Heir to the Dragon

by Robert N. Charrette

  A flush-faced aide bustled up and handed Michi a ComStar packet. The Tai-shu ripped it open, read it swiftly, then crumpled it into a ball. He strode stiff-legged to the elevated command chair from which he could survey the center. Without sitting, he keyed on the loudspeaker mike. "All regimental commanders and general staff to assemble on the tank deck. Sugu!"

  Ninyu tapped his fingers against the top of the holotank where he leaned, suddenly interested. He observed the approach of the officers, noting that several were not very prompt. He recognized protest and disapproval in their tardiness. They were all senior generals, each of whom was said to believe he should have been appointed Warlord after Kingsley's accidental death. Michi's sudden jump in rank had appalled them as much as his former renegade status. If anything, Michi's years as Warlord seemed only to strengthen their dislike and distrust.

  As soon as the officers arrived, Michi spoke from the steps leading to his command chair. "Officers of the Combine, I have just received a direct communique from the Coordinator."

  Ninyu watched excited expectation ripple through the assembled officers. Most expected word of the Coordinator's response to the invasion, but some, no doubt, were expecting Michi's removal.

  "You are all aware of the situation here. Things are little better in Benjamin and Galedon. Davion forces are conducting a full-scale invasion of the Combine. Just as here in Dieron, they have bypassed our entrenched units on the border, passing deeper into our homeland. We have lost all communications with garrisons on Sadalbari, Huan, and Alrakis.

  "From the presence of elite formations, military intelligence has estimated that the invaders are thrusting directly for the other District capitals. It appears that the invader intends to isolate Dieron before reducing it. ISF agrees with this assessment.

  "The Coordinator orders us to hold at all costs. We are not to surrender a single planet. Dieron is to be fortified and held to the last man." Michi took a deep breath before adding, "You will be pleased to know that Takashi Kurita expresses complete confidence in our ability to repel the invaders.

  "I expect modified defense proposals within the hour."

  The gathering dissolved into a dozen different discussions and the bellowing of generals calling their staffs. Some started back to their command tables, but before they could disperse, Tai-sa Johnson's voice cut sharply through the babble.

  "Can't we appeal this fortress order to the Kanrei? A static defensive posture will be too limiting. We need some leeway to maneuver."

  "The communique is countersigned by Theodore Kurita," Michi announced solemnly. "We are now Fortress Dieron."

  Johnson ran her tongue across her upper lip. "We'll be fit for the scrap heap if we just sit and wait for them."

  "Agreed."

  "Let us hit them back. Release the Ryuken to raid behind the lines."

  Michi paused as if in thought, but Ninyu was suspicious. The Tai-shu would normally put off any such request with a comment about taking it under advisement. Michi's response confirmed Ninyu in his suspicions.

  "Very well. I suggest Caph, Procyon, and Saffel as initial targets. I want an operational plan in an hour."

  Ninyu suspected that the plan would be in the computer in minutes. This decision had already been made; Johnson's plea was a show for the other officers. The Ryuken officers would be lifting for rendezvous with their units within an hour.

  What's the game, Pirate?

  Michi turned to face Ninyu. The Tai-shu's face was grim. "Sho-sa Kerai. We have confirmed Steiner forces on eight of our worlds, and on seven of those, Lyran forces form the bulk of the hostile forces. It is time for you to implement the Kanrei's contingency plan."

  "I don't need you to tell me my duty." Ninyu brushed nonexistent lint from his sleeve. His action belittled the Tai-shu's words, adding to the lack of respect shown by his impolite failure to address Michi properly. "My people are moving into position. They will act on my word."

  Some of the gathered officers murmured at Ninyu's display of disrespect. He could tell from their eyes and half-hidden smiles that they approved. Tai-shu Noketsuna was not well-liked among most of the military.

  Better stay on Theodore's good side, Pirate. That's all that's keeping you from the jackals.

  60

  Manschemman Dune Field, Beiseit Continent, Marduk

  Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

  14 June 3039

  "It's glorious! Isn't it, Jimmy?"

  Static fuzzed some of Sir Michael Hallbrock's words, but his exhilaration was clear. James Sandoval, newly minted marshal of the AFFS, Duke of Robinson, and heir to his father's position as commander of the Draconis March, found himself in full agreement. He only wished that his father could be here to take part in the humbling of the Kurita Snakes.

  When the Federated Suns had lost worlds to the Combine during the Fourth War, Aaron Sandoval had nearly revolted and made his own war. But wiser advice had prevailed, and he had adopted a more indirect course to achieve his ends. Five years ago, he had abdicated his Ducal throne in favor of James. With judicious application of pressure and the calling in of favors, the old Duke had arranged to have his son put into the command chair for the Draconis March. James, already rising quickly through the AFFS despite his lack of an NAIS education, had returned to the March to take command of the First Robinson Rangers.

  Aaron had moved to New Avalon. It was not merely to clear the field for James, who people were calling the Young Duke, but to take his political fight where he could start the necessary fires. Among the politicians and courtiers, Aaron's borderer's topknot, though gray with age, had been a constant reminder to those stay-at-homes that they had an enemy on their doorstep. The Old Duke had badgered and cajoled and threatened, pushing constantly for the extermination of the Dragon. The Prince himself had not been immune. Whenever they met, the Old Duke had reminded Hanse Davion of his coronation pledge to regain the planets lost to the Draconis Combine in the First Succession War. Whenever possible, Aaron had pointed out that additional worlds had been lost to the Combine during Hanse's reign.

  When it looked as though the Prince had been unmanned by the losses of the Fourth War and distracted by the troubles in neighboring states, Aaron had stepped up his program of pressure. The Old Duke was always ready to emphasize the latest intelligence about the Combine's rearmament and to point out, with multiple historical precedents, the likely result of the Dragon's actions. Finally, the distracted Prince had been made to see that the time for a preemptive strike against the still-weak Combine was running out. The plans for invasion had been drawn up.

  The Old Duke had done his part; he had set the Federated Suns and their Lyran Commonwealth allies at the Dragon's throat. He had also managed to get James appointed Marshal to lead the thrust into Benjamin. It had been a political coup. Now it was time for the Young Duke to reward his father's confidence.

  James was determined to add another Dragon Slayer's Ribbon to the cluster that adorned the parade standard of the First Robinson Rangers. The Rangers had acquired quite a few from their successes against the Combine. He wanted another, but was determined that this would be the one that counted. The last one. The one that meant the Dragon was really slain.

  The command lance moved across the sparkling surface of the Manschemman Dune Field. Piloting his Zeus, James let the tactical chatter from the maneuvering hovercraft of the Rangers' associated regiments wash over him. The operation was moving well. The Kurita hovertanks were stubborn, but gradually yielding ground. Distant thunder marked scattered engagements to the north.

  Just as he was about to order the command lance to move in that direction, a dune eighty meters to his left erupted in a diamond spray of silica. An ochre-painted BattleMech burst up from where it had lain concealed, hidden from the Rangers' sensors by the sand and heat. James's computer tagged the enemy machine as a Panther while he tried to bring his targeting crosshairs to bear on the silver trident emblazoned on its left breast. The Kurita 'Me
ch sidestepped before James could get a lock-on.

  The Panther accelerated toward him, its right-arm Lord's Light PPC corruscating as the weapon built up charge. As James tried to track the target, the Kurita pilot unleashed his particle beam. The ravening blue lightning licked the Zeus's hip, melting armor wherever the charged particles touched. James stood firm, confident of his 'Mech's capacity to absorb such punishment.

  From the lance's right flank, a flight of long-range missiles corkscrewed in to bracket the charging Kuritan. The rockets came from the Zeus of Hauptmann Benoit. James saw fragments of armor ripped free by the warhead's explosive power before the smoke of explosions from the rocket barrage obscured the Panther.

  James sent a burst from his Defiance autocannon into the cloud, hoping the shells would find the target. Hallbrock moved his Wolverine closer, cutting the line of fire between James and the Kuritan. Benoit's Zeus lumbered in heavily from the right. Even without Devlin's Enforcer, currently on liaison duty with the hover regiment, the lance far outmatched the lone enemy 'Mech.

  The dust began to settle. James was puzzled when the Panther did not appear. The puzzle was solved as the Kurita 'Mech came crawling out of the cloud to raise its arm, firing another blast at the Marshal's Zeus.

  The cyan energy scythed into the Zeus almost exactly where the previous bolt had gouged it. Armor flowed under the energy beam's caress to drop hissing into the gash. In the cockpit, James watched warning lights flash amber for a microsecond before flaring a steady red. He cursed as the Zeus's hip joint froze, flash-welded by the enormous heat.

  Hallbrock pumped a stream of armor-piercing shells from the Wolverine's Whirlwind autocannon into, the Kuritan. Benoit unleashed his 'Mech's cannon and added ruby pulses of coherent light from his Thunderbolt A5M laser. The Panther writhed under the assault. Its shattered armor gaped, and James could see its ferro-titanium bones through the swirls of flame and smoke. Benoit's Zeus stepped closer and swung its massive, squared-off foot in a short, flat arc. The kick crashed into the side of the fallen Panther's cockpit, tearing the entire head assembly free as it crushed the side walls together.

  "Hot pilot, that Benoit," Hallbrock commented on his private frequency with the Marshal.

  "It's not like I need a bodyguard," James snapped. "I could've taken him out myself."

  "Never pass up a gift, Jimmy boy. And don't ever be sorry you've got a good MechJock on your team."

  "You're right. I should be grateful." He had been scared, frozen by an unreasoning fear when the damned Snake had come crawling out of the dust, still ready to kill. He was glad that Hallbrock and Benoit were there. Still, he had to tough it out. BattleMech commanders were supposed to be as tough as they come. But they were also not supposed to be stupid. He keyed open the lance frequency. "Gonna have to get this baby back for repairs. Thanks for the save, Hauptmann."

  "Bitte, Marshal."

  "Jimmy boy, Devlin reports the Dracs are running."

  "Damage to them?"

  "Minimal."

  "Whatever happened to samurai fighting to the death?"

  "Still happens, Herr Marshal." Hauptmann Benoit's Zeus kicked the fallen Panther. "Whenever we catch them."

  And that's been the problem, James mused.

  "Ease off, Rangers," he ordered over the RCT command channel. "Let them go. If you get spread out in pursuit, you get into trouble. We don't want a repeat of what happened to Tenth Deneb last week."

  James led the command lance back to the field headquarters. The trip back in the wounded Zeus was bumpy, and he was relieved when they crossed the perimeter. He parked the 'Mech by the Tech shed, leaving orders that it be rearmed with expendables as soon as the hip was functional. The expeditionary force might not have as many shells and rockets as they wanted, but as commander, his 'Mech would have full ammo racks. Sir Michael Hallbrock was waiting for him when he reached the hotel they had appropriated for the Rangers' headquarters. The old retainer's gray topknot was sodden with the sweat that sheened his flesh. He had a cold beer ready for James. His own bottle was half-empty.

  "Getting tougher out there, Jimmy. Them Snakes are looking pretty good. The damn groundpounders are putting up more fight than I've seen in a long time. The bloody planetary militias are even standing up to our armor. It's got me a little worried."

  James drained the bottle and tossed the empty over his shoulder. "You're overreacting, Sir Michael. We've been slowed down a little here, but we're doing no worse than most of the other planetary assaults. The first wave is still proceeding well enough, and we still haven't seen the 'death before dishonor' that we were supposed to get from the Dracs. The great ferocious Dragon is turning out to be made of paper."

  "I think you're being a bit hasty, Jimmy."

  "Prince Hanse will cut loose the supplies for the second wave soon. We have what we need to mop up here and get on with it. We'll take the Rangers rimward and meet the coreward arm of the Galedon thrust, encircling the Galtor Thumb. By then, the rebellions we instigated will be in full swing. I wouldn't be surprised if our friendlies kicked the Dracs out without any help from the mercs the Prince has sent in. We're going to take back all the Snakes have ever stolen from us, and more."

  A runner dashed up, sketching a salute as he panted his message. "Tenth Deneb First Battalion reports an attack by Kurita armor, Marshal Sandoval. They've beaten it back, but Deneb commander counts a dozen 'Mechs down, at least three beyond repair."

  James dismissed the runner and turned to find Sir Michael's brown eyes regarding him curiously.

  "An omen, Jimmy?"

  The Marshal laughed. "You a superstitious man, good knight?"

  "Maybe so. We've been fighting a lot of their armor here, and lot of other groundpounders, too. But we've seen damned little of their BattleMechs.

  "So where are the 'Mechs?"

  61

  AgroMekTek Shipping Warehouse, Port Paix, Le Blanc

  Le Blanc PDZ, Draconis March, Federated Suns

  6 July 3039

  Noise filled the long, open space that was the AgroMekTek shipping center. That was not unusual for this manufacturer of industrial and agricultural 'Mechs. The corporation often did some minor disassembly of its product here in order to meet the crating needs for the interstellar shipment of their product. That kind of work was noisy. What was unusual was that the machines being worked on in the warehouse were not being broken down; they were being assembled. They were also BattleMechs.

  Workers climbed among the scaffolding to free delicate assemblies from anti-shock packing and to reinstall the various pieces of weaponry and electronics that had been shipped separately, for security purposes. Respirator-masked painters scrawled stripes and splotches of color over the white base of the machines, taking special care to cover the long-tailed stars of the 'Mechs' left legs. A sharp petrochemical smell pervaded the warehouse as chem-suited men and women used solvents to strip the last of the protective gel from weapons and moving surfaces. Hard-eyed men with lurid tattoos on their stripped torsos sweated and grunted as they wrestled crates marked "Sounding Rockets" into stacks at the machines' feet. One box escaped its handlers to crash to the ferrocrete floor and shatter, spilling its contents and revealing them to be high-explosive missiles instead. Cursing vigorously, the kobun gathered their wayward charges.

  Yasir Nezumi walked up to Tomoe Kurita as she stood alternately surveying the progress of the workforce around her and studying a map of Port Paix. The yakuza oyabun's swarthy face was lit by the toothy grin that he considered a friendly and winning smile.

  "It goes well, yes?"

  Tomoe looked up from her map. "Hai, Oyabun. They are almost ready."

  "We are pleased to be of service to the great lord Theodore. May he prosper." He leaned forward to indicate confidentiality. "I am glad the Kanrei has not held the unfortunate circumstances of our first contact against my organization. It would have been more pleasant had I known who he was."

  "He felt it better to be cautious then,
Oyabun. He understands and holds no grudge. You and your organization have served him well."

  Nezumi felt relief. He was never very comfortable around Theodore, always afraid that the incident on Benjamin was never far from the Kanrei's mind. The words of Theodore's wife and lieutenant eased that concern. "I am glad that I could be of aid, however small, in introducing him to the Kuromaku."

  "The Kanrei and the Combine are grateful for your patriotism."

  Nezumi bowed. Anything he could do to ingratiate himself with Theodore would not hurt. The Kanrei might simply be waiting for the end of this unpleasantness before settling old scores.

  "Perhaps some of my men can be of use to you in taking the city."

  "It's unnecessary for you to expose your operation here to such danger, Oyabun. This world should not be difficult to secure. Le Blanc is normally an open planet, its money-grubbing rulers seeking to rival Galatea as a haven and hiring hall for mercenaries. They only accept the presence of Davion troops reluctantly, and have no real loyalty to the Federated Suns. The locals will not interfere. With the House troops gone to the front, there is nothing more than a skeleton force stationed at the garrison fort on the outskirts of the city."

  "Forgive my ignorance, Jokan, but why, then, have you infiltrated so many MechWarriors into the city? Chokei's company has been here openly for weeks, supposedly seeking employment. They are strong. Could they not have taken the garrison themselves?"