the ground a booted kick. "That we did, Mister Yoark. Hold it right there, old man." Using his foot he prodded the figure to roll over.
In the dim light of the quarter moon Loren saw the face of Sergeant Major Pluncket, master of the Highlanders' Pub. Wheezing in pain and exhaustion, he gazed up at his Davion tormentors with an expression of fury and contempt. Loren felt the pit of his stomach tighten as he watched the scene unfold. They're going to kill him if he resists at all. He'll die if we do nothing. The short Davion trooper leaned over him. "You wounded one of our officers pretty good with that carving knife. We can't let you run around doing that sort of thing. You're coming with us."
"What, for more of your fun and games?" Pluncket said.
"This is our world, not yours. You invaded Northwind, and it's our duty to defend it. I'm not afraid to die protecting my home. But I'll be damned if I'm going back with you to spend the rest of my days in my regiment's own jail." One of the men pressed the muzzle of his needier rifle against Pluncket's forehead.
"We don't want any trouble, old man. Drop the weapon immediately."
Loren mentally struggled against the urge to pull his trigger. Damn. I was right. That stubborn old man is a goner if we don't act. Is saving him worth the mission? Is the life of one man worth that of the entire regiment? Not just a regiment, there were also his own Death Commando forces. Endangering the Highlanders might very well endanger his own mission.
"Mister Yoark, this man has some sort of a weapon and will not disarm," the middle figure said, lifting his rifle into a semi-firing stance. "Inform the gentleman that if he does not produce and hand over the weapon immediately we will be forced to take aggressive action."
If he does have a weapon he's a dead man here and now. No trial, no justice. He doesn't deserve to die like this. No one does except maybe Catelli. Deciding on whether to save the life of one man over saving those of many should be an easy decision. But this isn't. Letting him die wouldn't be the Highlander thing to do. Loren looked over at Carey and Fuller. Even with the black night paint on their faces, he was able to make out their expressions. Their worst fear was that Loren would order them to hold their fire, to stand and watch while one of their kind was executed.
I should let him die. He's only one man. Loren saw the logic of the situation. Hadn't he heard his own grandfather drill into him the value of thinking logically when everyone else was reacting emotionally? But now he was watching a defenseless man die and couldn't just sit back and let it happen. And wherever his grandfather was, Loren couldn't help thinking he'd never rest easy knowing that Loren had permitted one of their kindred to die such a pitiable death. It's not how I'd want to go. Loren locked eyes first with Jake and then with Laurie, nodding to them slowly. Carefully and silently he disengaged the safety on his weapon. His comrades each took careful aim with their weapons, pointing into the darkness at their own targeted Davion. Wait for my signal...
"You will no' take me back to that jail house. I will not surrender without a fight either." Pluncket groaned between breaths.
"I say again, disarm or we will use force." A weapons muzzle began to take aim at Pluncket. The man seemed nervous.
Hold your fire until I give the word ...
Pluncket smiled and wearily rose to a sitting position, not seeing the recon team taking aim at the figures facing him. "Ye Davion dogs are a cowardly lot. How many of ye does it take to bring in a defenseless old warhorse such as me-self?" He seemed to be holding his prosthetic leg with both hands, rubbing it as if it were sore.
The taller trooper, the officer referred to as Yoark, sneered. "I don't want to kill you, but we're not policemen. I'm not about to order my men to search you for a weapon. You wounded an officer. Disarm in three seconds or I will fire." He once again began to lift the muzzle of the needier rifle toward t
he Sergeant Major still sitting on the ground.
Loren was bringing up his own weapon. Take aim carefully. We have to do this in one shot or this entire mission is lost, if it isn't already.
Pluncket moved like a jaguar. From the ankle of his artificial leg he pulled a vibroblade and slashed out with it against the tall Davion officer. The microfiliment blade hummed at ultrasonic speeds and was enough to disrupt and cut even hard metal. The trooper's thigh offered no resistance as the blade gouged through the flesh. Yoark's needier rifle fired wide, missing its mark and sending a burst of plastic needles into the soft loam. The tall Davion trooper squealed in pain as the other two troopers stood dumbfounded, shocked by Pluncket's sudden and deadly attack.
The old Highlander took advantage of their shock. He rolled over and held the powered weapon in front of him, ready to throw or stab. The other two troopers began to raise their weapons, ready to finish off the downed man.
"Now," Loren said grimly as he fired his pistol at the wounded officer. The nearly silent blast of razor-sharp needles slammed into the chest of the man called Yoark, sending him flying back into the darkness before he could raise his weapon in response to Pluncket's attack. Carey opened up with her laser carbine and the night lit up with a rapid series of laser pulses hitting the middle figure. The man crumpled to the ground. Fuller's laser beam hit the Davion trooper squarely in the face. The man uttered a brief cry as he died, letting go a light wail like a crying child. None of them stood a chance of surviving the attack.
Jaffray leaped across the distance to Pluncket. The older Highlander waved the vibroblade at his newfound allies, unsure of what had just happened around him. "Identify yerselves," he commanded under the light hum of the blade's action.
"Major Loren Jaffray," Loren said, reaching out his hand and smiling. "There's not a lot of time, Mister Pluncket." Nearby he heard the gurgling sounds of one of the men, probably Yoark, dying in the dark.
The Sergeant Major saw Loren's face and smiled broadly. "What in the bloody hell took you so long?" he demanded.
Loren lifted him to a standing position while Jake and Laurie made sure there were no other soldiers nearby. "You knew we were there?"
"No, laddie. I just knew that I was not to die this way. But we canna stay here long. Their HQ is only a short distance away." Loren motioned for his two compatriots to pull back. They all formed a silent wedge around Pluncket and started out of Peace Park.
"One thing is fer sure, I knew ye were a Highlander at heart, Mister Jaffray," Pluncket said, giving Loren a knowing nod.
31
Tara, Northwind
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
11 October 3057
The open basement was like a safe port on stormy seas to the team. Half-lifting the older man, Carey and Fuller helped the Sergeant Major down the stairs while Loren closed the door behind them. From this vantage point they had a clear view of the street and the park. Loren's heart was racing as he surveyed the street from one end to the other. We were lucky. By all rights we should have ended up dead.
"Are you hurt?" Fuller asked the older trooper in a low tone.
"No, not now. I think those lads will no' be in the mood to dance for some time. Nice piece of work, sirs, for a bunch of officers." Somehow he managed to maintain his crass sense of humor despite the near brush with death. "You must be part of the rescue force sent to get us out of here."
Loren knelt next to him. "I'm afraid not. Mister Pluncket. We lost our regimental communications weeks ago. But what do you mean 'rescue'? What's going on here?"
"You don't know, do ye?" he asked, seeing Fuller and Carey both shake their heads. "That blowhard of a Planetary Consul Drake Burns was assassinated and the bloody Davions are blaming us fer it. That puppet Lepeta claims he has evidence of Highlander involvement, but we ignored him. We thought it was nothing more than a trick to get the locals up in arms agin' us.
"Then those bloody rattlesnakes landed. They broke our neutrality. Dropped power armor troops right inside The Fort. Oh laddies, there wasn't a chance fer a fair fight. We dinna have any way of protecting ourselves. They secured The Fort and the spaceport in a matter of hours. Highlander officers and NCOs were placed under house arrest and the rest of the city is under strict curfew."
"Our families?" Captain Carey said in shock.
"Aye, lassie. I guess they used our files from The Fort to round 'em up. Placed them under house arrest too. Some of our lads protested, but what could they do against an entire RCT? We heard rumors that some were killed, but I think most are in jail."
"What did happen to the Consul?" Loren asked.
"Accordin' to Lepeta and the embassy staff, some of our people sneaked in and killed the bloody fool. By the news accounts he was shot with a Highlander laser pistol and there's some trumped-up evidence that Highlanders were involved."
Loren drew himself up as he spoke. "And were they?"
Fury spread over the robust face of the Sergeant Major. "No, sir! I'm as close to the grapevine as anyone, and none of our people knows anything about it. We sent a party to meet with Lepeta to discuss the matter, but they were arrested on the embassy grounds. The truth didn't matter at all to those blasted hounds. They've painted us as killers and will make their story stick even if they have to kill us all to prove it!"
"Damn it!" Fuller spat. "Our people are being held hostage for crimes we didn't commit. There'll be hell to pay when the rest of the regiment hears about it."
Loren nodded. "You're probably right. Taking Highlander families hostage did nothing to help the Davions here. It will only solidify resistance against them. By the time the Fusiliers land it will be an outright massacre. I've never met Cat Stirling, but I'm willing to be she won't stand by and let this pass without a fight."
The Sergeant Major rubbed his good leg and shook his head. "Gods, man, you dinna know it all yet, do ye? Everyone knows the Fusiliers are a-landing in a week or so, laddie, but those snakes took the spaceport and are planning a surprise fer Stirling. They let me be, writing me off as an old cripple, making me tend bar fer them. But I learned what was happening."
"What are their plans, Mister Pluncket?" Loren pressed.
"For the past five days they've been unloading petaglycernie by the ton from their cargo haulers, packing the warehouses around the spaceport to the brim. I heard one of them say they've got another two ships' worth to unload and are having the stuff brought in from factories they captured in the city."
"What are they going to do with that much explosive? DropShip holds' worth of the stuff sounds like enough to take out the entire city, especially if they've got it in concentrated form. What have they got up their sleeve?"
Loren stared at Pluncket as the realization came over him. His face felt flushed under the greasepaint and his mouth opened slightly. The older man nodded, seeing the comprehension coming into his eyes. "You understand, don't ye, laddie ..."
"I don't," Jake said, looking from Loren to Pluncket and back.
"Those warehouses are positioned all around the spaceport. They've stuffed them with massive amounts of explosives. All they have to do is lure Stirling's Fusiliers onto the spaceport and set off the explosives. The blast will be so big it will take out their DropShips, 'Mechs, and troops all in one swoop. Bang, in one shot no more Fusiliers."
"Sweet heaven," Captain Carey said.
"You can't be serious," Jake said in disbelief. "A blast that size would wipe out a huge piece of the city too."
Loren suddenly remembered one of his grandfather's sayings: "When politicians and military men meet, chaos and death reign." How right he was, Loren thought. "You're not thinking big enough, Jake. So what if they knock out a quarter of the city in the blast? It's a small price to pay to gain control of an entire planet. They wipe out Stirling's Fusiliers all at once and keep their own forces intact to mop up what's left of MacLeod's Regiment. Short and sweet. And all witnesses to the crime are blown to dust in the explosion.
> Catelli and his cronies rewrite the truth to fit their own purposes and the Highlanders are crushed forever."
Loren understood the plan all too well. In some respects he admired it as one worthy of a Death Commando. What bothered him was the impact of his own mission. Wiping out Stirling's Fusiliers in a single swoop would leave the Davions with control of Northwind by the time his Death Commandos arrived. He couldn't let that happen.
Understanding finally dawned on Fuller's face. "Major Jaffray, what you're talking about is a holocaust. Thousands will be killed in such a trap."
Images of a rising mushroom cloud and fireball filling the Northwind night gave Loren a chill. Everything his grandfather had held dear in life wiped out in a heartbeat. I've got to keep it from happening. Neutralizing the Highlanders is my mission, not mass destruction. Then his mind focused. He remembered the words that Sun-Tzu had spoken about sacrificing even his personal honor. He would do what he could to prevent the loss of innocent lives, but if necessary, he would let them die. It was not an easy decision, and not one he could easily put from his mind.
"Sweet Northwind, it could work," Carey said, still stunned by the implications of what Loren had said. 'They'd have to find a way to get the Fusiliers to drop onto the spaceport, though, and that won't be too easy. Cat Stirling is pretty cautious."
Loren frowned. "They took The Fort first thing. Your transmission codes are stored there and probably already in their hands and decoded. Unless they're total fools they'll signal Colonel Stirling that all is well and she'll land right in the middle of their trap. And with the regimental communications gear wiped out we can't warn her off." Loren knew that it was all speculation, but he was sure he was close to the mark. All the evidence fit the crime.
Highlander Gambit Page 27
