BattleTech Legends: The Blood of Kerensky Trilogy, page 71
“What good is it to have a neutered ’Mech?” Kuusik snarled bitterly.
“Is dying in the husk of an armed ’Mech somehow preferable?” Phelan brought his gloved hands out from beneath the cloak, forcing it behind his shoulders. “I offer you your lives, and to spare your world the certain destruction that war would bring. It is your choice, Varldherre. The people will follow your lead. We do not ask that you embrace us as allies or friends, but only that you acknowledge us as master. Is not some loss of pride worth all the suffering it will buy?”
Kuusik dropped to his knees and grabbed Miraborg’s right hand where it rested on the arm of his wheelchair. “Send this animal packing. You are the Iron Jarl! You are the champion of Rasalhague’s freedom! If you give in to his demands, everything will have been wasted. Your daughter’s death will have meant nothing!”
“What!” Phelan’s surprise exploded through his mask. “Tyra is dead?”
He and Tyra had shared three months of passion, then been torn apart when the Kell Hounds left for the Periphery. Though they had said their goodbyes and made a formal end to their relationship, all that had happened to Phelan since his capture by the Clans had not left him the space to put his feelings to rest. No matter how much he loved Ranna, he had hoped to see Tyra again, if only to learn how she had fared since their last meeting.
Tor Miraborg yanked his hand free of Kuusik’s grip. “Do not tell me what to do, Kapten.” A tear trickled down the scarred side of his face.
He looked up at Phelan, his eyes lifeless. “Yes, my daughter is dead. It was she who drove her fighter into your flagship. Jaime Wolf said her action killed your warlord, and bought us a year’s respite from your attacks. Even if that were true, it was not worth my daughter’s life.”
Kuusik sank back on his haunches, his face utterly drained of color. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying that I have finally learned the lesson that might have saved my daughter. A leader must be more than simply a focus for his people’s ambitions and desires. I am a military man, but my responsibilities extend far beyond soldiery on this world. Before, I could assure our people that their safety was inviolate because the Eagles could and would destroy all our foes. I cannot give them that assurance now.
“The time has come to truly act as a leader. Perhaps Tyra would not have left and joined the Rasalhague Drakøns had I done so before. I blame myself for her death.”
The Kapten sprang to his feet. “You were not to blame for her defection! That mercenary seduced her. He wormed his way into her heart and confused her with stories of glory to be won on distant worlds.” Kuusik drove his right fist into his left palm with a loud smack. “I only wish I had killed him when we fought.”
“It was enough that you bested him in single combat—”
“Ha!” Phelan’s hands clenched in anger. “Single combat? Perhaps you were the only one left standing, but that’s because your confederates had been scattered.”
Puzzlement knitted Miraborg’s dark brows while fear flashed through Kuusik’s eyes. Even as Kuusik started toward him, Phelan realized that the Kapten had never told the Varldherre he had jumped Phelan with a gang of men that night so long ago. Of course, the Varldherre would have considered that an act of cowardice! Kuusik had been able to hide the truth because everyone believed that Phelan’s protests about the number of attackers was a lie intended to hide his shame at defeat.
The Kapten’s lunge came fast, but that mattered little. After Phelan’s months of training with Evantha, Kuusik seemed clumsy and sluggish. Like a drunken brawler, the Kapten threw himself off balance as he punched, his fist looping through the air where Phelan’s ducking head had been. The man stumbled forward.
Swinging with everything he had, Phelan hammered his right fist into Kuusik’s chest. A hollow thump sounded as the blow landed directly below the Kapten’s sternum, knocking the wind out of him. Hands clutched to his chest, Kuusik pitched forward and desperately tried to suck in air. Phelan’s left hand clipped him behind the ear, accelerating his descent.
A sudden fire ignited in Miraborg’s eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
Phelan wanted nothing so much as to tear off his mask so he could gloat over the Iron Jarl. His hands started up toward the mask, but a cold detachment replaced the urge and instead he readjusted the cloak that enshrouded him. Revenge was something Phelan Kell would have demanded, but I am no longer Phelan Kell.
It was Phelan Wolf who spoke. “You do not know me. We captured Phelan Kell in the Periphery. I know something of his last days on Gunzburg from his debriefing. He spoke fondly of your daughter, and I know he would have grieved her passing.”
“He is dead?”
“He was on the flagship that Tyra rammed. Shortly thereafter, he was no more.”
The Iron Jarl looked up slowly. “I see.”
“Perhaps you do.” Phelan looked beyond him, watching as the city’s lights began to glow in the dusk. “You have a beautiful world, and are responsible for safeguarding it. I must have your decision.”
Miraborg sat so still and silent that Phelan wondered if the man had slipped into a state of catatonia. The office dimmed, and Kuusik’s moans ceased as he drifted into unconsciousness. Hardly daring to breathe, Phelan, too, remained motionless, waiting for the Varldherre’s decision.
Finally, Miraborg’s head came up. “I accept your terms for the surrender of Gunzburg. I will inform ComStar of my choice as successor, then I will retire from public life.”
Phelan shook his head. “Do not retire.”
“What?” Miraborg looked like a man at the breaking point. “All I have done is poison my life and the people around me. Kuusik there is only one of thousands more misguided men and women on this world, thousands whom I have led astray. I cannot continue in this position.”
“Yes, you can.” Phelan pointed toward the window. “Today, by agreeing to this surrender, you go from being a symbol for your people to a leader of your people. Your discipline, your love of Gunzburg, and your firm hand are still important and vital. And now you show the wisdom of knowing when to change.”
Miraborg seemed to weigh Phelan’s every word, assaying their truth. “Yes,” he said at last, “I created the problem. It is for me to solve it.”
Phelan nodded. “I shall return to my ship and inform the ilKhan of your decision.”
He turned to leave, but Miraborg’s voice called him back. “Wait!”
The Clansman faced the crippled warrior. Miraborg slid open a drawer in his desk and took out a pair of mirrored sunglasses. Phelan recognized them instantly as his, and recalled his promise to Miraborg that he would recover them one day.
The Iron Jarl slid them in his direction. “I believe these belong to you.” The man’s lower lip trembled. “To the victor go the spoils.”
Phelan made no move to take them. “If that is true, these belong to your people, for it is they who have triumphed today.”
When Phelan and Carew stepped from the shuttle, they were immediately caught up in a frenzy of activity as bondsmen scurried around the shuttle bay. They waded through a sea of bodies securing the ship to the deck and found Natasha standing by the airlock bulkhead. She smiled broadly and offered Phelan her hand.
“Very well done, Star Commander. The ilKhan sends his warmest congratulations.”
Phelan stripped off his right glove and shook her hand. Looking around at the furious activity in the bay, and the lack of people there to greet him, he felt confused. “What’s going on?”
Natasha gave him one of those grins that said she’d managed yet another coup. “While you were down there enjoying real gravity, I’ve been working. I taught Marcos another lesson in bidding, and won the right to take Satalice.”
Phelan blinked. “Another assault?”
She nodded. “We’ve just been waiting for you before we jump. The New Black Widows will get their first battle inside a week.” She chuckled slyly. “You didn’t think we’d let you have all the fun, did you?”
38
FORWARD OBSERVATION POST
TAIRAKANA PLAINS, LUTHIEN
PESHT MILITARY DISTRICT
DRACONIS COMBINE
5 JANUARY 3052
The total lack of activity on the Skulker car’s sensors made Shin Yodama uneasy. The Clans had grounded their forces fifty klicks east of Luthien, right where the Tairakana Plains began their gentle slope down to Basin Lake. The negotiation between the ground forces and the incoming Clans had not revealed much about the attacker’s numbers, so recon vehicles like Shin’s had gone out under cover of darkness to learn whatever possible about the enemy.
He glanced at the digital time display in the aft section of the boxy armored car. Dawn stood yet an hour away, and it was then that everyone expected the attack to come.
Stooping down to duck into the driving compartment, he tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Head out another klick. We have to find something.”
The driver looked back at Shin with fear on his face. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I really don’t think we need to see the whites of their eyes.”
Shin shrugged. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but if we can give our air support some fixes, it’ll mean less for our ’Mechs to shoot.” He turned back to the two Techs at the van’s scanners. “We’re pulling forward another kilometer. Stay sharp. I have a feeling we’ll get our contact.”
He slapped the dangling legs of the vehicle’s turret gunner. “That goes double for you. If you see it, shoot it.”
“Hai!”
The driver eased the vehicle forward and kept the pace at a leisurely 10 kph. At that speed, the triple-axle scout tank handled the relatively smooth terrain like a luxury car, and Shin knew that was important. No only did it make data interpretation easier, but it prevented shaking the vehicle’s electronics. Without them, the Skulker would be little more than a blind fish in a shark tank.
“Contact. I have a set of blips, intermittent, dead ahead.”
Shin hunched over the Tech’s shoulder. “Gunner, bring the turret to zero-ninety degrees at five hundred meters. Patch your periscope through to the monitor and magnify one hundred percent.”
An image flickered onto the monitor near Shin’s head, and he fiddled with the controls to sharpen the contrast. The starlight picture revealed a number of oversized humanoids stalking forward. Standing 2.3 meters high, they wore metallic suits with a laser muzzle where the right hand should have been. On the other arm, a laser was married to the hand. The back of the armored suit carried a boxy missile launcher that, from practical experience, Shin knew would detach after firing its complement of two SRMs.
Beyond these, he saw more similar shadowy forms moving through the night. “Six, seven, eight, nine. I mark nine Elementals.”
The Tech at the radar scope cursed softly. ‘They have to be jamming us somehow because I only get five or six on the screen.”
An explosion rocked the Skulker, bouncing it onto the passenger-side wheels. Shin flew back against the other Tech, cracking the man’s head against his magscan monitor. As the Tech flopped limp to the deck, Shin leaped past his overturned chair and dashed to the driving compartment. “Move it! Get us out of here. Gunner, hit anything and everything!”
As the driver cranked the wheel around, the Skulker swung north, its headlights slicing the night. A ruby beam shot from the dome at the tank’s center. In the distance, it illuminated the black form of a man and started a small brushfire. Another bolt coursed through the darkness and burned a scar into the landscape, but the tank’s quick turn swept the target out of the windscreen’s visual arc.
The driver stomped on the accelerator, launching the Skulker in a sprint across the landscape. Shin glanced back at the conscious Tech, relieved the man had had the presence of mind to radio in their position and the readings for the Elementals. As the Skulker bounced up over one little hill, Shin braced for impact as the tank flew through the air. The landing shivered the whole vehicle like a hammer-struck anvil, driving him to his knees.
The driver cursed as the headlights pinpointed an Elemental standing in the middle of the unpaved track along which they raced. He started to shift his foot to the brake, but Shin jammed his own right foot down, crushing the driver’s foot to the gas pedal.
“Full speed! Just keep it going! Don’t stop for anything!”
The Elemental loosed a rocket from the launcher pod on his back. Shooting straight at the Skulker’s nose, it exploded with a hellacious flash and the acrid scent of explosives, but failed to breach the vehicle’s armor. The Scout’s driver instinctively shied from the flash, but kept his hands locked onto the wheel, keeping it steady. The Skulker burst through the fire and smoke without slowing at all, then bucked and bounced as it rolled the Elemental beneath its entire length.
Through the rearview display, Shin saw the Elemental’s body half-buried in the scrubby grasses and a number of his very alive comrades appearing. As those Elementals began to line up, he grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the right. As the tank swerved, heavy SRM fire shot through the air where the recon car should have been.
“Gunner, directly aft. Fire at will.” Shin looked back at the radar Tech. “Raise HQ?”
“Help’s on the way. We’re to make for map coordinate A2536.”
“Got it. Gunner, some fire! The Elementals are fast.”
A scream and the rushing howl of the wind answered his request. Looking up, Shin saw the gunner’s twitching legs disappear up into the turret. The wind gained in volume as the scream dopplered away to nothing. Replacing it was the shriek of metal being bent out of shape and the crackling of ceramic armor breaking.
Shin popped the driver’s safety belts and steadied the wheel. “To the back! Blow the aft hatch and go! We’ve got one on top of us!”
The driver dragged himself out of his seat, and the Skulker slowed precipitously. Shin slipped into the man’s seat, tugged the safety straps into place and snapped them together with the buckle over his chest. He heard a muffled whump as the explosive bolts on the aft hatch blew, then watched scraps of debris whirl up through the cab as they were sucked out the back.
The rearview monitor showed that all three men had gotten clear, with at least one up and moving. Alone except for the Elemental burrowing into the Skulker from above, Shin smiled with grim determination. In his first run-in with an Elemental, the damned Clansman had refused to die. “Let’s just see if you’re as hearty as your ally was!”
The speedometer reported a velocity of 112 kph when the Skulker hit a meter-tall hump in the plains. Shin wrenched the wheel left while the machine was still airborne and clung to it like a drowning man. For a second or two, the only sounds he heard were the wind and the racing of the engine.
The Skulker’s nose hit the ground first with a bone-crunching jolt that flicked Shin forward against the safety straps. Instantly, sparks and smoke streaked through the cab and the headlights shorted, blinding Shin to the world outside. The aft end of the car whipped forward from the right, then the rear wheels caught broadside and the Skulker slammed into the ground on its right side.
The equipment explosions from the back were drowned out by the din as the recon tank rolled up into its own roof. The great weight crushed the domed turret, shattering the ring assembly binding it to the Skulker. As the vehicle bounced up into the air, the turret sailed off like a wobbling saucer, then the Skulker pounded down into the ground and continued to tumble.
Shin couldn’t count the number of times the Skulker somersaulted. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel snapped it off and warped it utterly out of shape. Tooth chips ground between his molars and blood was dripping from his nose. Even so, when the Skulker finally stopped on its right side, Shin knew he’d sustained no serious injuries, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to his ancestors for keeping death at bay.
Popping the belts loose, he crawled back and got out through the escape hatch in the tank’s bottom. Still dizzy and disoriented, he ran away from the Skulker, then sank to his knees on a hilltop twenty-five meters to the west. Behind him, the Skulker exploded as the ruptured gas tank poured fuel onto the sparking equipment in the back.
In the fire’s backlight, he thought he saw the tank’s other crewmen, but he could not be certain. Armed only with a heavy pistol, he couldn’t afford to take the chance that it was an Elemental instead, though the body parts scattered around the turret’s flattened disk told him it was not the Elemental.
Daubing at the blood from his nose with his sleeve, Shin estimated his position and figured out where rendezvous point A2536 had to be. Before he could begin to head toward it, however, a mounting roar echoed over the plains. Fearing the sound more by instinct and training than sense, he dropped to one knee and looked toward the sky.
Afterburners lit up with gold cylinders of fire, the First Sword of Light’s aerospace wing shot toward the east barely fifty meters above the ground. A pulsing rain of scarlet laser fire strobed through the blackness. Brilliant clouds of yellow and red fire wreathed and defined wing-mounted rocket pods. The LRMs streaked off until they became pinpoints of light that erupted into boiling balls of angry red flame.
Even as the Combine’s aerospace forces pounded the Clans, Shin felt the brief taste of victory sour in his mouth. The explosions lit by inferno rockets and cluster bombs silhouetted rank upon rank of enemy ’Mechs, then the night jealously hid them again.
Even without trying to guess their number, Shin knew one thing for certain: The Clans meant to take Luthien, no matter what the cost, and they had brought more than enough ’Mechs to do the job.
39
MAR NEGRO
ALYINA, TRELLSHIRE
LYRAN COMMONWEALTH
FEDERATED COMMONWEALTH
5 JANUARY 3052
I’m going to die if we don’t get some support.
