“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not really meaning to speak out loud. He wasn’t even certain to whom he was apologizing just then. Charal, for failing to protect her. Jessica, for how things had turned out. Or Tassa, who had fought and bled for a world that wasn’t even hers to defend.
Jessica was the one to hear him. She glanced up with a guilty start, then quickly darkened to a brooding hostility when she saw who stood nearby. “Well,” she said, and a lot of judgment weighted down her words. “We’ve been here before.”
It was a lot like their first meeting—over the bed of a military patient. Raul could even feel the old arguments warming up in the mental bay where he stored those weapons. Raul swallowed dryly, fighting the tightness in his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m being a doctor, Raul.” She stood slowly, showing fatigue and stiff joints, then walked over to the foot of Tassa’s bed where they could talk more quietly. “Between Brightwater and San Marino yesterday, apparently you swamped the militia’s medical capability and they called in several civilian auxiliaries to help out here, where the fighting was over and danger was low.”
Raul saw the dark circles under her eyes, and could only imagine how little sleep she had gotten since the previous day. Or the previous week. “I’m glad. These are good people, and they needed your help.”
“What they need is transport back to River’s End. We’ve ferried them out two at a time all night, and at this rate we won’t have everyone back until late tomorrow.”
“I came in a Trooper.” Raul saw her frown of concentration, guessed at her question. “Infantry carrier. Seats twenty-eight. You could lay half a dozen out in stretchers and take any of the wounded who can ride in a sitting position.”
“Only right, I guess, considering that the military put them here.”
“I didn’t come out here to fight with you, Jess.”
“Why not? Fighting is what’s caused all of this, isn’t it? More battle and bloodshed. The natural order of things. Right?”
“That’s not what I believe, and you know it.” Raul stepped up closer, lowering his voice into a harsh whisper only for Jessica. “Though maybe you’d rather we just hand over Achernar to the first tyrant to challenge our Exarch.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she said with a violent stomp of one foot.
She looked as if she wanted to slap him again. Or maybe deliver a good sharp kick to the shins. Raul had never seen Jessica looking so completely angry and yet at a loss for a target: her short, pounding breaths, the way she bit down hard enough into her lower lip that she’d leave marks, the little shake of her head. It had only started to occur to him that she was actually angry about the situation, and herself, before she admitted it openly.
“You don’t know how difficult it is to accept that one of the core beliefs you’ve held for so long doesn’t measure up when challenged, Raul. I watch the news footage, I go out to the sites on civilian volunteer parties. Then I hear the pundits spouting knee-jerk opinions and going on about how they’d run things if they were in charge—and you know what? I find myself arguing your side of the discussion.”
He started to say something, thought to comfort her, but she held up a hand. “Let me finish.” She glanced around at the wounded. At Tassa. “I believe that war is evil. I have to, Raul. But in the last few weeks, I have also forced myself to realize that you—and the Republic Guard—did not bring war to Achernar. The Steel Wolves did that. The Swordsworn did that. And we can’t simply sit back and allow one military action after another to roll over our world unchecked. So we need soldiers. And we need citizens with a vested interest in The Republic, who can hopefully affect non-violent changes to prevent this from ever happening again.”
Raul had never heard such capitulation in Jessica’s voice. Raising the white flag. And right when he was about to tell her . . . “Ah, hell, Jess. You lay all that out, and here I was ready to concede the entire argument to you. I don’t know that I ever wanted this for the right reasons. So maybe we were both wrong.”
Her eyes held enough anguish for them both. Still, she offered bravely, “Or maybe we were both right. A little.” Then she glanced between Raul and Tassa, her professional demeanor taking charge and erecting a shield over the breach she had allowed in her defenses. “She’s going to be all right. Mild concussion and hairline collarbone fracture. I have her resting on a sedative just now.” She swept her gaze over nearby patients. “Most of them are resting, with the really critical cases already flown down to River’s End. Your helicopter will help move the rest out today.”
Which was a decision Raul needed her help in making. “I’d like to talk to you about where you’ll take them.”
Jessica frowned. “If your militia hospital can’t handle the load, I’ll take them back to R.E.G.” River’s End General.
“I’m not certain that’s such a safe place for them anymore. Erik Sandoval has men keeping tabs on the hospital now, and with the Steel Wolves in control of the San Marino, it’s only a matter of time before they push for the city itself.”
A touch of fire leapt back into Jessica’s weary blue eyes at the thought of military intrusion at her hospital. She licked her lips, then asked Raul, “You have another idea?”
“That’s what I want to ask you. The Trooper has a good range on it and it can refuel on the other side of the Taibeks if necessary. Where else can you take them? Take them, and hide them?”
“Hide them?”
He exhaled in a long breath. “I don’t want Sandoval to get wind of how many soldiers we return to active duty in the next few days. And for those who need longer to heal, it would be best if they were far out of the way in case we lose Achernar and have to go underground. If you can, I’d like you to classify many of them as deceased or critically wounded.”
“Underground. As in resistance?” She blinked away her surprise. “Are you really planning that far in advance?”
“We’re planning for everything, except for whatever we haven’t thought of. Jess, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important, for Achernar and The Republic. We need to work together here. Please.”
Jessica laughed, short and sad. “Sharing the glory, Raul?”
He shook his head, then gazed around at the wounded and the dying. “There is no glory, Jess. No romantic adventure. What I have—what we have—is duty. Resident honor, if you want. Whatever the cost, we have to try.” He paused, then, “Charal DePriest is dead.”
“I know. And I’m sorry, Raul. I know you got on with her. I also heard that Colonel Blaire reprimanded you for abandoning San Marino to the Steel Wolves. Is that true?”
“I know what I’m doing,” he told her. He wanted to explain about Janella Lakewood, and his hopes that the Steel Wolves’ proximity to River’s End might force the Swordsworn to finally commit to a stronger position than before. In the end, though, he could only say, “You’ll have to trust me.”
Jessica actually looked as if she had expected the request, and surprisingly did not laugh in his face. “What about her?” she asked, nodding at Tassa’s sleeping form.
Steeling himself for the reopening of a raw wound, Raul asked, “How soon until we can have her back?”
“Normally, I’d suggest twenty-four hours rest and another twenty-four under observation. She’s lucky to be alive.”
He knew that. By all reports and the limited footage he’d seen of the battle for Brightwater, the Steel Wolves had struck with a ferocious assault. Led by Star Colonel Torrent, the “diversionary raid” had involved more military forces and generated more casualties than any other action so far on Achernar save the San Marino battle and the Steel Wolves’ initial assault against the planet. Tassa had worked with a heavy armor contingent to hold them back, keeping her Ryoken up long after a lesser warrior might have succumbed to the beating she took.
Torrent had already withdrawn from the field, to take command at the San Marino, when Tassa ran into a trio of tactical Jessies and
one of Torrent’s converted AgroMechs. She accounted for two of their number before falling under a final missile barrage. Her squad had rescued her by driving off the last two JES carriers. It had been a heroic stand and was the very reason why any final defense of Achernar needed Tassa Kay on the line.
“We need her by tomorrow, Jess. I don’t know when things are going to start happening, but we can’t do without Tassa.”
A touch of color blushed high on Jessica’s cheeks. “You’ll have her back, then,” she said coldly. Raul started to speak, to tell her he didn’t mean it that way, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “Look. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do my part. Whatever else you’re about, Raul, I know you’ve got Achernar foremost in your thoughts. Just don’t try to work on us right now. All right?”
He nodded, a couple of short, shallow dips of the head. “All right. I’ve got to get outside and make similar arrangements with the local salvage crews, but I’ll be back later to discuss plans. In the meantime, the Trooper crew knows that the local medical staff will be directing them, so get started on whomever you need to fly out first.” He should have left it there, he knew, but he couldn’t resist adding, “And Jess?” He waited for her to look up, and the sorrow weighing down her eyes almost made him stop. “It’s good to have you with us.”
“Yeah.”
She gave him a shrug, leaning more toward a nod than a dismissal. But barely. Raul took that and left. It was a start. He hoped it left him something to build on later.
The hardest lessons, he was learning, were not those that came at high cost to himself. They were the lessons that others kept paying on his behalf.
22
Stage Directions
Achernar Militia Command
Achernar
16 March 3133
Erik Sandoval saw signs of the militia’s strain in the little things. A lack of casual traffic on the base. Tired guards in bedraggled uniforms, both at the central post and standing a weary honor guard in front of Colonel Blaire’s office. The corridor floor not buffed to a military shine. And Colonel Isaac Blaire, holding himself upright with elbows on the desk, eyes red-rimmed from drink or lack of sleep. The militia commander looked such a state, in fact, that Erik missed the office’s second occupant for several heartbeats. Then—
“What is he doing here?” Erik demanded, staring with venomous fury at Raul Ortega.
Ortega had pushed his chair to the inside wall, as far back from the desk as he could conceivably get. He sat extremely still, with arms laid out carefully along both sides and hands gripping the end curve of the armrests. The MechWarrior said nothing in reply. He broke his stony repose only long enough to glance over at Erik, and then cautiously at his commanding officer.
Gesturing Erik to the chair across from his desk, Blaire did not bother to look over at his officer. “He is here because Ah ordered him to be here, should you have any questions.”
The colonel’s tone, Raul’s silence; the two did not appear to be on the best terms. Erik might find a way to use that. “Questions? How about a request for his immediate dismissal?” The young noble turned his chair just enough to be able to watch Ortega out of the corner of one eye. “He abandoned the field, Colonel. Pusillanimous conduct in the face of the enemy.”
Now Raul leaned forward. “Said the commander who parked himself a good kilometer behind the fighting.”
“That is enough, Captain!” Blaire’s bark still had some of its old power.
Erik measured the way Raul stiffened up again, as if turned to stone by the Colonel’s basilisk stare. It gave him a moment to compose himself; Raul’s contemptuous charge had struck a nerve. Since Tassa Kay’s cutting remarks and his recent reversals on the battlefield, Erik found his temper fraying at the least provocation.
“My position that day had nothing to do with cowardice,” Erik said softly, slowly, “and everything to do with setting a strong second line to protect River’s End. When the DropShips arrived, my plans shifted and I ordered an immediate counter-thrust, which would have prevented the Steel Wolves from lodging a foothold so close to the capital. You!” he said, stabbing a finger toward Raul. “You gave it to them.”
Raul folded his arms across his chest. “Now it’s the Swordsworn facing the brunt of any Steel Wolf attack. And you need us—the militia. I like being on this side of the arrangement. No wonder you hid in Hahnsak for so long.”
“Dammit, Ortega.” Blaire’s outburst cut off Erik’s heated response. “You’re acting like a peace-spoiled kay- det and you’re not making this any easier.” With a strained peace imposed between the other two men, the colonel shifted focus and asked, “What about yesterday’s raid? Did you suffer anything in the way of major casualties?”
“Two damaged JES carriers and a limping MinerMech Mod.” Reminded of the short but brutal engagement forced on his people the day before, Erik felt a second flush of anger work up and outward from the nape of his neck. His voice remained civil, barely, as he outlined what had happened.
“The Steel Wolves weren’t making a serious push at River’s End. They struck in a pincer movement but with hardly enough forces to penetrate the industrial sector. It was a probe. We made it cost them a Demon, which we captured with no help from the militia I may remind you.”
“Ah can try to provide you with anything you might need in the way of parts and supplies.” Another hard glance at his captain. “We’ve had our own troubles since the spaceport battle.”
“I’ve seen the casualty report,” Erik admitted. “What concerns me more is the number of outright defections.” Erik searched his memory, drawing up numbers provided to him by Michael Eus. “Eight infantrymen, six of them with battlesuits. Also a trio of hoverbikes, two APCs, and a pair of conventional VTOLs, all with crews. And a Destroyer, Colonel? How do you let an SM1 slip through your fingers?”
Blaire sat up straighter, as if his pride had been wounded. “How did you hear about those?”
“More to the point,” Erik leaned forward, “where have they gone?”
Raul whipped at him with an exasperated laugh. “If they did not go over to you, and you have just basically told us they haven’t, then they fled into hiding or went over to Star Colonel Torrent.”
Erik’s assumption as well, and one that had him sleeping less well every night. “If the Steel Wolves have grown so much in strength, then I expect them to attack soon. One final, all-out push for River’s End.” He wrapped himself tight in his noble demeanor, remembering that he now had the full weight of Brion Stempres and the planetary governor behind him. “I must now insist, Colonel, that you stand ready to answer my summons, instantly, once Star Colonel Torrent masses for that advance. I believe Legate Stempres has communicated this to you on more than one occasion in the last few days.”
“Ah’ve talked to Lay-gate Stempres,” Blaire admitted. He tried to sound unconcerned. Failed. “When we’re needed, the militia will be there.”
“Not good enough, Colonel. Instant response. I’ll have your word on that now, if you don’t mind.”
The colonel struggled with it. Erik gave the man that much; he was still enough of a Republic man to not go easily into the Swordsworn embrace. But because of that, as well, he would honor his word. “If you call for us, we’ll come,” he finally granted Erik.
“And I want Raul Ortega dismissed from duty. Now.”
That made the upstart MechWarrior sit up and pay attention, mouth gaping open like a landed fish. Dismissed. In effect, dispossessed. MechWarriors dreaded losing their BattleMechs. It was like telling a hawk that it could no longer fly and hunt. Erik knew first-hand, having lost a ’Mech before, how much it hurt. After the half-dozen slights, insults and setbacks he had faced at Raul Ortega’s hands since first meeting him as a Customs Officer, Erik reveled in imposing the sentence, slapping the man back into place.
Blaire hedged. “Now that may be a bit hasty, Lord Sandoval. To remove one of our only MechWarriors from the order of battle—
seems to me that we’re handicapping ourselves.” He searched for an argument. “Neither of us wants the Hyperpulse Generator to fall into Steel Wolf hands, after all.”
“That no longer concerns me, Colonel Blaire. The Steel Wolves will never be allowed possession of the HPG. After consulting with Governor Haider, my forces have been hard at work rigging spoilsport charges on the antennae superstructure as well as throughout the compound. We’ve decided to blow the equipment before surrendering it to Torrent’s marauders.”
Or back to the militia, Erik did not have to say.
For once, Raul Ortega looked speechless. The MechWarrior glanced rapidly between Blaire and Erik, trying to guess which way the colonel would eventually lean. As if the man had any choice.
Blaire slumped in defeat. “Raul, you’re sidelined.” He saw the expected outburst coming, and headed it off with a stronger argument. “Ah should have done it days ago, and you know it. Tassa Kay can take over the Legionnaire until and unless her Ryoken is repaired to adequate function. After that, well, Ah’m certain that Lord Sandoval has ideas for a replacement.”
“Captain Norgales,” Erik said at once. “Legate Stempres’ aide.” He had wanted to claim the Legionnaire outright and invest Norgales in it, but had not figured on Tassa Kay’s Ryoken being so badly damaged.
And since the woman did not have the good graces to die during the assault on the Brightwater facility, Erik would be happy to see her pushed in front of the blades once more.
“Colonel,” Raul began, then hesitated. “Sir, I request assignment to an IndustrialMech conversion. I can still pilot.”
“We have men who are better trained for those machines, Raul, and you know it. You’ll have to wait for another BattleMech. I think you know what those chances are.”
Another BattleMech arriving on Achernar, with or without a pilot? Erik counted the odds somewhere past the chances of the sun not rising tomorrow. He stood. “I’m so glad to see that we are at an accord, Colonel. With the militia’s help, we’ll keep Achernar free of Kal Radick’s clutches yet.” He nodded a dismissal to the militia commander. “Colonel Blaire.”
A Call to Arms Page 23
