"It's called 'panache,'" Danai responded archly. "If you drove a machine that looked like something other than a hunchback with elephantiasis, you might know something about that."
"At least I don't call myself king of the nine hells each time I take the battlefield."
"That's only because no one would take you seriously if you did."
Clara guffawed. "I guess some of us are gods, and others are just destined to be handmaidens."
"I'm glad you finally understand the chain of command."
The lightness of victory always eased the burden of battle. Later, the damage would be evaluated, the lost soldiers mourned. Later, she would feel the weight of command more. Now, though. Danai and her command lance felt only triumph, and it made them almost giddy as they traveled from Daipan to JifangPoCity.
It was a longer journey than the trip from Wen Ho to Daipan, and Danai was letting her troops take it a little slow so the techs could make minor repairs on the fly while they marched. The talk had been almost entirely banter and battle stories, and Danai didn't mind in the least—a battalion, like a muscle, couldn't stay tight all the time. A little relaxation on the journey would make them that much more ready for the next fight.
For her own part, she was ready now. Her feet kept twitching, wanting to break into a run and charge the Aldebarian capital on her own if everyone else couldn't keep up, but she'd already been incautious enough today when she'd pummeled the Hellstar and disregarded everything else.
Actually, that fight had been yesterday. The battalion had needed to cover two hundred kilometers to reach the capital, a journey that, at their current pace, would take them just under seven hours. It was now early morning—by Danai's estimate, they'd reach Jifang Po City an hour or so before sunrise. Since it was a new day, maybe that meant she could commit another rash action.
She sighed. That would be a very un-commander-like thing to do. Daoshen would be furious if he heard about her indulging in impulsive acts, and he undoubtedly would get the news eventually—it was a rare Capellan battalion that didn't have at least one or two troopers feeding information to the Maskirovka about the conduct of high-ranking officers. Plus there was the small matter that a lone charge would likely be suicidal. For some reason, though, imminent death didn't bother her as much as possible dishonor.
"Kites, what are you seeing?" she asked for the twentieth time since they left Daipan.
"Nothing yet," Cheung said. "We're getting closer to the outskirts of the city, though. It won't be long." She had the soothing tone of a parent calming a grumpy child on a car trip.
"All right," Danai said.
The countryside around her, like most of the planet she had seen since she landed, was dark. A thin moon had risen as they traveled, casting a greenish-gray light over the highway and surrounding farmland. She saw silhouettes of silos and massive garages housing Agro- Mechs, but no signs of life or movement. Either the people of Aldebaran were extremely sound sleepers, or they'd cleared out long before the Capellan battalion came through.
Danai had run through several battle plans in the past seven hours, trading notes with Sandra, but there were too many variables for them to fix on a specific plan yet. Would the militia meet them inside or outside the city? What exact numbers would they face? Should they expect another imploded building, with the ensuing dust storm, or not? If she split a 'Mech's cockpit with her ax, would it fall backward or crumple straight to the ground?
The last question was the only one she could conclusively answer (naturally, the final resting place of a 'Mech depended on its momentum before the blow landed, but for the most part they tended to fall backward). Too much guesswork went into the others, so she was left to simply move ahead and react to whatever she found.
Then her comm crackled to life to tell her what was waiting for her.
"We have them. Sao-shao," Cheung reported. "They're on the outskirts this time. Plenty of artillery; they're already firing at us. They're in a straight line—a series of lines, really. Looks like three layers of troops, four in some places."
"Numbers?"
"Hard to say. From what I'm seeing, they may equal us, probably have a little more. But I doubt I'm seeing everything—they must be keeping some troops in reserve inside the city."
"Okay. Thank you. Keep those arty units guessing on range while we get a little closer."
"Yes, Sao-shao. We'll serpentine until we're dizzy."
Danai grinned, then set her mind to specific tactics. She got in touch with Sandra and brought her up to speed.
"I'm not worried about having to take out more of them than they do of us," Danai said. "But we have to keep our losses as minimal as possible. We can't assume beating the forces on the outskirts is all we have to do."
Sandra heard Danai's information without reply, and Danai assumed that meant she was thinking things over. Danai allowed her silence.
She didn't have to wait long. "We can't just charge straight in," Sandra said, thinking out loud now. "They'll have too much time to get the measure of us with their artillery and long-range weapons. We'd be taking on senseless damage."
Then Sandra had it. Danai could hear it in her tone immediately. Her words came quicker, her excitement mounting as she visualized what she wanted. "We'll have the infantry scatter, make themselves individual targets instead of large groups as they move forward. Fast units will go up front, divided into three groups—left, right and jump. The left and the right will head out on diagonals. the jump will continue charging toward the middle. They'll draw the most fire. As soon as it looks like it's getting too intense, they jump. All of them at once, making a series of timed jumps. They give a signal that they've started, and left and right turn back toward the center, blasting the enemy down with cover fire. All three groups try to break the middle of the line. Once we're through"—Danai appreciated Sandra's assumption of her plan's success—"we wreak havoc on their back lines, while our infantry and slower units keep the pressure on the front. We keep on them until they're routed."
"Excellent," Danai said. The plan seemed like a good combination of textbook planning and clever improvisation based on the circumstances. "You're already justifying my faith in you."
"Thanks." The word was the vocal equivalent of a shrug—Sandra was clearly happy with her plan, and she apparently didn't need a compliment from Danai to prove the worth of her ideas.
Danai passed the plan on to Clara and Bell. Clara replied with a simple "Yes, Sao-shao," but Bell, naturally, couldn't leave it at that. She'd told him he would be in command of the middle group—he and Sandra both had jump jets, but his superior speed made him the better choice to lead that group—and he responded with mock surprise.
"A good assignment in only our third battle!" he said. "Does this mean you really like me after all?"
A sharp reply about personal likes and dislikes sprang to her mouth, but she let it die on her tongue. Instead, she matched his tone.
"No," she said. "It means I hope you'll be a really big, inviting target for the militia."
Bell fell silent. Was he actually tongue-tied? Then Danai thought back on all the things she'd ever said to him, and this most recent remark counted as the nicest. Clearly, any friendly gesture from her confused the hell out of him.
The front line of the militia was growing closer. Time to concentrate.
Danai had assigned herself to the right wing of the attack, so that when they veered back to the left she'd be able to lead with her ax hand as she charged. Her heat was relatively low, which kept her triple-strength myomer inactive. For the time being, she was only slightly faster than most 'Mechs her size.
Clara was with the left wing of the attack, having to command it from behind because she couldn't keep up with the smaller, faster 'Mechs in her group. She was the easiest target in her wing and was drawing the most fire. Danai couldn't tell how many hits the Tian-Zong was absorbing, but since it was still moving and Clara hadn't yet called for help, she assumed it was
n't too bad.
The fire in the middle of the field came in faster and faster. A few shells were fired from her own artillery units, but most came from the stationary militia guns, whose shots were growing more and more accurate. Holes kept appearing in the ferrocrete where rounds landed, and Danai saw at least one battle-armored trooper catch a gauss slug in the head, leveling him. So far, though, the overall damage was manageable. And the range to the front lines was dropping every second.
Bell's voice came over the comm. "Center units, prepare to jump on my mark. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . mark."
Dozens of pairs of orange flames burst into life as the center units, almost in unison, leaped into the air. One Phoenix Hawk was unlucky enough to jump right into a large shell from the militia artillery, but the rest of the units flew clear while shells and laser beams harmlessly passed them by.
Danai and her unit had already wheeled to the left. She put Yen-lo-wang into a run and fired her shoulder laser into the militia units clustered at the center of their line. She scored a hit on an opposition 'Mech, and she felt the welcome heat from her weapon's discharge flood the cockpit. The myomer was ready for action, and now Danai had all the speed she wanted.
She pounded ahead, earth shaking beneath her, keeping pace with a Wasp that was less than half her size. In her unit, only the speedy Blades could outrun her. but they hung back a little—at thirty-five tons, they usually weren't anxious to be the first ones to reach enemy lines.
Unlike the last battle, Danai had a fair amount of open space between her and her enemies, so she wouldn't have to rely solely on her ax. It was time to bring some long-range weapons into play. Using her eyes and her sensors, she scanned the lines in front of her for an appropriate target. The militia troops had stood fairly still when her battalion started its charge, but became more active when the Capellans reached their firing range. They were advancing slowly while zigging and zagging, not letting themselves become easy targets for Capellan weaponry. Then, behind the shifting militia troops, Danai saw what she wanted to see—the big barrel on top of a Regulator hovertank hurling slugs deep into her lines. Time to put an end to that.
Her Artemis system drew a bead on the Regulator, and Danai fired a cluster of missiles that should put a damper on the vehicle's enthusiasm.
The LRMs streaked out of her chest-mounted launcher, exhaust contrails twisting out of their tails as they flew toward their target.
The Regulator detected the incoming missiles and started to move back, but it had nowhere to hide. The Artemis system guided the missiles home, and eighteen of them slammed into the side of the Regulator. Another one, defective, bumped off the top and then exploded harmlessly, while the last of the flight caught the arm of a nearby Cougar and detonated there instead. Flame enveloped the Regulator, which for the moment quit firing. Then militia 'Mechs and support vehicles closed in front of the wounded vehicle, laying down cover fire to keep Danai from finishing it. Lights flashed and an alarm buzzed, warning Danai that she had incoming missiles of her own to worry about.
She grinned, ready to use every weapon at her disposal. Nothing like a good, open fight. Everything was going perfectly—except for the continually updating information from Yun that showed the approaching DropShips were in Aldebaran's atmosphere.
DropShip Exarch's Pride Over Aldebaran
Republic of the Sphere
Major Bennett Anderton carefully drummed his egg on his white linen tablecloth. He shelled it delicately, making sure no piece of the hard exterior remained on the white. Once he had removed enough shell, he scooped out the egg with a spoon and let the gleaming white orb slip into his china bowl.
He ground two peppercorns and sprinkled them over his egg, then threw on a dash of salt. He cut through it with his spoon, observing with pleasure that the white was solid but the yolk still flowed outward. Cooked to perfection.
He carefully chopped off a small piece of white, coated it with yolk and was raising it toward his mouth when a crisp knock sounded at his door.
He managed to call out "Enter!" before the spoon reached his mouth, so he could chew and swallow the bite without interrupting his motion.
One of the DropShip's crew entered his stateroom. "Sir! All machines are prepared and your battalion is ready to land!"
Anderton nodded, taking another bite. "Excellent," he said. "Thank you." He continued eating.
The crewman didn't leave. He stood straight, fidgeting slightly as Anderton ate his egg.
After a minute of this, Anderton sighed. "Is there anything else?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you still here?"
"I am available to conduct you to your 'Mech preliminary to your insertion on the planet."
"That's quite gracious of you, but I believe I can find the way myself."
The crewman's fidgeting was becoming more obvious. "Yes, of course, sir. But . . ."
Anderton raised an eyebrow. He generally did not approve of enlisted men saying the word "but" in the presence of an officer. However, his sense of decorum (as well as the inner calm he needed to maintain if this morning's activities were to go as planned) prevented him from barking at the crewman. Instead, he humored him.
"Yes?"
"I just thought that you would want to go to your 'Mech as soon as possible. Once it was ready. For the fast deploy."
Anderton sighed, very quietly so the crewman wouldn't notice. It seemed he was always having to deliver lessons in time management.
"Generally speaking, it will take my battalion anywhere from twenty-seven to thirty-eight minutes after completing the initial checks to be ready to move forward. Walking to the bays, getting the necessary clearances, ensuring everything inside one's machine is the way one wants it. et cetera, et cetera. Now, I know from experience that it will only take me twenty minutes to perform those tasks. That means I have at least seven extra minutes. I could use that time sitting idly in my machine, or I can use it enjoying a small breakfast that will provide necessary nourishment for the coming fight. I assure you I will be ready to drop before the rest of my crew. That will be all."
The crewman saluted. Clearly still out of sorts, he turned too quickly and stumbled through the hatch out of Anderton's berth.
Anderton shook his head as the door to his quarters closed. Efficiency, he thought, is a lost virtue.
* * *
Anderton was perched in his Thunderbolt, the LRM-15 launcher a comforting presence just off to his right. He had tested the grips of his control sticks and the grip of the pads on his pedals, he'd put on his combat gloves and stretched his hands exactly six times to make sure the leather settled itself properly. The cockpit hummed quietly with power, ready to do whatever he asked.
Time to check on the rest of the battalion.
"Alpha Company, please report on your status." When he'd taken command of the Second Battalion of the Triarii Protectors, the companies within the battalion had names he found fairly ludicrous—Hyena Company, Hangfire Company, Wolfsbane Company—and making sure those names were dropped had been one of his first matters of business. He had nothing, of course, against colorful nicknames, and he by no means wanted to trample on the individuality of the men who served beneath him, but the last thing a commander needed when issuing orders was to waste time trying to remember the eccentric appellations the soldiers had chosen. There was a reason simple labels like Alpha, Bravo and Charlie stood the test of time—they were clear and straightforward. They did not impede the business of combat.
"Alpha Company prepared and ready," responded Lieutenant Marcy Breen. The redundancy of the answer briefly annoyed Anderton but, since it was clear enough and to the point, he let it pass.
"Bravo Company, please report on your status."
"Bravo Company ready." That was Lieutenant Fisher Cowen—direct and efficient. A good lad, Anderton thought.
"Charlie Company, please report on your status."
"In the saddle and itchin' to
ride!"
Anderton didn't respond. He'd reviewed protocol enough times with Lieutenant Gaffney that he felt no need to repeat the lecture now. He let his silence do all the talking for him.
When Gaffney finally spoke again, he didn't sound quite as much like a character from the Dead in the Ancient West holovid series.
"Ready, sir," he said, giving the last word something that might have been an insolent twist. Anderton paid it no mind.
After reviewing his supporting units in similar fashion, Anderton gave the clearance for the operation to proceed. In the blink of an eye, he went from the harsh white light of the ship's 'Mech bay to the dim pinks and purples of the first traces of sunrise over Aldebaran. He could see explosions and smoke in the distance, traces of the battle with which he meant to interfere. The grass well below him looked easy enough to land in, and the enemies in front of him should be surprised and hopefully discomfited by his unit's jump jet-aided arrival.
All in all, the morning looked to be just as satisfying as a perfectly shelled egg.
Jifang PoCity, Aldebaran
Republic of the Sphere
"Sao-shao, the reinforcements are officially on the move."
Danai blinked in midslash. The Locust she had pinned thought it was being granted a chance for escape, but her hesitation was brief. Yen-lo-wang's right arm continued its downward swipe and crushed the middle window of the 'Mech's cockpit. The poor little beast shuddered and collapsed.
She pulled her ax out of the wreckage and let the momentum of the move spin her to the right, where a battle-armor platoon was getting annoyingly close. A single blast of her heavy laser made them think better of approaching her.
Now she could take a moment to concentrate on what Harris Yun had to tell her.
"All right, Yun, how much time do we have? Do you know who they are yet? And how many they've got?"
"Everything besides the IFF points to them being Republic troops, probably from New Canton, and that means probably Triarii. Looks like a battalion, coming down in a fast deployment. They'll hit the ground running and come right to the back of your lines."
Principles of Desolation Page 10
