Main event

by James D. Long

  Morgain cupped his face in his hands. Seeing that the MechWarrior had swallowed the hook, Crenshaw decided that now it was time to pull.

  "Just like your father." Morgain's head snapped up. Crenshaw knew he was looking for any trace of deception, but it was too easy to fool the drunken young man. His face was a neutral mask, but his eyes told Crenshaw everything.

  "What about the mercenaries' gear?" Morgain tried to sound disinterested, but failed completely. "Somebody will have to be responsible for it."

  "I can think of nobody more qualified than yourself. The machines matter little to me or to the other members of my group. Consider them yours." Crenshaw could practically see the C-bills flashing in Salander's eyes. He reeled in his catch as he stood up and extended his bony right hand.

  "Glad to have you on board, Hauptmann Morgain. We can use you."

  Morgain looked up at the hand and slowly stood to shake it.

  "Now, if you don't mind. It's getting late for an old man like me. Why don't I have my chauffeur drive you back to your estate? You can sleep on the way."

  Crenshaw summoned the butler, who woke the chauffeur, who brought the limousine around to the front of the house. Crenshaw said good night and stood watching until the car was out of sight. Then he returned to the study, where another man had taken Morgain's chair.

  "You hear?" he asked, flopping back into his chair.

  "I heard."

  Crenshaw regarded the man, who wore a look of extreme boredom. The man steepled his fingers and placed his index fingers to his chin in concentration.

  "We should move tonight."

  Crenshaw shook his head. "It's too soon. If anything goes wrong on your end, it could affect the Council's voting tomorrow. Wait until tomorrow night. By then, I'll be in control of the Council and you can be on your way."

  The man tapped his fingers against his chin. Crenshaw could see that he didn't like the idea, but that eventually he'd accept it.

  "Young Morgain behaved just as you predicted."

  Crenshaw laughed with true delight for the first time that evening. "Thank you, but it really wasn't hard to predict. When you discovered the truth of his war record, all I had to do was put that together with what I already knew about him. Greed and insecurity, what a pitiful combination."

  "We had best make sure nobody else finds out about Morgain's past. If the rest of Borghese ever learned that he was cashiered for involvement in the black market, his credibility would drop to zero."

  "Believe me," said Crenshaw, rubbing his eyes, "nobody knows that better than I. Fortunately, the only people who know the truth are you, me, and the Records Department on Tharkad. None of whom are likely to volunteer the information.

  "We're safe on this one. Besides, Morgain's credibility only has to last another few months. After that, who cares what happens to him?"

  The man opposite Crenshaw frowned, then nodded. The two sat in silence for a moment, then Crenshaw stood. "I'm going to bed," he announced through a yawn.

  When his guest didn't move, Crenshaw began heading for the doorway.

  "And Hoffbrowse, lock the door on your way out."

  25

  Houston, Borghese

  13 June 3055

  As Zenos Cooke predicted, the new members of the Council were chosen by Crenshaw and his supporters. Although the final replacements could only be elected by popular vote, the Council could make temporary appointments. Only a simple majority was needed for approval because the time actually served by the Council members was so short.

  The first candidate seemed to be planted firmly in the middle of the road. Though Calvin Washington was better known for his lavish parties than for his political views, Cooke decided that the man was as good a candidate as he was going to get. In his acceptance speech, Washington promised to work hard, listen to the people he represented, and weigh each decision carefully. He was appointed by a five-to-zero margin.

  The second man practically arrived at the meeting in the same car as Crenshaw. During the initial speeches, he declared himself a member of the Preservationists. Despite vehement objections from Cooke, the Council elected Ermando Rashimaln by a vote of three to two. When Washington's hand went up in affirmation even before Crenshaw's, Cooke knew he'd been duped. De Vilbis abstained from voting, which was allowed, but very unusual. Voters expected their representatives to vote on issues, not sit and watch them go by.

  The Council adjourned in the late afternoon to give the new members a chance to bring themselves up to date on the current facts. Cooke had no illusions that both junior members were fully aware of the facts, but couldn't do much about it. Though he was still the chairman, the Council decided most issues by a simple majority. Cooke enjoyed a favored status and could sometimes bend the Council decisions to his will. With Crenshaw on the watch, even that would be hard to do now.

  As the members filed out of the domed meeting room, Cooke gave Crenshaw his best I'd-like-to-see-you-dead look, but the old man just smiled. He tried the same stare on Washington, but with similar results. Cooke figured Washington was just stupid and unaware. Crenshaw was obviously neither.

  * * *

  Rose got the news as he was preparing for McCloud's good-bye dinner. The rest of the mercenaries knew he was taking it hard that Rachel was leaving, but nobody, even his sister, knew what to say. Eventually they decided to leave him alone, trusting he would work through it on his own, or ask for help if he needed it.

  Rachel McCloud arrived promptly at seven. For unknown reasons, Antioch Bell had insisted on driving her to the compound. The ever-present protesters had been much more active of late, but Bell managed to get through them with a minimum of hassle. Rose knew that the dinner would be superb. Their local cook was excellent. His mind was elsewhere now as he stared at McCloud, listening to the conversation without joining in. The apple dumplings were just being served when the comm unit rang.

  Rianna stood to answer it, but Rose was faster. Crossing the small room, he picked up the handset and listened. He started to announce himself, but the caller interrupted. Rose's face drained of color as he listened.

  Ajax was the first to move, heading for the door even before Rose had put the handset back in place. Rose followed quickly, giving orders as he went.

  "Stand to, Thorns, we've got a problem at the spaceport." The rest of the team crowded toward the door as Ajax raced for his 'Mech. Because they were operating on yellow alert, everyone was wearing combat gear or else had their equipment within easy reach. Rachel remained seated, her face calm.

  "What's going on, Jeremiah?"

  The rest of the mercenaries were filing out the door, some running directly to the 'Mech bays, others to the barracks. The last to exit, Hawg pulled the door shut behind him with one hand as the other cradled a dumpling. Rose took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  "Terrorists are attacking the spaceport. It looks like the object of the raid is the Bristol. Your crew is trying to hold them off, but it doesn't look good."

  Rose expected anger and frustration, but he barely managed to duck as McCloud threw a heavy glass at him from across the room.

  "You son of a bitch. You're supposed to protect them." Without waiting for a reply, she charged around the table. Rose dropped into a crouch and prepared to meet the charge, but it never came. As McCloud neared the front door, it suddenly swung open. Running full throttle, McCloud didn't have a chance to avoid it. She hit the door at full speed, getting the air knocked out of her lungs and smashing her head into the reinforced wood.

  Hawg, his shoulder still braced against the door, looked at Rose and tried to smile. "It seemed like the only thing to do at the time." The big man peered around the edge of the door as Rose stepped over to the fallen McCloud, who was gasping for breath, her left eye beginning to swell shut. The wounds looked and sounded bad, but she'd be up in a few minutes.

  "Sir, now would be the time to get out of here. Unless you think she'll run into the door again when she gets up."
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  Rose looked up at Hawg and then back to McCloud.

  Torn by indecision, he pointed to the cook. "Get a couple of guards in here. Make sure she doesn't leave until we get back."

  McCloud was struggling to rise, her remaining good eye focused on Rose's throat. "Sit on her if you have to," Rose said, "but don't let her leave."

  With that, he was out the door, Hawg close on his heels. By the time Rose reached the cockpit of the Charger, Ajax's Raven was already moving toward the main gate. Angus soon followed and the rest of the company closed behind the recon 'Mechs. Running through the gates in his 'Mech, Rose could see that the protesters had gathered in strength at the compound tonight, screaming at the 'Mechs as they went by. Rocks pinged off the Charger's armor, and for a moment Rose feared one of the protesters would be crushed under the feet of one of the 'Mechs in the vain attempt to stop them. Fortunately, he was wrong. The group stayed well away from the road and soon the Black Thorns were past them and moving toward the spaceport.

  Ajax and Angus led the way, with the rest of the Thorns close behind. Soon Ajax had outdistanced the rest, and Rose decided not to call him back. It was unlikely that the Capellan would meet any resistance until he got to the spaceport and his timely arrival might be fortuitous.

  By the time the rest of the Thorns arrived, Ajax had swept the Bristol with his powerful short-range scanners. The Beagle active probe mounted in the Raven's nose gave a grim, but accurate picture.

  The terrorists had evidently gained access to the ship by posing as maintenance workers. Rose could see their damaged cargo-lifter parked under the closed door of Bay Number Three. Two bodies lay near the lifter, but in the darkness it was impossible to identify them as friend or foe.

  Rose's Charger pulled up next to the Raven, which was sheltered from the DropShip's guns by an intervening supply building.

  "What's the situation, Ajax?" Rose tried to peer over the supply building, but could see only the top half of the Bristol.

  "They were just sealing the bays as I got here. Looks like the crew managed to hold them off for a while, but not long enough. I capped the two by the lifter, but the rest got inside."

  As Rose listened, the top gun of the DropShip swung their way. The gun lowered, but stopped well above the top of the Charger's head. Because the Bristol was basically a sphere, the placement of its guns had posed a design problem. The designers had finally decided to devote most of the protection to the top half of the sphere, as that was the side most often engaged in combat. On the ground, these top-mounted weapons gave the Union Class DropShip good defense against aerial attacks. For defense against ground forces, the ship depended on the 'Mechs it normally carried to keep enemies away. Right now the Thorns were positioned under the Bristol's major weapons, and would have to face only the lower set of lasers if they decided to rush the DropShip.

  Rose considered his two options. Either he could order his unit to rush the ship, damaging it enough to prevent takeoff or they could sit and watch it get away. In either case the Bristol would be lost to McCloud. On one hand she'd never be able to afford the repair costs for such damage; on the other, the hijackers were unlikely to return the ship when finished with it. It didn't take long to decide.

  "This is Commander One. Rush the DropShip. Concentrate fire on the closest support stanchion. If we break one of the legs, they might decide not to attempt liftoff."

  Even as Rose spoke, a sudden red glow appeared under the Bristol. Smoke billowed out from beneath the massive craft as a dull roar deafened the mercenaries.

  "Ajax, I thought you said they'd just closed the hatches!" If that was true, Rose should have had ten to fifteen minutes to attack the ship before the hijackers could possibly start up the engines and attempt liftoff. In that amount of time he could have broken all four DropShip legs. Instead, the ship was now in the final stages of liftoff.

  "Go, go, go." Trusting the rest of his lance to follow, Rose rounded the edge of the maintenance building and ran toward the Bristol. Triggering his first salvo of long-range missiles, he could see the ship's massive legs extend as the engines began to bear the weight of thirty-five hundred tons. Smoke rolled over the Charger, obscuring the 'Mech's bottom half. Rose fired again at the Bristol's nearest leg. Around him the Black Thorns targeted the same leg with PPCs and large lasers. Rose fought closer as the thrust of the Bristol increased. Around him the howl of the massive engines reached a deafening pitch.

  The ship leaned slightly to the right, and one of the Bristol's legs lifted off the ground. As Rose fired again at the near leg, the Bristol finally answered. Three red beams shot from the weapons bay, striking the Charger squarely in the chest. Armor dissolved and flowed in three separate rivulets as the intense heat of the lasers melted the ferro-fibrous plates covering the 'Mech's engine. Thrown slightly off balance by the attack, Rose tried to take a step back to steady himself.

  Instantly he knew he was going to fall. Although the blasts would normally not have been enough to knock him over, the typhoon around him pushed his balance over the edge. Thick smoke rose around the view ports as the Charger disappeared within the smoke. The 'Mech fell hard on its right elbow, snapping off armored plates and slamming Rose onto his right side. By the time he regained his feet, the Bristol was airborne. He tried to rush forward to fire at the exposed engines, but the heat was too great.

  As the Charger's heat scale climbed into the red, he slapped the engine-shutdown override, watching in frustration as the Bristol rose in the air. Esmeralda fired a pair of PPCs as the ship continued upward, but Rose knew the fight was already lost. He didn't even bother sending another flight of LRMs after the retreating craft.

  "Black Thorns, this is Command One. Group on me." Rose moved out of the rapidly diminishing smoke and led his unit back to their base. He was still trying to decide what he was going to tell McCloud when he saw that the main gate had been breached.

  The main gate hung on shattered hinges. Near the guard house Rose could see the still forms of the two guards. Through the windows of the barracks and the mess hall rapidly spreading flames were visible. At first Rose thought that the heavier fortified command post was undamaged, but when he triggered the Charger's chest-mounted spot light, he saw that the doors and shuttered windows had been scored by machine gun fire. Zooming in on the post's front door, however, Rose saw that the building remained secure. He saw no signs of heavy vehicles or 'Mechs, but they could easily be hiding behind the command post or in the repair bay. As he charged through what was left of the main gate, he noticed that the protest encampment to the side of the road seemed abandoned.

  "This is Command One," he said. "Seek and destroy any vehicles, but look out for peds. Battle lance, take the 'Mech bays. Pursuit lance, check the perimeter. Rianna, you stick with me."

  Rose led his sister to the command center, scanning for individual heat sources. It would be nearly impossible to hide a vehicle on this side of the camp, but an infantryman with a missile, especially an inferno, could cause considerable damage. After several seconds of tense searching, Rose was about to declare the base abandoned when he caught the azure flash of a PPC.

  Spinning toward the flash, Rose saw a civilian four-wheel drive vehicle streak out of the 'Mech bay. Esmeralda's shot had flushed the vehicle from its hiding place and now it was accelerating toward the main gate. The driver sent the vehicle sliding in a four-wheel drift around the edge of the flaming barracks. From the open-top cargo compartment two missiles leapt toward the Warhammer, trailing gray smoke. Esmeralda fired another PPC, but the wildly sliding vehicle eluded the shot as both its missiles struck the Warhammer's head.

  Rose tried to line a shot, but the vehicle disappeared under the cover of the command post. By the time it had cleared the corner of the building, it was pointed straight toward the main gate. Rose fired hurried shots with both arm-mounted lasers, but they struck to either side of the rapidly moving vehicle. He was about to give chase when Ajax arrived.

  The Raven bo
unded around the mess hall in pursuit of the fleeing vehicle. Rose also started the Charger toward the main gate, but the Raven got there first, its bird-like legs driving the 'Mech's small body with increasing speed. As the vehicle slowed to take the first corner in the road, Ajax fired his Harpoon Six missiles. Someone yelled a warning over the open channel, but Rose couldn't identify the anguished voice. True to their name, five of the six missiles harpooned the side of the vehicle as it slid into the turn. Powered by forward momentum and lateral explosions, the vehicle completed the turn and slid off the road. Although the low buildings between the wreck and the Charger obscured Rose's view, the resulting explosion left no doubt about Ajax's marksmanship.

  Ajax moved forward to confirm the kill and look for survivors, then reported that all four men had died in the wreck. As Ajax finished his report to Rose, Esmeralda declared the 'Mech bay clear. Angus and Ria quickly followed with identical reports, although they had discovered several of the compound guards dead at their posts, along with a handful of attackers. That left only the command post. Rose turned toward it, and activated his external speakers.

  "This is Captain Rose of the Black Thorns. Open the doors of the command post and come out with your hands up. The building is completely surrounded." Rose waited and listened to the sounds of flames licking wildly at the burning mess hall. Several seconds later the door swung open.

  Out stepped Rachel McCloud With a Zeus heavy rifle.

  The eight-kilogram sniping rifle looked like a cannon in her small arms, but she rested the bulk easily on one hip. Rose could not help but smile at the sight. McCloud was the image of confidence and martial prowess until she suddenly collapsed in the doorway. Zooming in on her, he could see that her hair was thickly matted with blood.

  "This is Command One. We've got to get out of here while there's still time. I don't know who attacked the camp, but I bet they'll be back. Without the support of the Council, we've got to assume we're on our own.