BattleTech: Hector, page 6
“And you think that’s the most important thing?” Kenner asked. “Putting down the enemy?”
“This isn’t a debate team, Captain,” Dumphries said. “We’re Wolf’s Dragoons. We kill the bad guys. These Elsies, they don’t really understand what it is to fight Dragoons, not yet.”
Kenner nodded. “I see.” He reached up and tapped his chin with one finger, as if he were considering the lieutenant’s words. “Let me take this one opportunity, Lieutenant, to explain myself.” He dropped his arms to his sides and straightened his back.
“First, don’t ever speak to me like that again. I may be new to this command, but I’ve been a Dragoon my whole life and this star,” he pointed to his collar, “means I can do any damn thing I please with your lance.” He stepped a half-pace closer, bringing his face closer to hers.
“Second, I don’t care if you could’ve taken them all done in one salvo. I don’t care because that wasn’t our mission. Our mission was to get these techs and these supplies right here, so they can get this depot built. If we manage to deal with the enemy in the course of completing that mission, so much the better.” He let a bit of snarl into his voice. “And no, Dumphries. We don’t just kill the bad guys. We complete the mission.”
“It’s the same thing,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” Kenner said. “Which is why I got Able First when Gamble died, instead of you. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
“No, sir.”
Kenner felt the rage in her glare at him, but he held his own counsel and merely nodded her away. She stalked away, back toward her lance, and Kenner watched her go. He wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t bring himself there. He was angry, yes… and at her. But hate was too much.
Because part of him wondered if she was right. When he’d been a lance leader his mind had worked the same way: see the enemy, kill the enemy. Smash him up so bad he limped off or died where he stood, and then move on to the next. That was what a BattleMech lance was for, and company was nothing but three lances working together. Shouldn’t it be the same for them?
“It’s not the same,” he whispered.
But he didn’t know why.
A follow-on convoy, escorted by Laskowski’s Company of Baker Battalion, arrived about six hours after Kenner and crew. By that time the technicians and engineers—with help from the ’Mechs of Able First—had managed to erect half-a-dozen ’Mech repair frameworks out of scaffolding. Kenner held a stay as a pair of techs eeled in and out of the framework with portable drills, tightening connections and hardpoints. The other end of the stay was belayed off of the Marauder II’s left leg a dozen meters back.
Kaley Cross arrived with that second convoy.
“That’s it, sir,” one of the technicians called from a half-dozen meters above. Kenner looked up, eyed the rickety-looking structure, and then let go of the fibercord line he was holding slowly. The framework remained rigid, despite Kenner’s doubts, and he dropped his end of the line and turned around to undo the belay from the ’Mech’s leg. His hands were covered in a fine gray grit that had already seeped into his pores. All of the techs had the same from handling the scaffolds. It was oxidized aluminum, scraped off from the metal of the scaffolds while carrying them.
“You’ll need solvent to get that off,” Kaley said, from behind Kenner.
Kenner froze, the knot half-untied. He recognized her voice, of course, but her comment had been flat, devoid of emotion. He wasn’t sure he wanted to the turn around and see the expression on her face. When she’d spoken like that in the past it had always been a toss-up as to whether she was joking or scolding. He breathed in quickly, steeling himself. You’re a MechWarrior, he told himself. Act like it. He turned.
Unity, she’s gorgeous. She was wearing dusty blues and a Dragoons ball cap, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung over her right shoulder. She carried a rucksack by the straps in her left hand, and smirk flitted across her face as Kenner wiped his hands on his shorts to try and clean them off.
“The aluminum,” she said. “You can wash it with water and soap, but you’ll only be getting the big chunks off. Some of that is going to stay in your calluses until they rub off.”
Kenner nodded. He was trying to decide, quickly, what he wanted to say, how he wanted to act. The tactical part of his mind was racing, role-playing scenarios. He would say this, she would answer that, and it would end this way. The problem he kept running into was that he wasn’t sure what outcome he wanted. The satisfying one, with her in anger and maybe a little pain, or the satisfying one that ended with a smile and an agreement to see each other when there was time.
“I’ll take my chances,” he said, buying time.
Kaley nodded, glancing around. “You’ve done a good job here,” she said, gesturing to the rising repair field. “Although you don’t see many captains doing the grunt work.”
“It needs doing,” he said, “and my lance is off-rotation for another hour or so.”
“You’ve been doing a good job on Hesperus, Luke,” Kaley said. “The whole regiment thinks so.”
Even Waller? Kenner slipped the tool belt from around his waist and dropped it at the base of the scaffold. “I hold up my end,” he said. “Why are you here?”
Kaley frowned at the tone of his voice. “My section got sent up here to help with the repair section. The work at the DropShips is progressing apace, and the brunt of the work will be here.” She crossed her arms and set her shoulders. Kenner steeled himself. He’d seen that before. “I’m a damn good tech, you know.”
“The best,” Kenner said. “But I meant here, right now. With me.”
“I wanted to say hi.”
“Hi?” Kenner snorted and pulled his cooling vest back on. He cinched up the zipper with a snap. “We’re a little past hi, don’t you think, Kale?”
Her lips flattened. “I’m still your friend, Luke,” she said.
“Are you?”
“Aren’t I?”
Kenner stepped past her and stalked a few paces toward his ’Mech. “I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t look back. I guess I picked option one.
CHAPTER SIX
Harkspur Mountains
Hesperus II
Lyran Commonwealth
14 June 3019
By nightfall the rest of the regiment was within range of the new field repair depot. The Colonel and his reinforced Command Lance returned from where they’d been observing Beta Regiment’s advance and called a staff meeting in the central tent. Kenner was one of the last officers to enter, so he was forced to stand near the back. The dozen or so other officers in front of him all looked as tired as he did. Amy Laskowski looked back when he entered and gave him a smile, full of teeth and teasing. He grinned back but didn’t move forward to say anything. The Colonel stood up a minute later.
“We’re through the mountains,” he said. No one cheered or applauded—they were too professional for that—but even Kenner saw the infinitesimal loosening of tension-filled shoulders and necks in the officers in front of him. “It’s been a tough fight, but we’ve pushed the Lyrans out of the Harkspurs. They retreated across the Erewhon River earlier today and blew the bridges behind them.”
“Unity,” one of the Charlie Batt company commanders muttered. “Now we’re swimming?”
“What about the Roughriders, Colonel?” Baker Battalion’s Major Patrick Chan asked. “And the Hotheads?”
“Hansen and his boys and girls were the last across,” Colonel Wolf said. His eyes were bright but the rest of his face was as gray and haggard as the rest of them. Kenner had overheard a couple of Kormenski’s security troopers gossiping as he walked up. The Colonel hadn’t spent more than six hours a day outside of his Archer since they landed, and the Command Lance was worn to the nub keeping the Lyrans off of him as he moved between regiments. “The Hotheads have moved south, disengaged. I suspect they’ll be back once they’ve refitted.”
“It’ll have to be a hell of a refit,” Laskowski put in. “We took down almost two full companies of the buggers over the last week.” She looked around, then glanced back over her shoulder at Kenner. “That’s just Baker alone, mind you.” She winked.
Unity. Kenner swallowed and shook his head. “Colonel, what about resupply?”
“Each battalion has a forward base like this one,” Major Yukinov replied, in the Colonel’s stead. “Once we get down to the plain, we can bring the DropShips closer and use them. And don’t forget there are satellite Defiance facilities all around here. We can scrounge a lot of what we need.
“And you’ll have some time to get fixed up,” Wolf said. “Once we’re clear of the mountain I’m going to order Epsilon forward. They’ll be responsible for forcing the crossing, with Zeta in support.” He ignored the sudden susurrus of discontent in the small space. “Alpha and Beta will be standing down for a day or two.”
“Sir!” Lauren Waller was on her feet. “We can still fight, sir. We’re not through yet.”
“I know you can fight, Captain Waller,” Colonel Wolf said. “You’ve fought your way through these damned mountains against the best the Lyrans have to offer. You’ve earned this rest.”
“But we’re familiar with the Elsies’ tactics, sir,” Captain Charleton put in. “It’ll take Epsilon a bit to get used to how these boys and girls fight. At least let us make the initial push, get across the river.”
“You’ve taken almost twenty percent losses, Captain,” Colonel Wolf said. “You could use a day.”
“That’s two ’Mechs, sir,” Charleton said. “And both pilots got out.”
“That’s enough, Captain,” Major Yukinov said.
“I know Alpha Regiment’s quality,” Colonel Wolf said, after giving the room a moment to quiet down. “You’re the best of the Dragoons. First Team. But every team needs a bit of down time. Take it and relish it. We still have to fight our way through the Myoos if we’re going to get to Defiance.”
Major Chan stood up next and started talking about supply allocations and salvage estimates. Kenner leaned back against a pole of the tent frame and tuned that part out. His damage had already been repaired, and the same small convoy the Baker officers had escorted through on their way to the meeting had brought enough ammunition to get Able First a full load. Those same haulers were already loading Baker Batt’s allocation of the salvage from his skirmish earlier that day. Chan was just blowing hot air.
“If there isn’t anything else,” Major Yukinov said a short time later. All the officers stood and waited for Wolf to dismiss them. The Colonel did so with a nod and preceded them out of the tent. Cameron followed behind, already whispering reports in the Colonel’s ear as they headed for the hulking shapes of the Command Lance ’Mechs nearby. Kormenski’s Victor was already moving, testing its arm actuators by swinging them back and forth.
“Worried about spare parts, Captain?” a voice asked when Kenner stepped out of the tent. He was one of the last to leave. Amy Laskowski stood off to the side, in the shadow of the tent. She leaned against a pole, arms crossed, a Cheshire cat grin on her face.
“Always,” he said.
“You a jock or a tech?”
“Oh, I can drive a ’Mech,” he said. He stepped closer to her, deeper into the shadow. She grinned again and stood up straight. She wore Dragoon blues against the slight chill of the evening, but it was unzipped halfway to her waist and Kenner saw the mesh of her cooling vest beneath it. It was unzipped as well.
“Major Chan says we’re spending the night here,” Laskowski said. She glanced down at his chest for a moment, then looked back up. “You wouldn’t know anywhere a girl could crash for the night, would you, Captain?”
Kenner felt his face flush, and opened his mouth to answer—
A throat cleared behind him. “Captain Kenner, a moment of your time.”
Kenner spun around and saw Major Yukinov standing near the entrance to the tent. He swallowed and clapped his mouth shut. Behind him, Laskowski chuckled and stepped around him. She dipped her head to Yukinov and walked away, toward her ’Mech. Kenner watched her go, again watching the ponytail, but she twisted at the waist and looked back at him. Another wink, and then she was gone. Yukinov gestured inside the now-deserted tent.
“Be careful, Luke,” the major said. Yukinov sat down in the back row of camp stools and waited, expectantly.
“Sir,” Kenner said, still standing.
“Oh, sit down, Kenner. I’m not dressing you down for a little flirting.”
Kenner’s stomach didn’t unclench as he took a seat on a stool across the row from his commander. He wiped his sweaty palms on the coarse fabric of his cooling vest and wished he’d had time to put on some blues.
“I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow,” Yukinov said. “The Colonel is ordering us off the line once we reach the river, but we’ve still got to get down there. He’s going back to watch Delta get through a rough section, and so I’ll be in command of the regiment. I’m going to use Charlie to push forward, and put Baker on the flanks. I want you to keep Able ready to respond to any threats while we clear the mountains.”
“But the Colonel said the Roughriders were gone,” Kenner said. Surely Colonel Wolf wouldn’t lie to his own staff. And what else had he said… wait a minute. “The rest of Able, did you say?”
“That’s right. I’m giving you the battalion tomorrow.”
“Sir, with respect, both Captain Waller and Captain Charleton are senior to me. Surely one of them would be better suited to leading the battalion in your absence.” Kenner could already envision the rage Waller would erupt into when she was told, and while Charleton wouldn’t get quite as angry, he’d surely be polishing the shit out of his ’Mech’s cockpit with cursing.
“I think you’re right, Captain. It’s a good thing you’re here to remind me about the personnel jackets of the other captains in my battalion, isn’t it?” Yukinov’s tone was light, but Kenner heard the undercurrent.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Stop apologizing for everything. You’re a captain. Act like it.”
“Sir,” Kenner said.
“Your orders are simple,” Yukinov said. “Get everybody on alert, with one company in their cockpits at all times. Feel free to rotate them around. I don’t want Able First in the seat the whole day, hear?” Yukinov stood and pressed a key on the communicator on his belt. “The orders have been sent. Tomorrow you’re brevet-major of the battalion. Don’t mess it up.”
Kenner waited in the tent after the major had gone. His head was awash with jumbled thoughts. A part of his mind was already trying to remember the maps he’d looked at earlier, trying to guess the terrain the other two battalions would be taking, thinking about likely ambush routes and how he’d get support to them.
Another part of his mind was in simple shock. Barely two weeks ago he’d been promoted to captain and given Able First. Now he was in charge of the whole battalion for a day? What was next...?
And Unity, Amy Laskowski. What was going on there?
He went to his Marauder II first, and confirmed that the orders brevetting him to major for the day had been confirmed. They had been, and Kenner spent a good ten minutes just staring at the phosphors on the screen, committing them to memory. It was going to be a tense meeting with the other captains in the morning.
The next hour he spent poring over maps, getting the likely routes and locations committed to memory and shortcuts on his HUD. The Marauder II has been updated with the latest maps before they last left Chieftain, and updates trickled down every time he contacted another unit that had a more recent set of files. The last update of the positions between Alpha and Beta, for example, was barely two hours old; the Colonel’s Command Lance had just traveled that route.
By the time Kenner crawled down the Marauder’s ladders and stumbled to his field tent it was well past local midnight and he’d been operating for twenty straight hours. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and his limbs felt like they were under two gravities of acceleration. The flap of his tent hung open, and he was grateful to whoever had done it. The Hesperan night air was cool and comfortable, and the tents had a habit of holding the day’s heat inside them when they were sealed. He climbed in and pulled his cooling vest off, then dropped his service laser on top of the pile. Then he stretched.
“Hell of a show,” Amy Laskowski said from his cot.
Kenner dropped to one knee and snatched his laser up even as his mind registered who the voice was. Laskowski laughed at him, and raised one arm in mock surrender. The other arm—the other bare arm, beneath bare shoulders, he realized—was holding a blanket up across her chest.
Kenner swallowed. The fatigue he’d been feeling was burned away by the sudden jolt of adrenaline in his system, and he set the laser back down after returning it to safe. Then he stood back up, turned around, and sealed the flap of the tent.
“Not escaping, am I?” Laskowski asked.
“Not after that scare. It’ll be an hour at least before I get to sleep now.” He kicked his boots off and turned back to face her. She smiled, her teeth white in the dim light of the camp torch hanging overhead. Her hair was down from the ponytail she habitually wore, and a lock of her bangs was hanging across her forehead.
“Only an hour?” she asked, and dropped the blanket.
Kenner considered. “Maybe longer,” he said, reaching for his belt buckle.
Kenner started awake, lurching out of the cot and into the dirt floor of the tent with his boot knife in his hand. His eyes were still blinking when the discreet cough came from outside the tent flap again. He looked back at his cot, at the tangle of blonde hair spilling out across the flat pillow. Unity.
“What?” he hissed through the tent flap.
