Threads of Ambition Page 17

  * * *

  Tamas couldn't help but think of the escalating fight as one between two rival street gangs. First the name-calling, followed by a shoving match that quickly turned into a bloody fistfight where shards of armor littered the ground instead of broken teeth and blood. The Capellan lance caused havoc beyond their numbers when one lucky push sent a Legers Cestus reeling into his neighbor, setting off a domino-chain that ended up throwing the entire right side of the line into chaos. Then, the slow motion brawl in which raw power took the place of speedy jabs, and armor protected the warrior rather than easily bruised flesh.

  And after one gang member took a nasty shot to the head, rupturing an eye, the knives and guns came out.

  "Weapons-hot," Tamas had ordered as soon as the Thunder cut loose with its large bore autocannon. "Weapons-free against any Capellan that fires on Legers, or any Oriente Hussar that fires on us." With those brief orders given, he triggered an emerald blast from his extended-range large laser, the shaft of light coring into the Thunder's back and rupturing the ammunition magazine. Tamas grinned. I have just committed my first act of aggression against the Capellan Confederation, and it felt good.

  But just as for the Thunder's pilot, any victory today for Tamas was destined to be short-lived. With three mauling tigers in their midst, the Cheveux Legers were unprepared for the onslaught launched by the Free Worlds League Crazy Second. Lasers and the white-blue crackling energy lances from PPCs stabbed into armor weakened by punches and kicks, gouging deeply into internal structures. Autocannon slugs followed, finding the breaches and exploiting them. The Legers who were able quickly fell back under the press. Just so Tamas wouldn't feel left out, a heavy double-lance of Hussars screened him off from the main battle for Ceres Metals and began to target his lighter-weight 'Mechs.

  "Fall back," Tamas ordered, returning fire with a second laser blast and a round of clustering ammunition from the Enforcer's LB-X variant autocannon. Then he opened a channel to Light Horse central.

  "Relay to Colonel Rubinsky," he ordered without identifying himself, "Ceres Metals has fallen to the Hussars. Light Horse unit actively engaging enemy. Repeat, actively. Responsible for one confirmed—"

  He broke off as a lucky PPC shot from a Light Horse Vindicator burned into the head of a Hussar Tempest, completely gutting the cockpit and providing the MechWarrior within with a ready-made crematorium. "Make that two confirmed kills." He triggered off another salvo of his own, walking his heat scale up toward the yellow band. "Expect number to climb."

  Cassandra would be proud, Tamas thought. It was his only measure of consolation, knowing that his father would be very displeased to learn that his Light Horse would now be considered active opposition to the Star League occupation force.

  Light Horse central apparently had similar thoughts. "Will be very angry, your father. Is there nothing else you would like me to pass along?"

  Tamas smiled, though not pleasantly. "Tell him it was all fun and games, until someone lost an eye."

  Hunan, St. Loris

  St. Ives Compact

  Shifting restlessly in the chair she had pulled over next to a window in her hotel suite, Cassandra finished the final page of the Indicass report as the sun slid over St. Loris' horizon. Half of the priority transmission, handed to her by a ComStar messenger half an hour ago, detailed events of the battle around Ceres Metals and the part played by Rubinsky's Light Horse. The way she read the report, Tamas' Company kept the battle from turning into a total rout, allowing two-thirds of the Cheveux Legers to withdraw in good order. Good for you, Tamas.

  She stood, carrying the various reports with her as she first moved to a wall switch to turn on lights and then began pacing the large room. The Endeavor Hotel had put her up in their best suite, with plush furniture, cream-colored walls, and deep-pile carpet that muffled her steps. She trod harder, feeling more the caged tigress than the honored guest. And if I am feeling the strain of being stationed so far off the border, it is no wonder the Cossacks are climbing the walls.

  The Cossacks' First Regiment had welcomed her with a comradeship similar to Rubinsky's Light Horse. A bit wilder perhaps, a bit rougher around the edges, but still the same warm acceptance. And, Cassandra had been able to do what they were denied with their transfer back to St. Loris, taking a piece out of Sun-Tzu's forces, even if a proxy unit. The reception might have buoyed Cassandra's spirits much higher if she did not suspect that her mother had sent her here to learn from the Cossacks what not to do.

  But I was right. Peaceful occupation force indeed! My cousin intended for them to be an assaulting force all along. We just allowed them to entrench. So my actions and methods were correct, just my timing was considered politically incorrect.

  Cassandra realized that her actions had certainly helped her cousin escalate events faster, but could anyone really have prevented the return of the Confederation? Candace herself had implied that once Sun-Tzu made up his mind, nothing would keep him away. So, if fighting is an inescapable conclusion, isn't it better to strike first? Well, Tamas Rubinsky's actions on Indicass seemed to somewhat validate her earlier conduct.

  Cassandra struck the thin sheaf of reports against the flat of her hand. And at least my mother continues to send reports, so I can keep up on events. But what further purpose can I serve here? She frowned at the flimsy sheets, then tossed them onto a nearby table. I should be on the border. But instead it was Kuan Yin with free rein to travel the border with her humanitarian relief efforts.

  But it was more than news of the fighting on Indicass and of her twin sister's travels that bothered her. She stared back at the pile of papers she had tossed down, willing them to ignite. In the stack were also the reports of welcoming receptions for Capellan troops. Galling, though again her mother had warned her of the prospect. Apparently Sun-Tzu's Xin Sheng efforts had touched the hearts of many St. Ives citizens. Even some military units were now under suspicion of harboring pro-Confederation sentiments, and that Cassandra simply did not want to believe.

  Our people share too much history, too much culture. That's what mother said. Is this what she feared? Cassandra shook her head. She couldn't really see her mother fearing anything. Capellan propaganda, that's all. Or, at least, most of it. She flung herself into the chair again and stared out into the darkening twilight. We will fight! That had been her answer to her mother. And we will. I will! Cassandra knew what she was doing on Indicass, and she knew what needed doing now. The St. Ives Compact would prevail.

  But this time, the doubts were already in place.

  22

  Shi-Zhong-Xin

  Park Pinedale, Denbar

  St. Ives Compact

  7 February 3061

  Zhong-shao Ni Tehn Dho waded his Victor across the shallow reflecting pool of Pinedale's central park, each step splashing up the water and stirring the thin layer of mud off the bottom. He could feel the thinly poured ferrocrete crack and give under his BattleMech's massive eighty tons. Autocannon fire whipped the water into a froth all around the 'Mech. Errant PPC and laser hits steamed away large quantities, the resulting mist adding a reflective shimmer to the air over the pool. It was as if in passing, the Victor plunged a normally tranquil scene into chaos.

  The BattleMech left pieces of itself behind as well, in melted splashes and shattered fragments of armor. Dho fought for control as a well-placed salvo of long-ranged missiles chewed into the Victor's upper chest and head. We wished them to stand and fight. Now we must survive our wish.

  As near as the battalion commander could tell, the enemy consisted of two mercenary 'Mech companies, a few battered militia BattleMechs that belonged in a museum, and a full armor battalion. Some still fought along the streets and alleys of Pinedale, defending their final refuge, but most concentrated here in the park. Of his own people, Dho could only account for his command lance, most of Second Company, and the Arcade Rangers lance from Third Company. The rest were scattered to the winds.

  Or at least among seve
nty-eight square miles of city scape. What the garrison forces failed to accomplish at the staging grounds, trying to divide us up, thy managed here quite well.

  Dho watched as two SRM carrier vehicles paired up and launched deadly flights of sixty short-ranged missiles each at Sao-shao Evans' newly repaired Jenner. Better than half found their mark, stripping the Jenner of nearly every last kilogram of armor and gouging deep into its internal structure in half a dozen places. Evans punched out, his cockpit canopy blowing away on special charges as his command couch rose on ejection thrusters. A split second later the Jenner's fusion engine erupted in a fireball, consuming the light 'Mech.

  Zhong-shao Dho noticed that no Hustaing Warriors would close with the carriers, not after that demonstration of raw destructive power. Can't say I blame them. Few 'Mechs can take that kind of abuse. He gained the side of the pool, stepping from the water and tearing up beautifully kept grounds as he sighted in on the nearer SRM carrier. The slow-moving vehicles relied on their implied threat of heavy missile bombardment to force 'Mechs to keep a distance. But Gauss rifles were the BattleMech answer to such close-range death.

  Dho squeezed his right trigger, and the Victor's right-arm Gauss rifle pulled power from its charging capacitors to accelerate a nickel-ferrous slug down the rifle barrel. It streaked across the once-beautiful park with a silvery flash to slam into the side of a carrier, bursting armor plates and then smashing through into the crew compartment. Dho could only imagine the devastation caused by so much metal flying around at high velocity in cramped quarters. Not a nice way to go, but then what is? Ruthlessness and single-minded devotion in pursuing the Chancellor's will, he reminded himself, were two of the keys to victory.

  Or at least, he amended, they were keys to a politically correct attempt. Defensible in the investigations that always followed any defeat—which were much too common in the old days—and always comforting for the warrior whose duty it was to spill so much blood. Even after a decade of retirement, these principles still held true for him. And though it might be Capellan blood on both sides now, it did feel good to see them applied in Confederation victories. Another of which we would like to arrange here.

  He opened communications. "Hustaing Warriors, this is Zhong-shao Dho. Converge on Central Park." Not that he expected much in the way of response after three calls and no help. His people suffered blocked communications by buildings and radio jamming, were dead or disabled, were simply too involved in their own fighting to assist, or could not find the park.

  There was one thing he could do for them, though. "For those of you without a map, Central Park is the wide open area in the center of the city."

  Backing the Victor into a small stand of elm, snapping branches and knocking whole trees over, Dho twisted the upper half of his assault machine far enough to answer a threat from a nearby mercenary Rifleman. At least three vehicles were chipping away at his armor too, but those he could afford to ignore, for a little while at least. It helps being the biggest boy on the battlefield.

  "Ranger Two, score another fifteen points."

  "Yeah, but you're still behind by twenty."

  The Victor's Gauss rifle spat out another missile of silver death. This one smashed into the Rifleman's right leg, lodging in the hip joint and freezing up the entire limb. As the Rifleman fell, Dho searched his viewscreen and monitors for the source of the distracting comments, finding the Arcade Rangers holding the southeast corner of the park against all comers.

  He opened a channel, intent on some kind of quick lecture, then shook his head. They don't play well with others, or even each other half the time, but if I'm going to keep this unit alive I'd better not argue with success, no matter what form it comes in. It rankled against his idea of proper Capellan dignity, but everything in its own time. "If you boys are going to play your games, do it on a private channel," was all he finally said.

  His comm unit crackled to life again. Dho was ready this time to chew some hou-mian should an Arcade Ranger even try to back-talk to him, when instead he heard, "Does that include us, Zhong-shao Dho?"

  The voice was familiar, even robbed of so much of its personality by transmission. He tried to place it among his own warriors. Strong, unassuming but confident—Aris Sung! He searched his head's up display, locating the arrival of new 'Mechs at three different compass points. Aris Sung's Wraith he found near his own position, leading a full company into the park from a nearby street and already skirmishing with the Denbar defenders.

  His Gauss capacitors recharged, Dho struck again at the Rifleman, which was having trouble getting up from the ground. This time he added his medium pulse lasers to the job, the emerald splashes of light cutting into the enemy machine's chest cavity and scrapping its gyro. "I don't suppose you saw any of my wayward Warriors out in the city, did you?" he asked as the Rifleman powered down in surrender.

  The Wraith shredded the armor on a Hetzer armored vehicle, which immediately spun about to put distance between itself and Aris' pulse lasers. "We did," Aris informed him. "They did not respond to your transmissions because we've been enforcing a comm blackout of our approach."

  With the Denbar forces falling back on all sides toward the park's center, Ni Tehn Dho found himself with no enemy at immediate hand. He turned, fired off a long-range Gauss shot toward a fleeing Cicada, missed. Aris' Wraith landed in the Cicada's rear-left quarter, his pulse lasers striking with greater ease but without the hard, knock-down power of a Gauss slug.

  Dho focused in on the Wraith, noticing the House Hiritsu crest and Confederation insignia. "You appear to be lacking Star League colors, Aris Sung."

  "Everything in its time, Zhong-shao. House Master Non will address that concern soon."

  The Hustaing Warrior commander, alone in his cockpit, still nodded his response. In other words, the Chancellor and First Lord has prepared a new surprise for us.

  But as the fight wound down, once again some niggling doubts worked at Ni Tehn Dho's resolve as he glanced around at the park's shattered tranquillity. Playground equipment trampled. Trees set afire by laser hits. Ground chewed up and scorched in several places.

  Dho reached up and tugged at the wisps of beard sticking out from under the lip of his neurohelmet. Ruthlessness and single-minded devotion. Never forget that this is what you wanted to return to, old man. Of course, you could hardly turn down the Chancellor's call to arms, even if retirement had suited you, but perhaps you had better start being very careful what you wish for.

  * * *

  Once the fighting ended, Aris Sung surveyed the same scene as Zhong-shao Dho. He could see where the park might have once been a beautiful place for picnicking and family outings, for relaxation and repose. Now it looked like almost any other battlefield he had ever fought on; blasted and wrecked. The reflecting pool still had an air of tranquillity, but only because water couldn't be as easily destroyed as grass and turf.

  And nearby buildings.

  All around the park's borders, apartment buildings and some few commercial ones displayed signs of collateral damage. Windows blown out. Walls chewed apart or caved in. Fires. The people of Denbar are paying a high price for Duchess Liao's order of peaceful noncompliance.

  Aris continued to walk his Wraith around the perimeter. From his position, he could easily make out House Master Non's new Yu Huang assault 'Mech, towering above even other BattleMechs at nearly thirteen meters. The House Master supervised the securing of all opposing vehicles and BattleMechs at the park's center. Enemy, Aris tried to convince himself, enemy vehicles and BattleMechs.

  It was a hard sell. Machines with the Home Guard insignia, common to both St. Ives Compact and the Confederation, fallen under the weapons of Confederation forces. A group of prisoners, under Hiritsu infantry escort—many with the telltale signs of Asian ancestry and all in uniforms of a familiar cut and color. Too much familiarity to make it easy.

  "We have been holding just outside the moon's orbit," Ty Wu Non said, continuing to brief Zhong-shao Dh
o over a secure channel. Aris, as company leader, was privy to the conversation. "Once Aris Sung reported that you had secured the maintenance facilities, and that he expected a major battle to take place soon because of it, we dropped into the foothills east of Pinedale to await developments. It was the best way to put down the resistance on Denbar."

  "Can't say I like being used as bait, House Master Non. But it did give my Warriors a chance to shake out a lot of their kinks."

  Aris walked his Wraith past a junked Rifleman and what he thought might be the remains of a Jenner. You still have a ways to go, Zhong-shao. Your people all need to go back into a training cycle. Say for about a year. He throttled back to avoid a small group of observers. People were beginning to filter carefully into the park, looking to see if the excitement was over and who had won. Aris turned more inward, wanting to avoid them.

  Ty Wu Non's voice sounded almost amused at Dho's attitude. "You will be getting more warriors, to shake the kinks out of, as you put it. The Chancellor wishes to convey his continued support for the Hustaing Warriors." His voice grew slightly more serious. "Except for what House Hiritsu requires in the way of immediate salvage—and we will need little—the machines and BattleMechs are yours to begin filling up another battalion."

  Ni Tehn Dho's voice grew concerned. "I hope you do not plan to announce that until your infantry have cleaned out every last cockpit." A pause. "That kind of information could turn any MechWarrior or tank driver suicidal."

  Aris toggled off that channel, no longer interested in listening. The talk bothered him. The small knots of people edging into the park bothered him. The fire trucks, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles circling the ruined buildings bothered him. But these were factors, not problems. As janshi, a warrior, Aris helped to cause situations where such talk and circumstances occurred. But I no longer fully understand why!