by Fanpro
"Without warning?" It was Goodall. She looked upset at the prospect.
"Hell, yes," snapped Vost. "It's them or us. This is no time to worry about niceties. We'll give them what they deserve. Do you think that slant-eyed Takuda would give us a chance if he thought he could get away with it? I don't trust him a bit."
"As a matter of fact," said Goodall stepping forward, "I do think he'd give us a chance. He's had plenty of time to take a whack at us, and he's certainly had call to do you. But he hasn't. I think he's an honorable man. I, for one, trust him." She didn't add the words, "more than I trust you," but the implication was there.
"You can believe any way you like, Holly," said Vost, not hiding the menace in his voice. "Just as long as you do as you're told and stay out of our way. If you get squeamish, close your eyes till it's over."
The teams broke up and began their tasks. Seagroves climbed onto the back of his Phoenix Hawk and began his first-level maintenance checks. Underos Yaputi, his technician, stood on the ground and called off the checklist as Seagroves made the inspection. It was mostly sham. Seagroves was actually reconnecting the laser controls, broken before he had flown his first mission. He'd done that on Takuda's command, and the weapons system had not been reactivated since. There had been no need. Now, however, the lasers had a mission, one, chuckled Seagroves to himself, that Takuda would find most interesting. Yaputi called off the list and Seagroves responded. The pilot cleared the ammunition belts for the heavy machine guns. He was ready. All he needed to do was make a slight torso twist and align the I/R sight on the command bunker. That would be eas Inside the disintegrating hull of the DropShip, the other 'Mech pilots were also going about their work. Guardine checked the jump packs on the back of the Panther, making sure they were fully charged and that the back-blast area was as clear as possible. When Vost fired the 'Mech out the top of the cargo bay, no one wanted any FOD. Foreign Object Damage was a part of being a 'Mech pilot, but none of them was fool enough to ask for such an accident. A steel box driven into a knee servo could freeze a 'Mech in place at just the wrong time. Best to keep the area as clear as possible.
Holly Goodall and Sagiri Johnson worked on her Locust. With the debris around the light 'Mech cleared away, all that was left now was to release the holding shackles. Johnson and Goodall worked in silence, each one deep in his or her own thoughts. Working beside them on the other Locust, Brank and Panda were equally absorbed in freeing that 'Mech. Goodall and Johnson moved to the opposite side of the Locust.
"What do you think of the plan?" Johnson said, almost adding "Sir" to the question—an old habit that died hard.
"It's a plan," said Goodall with a shrug.
"I'm not crazy about the complete execution." Johnson's statement was absolutely noncommittal. Anyone hearing it and not seeing the look in his eyes would have thought nothing of it.
"You mean murder?"
"That's not what I said."
"I know that's not what you said." Goodall's voice was low enough not to carry beyond them. "I just wonder what you meant."
Sagiri Johnson worked silently on the restraining shackle, applying himself diligently to the task of removing some microscopic speck of dirt in the release mechanism. It took quite a while. Goodall waited for him to finish. "I wasn't too pleased with the 'slant-eyed' comment," the technician said finally.
"That's typical Vost," Goodall said dryly. "He thinks he's superior because he's a Mech Warrior, and because of his race, and because he's a man. Typical. Sorry, Sagiri. Present company excepted."
The technician smiled at this woman who could pilot a Locust with the best of the best. "Don't worry. I know what you mean. And I agree with what you said about Takuda. I like the guy, even if he's a little rigid. And I'm not saying that because I'm a man or because my mother was Oriental. I just like him."
"Well. He'll be dead by dawn if Vost has his way."
"I'm not real happy about that, either." Johnson gazed off into the depths of the cargo hold. "He doesn't need to die, and certainly not that way." The technician stared at nothing. "I'm not even sure it wouldn't be better for Vost to get it instead."
Goodall felt the tension in the cargo hold. They were talking treason. Treason of the worst kind. They had signed on with Vost because he was a leader who would get them the best deal. Now they were talking about changing sides. Was it for the better deal? Or was it because some honor in each of them had not been satisfied? Goodall looked directiy into the eyes of her tech. "Do you want to warn Takuda?"
"Do you mean me or us?"
"I guess I mean us."
"Then, yes. I think we should warn him."
"Who does it?"
"You've got to stay with your 'Mech," Johnson said after a moment. "I'm the one who can get away without creating too much suspicion. Let me do it."
20
The dripping darkness added to the sense of espionage and secrecy. No wind blew across the open field where the diverse band of humans had camped, and the gentle, misting rain obscured the tall trees beyond, cloaking the encampment further in an air of conspiracy. Within the darkness, vague shapes moved stealthily on missions of equal urgency and secrecy, each one avoiding, as if by choreographed movement, the presence of the others. In the darkness beyond the circle of grass marking the camp zone, the forest teemed with a secret movement of its own, the Tetatae creeping closer and closer to the human zone.
Had the DEST guards been alert in their security positions on the perimeter, they would have sensed the advance of the Tetatae. But they were busy with other matters. The moment darkness had fallen, changing the gloom of daylight fading under low clouds to a stygian blackness, the DEST sections had begun to move. They did not move fast, and they did not move far, but began to gradually slip away from their established positions to rally around the command bunker.
Takuda had left his position as soon as it was full dark. He was gone before the glowing shape of the LAM pilot, seen through the I/R scanner, scrambled up the side of the LAM and took his place in the cockpit. George Bustoe, the DEST headquarters clerk, watched the glow of the internal power supply begin to flow,into the 'Mech's control, propulsion, and weapons systems. He reported the activity to Takuda, who was shielded from the prying eyes of the LAM's I/R sensors. Not only was his form masked by the rising bulk of the bunker, but like every other member of the DEST team, he was wearing an I/R suppression suit.
The area where the human survivors were camped was several hundred meters wide by six kilometers long. The DropShip and the Telendine's lifeboat had grounded at one end, just short of the trees that barred further passage. The security arrangements they'd established put the DEST headquarters some five hundred meters behind the DropShip hulk, with the two light sections spread out in a wide vee behind it. The weapons section had been separated from the others, held near the headquarters as a reserve force. Security for the DropShip had been provided by the mercenaries and the ship crews. Takuda had not deemed it the best possible arrangement, but the plan had suited the various personalities involved. Now the arrangement suddenly became an asset.
The topography of the area permitted anyone on the DropShip to see only the DEST command bunker. Even the LAM, positioned near the forward edge of the DropShip's port wing, could see only the DEST headquarters and the position of the western section. But it could not see both with the same accuracy. The result was that Brian Seagroves, sitting tense in the cockpit of his Phoenix Hawk, had a clear I/R signature from the command position, but only a faint blue blur from the section area. He could see the heat signature from the entrance of the headquarters, but Yura had made sure that the bunker's stove was going full bore. The heat that radiated from the mouth of the bunker virtually blocked out any faint I/R noise from the surrounding area. Even Bustoe, lying on the top of the bunker itself, was invisible. And anyone moving along the eastern side of the ridge that marked the center of the position would be equally hidden.
Takuda was in a quandary about the
operation. If this had been a standard DEST mission, winning would have meant the elimination of every mercenary around the 'Mechs; they would leave no survivors. But this was not standard. Takuda had no desire to kill all the mercenaries. They had done nothing to earn such retribution. There had only been the report that Vost was planning to break the 'Mechs out of the hull and make a run for the enclaves. They'd also been warned that the LAM was to destroy the command bunker, but that seemed logical. Takuda would have done the same if given the opportunity. But he had no wish to destroy the 'Mechs and their pilots. Takuda knew only too well that he would need them in his dealings with the enclaves. Thus he had ordered his people to use non-deadly force. If deadly force became necessary, only Takuda would give the order.
The attacking force consisted of the two light teams commanded by Arsenault and Knyte. Sanae stayed at the CP with the heavy section. From there she would be able to direct the SRM, loaded with inferno missiles, at any heavy target that appeared. She also had Miranda and his heavy rifle available to eliminate individual targets. The heavy team was the only one armed with deadly weapons; the other DEST members were carrying tranq guns.
Approaching the starboard side of the DropShip, the DEST team fanned out. Takuda and the headquarters section were in the center, with Knyte and his section to the right, Arsenault and his to the left. They crept through the grass, scanning the target with their I/R sensor goggles. One glowing life form stood out clearly against the black of night. It was Reston Bannin, Master and Commander of the late JumpShip Telendine, standing guard. He was seated on the top of the DropShip, his legs dangling into the gaping wound that had been cut in the ship's side to release the LAM. His guard position was most awkward for the assaulting DEST.
Takuda signaled Knyte to take Bannin out of the equation. Holland moved silently to scale the nose of the DropShip. The rest of the DEST team watched her creep over the battered ogive and along the top of the hull. Perhaps it was some water on the hull or maybe a spot of lubricant left by one of the mercenaries during the cutting operation. Whatever it was, her felt-soled shoes suddenly made a noise. Not much of one, and not one that would have been noticed during normal activity. But on this night, with no wind to mask the sounds, the slight squeak of her boots on the titanium alloy skin screeched like a banshee. Bannin twisted to face her.
Before he could grasp the situation, before he could open his mouth to give the alarm, Holland reacted. In one swift gesture she brought the tranq rifle from its carry position on her back, leveled the weapon, and fired two quick shots. One would have been enough for the JumpShip skipper; the second was just insurance.
The soft thunk-thunk of the rifle echoed through the gaping cavity of the DropShip's cargo bay, unheard by the workers on the deck ten meters below. From his post on the outer skin, Reston Bannin had a momentary vision of a figure swathed in black, then his vision clouded and he lost control of his muscles. He reached out to brace himself against the skin of the ship, but his arms had lost their ability to respond. He toppled forward into the opening. Holland reached for him to stop his fall, but she was too far away. As if in slow motion, the body of the JumpShip skipper dropped onto the inner cargo deck of the ship. If the reports of the tranq rifle had passed unnoticed, the crash of the falling body did not.
As Bannin took his dive into the black hole of the cargo bay, Takuda signaled the rest of the DEST team forward. Up and running toward the jagged rent in the side of the DropShip, they carried their tranq guns at the ready. The weapons were best at extremely close ranges, and Takuda knew they would have to get inside the hull of the vessel to have any chance of subduing the mercenaries.
Inside the hull, the thud of the falling body was amplified as the sound rebounded from the metal interior. Vost, halfway up the right side of the Panther, froze as he reached for the next handhold. He'd seen the body dropping out the corner of his eye; the form of Reston Bannin now lay curled beside the left foot of his 'Mech. Then he heard the pounding feet of the charging DEST team. The game was up, and he knew it "We're out of here!" he shouted as he scrambled toward the Panther's cockpit. Below him the dark interior bloomed with light.
Diomoso Panda was standing with his back to the jagged opening in the hull. He sensed rather than saw the DEST team charge across the open ground and under the wing of the DropShip. He had his Sternsnacht autopistol holstered on his right hip, and he drew it as he turned to face the darkness. Behind him the interior glazon lighting system flared into life, bathing the area around the opening in brilliant blue clarity. Panda saw a black figure silhouetted in the glare. Without hesitation, he drew the heavy pistol, raised it to face level, and fired. The flash of the pistol erased any remaining night vision the technician might have had. The dark figure went down.
Inside the cargo deck the Mech Warriors were settling into the command seats of their 'Mechs. Hands raced in well-accustomed gestures across the master switches and toggles. The cockpit recorders, sensors, and displays bloomed to life. Down below, technicians drove heavy mauls into the last of the restraining shackles. The 'Mechs were free, but they still did not move. None of the pilots would engage their drive systems until the entire checklist was completed. Even if the pilot had just done a third-level diagnostic and maintenance check, he would follow the entire initiation sequence. There were no old, bold, pilots.
The DEST team came pouring through the gap in the hull, their tranq rifles discarded in favor of lasers. Seein Yura go down under the blast of a heavy pistol, Takuda knew that the mercenaries were playing for keeps. He, too, would have to up the ante. He warned his people to be careful, still hoping to avoid having a pile of dead when the attack was over. Then Arsenault and his team scrambled across the DropShip's starboard wing and rolled through the opening into the brilliant light of the cargo hold.
Inside the Panther Vost's cockpit instruments glowed green. Twisting the 'Mech's torso to the right, he searched for possible targets. With nothing but a PPC and an SRM launcher, it would be disastrous for him to fire in the confined space of the cargo hold. His weapons made the Panther a powerful 'Mech, but at ranges of only a few meters he'd have been better off with machine guns. He saw Pesht and his Javelin begin to move away from the bulkhead where the 'Mech had been secured. The Javelin was in the same situation as the Panther. Its heavy load of SRMs did not make it a good fighting machine in a confined space. But, like the Panther, it could jump clear of the area. The Locusts, however, would have to walk out.
One of the DEST team was slinking around the feet of the shuffling Javelin, a grapple rod for attacking the 'Mech in his hand. Vost thought momentarily of firing his PPC at the figure, then changed his mind. That was Pesht's problem. "Man at your feet," he warned. "Goodall. Brank. Get 'em with your machine guns."
Outside the DropShip, Seagroves saw the bloom of light and heard the warning. As he triggered the pair of medium lasers on the arms of his LAM, the command bunker erupted in a brilliant ball of white fire. That'll take care of you, Takuda, he thought. He smiled, but the smile vanished as an inferno missile arced out of the darkness and struck the ground at the feet of the Phoenix Hawk. He felt his heart jump. Outta here; that's what Vost had said. Sounds like a good idea, thought Seagroves. I'd rather be rich than dead. The twin Allied AVRTech 125 jump jets roared into life as another inferno slammed into the ground where the 'Mech had been. "Adios, suckers," whispered Seagroves as the Phoenix Hawk lifted into the air.
Inside the cargo area the streams of machine gun bullets crisscrossed the open area. Bodies, caught in the deadly hail, ricocheted off the bulkheads in a macabre dance. Holly Goodall swung her twin heavy machine guns across the white void, searching for targets. Centered in her cross hairs she saw the rigid shape of a DEST soldier. She squeezed the triggers, taking up the slack. But then she saw that it was Takuda. Making an instant decision, she continued to traverse instead of firing. To her right she saw Brank's Locust making a similar sweep through the cargo bay, his twin guns stopping on the same targe
t. Without hesitation, Goodall swung her 'Mech's torso as far to the right as it would go, taking a step forward with her left leg to complete the traverse. The cockpit of the other Locust steadied in her targeting cross hairs. She punched the firing button.
Standing at the opening of the cargo bay, Vost knew there was nothing he could do here, and he'd only be cut to ribbons if he stayed. Firing the Panther's jump jets, he rose up and out of the combat. On his secondary screen he saw his techs also making for the woods. Inside the cargo bay the recumbent body of Reston Bannin vaporized under the searing plasma of the Panther's jump jets, then the 'Mech was clear of the DropShip. Vost hit the ground running, the Javelin right behind him. It had taken Pesht one step to center himself in the same opening, then he had fired the smaller Rawlings jets and lifted out after his commander.
The two 'Mechs made contact in the darkness outside. For a moment they contemplated going back to free the Locusts, but their calls brought no response. The lights in cargo hold blinked out. With the LAM already gaining altitude, Vost called Pesht to his side, and the two 'Mechs began lumbering westward toward the enclaves.
21
Parker Davud crept through the sudden stillness. He had sheltered in the access crawlway during the combat that had unexpectedly engulfed his DropShip. Not that it was much of a DropShip anymore, he thought—or that it was even his anymore. He wasn't quite sure why he had been in the crawlway between the flight deck and the main cargo area, but something had driven him there early in the evening. Perhaps, he thought, it was his unwillingness to participate in the Vost-Brank scheme to eliminate Takuda and the other DEST members.
