Damn fools! I told my men to make sure that no one approaching our position be allowed through to the Highlanders. That blasted sentry who let this happen is going to end up as point in our attack, that I guarantee. If Mulvaney's learned what the Royals are doing in Tara the entire operation could be at risk. She would strike out instantly and cripple my force. Not to mention what she and her Highlanders might do to me. This can't happen. Too much is at stake.
He strode up alongside Mulvaney, half-expecting to see that her visitor was Loren Jaffray. Instead he was relieved to see a stranger in front of him.
"Colonel Mulvaney," Catelli said as he eyed the man from top to bottom. This is not a MechWarrior, that much I'm sure of. The Sergeant Major was portly and the field infantry fatigues he was wearing were drenched with sweat from his journey. From the bags and dark circles under his eyes, it was obvious he'd been driving the Rotunda for some time, if not days. "Who do we have here?"
"Colonel Catelli, this is Sergeant Major Pluncket," Mulvaney said evenly. "He approached us on the highway signaling surrender."
"Indeed. What brings you to us, Sergeant Major?"
The old man threw Mulvaney a glance before answering. "Sir, I was with Colonel MacLeod's Regiment but decided that my loyalties were best served with the likes of you and yer Davion troops, sir. I'd learned you were headed for the training camp and thought this would be a good time to join up with ye. I was a little surprised to come across ye so soon, only two days' march from the camp."
"This isn't your vehicle, is it?" Catelli was suspicious. Something just wasn't right about the story this old codger was spouting.
"No, sir," Pluncket returned proudly. "I'm an infantryman like my father and grandfather before him."
"I've known the Sergeant Major for years," Mulvaney chimed in. "I can vouch for his integrity."
Catelli ignored her comment and concentrated on Pluncket. "You arrived driving a Highlander armored car. That is fairly odd for someone of your background and training."
"Stolen, sir. A good infantryman knows how to use an advantage whenever he can. I am a very good infantryman, sir."
"I see," Catelli said smoothly. "Well, I'm glad to have you, Sergeant Major. Allies are always appreciated, but enough of this chatting. We're on a bit of a schedule."
Again the man shot Mulvaney a glance. "Looks to me like yer headin' for Tara."
Catelli nodded. "We're going to assist in the garrison duties there. Have you been to Tara recently, Mister Pluncket?"
"No, sir. I came through the woods on the southern bypass to get here. Tara is neutral, is it not?"
"Was neutral. Things have changed. Indeed we're operating under tight security restrictions. As such you'll have to report to one of my Consul Guard units for posting and debriefing. Meanwhile, Colonel Mulvaney, if you would take the lead we can get a few dozen more kilometers behind us tonight." Simple. Divide and conquer. Keep them apart. My men will interrogate this Sergeant Major while I keep my little Highlander busy.
"With all due respect, Colonel," Mulvaney said, "I'd like Mister Pluncket posted to my command company. As I said before, I've known him for some time."
Jeopardize my dreams on a whim and a promise? Never! "Now, now, Colonel. This is a military operation, not a social event. There will be plenty of time for you two to get reacquainted once we reach Tara. In the meantime, our standing security orders remain in place. After all, if our newest volunteer has recently been with Colonel MacLeod's forces, I want to make sure we get as much information out of him as quickly as possible."
I've caught this one in time, Catelli told himself. If Mulvaney knew about the Third Royals trap she'd have my blood by now. And if this Pluncket knows something he'll never get a chance to pass it on to her. She's still in the dark about what's going to happen when we reach the city, but by then it will be too late. Soon, Northwind and its precious Highlanders will be mine to do with as I wish.
34
South of Tara Northwind
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
18 October 3057
Loren volunteered for the first evening watch, though his motives had little to do with protecting the regiment's security. As he moved through the swamps he thought back to his meeting with MacLeod the day before. The memory of their conversation tugged at his emotions, twisting his thoughts as he traveled to the carefully calculated coordinates he'd been working on for the past week. But no matter how he tried to clear his mind, he couldn't shake the memory.
MacLeod had become his grandfather in his eyes. He was every childhood memory and dream of the Northwind Highlanders. And somehow his memories of his grandsire seemed to be overlaid with images of MacLeod. But it wasn't only that on his mind. Having seen the Highlanders at both their best and their worst, he considered them to be remarkable warriors. They were not merely mercenaries. Even the Death Commandos would find them a stern and deadly challenge. Hadn't he nearly been bested at the Castle? It had only been his own Death Commando training that kept him from being killed in the ambush. Loren felt he'd been fortunate to survive.
And even when fighting each other, the Highlanders still managed to maintain their honor. Thinking about his conversation with MacLeod about the moral high ground, Loren wondered if the Highlander CO suspected him of duplicity. Loren would do his duty, yet couldn't help feeling a kinship not just with the Colonel but with the Highlanders as a whole. They were family—something that had been missing in his life since the death of his grandfather.
That was what made his next actions so difficult.
Loren checked his secondary monitor and saw that he'd reached the proper coordinates. Somewhere out there two battalions of Death Commandos were waiting at a pirate jump point in close proximity to Northwind. He knew the coordinates, having committed them to memory during his trip to Northwind weeks before. Coordinating their position and his own, as well as the spin of the planet relative to the jump point had been challenging but it was something he'd done before. Without large-scale communications, contacting a JumpShip from a BattleMech was almost impossible. But Loren's training in covert operations gave him more than a few tricks up his sleeve. To solve the problem he would resort to a technique used centuries earlier.
He checked the area to make sure he wasn't being scanned or viewed. Once confident of his security he loaded a special communications program into his battle computer. It had taken him days to write the code, but he was sure it would work. Tied into the DI computer's chronometer, the program started its countdown. Loren watched as the program slowly ticked away the seconds.
At the thirty-second mark the left arm of the Gallowglas began to rise, almost straight up. The twin Magna Quasar pulse lasers charged another five seconds later. Somewhere out there my comrades wait. The medium pulse lasers were fully powered four seconds later and the 'Mech's gyro stepped up its humming as it further stabilized the Gallowglas.
Loren knew there was only a ten-second window of operation. As the chronometer ran down Loren watched in satisfaction as the pulse lasers fired intermittently. The bursts of crimson light streaked upward into the mid-evening sky, off into the darkness of night. They did not fire full bursts but instead let go with a series of timed and calculated pulses, all in accordance with his program. The left arm of the Gallowglas rose slightly with each burst, tracking an unseen point in the Northwind night. Somewhere, out in the vastness of the stars, his unit waited.
Loren watched with dark satisfaction as the program came to an end. The pulse lasers powered down and Jaffray once again took control of the 'Mech's arm. He was proud of his actions. He had behaved like the perfect Death Commando. But it was also hard knowing that he was betraying his honor and bond with the Highlanders. It chewed at his mind like a hungry rat, gnawing at his thoughts as he slowly moved the Gallowglas back on its security sweep pattern.
* * *
The Capellan JumpShip Eban Emael hung waiting at a pirate jump point in the Northwind system. The starship's one-kilometer jump s
ail was fully deployed in charge mode, pulling in photons and converting them to the energy required for the ship to make its instantaneous hops between star systems. The Death Commando corporal assigned to the battery room had what seemed to be a dismal duty: watching for any abnormal microjoule spikes. To most personnel, even seasoned spacers, such spikes were meaningless. To the Death Commandos they meant something more, something significant.
The corporal verified the readings. The spikes were small but obviously not solar flare activity. It was called pinging, a way to communicate where such communications were usually impossible. Satisfied with his diligence, the young officer printed a hard copy of the readings and signaled the commanding officer's quarters. It was late but there was a standing order if such an anomaly arose.
"Colonel Hertzog, this is Corporal Kwang."
There was a short pause before he heard the husky voice of the Death Commando CO, apparently forcing himself awake. "Report, Corporal."
"Signal pulses on the solar sail, sir. It's definite pinging, sir. They're faint but I believe they are our protocol."
The voice of the Colonel seemed to come to life. "Excellent, Corporal. Send them to the file under my directory structure. Contact the command staff and tell them to join me ASAP. I'm on my way to the bridge."
Colonel "Tank" Hertzog reached the bridge five minutes later. At that hour only a skeleton crew was on duty, but Hertzog had disrupted their usually silent routine by ordering his command staff to the bridge. The gathered officers looked sleepy but ready for action. They'd been sitting at the jump point for some time waiting for word from Northwind. Now, finally, there might be some action. The instant they saw the Colonel they snapped to attention.
Hertzog returned their salute and leaned over the bridge's computerized command table. "I appreciate the late-night roll-out. Our sail monitor in the battery room picked up a reading. I believe we may have finally heard from our contact on Northwind." The big man pressed several control buttons, and then the spike signals scrolled out on the table monitor. Each of the officers watched the small series of spikes and the intervals between them. A message, small and encrypted, almost invisible, yet present.
"That's Jaffray, all right."
One of the officers, Major Stafford Xhu, looked over the signal as Hertzog ran the pattern through the secured library of the current coded messages the Death Commandos used. 'Things must be getting hairy down there for him to resort to this method of getting word to us."
Major Quaid watched as the computer arrived at a match to the signal pattern, stroking his shaven ebony-skinned head as he spoke. "Give the damage our fighters did to that Davion DropShip convoy, it's safe to assume that the Federated Commonwealth has committed troops to their Northwind initiative. This may be Jaffray's only way of getting us a message without attracting attention."
Hertzog ceased the discussion. "The message is a standby to drop signal."
Quaid smiled broadly at the confirmation. "So, it's finally the end of the Northwind Highlanders. The day of reckoning."
Colonel Hertzog said nothing, merely giving his subordinate a nod. He looked over at the JumpShip's duty officer who was at the far end of the bridge, keeping his distance from the Death Commando field commanders. "Captain Loring, we will be disengaging from the Ebon Emael within thirty minutes." The duty officer nodded and immediately began to give orders to his two ensigns as Hertzog turned his attention back to his ground officers.
"I want each of you to return to your DropShips and prepare for immediate departure. We'll break free and hold near the JumpShip for a fast drop as soon as we get word. We're only a two-hour burn from Northwind and I want full tactical database assimilation within the hour. Go over the intelligence and our satellite data. This is very real. Our Chancellor's mission directives are clear—destroy the Highlanders and any remaining Davion resistance."
"Are we going in, sir?" Xhu asked.
Colonel Hertzog nodded firmly. "It looks like it. There are only two men in the universe who can stop us now. One is on Northwind and the other sits on the Celestial Throne of the Capellan Confederation."
35
Duggan's Marsh Northwind
Draconis March, Federated Commonwealth
20 October 3057
The two companies of MacLeod's BattleMechs and their supporting troops and techs huddled in a horseshoe formation under an umbrella of thick willow trees as their commanding officer's own Huron Warrior strode to a position in front of them. The technical crews carefully undraped the tarps and other electronic concealment gear covering the equipment.
Seeing how skillfully MacLeod piloted the Warrior, Jaffray wondered if the Colonel had done the 'Mech's re-programming himself. How else could he have achieved such a harmonious blend of man and machine?
When he began to speak, the Colonel's voice was like that of a kindly father talking to his children. The authority was there, but also revealed were the care and concern of a true leader. These were not just his troops, they were his kin, each and every one of them. "The last flyby of the Royals fighters was ten minutes ago. That gives us less than an hour to reach Peace Park.
"You've all reviewed the battle plans and maps at length, but let me stress the importance of adhering to the plan. Our two diversionary forces will drive in to where our families are being held under house arrest. Once in the city they will not attack, but only make enough noise to get the Davions' attention. Lots of false communications chatter in the recon lances, that kind of thing. We need to make them think that most of our troops are heading there. Remember, for the main force to reach the center of the city we've got to pull the bulk of their forces away from the perimeter.
"I'll be leading the primary attack force, which will wait just outside the city until the attack is underway and we're sure the Davions have sent troops after the diversionary forces. When we do emerge we'll drive into the heart of Peace Park from the south. The First Gurkhas under Captain Cohlm will move into the spaceport if at all possible. No matter what, we cannot miss our primary objective. Our goal is simple. Either capture or destroy their communications van.
"Each of you in the primary task force has a laser disk with a coded message for Colonel Stirling and the Fusiliers. It carries a data message about the trap and my verbal warning as well, just in case. If we take their communications van intact, use the disk to warn the Fusiliers of the ambush. We can't know exactly when Cat Stirling's going to land, but our best estimates and calculations based on their last orbit show them dropping in approximately ninety minutes."
"How will we know if they receive our transmission?" Lieutenant Frutchey asked.
"Unfortunately there's no way for sure. My guess is that if we're successful you'll hear the wail of bagpipes over the commline—which will be Stirling trying to jam the lines to keep the Davions from being able to coordinate their forces."
MacLeod emphasized the gravity of the mission. "If Cat Stirling lands in that spaceport, the Fusiliers, along with most of the city of Tara, will be wiped out. Our families and a lot of innocent civilians will also die in the blast. Without honor, without hope of survival. We cannot permit such a slaughter of our kinsmen." Loren felt a lump rise in his throat as the Colonel spoke.
"Many of you have a lot of confusing thoughts and emotions running through you right now. Yes, this is our homeworld and these invaders are occupying our capitol.
But this isn't the time to fight from your emotions. If any of you leap into battle and disregard your orders because you think those damnable Davions owe us a pound of flesh, this entire mission could fail. We're not going into Tara to wipe out the occupiers or to recapture even one block of the city. We're going in to save the lives of every man and woman of Stirling's Fusiliers. These are your family and friends. Remember the mission, focus on your duty."
Loren smiled in satisfaction at those last words, glad MacLeod had decided to make a point of every man doing his duty. As he watched the relatively small force, his mind ra
ced through a dozen possible outcomes. Combat in an urban environment was not something any MechWarrior looked forward to. It was something to dread. He had trained and fought in such an environ, but now he would do so alongside the Highlanders.
The same people who, in a very short time, would be destroyed by his actions.
MacLeod was still talking. "From this point forward we're likely to be visible to the enemy. Hit them hard and fast and remember to keep moving. Don't get bogged down in a fight because we're outnumbered nearly six to one and don't have a chance of winning. Hit your objectives, then get the hell out. Understood?" The commline rang with the affirming voices of MacLeod's Highlanders.
Loren checked his heat levels and bit his lower lip slightly in concern. Ever since the battle at The Castle, the 'Mech's fusion engine had intermittently been running hot. Now it was acting up again. He watched as his heat sinks bled off the excess, hoping the problem wouldn't surface in combat. The techs had assured him it wasn't serious, but of course none of them would be riding the 'Mech into the fray. Out of necessity he ignored the potential problem.
As always, he was feeling The Sensation, and it was stronger than any other time in his life. The chills and bursts of heat wracked him like an intense fever. His heart raced until he could hear it pounding like drums in his ears. Loren felt sharper, more ready than he ever had before battle.
I've fought a lot of battles in my time, but this is the most important one. It's not just being outnumbered, I've seen that before too. No, this is something more. He remembered MacLeod's discussion of the moral high ground and wondered if that was what was feeding The Sensation rushing through his veins and mind. It's almost like he knows what my mission is and wants me to save the Highlanders instead of calling down the Commandos. There's more here than just my mission, I'm a part of this battle. I'm not fighting for myself or for the Chancellor. I'm fighting for family. MacLeod knew it and even Carey saw it in me on the trip here. These are my people despite all the politics and the passage of time. Now I must sacrifice my honor to destroy my own kin.
Highlander Gambit Page 30
