BattleTech Legends: The Blood of Kerensky Trilogy, page 29
Morgan looked down and closed his eyes as he rubbed the fingertips of his left hand against his forehead. Silence settled over the conference room. To Victor, it seemed that time slowed to a tortoise pace. Please, Morgan, you must let me go!
Morgan exhaled heavily, then opened his eyes. “Revise your plan to increase ammunition supplies to sufficiency for six weeks of pitched battles. Boost estimated personnel numbers to 120 percent of current and give them two months’ worth of supplies to help cover refugees along the way. Append a plan for evacuating civilians off-world, and add a list of tentative strike sites and routes heading back out toward the rim and toward the enemy flank. Also, we need a full listing of possible pirate points and recharge times for all available escape routes.”
His gaze flicked up to meet Victor’s blue eyes. “You will personally prepare papers to indemnify the Kell Hounds for their losses. Your rules of engagement will stress minimization of civilian involvement. I want triple redundancy on your warning system for the Ninth F-C so they don’t blunder out of the Diabolis into a Jade Falcon ambush. Prepare and include a plan for the isolation of the ComStar facility in Daubton.”
Victor blinked at Morgan. “It’s a go! You’re giving me this assault?”
The Marshal nodded once. “Your plan’s not flawless, but the gain outweighs the risk. Of the plans I’ve considered, it’s the best.”
Victor looked down at Kai, flashing him a smile, then returned his attention to Morgan. “I can’t thank you enough—”
Morgan held up his right hand. “Don’t thank me. Even though Colonel Allard will be the force commander, I’m making you responsible for the lives of every man, woman, and child on Twycross. That is an awesome burden, but it’s only a taste of what you’ll assume when you take the throne. Twenty years from now, after the assault has been forgotten by all but a few historians, then decide if you want to thank me or not.”
Victor Steiner-Davion narrowed his eyes. Truly spoken, cousin. “In twenty years then, Morgan.”
After the meeting was dismissed, Victor caught up with Kai in the hallway outside. “Well, we did it. We’re on for Twycross.” Kai’s subdued nod started alarm bells ringing in Victor’s head. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’ve got butterflies now, after it’s all over.”
Kai shook his head. “No, it’s not that. When they had me do some resource-checking, I saw that my ’Mech hasn’t arrived yet, and won’t in time for it to catch up with us.” He looked over at Victor. “Due to some bureaucratic snafu, I’m Dispossessed!”
That word stabbed through Victor like a knife. Dispossessed! Is there a fate worse than being a MechWarrior without a ’Mech? He shuddered.
“I can transfer command of my lance to Leftenant Abel von Rhemmer,” Kai went on. “He just joined the Tenth from the Nagelring. He ought to do okay.”
“The hell you say!” Victor grabbed Kai by the shoulders and turned him around. “Listen here. We worked out this plan with you in it, at the head of your lance. Dammit, we have your whole battalion slated for crisis management because some of your people are best at thinking on their feet—and you top that list, my friend.”
Kai hung his head. “I appreciate the pep-talk, but that won’t get Yen-Lo-Wang here any faster.” His head came up. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss this for all the worlds in the Tamar March. I’ll be there, in the command post or wherever else you want me. I’m not trying to weasel out, just facing facts.”
“Kai, the facts are these: I want you there, and I want you in a ’Mech at the head of your lance.” Victor frowned. “What the hell good is it being the son of the Prince of the Federated Suns and the Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth if I can’t get a friend a ’Mech?” He sighed. “It’s not likely to be Yen-Lo-Wang, but it could be something similar. Don’t you worry. I’ll find you a warhorse.”
Kai smiled gratefully. “Do I have to wait twenty years to thank you?”
Victor laughed, draping his arm over Kai’s shoulder and steering his friend down the hall. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. That way we’re both certain to still be around.”
“I’ll be there, Highness.”
Victor smiled to himself. And with your help, Kai, so will I.
32
JUMPSHIP DIRE WOLF, ASSAULT ORBIT
ENGADIN VII
RADSTADT PROVINCE
FREE RASALHAGUE REPUBLIC
30 AUGUST 3050
Phelan Kell flopped down on his bunk in the dormitory and groaned as his legs stretched out. “God, I’m exhausted.”
Griff, walking past, slapped Phelan on the thigh. “She’s keeping you up nights, eh?”
Irritation flashed over Phelan’s face, but he let it slide. “No, that’s not the problem. It seems Engadin had a Home Defense Force just bristling with Inferno missiles in handheld launchers. There are apparently stockpiles all over the place on numerous little satellite assembly plants. They’re giving Star Colonel Marcos absolute fits, and Lara’s been having me go over intelligence reports to advise her what sort of support she should allow Marcos in the assault.”
Griff stared incredulously at the Kell Hound as he dropped onto his own bunk. “One commander is rationing supplies for a rival?”
The mercenary shrugged. “It’s a screwy system, but it doesn’t seem to have slowed their advance any. In fact, as I hear the rumors, the other three Clans are madder than hell about the Wolves getting their fourth wave off a month ahead of everyone else. Also, the Wolves are deeper into the Successor States than the others. It’s all really weird.”
“To put it mildly.” The older man smiled and winked at his friend. “With them keeping you so busy, I thought you’d want to spend what little free time you have with Ranna.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was going to appropriate your lockpick and make a run over to the women’s quarters.”
“I’ve only had one real chance to speak with her, but Vlad made sure he found something else for me to do instead,” Phelan said gloomily. “I don’t know where she is now.”
The Periphery bandit leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Your voice is saying something different than your words.”
Phelan sighed. He knew he had to trust someone, and maybe talking it out would keep him from blowing it all out of proportion. “I don’t know if it’s a problem, really. I mean, I think things are going very well between Ranna and me, but every so often something happens that just doesn’t feel right. When I suggested getting together, she said she wanted time to herself.”
Griff frowned. “That can be a good sign and a bad one. You haven’t been having any other…problems, have you?”
“No, all systems are go,” Phelan said with a laugh. “Though I have to admit a few instances of automatic shutdown because of overheating and sensory overload.”
“Is the problem that you’re only a bondsman?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” Phelan said. “What it could be is more insidious than that. Unlike most of the others, Ranna isn’t just a death-machine pilot. Remember I told you about her pet, Jehu, and the paintings? She’s…we’re…intense, I guess you’d call it passionate, in a way that’s got to be more alien to her than to me. I think she finds that intensity incredibly seductive, but at the same time dangerous.”
“So what lures her also repels her,” Griff grunted.
“And the tug of war is ripping her up. What’s worse is that I don’t think she sees it clearly, so she’s got no way of dealing with the conflict.” Phelan shrugged. “Of course, this is all pure speculation about a problem that may not even exist. The real explanation is probably a lot simpler.”
Griff chuckled evilly. “Yeah, she’s probably just found a younger stud from that last crop of bondsmen captured on Rasalhague.”
“Yeah, there you go.” The Kell Hound gave his friend a withering look. “And I suppose that’s why you want the lockpick? Going to properly welcome the new women to our little community?”
“Service with a smile. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” The bandit’s voice dropped in volume. “And I have another little convert mission to perform. Kenny and I want to leave Vlad a token of our appreciation for giving us a double-shift to unload junk from Rasalhague into the storage holds of the Dire Wolf. I’d invite you along, but I don’t think you need any more reasons for Vlad to hate you.”
“No, I think I’ll pass on that,” Phelan said, rolling over on to his right side. Snaking his left hand beneath the mattress, he pulled out the small box. He handed it to Griff. “I’m not so sure visiting Vlad is a good idea. You might want to reconsider it.”
Griff shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Whatever.” Phelan lay back down on his cot, his right forearm across his eyes. “Have fun.”
“Yes, mother. Don’t wait up.”
Phelan bolted upright as Griff ripped his mattress back and tossed the lockpick beneath it. All through the dormitory, ex-pirates dove into their beds and pretended to be fast asleep. Griff let Phelan’s mattress flop back down, then hopped onto his own cot and draped the blanket over himself.
Phelan blinked twice, then peered through the gloom at his friend. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing.” Griff slammed a fist angrily into his pillow. “Just go to sleep. It’s better if you don’t know.”
Kenny Ryan’s voice cut through the darkness. “Tell him, Griff.”
Ryan’s weaseling tone and Griff’s quick denial told Phelan that whatever had happened, it was a disaster of major proportions. “Dammit, Griff, don’t leave me hanging. You used my lockpick, and that means I’m involved. What happened?”
“Tell him, Griff, or I will,” Ryan insisted.
“No, you son of a bitch. No!” Griff rolled over onto his side to face the young mercenary. “We went to Vlad’s room. We opened the door. He was there. End of story. Now go to sleep.”
Phelan stared at Griff. “Did he see you?”
“No. It was dark. At most, we were silhouettes in the doorway. There, now you know what happened. Go to sleep.”
Before Phelan could ask another question, Ryan’s voice broke in. “Tell him all of it, Griff. Do it, or I will, and you know I’ll enjoy it.”
Phelan heard the squeaking sound of Griff’s teeth grinding together. “Vlad wasn’t alone…”
“What the hell difference does that make to me?” Phelan said, but he wondered why Kenny Ryan should be so intent on him finding out. If Kenny wants me to know, it has to be bad... Then the answer hit him. “No,” he gasped. “It can’t be…”
“Hey, you guessed it, Kell,” Ryan said cheerfully. “She was there with him, and they weren’t discussing troop movements.” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “You didn’t tell us she was a screamer.”
The mental image of Ranna and Vlad coupling as light from the hallways splashed over them seared into Phelan’s brain. All his own recollections of their times together became bitter, acid memories. The softness of her flesh under his hands became the caress of a thousand razor blades. Her cries of pleasure became mocking laughter, and the love he had imagined in her eyes became contempt. I’ve been an idiot! Ulric has been using me, Vlad has been using me, and Ranna has been using me. I’m a tool, nothing more. It satisfies Ulric to have my counsel from time to time. It satisfies Vlad to make my life miserable. It satisfied Ranna to...
The deep ache in the pit of his stomach kept him from finishing that thought. He turned to Griff, ignoring Ryan’s mocking laughter, and swallowed hard. “Thanks for trying to protect me, but it’s better I know now…”
Griff reached out to give Phelan’s shoulder a squeeze. “I would have found a way to let you down easy, you know. I wouldn’t have left you in the dark.”
“Let him down? Keep him in the dark? God, stop it, Griff. You’re killing me with these puns.”
Griff threw back his blanket. “I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands, you malignant dwarf!”
Phelan saw Ryan’s silhouette a few bunks away. “What’s the matter? Isn’t Kell man enough to fight his own battles, quineg?” Ryan’s voice took on a razored edge. “Of course not. If he was a man, his little love-bitch wouldn’t have found herself someone else, would she?”
The whispered sound of the door sliding open preceded the harsh flood of lights by a half-second. Phelan shaded his eyes and saw Vlad framed in the doorway. His blue jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist and sweat glistened on the mat of curly black hair on his chest. His eyes seemed to burn with fury, and his expression looked positively demonic.
“Which of you savashri dared invade my chambers?” Vlad snarled. “The rest of you give him up, or it will go badly for all.”
Vlad held a black, fifteen-centimeter-long tube in his right hand. As he flicked his wrist away from his body, three meter’s worth of flexible black cable uncoiled itself like a languid tentacle. His thumb pressed down on a red stud on the handle, filling the room with a hiss that sounded somewhere between radio static and a rattlesnake’s warning. The men in bunks closest to the door immediately backed away, and Vlad laughed viciously.
“Who will be punished, children? Will I have to start at random?” He swung the electro-lash effortlessly at one of the bunks. The cable slapped into a pillow, which then exploded into half-melted bits of spongy fiber. As the stink of burned petrochem filled the air, Vlad gestured the men forward with his free hand. “Believe me, I will find the guilty parties and they will pay. Do you answer me voluntarily, or do I have to force the answers out of you?”
Phelan’s pain over Ranna changed to anger. An electrolash...the kinder cousin of a neural whip. It won’t leave you permanently damaged, but it doesn’t cause enough pain to put you out, either. Using them on beasts of burden or for animal control—as they were intended—is one thing. Using them indiscriminately on men is another...
Vlad pointed to one man cowering at the foot of Kenny Ryan’s bunk. “You,” he said. “Come here.”
Phelan threw back his covers. “No, Vlad. Leave him alone.”
The Clansman’s head came up, and everyone else turned their attention to the mercenary. “You? It is you who will tell me who they were?”
Phelan shook his head. “I’m the one you want. I claim all responsibility.”
Vlad’s cruel snicker accompanied the slow shaking of his head. “No, Kell, this will not work the way you think. The fact that the Khan has claimed you as his own would not stop me from beating you even if you were one of the guilty.”
Phelan walked toward the front of the room. “No trick. I’m it.”
The Clansman’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t even there. Why are you doing this?”
The Kell Hound matched Vlad’s angry stare. “I was there. Do you want me to describe it to you, quiaff?” Phelan hesitated and his brave facade almost broke. As he moved forward, he saw Ranna standing back from the doorway. Waves of pain at her betrayal threatened to drown him, but he forced himself to play out his hand. “You and Ranna were together, enjoying one another’s company.” He forced himself to laugh, and he heard the sound echo with the hollowness of his insides. “And from what I heard, you were enjoying each other immensely.”
Confusion arced through Vlad’s eyes. “You were not there. There were two, and neither had your build.”
Phelan laughed casually. “How can you be so sure? In the state you were in, it’s a wonder you remember anything reliably. Sights and sounds and time all seem to drift away, don’t they?”
Anger furrowed Vlad’s brow. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s my responsibility. I did it. I’m the one you want.” Phelan looked over at the other bondsmen. “No one else will own up to this crime, and everyone else will say I did it, no matter how much you torture them. What’s the matter? Did you want more foreplay?”
Vlad’s face locked into a mask of fury. “I will break you, you know. You may have thought to save the others, but in the end, you will give them to me. Believe me, you will.”
Phelan shook his head slowly. “Do your worst.”
Vlad dug a meter-length of white cord from his pocket and tossed it to Kenny Ryan. “Strip him to the waist, then tie his hands to the top bunk rail.”
Phelan unzipped his jumpsuit and tied the sleeves around his waist as Ryan climbed to the top bunk. Phelan offered Ryan his hands and the pirate slid the bondcord down to the mercenary’s forearm before expertly trussing his wrists together.
“You’re nuts, Kell.” Ryan watched the mercenary’s face, searching for something. “Don’t expect me to thank you for this, because he’ll make it worse on us when you give us up.”
The Kell Hound shook his head. “If you were a man, Ryan, you might understand why I’m doing this. I made the lockpick. It’s my responsibility. And don’t worry, your back will be spared.” Phelan glanced back over his shoulder at Vlad. “I can hurt him more by not telling than he can possibly hurt me, and that’s enough to keep your secret.”
As Phelan turned back toward the bunk, he saw Ranna looking at him incredulously. She met his gaze, then quickly looked away.
The electro-lash wrapped around his chest like a ribbon of molten steel. It tightened on his ribcage and sent fiery tendrils of pain shooting up and down his spine. All his muscles spasmed, then contracted, leaving him to hang roughly from the cord around his wrists. The pure agony shattered his resolve to remain silent, allowing an inhuman wail of excruciating pain to rip through his throat.
His screams stopped when his throat became too raw to make any sound at all.
Some time after that, his torture stopped as well.
33
COMSTAR FIRST CIRCUIT COMPOUND
HILTON HEAD ISLAND
