“But Victor.”
“Victor has fooled us,” Jackson said. “It may have cost him Christifori, but the cost was well worth it for him if he secures a beachhead.”
“Damn him,” she spat.
Jackson said nothing. He simply saluted and turned. There was much to do. The war had taken a whole new twist.
Chapter Five
Barrington, Rear Area Field Hospital
New Avalon, Crucis March
Federated Suns
25 March 3067
His throat was so dry that it hurt as he gulped. Archer knew that the smell he was catching, the whiff of chemicals mixed with his own bad breath, meant one thing—he was in a hospital. For a moment, he didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to know how bad it was.
The last memories that he had were not good. Katya was down and not responsive. An almost fanatical pair of ’Mechs were rushing them. There was fire. His Penetrator had keeled over, baking him like an oven. It had been a long time since he had passed out due to heat build-up, but the memories of it were never fond.
There was no point stalling any longer. His eyes were caked at the edges but eventually opened. Yes, a field hospital. The white curtain blocking his view was a clue. Shifting slightly in his bed, Archer’s muscles ached but he felt all of his limbs. That was a good sign. Turning, he saw an IV bottle hanging next to him. Yes, he was alive, battered, baked, but alive.
What about Katya?
He rose slightly in his bed and was surprised that he could. The privacy curtains on either side of him blocked his view, but at the foot of the bed a nurse emerged. Wearing green fatigues under a white smock, she moved in quickly to help him to a sitting position. “Take it easy, General,” she assured him.
“Situation?” he rasped, his voice barely audible.
“Relax, sir. Some of your personnel are here. They knew you’d want a full briefing. I’ll get them.” The fact that she wasn’t hovering over him told him that his own situation was not serious. He didn’t matter anyway. Archer’s real focus was his people, his command.
Lieutenant Thomas Sherwood entered first, followed by Captain Kraff. Both men looked alright, though Archer noted that Sherwood had a bruise on his forehead that had to feel worse than it looked. The nurse returned quickly with a glass of water and a bent straw. Archer took a long drag and the water stung at his throat. He winced and was almost embarrassed by the gesture.
His voice had returned. “What’s the situation, gentlemen?”
Sherwood spoke first. “Major Gett assumed command and coordinated our extraction sir. Our losses are pretty significant, currently we show less than 32% operational effectiveness. We took one hell of a beating.”
“The Loyalists took worse,” Kraff added. “A lot worse.”
Thirty-two percent? The loss was staggering. Casualties and damaged equipment would account for a lot of that, but it still meant many good men and women dead. Killed under his command. More blood on Katherine’s hands… “What about the primary assault? Any word from the attacking force?”
“Reports in from General Sortek, Kai Allard, and General Sanchez all indicate that they have secured a strong beachhead on Avalon Island with minimal losses. Fighting was rough, but a lot less than if we had not made our diversionary attack.”
“What about Colonel Chaffee?” he asked.
There was a hesitation. The two officers looked at each other. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “What is it?”
“The Colonel was badly injured,” Kraff said, minus his usual gruffness. “By the time we got to you, two ’Mechs were about to grind you both into greasy spots on the ferrocrete. It was some sort of headhunter lance; they fought right to the end. Damned fanatics.”
“How is she?” he pressed.
Lieutenant Sherwood broke in. “She’s going to pull through, but she’s pretty busted up sir. Her legs are broken—it looks like her cockpit got pretty battered up. She was lucky that her fire suppression system kicked in or she could be facing severe burns.” He paused for a moment. “She came around a few hours ago and her first question was how you were.”
Archer allowed himself a thin grin of satisfaction, if only for a few seconds. “I need to get back to duty. We have work to do. We’ve got to get the regiment back up to ready status in case the Prince needs us.”
“General,” came a voice from behind the white privacy curtain. A short muscular man stepped around the corner. It was Prince Victor Steiner-Davion. “That won’t be necessary. You and your personnel can stand down for now.”
Christifori sat up a little more and gave him a salute, which he returned. “Sir, what are you saying?”
“General Christifori, the Avengers fulfilled their mission gloriously. I came here to tell you that, and to thank you. If it wasn’t for your efforts, we would have lost many more people. Your people are tough as nails, tougher,” Victor cast a nod to the officers of the Avengers regiment.
“You’re going to be held in reserve, but I’m hoping we won’t need your troops any more. God knows they’ve done their bit for king and country, as have you. But they’ve been rebuilt and refitted a lot in the last few years. The Avengers have helped win us a signal victory in the assault on Avalon Island. It’s time for some of our other troops to finish this up.”
“Sir, my men…”
Victor cut him off. “Archer, your troops are going to need you. You’ve suffered substantial losses. Trust me when I say this, if we need you, you and they will need to be ready. I’m just hoping it won’t come to that.”
“Sir,” Archer stirred in his bed. “I was hoping to be there at the end.”
“You are there, General,” the Prince replied. “But I haven’t forgotten my word to you months ago. You’ll have to forgive my rush, but I’m needed elsewhere. When the time comes, you’ll hear from me. Until then, your orders are to get your unit patched up.” Victor glanced at his chronometer and gave Archer a short nod. Archer saluted. He understood. It took a great deal for the Prince to come to the rear area when the fighting was still going on. It was a mark of respect. I only hope I’ve earned it.
• • •
“Simon,” Katrina said, templing her fingers in front of her. Her office went silent as she spoke, eerily silent. “You have let me down. You have let down the whole of the Federated Commonwealth. Because of you, and your incompetence, my brother has been able to land his troops on Avalon Island.”
Simon Gallagher did his best to restrain his nervousness, but Katherine could see it. A bead of sweat on the brow, a hand tapping on the arm of the chair. Good, he understands that his life is on the line, Champion or no. “Your Highness, I have already sacked the personnel responsible for this grievous error. From where I sat, with the intelligence at hand, the landings in Portsmouth looked to be the primary assault.”
Katrina shot a glance at Jackson Davion, then back to her pet Field Marshal. “We are far too pressed right now for me to try and replace you, regardless of what I think of your competence, Simon,” she fired back. “But know this, if Victor reaches this palace, you have plenty on your files that he will find most amusing. You will, as will your family. I will see to that myself. Do I make myself clear?”
For a heartbeat, Simon Gallagher said nothing. Staring at her coldly, he understood the implications of what she was saying. For him, there would be no endgame. “I understand you completely, your Highness.”
“Good,” she replied. “Because this war is not mine alone. Everyone loyal to me stands to lose everything should we fail here.
“Everyone…”
• • •
General Christifori stood beside her bed. Two IV bottles fed Katya, keeping her alive and hydrated. The nurse had told him, advanced neurofeedback. The hits had set off an internal explosion that had sent a pulse of bio-electrical feedback into her neurohelmet and right into her brain. It was the bane of a MechWarrior. The condition was survivable, but painful.
Archer r
eached out and took her hand. It didn’t move. She had been there with him from the beginning. In fact, it was her prodding that had convinced him to take a stand against Katherine. Now she was lying here, in a hospital bed, because he had ordered her into action.
Damn.
Archer winced. If she were awake, he knew she would be pushing him, telling him not to waste time at her bedside. With Katya, the cause had been everything. Taking out Katherine had been the focus of her last few years. Injury would not stop that.
Christifori leaned over her. “I’m always counting on you to be my conscious, Katya. Now you can’t. So what would you want me to do?” He spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper.
No response came. He didn’t expect any. In his mind he heard her talking. Heard her words. He nodded. “Alright then. Once more unto the breech, eh?”
He let go of her limp hand and turned away. Activating his comm unit he signaled. “This is Specter One. What’s the status of my ’Mech?”
“Sir,” came a voice that could only be Major Gett. “Why do you want to know?”
“Major, I assure you I don’t need or want a lecture. What is the status of my ’Mech?”
“Sir,” she replied curtly. “Your Penetrator is little more than a shell. It’s going to take two days and two teams to get it operational. We don’t have any reserve equipment not allocated.”
“Then get those teams to work, priority one,” he said. Turning he gave Katya a glance. “Yes, my friend, I’ll end this thing once and for all.”
Chapter Six
Approaching the Davion Palace
New Avalon, Crucis March
Federated Suns
20 April 3067
Sergeant Reed swung his battered Lancelot wide of the incoming missile salvo. The SRM carrier had unleashed a volley of death and destruction down at his position at maximum range. The stubby missiles twisted and contorted, raining down all around him. His Lancelot quaked. Its right arm, already a mangled clump of metal, caught three warheads, twisting it around even more. A puff of white smoke popped out from the elbow actuator and he watched as the metal and myomer stump dropped off to the ground. The ’Mech’s weight shifted with the loss of the arm, but he easily compensated.
Suddenly he saw something out of the right side of his cockpit. It was a BattleMech and according to his tactical display, it was friendly. The massive bird-like ’Mech was a dull primer gray color, obviously repair armor plating. It stopped and leveled its massive arms out for a shot. He watched as glowing-jade beams stabbed out at the SRM Carrier.
The boxy little tank was easily in range and tried to make a break for better cover. The beams sliced its flank armor, cutting long black slashes. Reed watched as smoke, oily black, rose from the rear hit. The SRM carrier lurched to a sudden stop. Hatches opened and the crew began to crawl. The smoke seemed to come from every seam, every crack, every hatch. Small wisps, then tendrils of twisted darkness.
Then it blew up.
It was an orange ball of fire that engulfed everything around the SRM tank. The blast was massive and over in less than a second. The crew never stood a chance. Sergeant Reed was stunned at what he had seen. If not for the ’Mech, a Penetrator, arriving, he might have been wiped out.
He stabbed his comm panel. “Whoever you are, thanks for the assist.”
A very solemn, almost calming voice came back to him. “The Remagan boys are a tough unit. Watch yourself trooper.”
“Who are you?” Reed asked.
“Christifori,” came back the voice. “General Christifori.” Suddenly the Penetrator turned and ran off, obviously having detected another target. Reed sat in his Lancelot’s command seat, his mouth hanging agape. He had heard stories from the other MechWarriors about Christifori. For the last few weeks, he and members of his unit had been operating as an independent command. Word was that Prince Victor had ignored the action. There had been rumors that Christifori and a lance or two of ’Mechs had showed up at several battles, the Avengers adding their fire in, almost always in the nick of time, then disappearing.
Some of the men said that Christifori was sanctioned, that the Prince was using him to help troubleshoot battlefield areas…a firefighting unit. Word was that his own regiment, Archer’s Avengers, were being disbanded.
Reed had written it all off as rumor. Now he saw differently. Christifori had appeared, saved his butt, then taken off.
Damn, I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. He realized that his peers were never going to believe what had happened.
Forward Observation Post
New Avalon, Crucis March
Federated Suns
22 April 3067
The hovercar was a staff vehicle, bearing two fender flags. The traditional flags of the defunct Federated Commonwealth had obviously been replaced with handmade flags. One was a white flag of truce, the other was the single gold star above the symbol for the Federated Suns—the sign of the Marshal of the Armies. Victor stood in his MechWarrior’s shorts and tee-shirt, arms resting on his hips as the car pulled up. The tiny flags stopped fluttering and the door opened. A regal man rose from the back seat. His uniform was pristine, his face was lean and tight. He was tall, and as he looked at Victor he had to look downward. There was a familiarity between the men, genetic. It was in the eyes and cheeks.
The drive had been short. Prince Victor’s forces were just outside of the palace itself. The broadband carrier transmission had called for a cease-fire, which had surprised everyone on both sides of the conflict.
Jackson Davion stepped forward and saluted Victor Steiner-Davion. As he clicked his heels together, his spurs jingled. The gathering crowd of officers circling the staff car were surprised by the gesture. They were more surprised when Victor returned the salute.
“You called for a cease-fire, Jackson,” Victor said coolly. “I assume that your intentions are honorable and that this isn’t some vain effort to buy you time.”
Jackson’s face betrayed no emotions. “No ploy, Victor. Katrina…Katherine sent me here to negotiate the surrender of the palace.”
Victor paused, glancing over at the man at his side, Kai Allard, then to the other officers gathered. As he returned his gaze to Jackson Davion, he crossed his arms defiantly. “Our terms are unaltered. Unconditional surrender. Your forces must stand down, surrender their armaments, vehicles and BattleMechs. Prisoners not involved in war crimes will be paroled accordingly.”
“I understand,” he replied. “I know that she will ask, so I must as well. What will become of her?”
Now Victor put on his poker-face. “I will be honest, Jackson, our efforts have been concentrated on fighting the war. My plans for peace-time have been second-fiddle to our combat mission. I will say this, though. She needs to be surrendered to my forces immediately. Personally.”
“I do not think that will be a problem,” Jackson replied. “At this point I think she expects that.”
Victor nodded. “Her custody is important, Jackson. If you’d like, I can send an emissary with you to take her under arrest. That is the quickest way for us to ensure that no one else dies in this conflict.” His words were not hollow. While a cease-fire was a in place, it was perilous and any small incident could cause it to erupt in full battle. The war was long and the emotions tied to it ran very deep with the troops on both sides.
“I agree,” Jackson replied.
Victor scanned the eyes of his officers gathered around the staff car. Each and every one of them had earned the right to go. A part of him wanted to be the one that went to Katherine himself. But this was a political opportunity, a chance to restore the lines of the Federated Commonwealth.
“General Christifori?” Victor called. Archer stepped forward. Like Victor, he was donned in his MechWarrior gear. His tee shirt was soaked in sweat, having just been pulled from the lines.
“Highness?”
“I have one last assignment for you.”
• • •
Katrina cares
sed the arms of the throne. Closing her eyes, she could feel the arms of it in her hands. This was the place from which her father had ruled. It was a Davion throne, a throne of power. From this place, from this seat, the fate of the Inner Sphere had rested. It was hers, but in a few minutes, it would not be.
I’ll be back…someday, somehow.
She heard the footsteps in the room on the marble floor. Slowly, dangerously, she opened her eyes and saw the figures before the throne. An officer, a General, in a dress uniform. It had obviously been a last minute addition; his face still showed some of the grime of battle. His face was familiar, but she did not focus on it. At least he was civilized enough to have dressed appropriately for court. Next to him was Jackson Davion, her defrocked Marshal of the Armies.
“I have done as you asked,” Jackson said formally. “Prince Victor has offered no terms other than your arrest and unconditional surrender. Given our current state, I felt compelled to accept.” She noticed that he no longer addressed her as “Highness.” It was already over—it had been so for some time.
“Very well,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss him and his words. She rose slowly, almost wearily from the throne and took a step down to the marble floor.
“May I present the emissary of your brother. This is General Archer Christifori. General Christifori, this is Katherine Steiner-Davion.” Jackson had not lost his formality or dignity given the circumstances. He waved his arm during the introduction as if court were in session.
Christifori stepped forward. There was no bowing, no averting of the eyes, no signs of respect for her authority. Yes, his face had appeared different in the holodisplay images. He was less imposing. Victor’s public relations staff had done a good job. Katrina stepped in front of him. “So you are Archer Christifori? Somehow I was led to believe you’d be much more.”
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