You can't wait either, can you? Fitz smiled. Well, today is a special day. I feel it. A feeling that had grown in this last week as training was stepped up to a faster pace. No one in authority admitted that the situation on Hustaing was responsible for the increased schedule, but then neither did they deny it. And then there was Commander Nevarr's pre-mission briefing, promising the training lance more challenges today since the race for the second and third slots—now that Danielle was confirmed for the first one—was tight. One will be mine, Fitzgerald promised himself. No matter that Nevarr had assigned him a supporting role again. He would find a way to make himself stand out.
Removing the heavy neurohelmet from the shelf above the ferroglass viewscreen, he slipped it over his head and buckled it down. The edges of the helmet rested down on his coolant vest's padded shoulders, helping to support the weight. Five electrical leads dangled from the chin, and he plugged four of them into different biomed sensors pads, which he attached to his inner thighs and upper forearms. The fifth lead, thicker and with a multi-prong plug, he plugged into the main console.
"Computer, initiate voice-recognition check."
"Check completed," the voice of the computer confirmed, its voice lacking any emotion but somehow given a slightly feminine edge. "Operator Maurice Fitzgerald, cross-check with vocal key."
Because voiceprints could be faked, every BattleMech also required a verbal code that only the operator would know. The simulators had duplicated even this feature, and Fitz' security code had been uploaded to the Blackjack.
"Wo hen hao," Fitz said proudly. I will prevail.
What better way to begin a battle?
* * *
"Two. Repeat, still only two enemy 'Mechs." Danielle's voice was excited but in control. " War Dog and a Striker. Stay sharp, Guard Three. They're fielding newer designs and there's a couple of wild cards out there somewhere."
If there are only two, release me to engage and we'll destroy them. Fitzgerald dropped his jaw down to open a channel, intent on passing along his advice, then gritted his teeth and merely replied, "Copy, Guard One." Easy for her to make the call. She's been guaranteed an appointment to the Home Guard 'Mech company.
Fitz' thought was unfair and he knew it. Danielle, with them this one last time as their acting lance commander, had to keep at least one back-up 'Mech ready in the event of a flanking maneuver. And newer designs meant new capabilities to worry about. But it burned that she had called Freya Restecht forward first and not him, no matter that Freya's Jenner could circle behind faster to threaten the enemy rear.
A warning flashed on his HUD just before the Blackjack rocked from a long-range laser hit to the right side. Of course, it didn't take real damage. Fitzgerald knew that it was all simulated through scanners and special programs loaded into their tactical computers. The weapons were powered down to non-lethal levels or loaded with blanks, and the shudder he had felt merely came from a hitch thrown into the Blackjack's gyro by the program. But the classroom analysis of live-'Mech simulated-fire scenarios meant little when you were fighting for balance and trying to track an enemy at the same time.
Fitz' heart raced and his voice trembled with excitement as he opened communications. "Contact," he reported, swinging his Blackjack around but taking initial readings off the tactical display. "Phoenix Hawk, bearing one-eight-five relative and closing at five hundred meters." And you're mine! An older design, like most Home Guard 'Mechs, but with enough advanced equipment on it to give the Blackjack a fight. Then he acquired visual, and a chill washed through him. The Phoenix Hawk was painted a brown and gray camouflage pattern, but instead of the usual stripe or patchwork design a lighter touch had been used to suggest feathers.
"Nevarr!" Fitz yelled, then calmed down. "Repeat, Commander Nevarr is fielding his 'Hawk against us." He triggered a hasty pair of large lasers, both of them missing as Nevarr ran into a stand of alder and pine. The Blackjack's heat spiked, driving the cockpit temperature up several degrees. You know better than that, he berated himself. Save the double-shots for close range. "Guard Three moving to intercept." Throttling up into a run, he angled the Blackjack's path to keep Nevarr from getting behind the unit.
"Copy." Danielle's voice came back. "Guard Three released to three hundred meters only. There is still an unknown out there, Three. Don't break away."
As if the Hawk doesn't have enough of a mobility advantage. Fitz cut his speed back, leaving himself room to maneuver. Come on, Nevarr. Taking you down will cinch my spot in the BattleMech corps.
Nevarr burst from his cover, pushing his Hawk toward its maximum speed of over ninety kilometers per hour. Fitzgerald turned for a stand of trees, seeking tactical placement, but didn't make it before the Hawk fired. In response, he triggered his own pair of large lasers in a trade of emerald and ruby energy. The Blackjack rocked violently as it lost a ton of armor to Nevarr's fire, but not so much as to threaten its stability. Fitz only hit with one of his lasers, peeling away armor over the other BattleMech's heart. An uneven trade, but then he has an extralight engine to protect, which makes him vulnerable.
As if concerned about that very same thing, the Phoenix Hawk took to the sky and jetted back away. No way it can afford to fire both lasers after a jump like that! Fitz raced his Blackjack forward, eating up his reserve but eager to seize the advantage when presented. If I can close to three hundred meters, I can put my short range missiles against his medium pulse lasers. That will give me the edge.
He couldn't quite make three hundred, though, and so triggered off another pair of shots from his extended-range lasers. Cockpit temperatures soared as the fusion reactor spiked again in an attempt to keep up with the constant power demand. One laser hit, but so did Nevarr. Fitz' damage schematic now showed the cumulative loss of nearly all armor over his center torso and left arm. But likewise, his grouped shots had almost penetrated the Hawk's right torso, leaving Nevarr open to hits against the bulky shielding of an extralight engine.
I need another fifty meters. Fitzgerald knew he could push his envelope to four hundred before Danielle reined him in, and taking Nevarr down would be worth it. The lance would have one less enemy to worry about, and Fitz would have an important kill. He scanned his HUD for any hidden threats, then again pushed forward.
With the slight heat build-up, however, the Blackjack was already responding sluggishly and so failed to close quite as fast as he would have liked. Nevarr relied on jump jets again, keeping range against Fitz and burning off another half-ton of armor, this time from the Blackjack's legs.
Danielle's voice bled across the air waves, robbed of emotion but not strength, just as Fitz fired a single laser. "Guard Three, you are ranging out too far. Fitz!"
The ruby lance pinned the Phoenix Hawk square in the center torso just as it took to the air again. His flight erratic, Nevarr came down just the other side of a stand of heavy oak and stumbled to a prone position. "Nevarr is down. Finishing off and then regrouping."
"Fitz, pull back now. You are too far out and we can't cover you back there."
Thirty seconds. I only need thirty seconds. He pushed the Blackjack forward at nearly sixty kph, free of the heat encumbrance of a moment before and determined to put an end to Nevarr. But just before he moved within range of his Streak missile systems, the Hawk swiveled around while remaining prone and a new threat popped on the HUD, less than three hundred meters and at ninety degrees to his path toward Nevarr. A trap!
The Night Hawk, a light 'Mech at thirty-five tons but still able to train two more large lasers against the Blackjack, fired at almost the same instant as Nevarr. Four shimmering beams of emerald and sapphire energy converged in a savage crossfire, ripping into the Blackjack and, according to the computer analysis, shredding armor across its torso and left arm. One of Nevarr's lasers penetrated, and was judged to have struck Fitzgerald's gyro housing. Fitz wrestled with his controls, but in the end lost the fight and abandoned himself to gravity. There was no simulating the effect of forty
-five tons meeting earth. Armor plating crunched under the impact, and bouncing hard against the restraining harness and the back of his command couch left Fitz dazed for a moment.
By the time he regained his senses and took stock of his situation, it was all over.
Nevarr and the Night Hawk pilot had poured simulated but intense fire into his downed machine. Though he still had power, his damage schematic showed a simulated fusion reactor-meltdown from complete loss of engine shielding. His Blackjack was frozen in place, robbed of all ability to move or even warn his lancemates, who were calling for him over the communication channels. His HUD showed the Night Hawk moving off to threaten the rear of his former lance, but the Phoenix Hawk stood just thirty meters outside the ferroglass view-screen of his cockpit.
Fitzgerald could not see Nevarr, sitting up in the 'Hawk's cockpit, but he could sense the almost sad regret that his instructor must certainly be feeling. Nevarr had made it clear before: Fitz was his own worst enemy. Today, he had baited the young trainee and allowed him to defeat himself. Make no mistake, he had said, you'll learn it my way first or you won't learn your way at all. The Phoenix Hawk turned and walked slowly away, disappearing out of the Blackjack's viewscreen.
Fitzgerald didn't bother following the progress on his HUD. He dampened down his reactor, and slowly shut down everything except the communication channels. Then he sat there, in the dark, and listened to his lancemates die their own simulated deaths.
14
Celestial Palace
Zi-jin Cheng (Forbidden City), Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
9 November 3060
Sasha Wanli had been called on the carpet, again.
The Celestial Palace throne room felt intensely cold, and Sasha wasn't sure if it were due to her nerves or the room's actual temperature. Certainly she did not put it past Sun-Tzu Liao to lower the room's temperature just to increase her discomfort. Goose flesh raised on her arms was fortunately hidden under the sleeves of her tailored black silk suit. Standing a respectful distance away from the dais, waiting to be recognized, she stared at the narrow band of blood-red carpeting that trailed from the foot of the throne back to the bronze-faced doors.
If Sasha had possessed any doubts about Sun-Tzu's dark mood, they were cast aside once she had entered the throne room to see her reception. Noticeably absent were Colonel Zahn and House Master Rush, though of course the latter could hardly expect release from the hospital for at least another week. Two Death Commandos, their musculature enhancements showing beneath their black uniforms like knotted ropes, fronted the dais to the left and right, facing inward so as to watch both her and the Chancellor. A testament to Sun-Tzu's mood, she had no doubt. He was ready to dismiss her as head of the Maskirovka, and the Death Commandos were a not-so-subtle reminder that not one of the last five directors had died of natural causes. Two, in fact, had been put to death specifically at a Chancellor's command.
Maskirovka directors do not long outlive their mistakes, and here I have known two in the same year.
A chill washed through Sasha, though her inner strength kept the tremble from showing. Tread lightly, Sasha. So long as life breathes, there is still hope. If he had made up his mind to remove you, someone would already be hauling your body away. Sixty-three years old, over thirty of those in the Maskirovka and seven as its director, she was not quite ready to give up this life yet. It actually surprised her, how strong was her desire to avoid death. She thought she had come to terms with all that years ago.
"Ion Rush was not appointed Grand Master of the Warrior Houses for no reason," Sun Tzu said in opening, his voice only one notch above a cold whisper. "He is an elite warrior, a veteran commander, and a valuable asset to the Confederation." A lengthy pause. "That explosion almost killed him."
Sasha raised her eyes slowly, walking her gaze from the carpet to the hem of Sun-Tzu's dark green silk robe and then only gradually moving up to the hard mask the Chancellor wore. On each breast of the robe was stitched the Capellan gauntlet-and-sword insignia in gold thread. The Chancellor's eyes were jade slits, like those of a hunting tiger.
"Yes, Celestial Wisdom," she said quietly. "Fortunately, all reports indicate recovery." Though with major loss of physical ability, the damage was too extensive. But Sasha did not want to dwell on that. "I assure you he will be back at your side quickly."
With a casual wave of the hand, Sun-Tzu dismissed the two guards and then waited for them to leave the room before continuing. "You also assured me, Sasha Wanli, that my sister Kali posed no threat to my rule. Yet according to your own report she somehow managed to smuggle a bomb through House Imarra security and nearly deprived me of a valuable aide." He spitted her with a savage glare. "And if she can do that, she could also do so within the palace."
Sasha breathed easier with the dismissal of the Death Commandos, thanking whichever deity had smiled favorably on her karma today. She knew, though, that she had only won a round, not the battle. "An oversight, Chancellor Liao, and one for which I have no excuse. It just was not a contingency we planned for, since there was never any evidence of hostility between Kali and Ion Rush."
"And so what changed?" Sun-Tzu asked, almost casually, as if preparing a trap.
Sasha was ready for that question. She had hoped to turn the conversation in this direction. "Your sister apparently mistook your comment to House Master Rush concerning his leaking information to Candace Liao as an accusation." She paused a moment, to allow her Chancellor to consider this. Carefully, she had to try and shift some responsibility from herself without making it sound as if she were in fact blaming Sun-Tzu. "For Kali," she continued, "that was apparently close enough to a direct charge of treason. She believes her actions to be on behalf of you and the Confederation."
Sun-Tzu's pause gave Sasha some hope, though his voice remained cold and unreadable. "It is easy for Kali to be apparently mistaken on any number of things, Sasha." Even in private audience, Sasha noted, the Chancellor refused to name her insanity for what it was. "Why should I feel favored in her eyes?"
"Because of the utter devotion she showed your mother," Sasha said at once, then softened her approach. She clasped her hands in front of her, choosing with care words that would not automatically upset Sun-Tzu. "It's true that Kali feels as if the throne were denied her by your earlier birth, but Romano also instilled in your sister a sense of complete and overriding belief in the sanctity of the Chancellorship. What the Maskirovka uncovered of her meddling in the Kaifeng affair in 3058 proves it. Yes, she works to increase her power base, but only to then do what she may to strengthen the Confederation."
Sun-Tzu considered her words for several minutes, his countenance impassive as he stared up toward the ceiling. Finally he exhaled sharply. "Very well," he said casually, as if the conversation were on any normal subject. And then, in a rapid shift of topic. "The Maskirovka has been largely unaffected by the renewed Capellan effort—I expect you to now fully embrace the Xin Sheng movement. There are several directives that I shall have delivered to you, concerning my thoughts on the matter. You will apply them, along with any improvements of your own that you think to make."
His head still facing the ceiling, Sun-Tzu lowered his jade gaze enough to catch Sasha's attention and observe her. "I will not tolerate another mistake from the Maskirovka. The damage can be too far-reaching." He waited for her simple nod of acknowledgment and then continued. "Ion Rush is not to know of the attempt; the Maskirovka cover story of a ruptured gas line should hold. I will speak to Kali myself, but I expect her to be better watched from now on." He now shifted his head to stare evenly at Sasha. "Are we clear on these points?"
One last chance, in other words. And more forgiving than I have any right to expect. But the Chancellor was right. He should not have to tolerate such mistakes from his intelligence service. Sasha would see immediately to an internal overhaul, and possibly to some insurance in case she should be burdened with any more mistakes. "Yes, my lor
d," she said firmly. "Perfectly understood."
Levering himself from the throne, Sun-Tzu strode forward and off the dais. The gold-threaded insignias glittered in the light. "Find Talon Zahn," he ordered as he drew abreast and passed her. "Have him report to my private office.
"Then go put your house in order."
* * *
Thirty years before, Sun-Tzu's private office had once been the seat of the Capellan Confederation's ruin. It was from here that Justin Allard, a double-agent for House Davion, undermined Maximilian Liao's reign and engineered several of the greatest betrayals ever known to the Confederation. Not the least of which was his stealing away Candace Liao, convincing her to betray the realm of her birth for the damnable Federated Commonwealth. Risen to Chancellor, Sun-Tzu had almost ordered the room destroyed, ripped from the very walls of the Celestial Palace. But instead, he had claimed it as his own and worked to redeem it.
Now it reflected none of its treasonous beginnings, and belonged once again to the Capellan state. Rosewood gleamed darkly throughout the room, the polish used to keep it alive mixing pleasantly with the sandalwood incense Sun-Tzu favored. Charcoal sketches decorated the walls, one of them capturing in a few simple strokes the visage of Elias Jung Liao, founder of the dynasty. The Chancellor's desk was set against the back wall, not far from a set of french doors that opened onto a small balcony.
Sun-Tzu lit a stick of sandalwood incense and left it burning in its holder. The light perfume rose up on a wisp of smoke, drifting into and around the office as he then moved to add several pinches of food to the aquarium that bubbled away in the office corner. Too fast, he thought, watching the food spread across the water but thinking of Sasha's interview. Possibly too fast.
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