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Ashes
Continuing the story from "Once More into the Breach"
by Ethan Jennings |
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March
Federated Suns
August 15, 3219
Feng tossed the rifle to the Maskirovka agent, who quickly checked it and chambered a round. The agent slung the rifle over his shoulder and adjusted his gloves.
"That everything?" Feng asked.
The agent stashed two more clips in his belt and nodded. "I’ll be back here in an hour," he said. "And you’d sure as hell be ready to trash the evidence."
"Got that. The charges will be set, and we’ll have moved everything to Site B."
"Excellent." The agent walked out the door.
Feng wondered how he was going to get to the Davion Palace with the rifle, but really, that wasn’t his problem. His problem would be taking care of his own chores before the agent returned, lest the Intelligence Secretariat discover them. Feng put his mind to the task ahead of him, and tried not to think of the agent.
The agent moved quickly down the long access hallway that ran beneath the Davion Palace. He doubted that the Intelligence Secretariat even knew it still existed; the hallway had originally been built during the ill-fated reign of Katherine Steiner-Davion as a secret escape for the Archon-Princess, or whatever people were calling her these days. It had never been used, Katherine having opted to submit to her brother’s mercy rather than try to evade capture. It had been a good choice, in the end; she had ultimately done well in the Wolf Clan. Had the agent been there, he most certainly would have pressured Victor Steiner-Davion to kill her, but then, he hadn’t, and from what he’d read, he doubted that the warrior prince would have listened anyhow.
He reached the end of the hallway, and cracked open the door at the end, listening carefully for guards. The agent knew exactly where he was going. There was a service elevator, rarely used by the Palace staff, which would take him up into the Lucien Tower, one of the new constructions that had been built after the third Blakist attack on New Avalon. The Lucien Tower offered a clear shot at the top of the Alexander Tower, where Anderson Davion and his entire family were now having lunch, according to the agent’s plant in the Palace.
It would be an easy slaughter.
The agent planned on escaping another way, for Palace Security would almost certainly close of Lucien Tower’s elevator systems. The agent planned to hide on the maintenance ladder that ran parallel with the elevator, built in a ledge just deep enough so that a man would not be clipped by a passing car. The agent was prepared to wait there for days, if necessary, but he fully intended to be out within five hours.
His alternate plan was more daring; fake his own suicidal leap from the Lucien Tower and disappear. That plan was more likely to fail, and fail miserably.
The service elevator began its rapid ascent to the viewing gallery at the very top of the Lucien Tower. When the doors slid open, the agent was very surprised to see the cleaner standing there, his hand outstretched to punch the call button for the very elevator the agent was riding in. The agent had been trained well, though, and the cleaner died from a single gunshot before he could make a sound. Securing the room with a quick glance, the agent moved to the window.
The glass was easily cut with the laser scalpel the agent had brought along, leaving a hole large enough to give him unrestricted aim. He looked through the scope, down the long, black barrel, settling the black crosshair on Anderson Davion.
Slowly, his finger drew back the slack in the trigger. Stroke it smoothly, gently, like a lover . . .
Crack! The First Prince of the Federated Suns fell dead to the floor with a single bullet in his heart. But the agent was already aiming at his next target, Anderson’s wife Emily, who fell with a bleeding hole in her forehead. A third shot, this one aimed at Anderson’s son Patrick. The aim was off, tore open his shoulder. The agent cursed his misjudgment, and put a round between Patrick Davion’s eyes. The last target was still looking around, dazed. Anderson’s daughter Bernice fell in the pool of her family’s blood, adding her own fluids to the mix.
At the last instant the agent saw Jan Hakados. Without thinking, he put a shot into the Intelligence Secretary, knocking him against the far wall. He left a smear of crimson as he slid to the floor.
The agent left the window, starting for the elevator shaft.
Suddenly, totally unexpected, he heard a gun cock.
And he knew he was dead even before the maelstrom of fire tore him apart.
Feng was running back to the car. It was packed, and the fuse was set. Within a minute, the safehouse would be nothing but a billowing firestorm, and frankly, the CCAF captain couldn’t be happier, for that safehouse contained enough evidence to damn him and his comrades a thousand times in a Davion court. Not that they would need to convict him that many times.
The most unexpected sight of the business end of an autorifle stopped him dead in his tracks.
They were not Palace Security people. Rather, they wore AFFS battle fatigues, their insignia marking them as being from the Davion Light Guards, and they certainly meant business. Feng froze, hand still outstretched, reaching for the car door.
"On the ground, motherfucker!" their leader screamed, banishing any thought Feng had of reaching for the needle pistol holstered on his hip. He complied, practically throwing himself to the street. His comrade, a lieutenant from the Maskirovka, did not, and a burst from an autorifle was enough to tell Feng that his own decision had been a wise one.
Well, wise in the short-term, at least. If the agent had succeeded in killing the royal family, Feng didn’t expect his long-term life expectancy to be anything to write home about.
CCS Celestial Glory, Sian Orbit
Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
"Good morning, General," said the Maskirovka interrogator, his voice dripping with contempt. "I trust you’ve been enjoying the past few months you’ve spent in the Confederation."
"Oh," snarled Lara Steiner, "they’ve just been dandy."
Lara Steiner, formerly the commander of the Twelfth Donegal Guard, had been captured by the CCAF on Bharat. Reeling from the series of defeats handed to him by the Star League Defense Forces, Chancellor Chong-lo Liao had decided to save a little face and have the senior peacekeeper he had captured grandiosely executed in a prominent ceremony. Which didn’t bode well for one Lara Steiner.
"I’m glad you find your accommodations suitable. I hope you don’t mind Major Ti. He’ll be joining us today. He’s from the CCAF, the Fourth Sian Guard, actually."
"Oh, fantastic." The newcomer was shorter than her Maskirovka tormentor, with softer features and short hair. His uniform was crisp, and if she read the insignia right, he was an accomplished MechWarrior.
To confirm her assessment, the Maskirovka agent continued. "Major Ti is here to advise me on the technicalities of BattleMech combat. He has great skill in this field."
"So I see. Too bad he’s never seen combat."
Major Ti answered her. "Actually, ma’am, I have, albeit against Periphery pirates, not an honest-to-God military unit."
"Oh, believe me, the Capellan Armed Forces hardly constitute what I would call an honest-to-God military unit," Lara said dryly. "You probably would have a harder time with the pirates."
"They were good enough to get you," Ti observed.
"Point taken. Though I am more inclined to believe that the reason for my defeat lies in the fact that the Twelfth Donegal was outnumbered five to one, but I suppose it is feasible that I was beaten by a superior MechWarrior." She laughed. "Or maybe I was hit by one of my own. Accidents happen, in the heat of combat."
"Enough," snarled the interrogator, obviously angry that the conversation had drifted out of his control. "General Steiner," he said, "my government would . . . greatly appreciate any information you believe would assist the Confederation’s war effort, specifically information pertaining to the military capabilities of the Lyran Alliance or other elements of the Star League Defense Forces."
"Go to hell," she said. "You’ve got nothing on me. I’m already going to be hanged."
The Maskirovka interrogator got very close to her face. "Actually, General Steiner, I think that we do have something to hold against you. It is correct that you will be hanged, regardless of what you tell us. But there are many ways to botch a hanging—ways that end in great pain for the victim." He smiled. "But if you cooperate with us, I’m sure that won’t be a problem."
Lara’s face paled, but the expression of calm defiance remained the same. "Go," she said, "to hell."
"Fine." The interrogator beckoned for Major Ti to follow him out. "We’ll be back tomorrow, General Steiner. And we’ll see if you haven’t had a change in heart."
Tharkad City, Tharkad
Donegal Province
Lyran Alliance
August 18, 3219
Archon Donavan Steiner looked at the BattleMech that stood in the Nonagon’s underground ’Mech bay. It was his own personal machine, the Hauptmann he had christened Anubis, the ancient Egyptian god of death. Painted in bold blue and white, the ’Mech was loaded with a gauss rifle and a 12cm autocannon, as well as an impressive complement of lasers. The engineers who had customized it for him had included a Thunderbolt missile launcher just above the standard LRM launcher, giving Donavan a single projectile with which to deliver a fantastic punch.
"You’re sure you’re going to do this, Donavan?" asked Marcus, putting his hand on the Archon’s shoulder. "My men will keep the Free Worlders from taking the Triad. There is no need for you to—"
"There is, Marcus," Donavan said. "Since its conception, the Archon of the Lyran state has led his troops into battle. I’m no slouch in a BattleMech myself, and I intend to continue that tradition."
"But sir, the damage to the Alliance if you are killed—"
"The damage to the Alliance will be greater if Tharkad is captured," Donavan said. "So you and your men will just have to watch my back, won’t you? Hurry up, my friend, and go to your ’Mech. We’ll need every one today."
Leutnant Dietfried Rossbach blinked when he heard his company commander’s warning.
"Ah, sir, could you repeat that, please?" he said, running his Mad Cat through the streets of Tharkad City, toward the front with the Free Worlders on 19th Street.
"You heard me, Rossbach. Watch the Archon, make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. I swear, if the paint on his ’Mech is marred, you’ll wish you bought it tonight, Rossbach. Cover. The. Archon."
"Roger, that, Hauptmann, I won’t let you down." Rossbach shook his head. "Jesus. What did I ever do!" He keyed for his lancemates’ attention. "Listen up, Killers. We’re on guard duty."
"Who?" asked Sergeant Loland.
"The Archon. Form up on me and no matter what, don’t let anything happen to this guy. He’s the big white and blue Hauptmann." As if they didn’t know what the Archon’s ’Mech looked like. "I’m serious, if one of you blows it, I’ll have your ass."
Archon Donavan’s Hauptmann appeared a few blocks north, and Rossbach increased his ’Mech’s speed to catch up. Beside the Hauptmann was a Masakari that Rossbach guessed belonged to General of the Armies Marcus Steiner. He suppressed the impulse to groan and programmed his comlink to Donavan’s frequency.
"This is Leutnant Rossbach and Killer lance, at your service, sir," he said. "Is there something you’d like smashed?"
"Glad to meet you, Leutnant. Shall we find some Free Worlders?"
"Nothing would please me more, Archon." He switched back to the lance frequency. "Okay, Killers, you know the drill. I want a tight circle around the Archon. Anything that looks at him the wrong way gets burned. Questions? No? Excellent."
The six ’Mechs stalked toward the area of the city where the Free Worlders were engaged with the Second and Third Regiments of the Black Knight Legion and the Third Battalion of the Fifth Donegal. The mercenaries had already broken the Free Worlders once, but that brief change in fortunes had ended in the destruction of a company of Legionnaire ’Mechs. The rest of the Black Knights were not likely to forget that incident, and Rossbach almost felt sorry for the Free Worlders fighting them.
Almost.
"Boss, looks like we’ve got Free Worlder ’Mechs incoming. Four of ’em, all heavy to assault size."
"Okay, people, look sharp, we’ve got incoming." Rossbach checked his displays to make sure his weapons were up and running. "Mike, did you have a direction on those bodies?"
"Coming in from the north. Range is six hundred meters."
Jesus. Six hundred meters? That was well within range of most weapons systems. Where the hell are they? Rossbach wondered.
No more than three hundred meters up the street, a Jupiter turned the corner, firing both PPCs at the Lyran ’Mechs. The Dreadnought beside Rossbach exploded under the onslaught, pieces of the ’Mech thudding against the Mad Cat’s side. Rossbach returned fire, burning a pair of molten trenches along the Jupiter’s chest with his large lasers. The loss of so much armor threw the Jupiter off-balance, and the obviously inexperienced pilot couldn’t recover in time to save his ’Mech from toppling into an office building. While metal crushed beneath the heavy Jupiter, Loland’s Catapult launched a barrage of long-range missiles into its back. Marcus Steiner’s Masakari fired a pair of particle beams into the Jupiter’s back, and internal explosions wracked its body. The Jupiter was definitely out.
"Look sharp, we’ve got a Devastator and a Longbow coming in," warned Private Utterman. "The fourth ’Mech is an Awesome, about two hundred meters past them."
"Engage!" Rossbach said. He barreled down the street, kicking aside a passenger car that someone had abandoned when the fighting had started. He rounded the corner just ahead of Marcus Steiner, in time to see Utterman’s Orion take a gauss round in the shoulder. A flurry of large pulse lasers flashed from the Orion’s chest-mounted guns, fired at something out of view, presumably the Devastator.
Rossbach ran across the street, firing his LRMs at the Devastator. The missile warheads peppered the Free Worlder ’Mech’s armor, followed closely by a large laser beam from Utterman. Marcus Steiner fired his PPCs, lashing the Devastator with artificial lightning, and the Archon rounded the corner to finish it with a gauss round through the chest. The now-burning Devastator fell flat on its back, unmoving.
An incoming flight of missiles reminded Rossbach of the Longbow. Most of the LRMs hit the pavement around the Lyran ’Mechs, blasting chunks of ferrocrete into their sides. Rossbach fired his lasers and missed, and the Longbow fired its own pair of medium lasers, burning a long scar on the Masakari. General Steiner was victim to the Longbow’s next volley of missiles, the cadence of explosions driving his ’Mech to the ground.
Three particle beams sizzled past Rossbach to impacted against the downed Masakari’s head. The front half of the OmniMech was blown away, and dark smoke wafted into the sky from the burning wreck.
Rossbach fired at the Awesome, this time hitting with his arm-mounted large and medium lasers. The ruby energy beams dragged a swath of destruction across the Awesome’s front, but the Free Worlder continued on uninhibited as Archon Donavan brought his guns to bear.
A burst from the Archon’s autocannon punched through the Longbow’s right missile pod while the gauss rifle struck the Awesome’s leg, crushing the knee joint. The Awesome fell to the street, sliding into the lobby of a deserted hotel while the Longbow swiveled to meet its attacker. Donavan’s second shot with the autocannon went straight into the Longbow’s cockpit, blowing out the back of its head in a gout of flame and broken metal. The Hauptmann stocked toward the downed Awesome.
Rossbach instinctively held back from the Free Worlder assault ’Mech, but he kept his guns trained on it lest it make an unexpected move. He flinched when Donavan fired his autocannon, walking the fire through the ’Mech’s fusion reactor and up into its head. A moment later, a massive explosion blasted the ’Mech apart. Rossbach grimaced at the Archon’s vengeful act—understandable, certainly, but it showed a side to his nation’s leader that he hadn’t liked to think existed.
"All units! All units! This is Black Knight Command! Begin retreat to the southern side of the city for immediate evacuation! DropShips are inbound! The perimeter is breached, and Free Worlders are advancing on the Triad!"
"Colonel Nasinec, this is Archon Steiner! I remand that order—"
"Colonel Nasinec is dead, sir. First Regiment is gone. There’s nothing between the Free Worlders and the whole western half of this city! We’re still contracted to you, sir, but dammit, the Fifth Donegal is breaking, too! If no one gets out of this alive, no one is left to retake Tharkad from these bastards!"
"Who is this?" Donavan demanded.
"Goddammit, sir! Do you think this is easy for me? The Lyran Alliance is my home too! Get on a DropShip—we’ll hold them until you’re airborne. Please, Archon. There will be another day."
Rossbach watched the Hauptmann through his windshield. Slowly, it turned toward the north, starting to walk toward the frontline.
"Archon Steiner, this is Leutnant Rossbach. You will turn yourself around and go to those DropShips right now. Do you understand me?"
"I didn’t think I took orders from you, Leutnant," Donavan said icily. Rossbach ran his ’Mech up to jump in front of Steiner. As he did, he realized that he was in a very dicey position. Donavan could simply shoot him—and be legally correct in doing so—for what he had just done.
"Sir," he said quickly, before Donavan had the chance to speak, "a lot of men and women have died today, and all for the Lyran Alliance. Now whatever you think, let me, as a loyal subject, tell you the reality of life. Tharkad isn’t the Alliance—you are. If you buy it today, the Alliance will be crushed. Sure, we might recover in ten or twenty years, but do you think that bastard Corrigan is going to wait that long? We need you alive, sir, and if you can’t see that, then you might as well shoot me right now, because I’m not willing to live in an Alliance without you."
Donavan was quiet for a moment. Then, his ’Mech shifted its weight, and his voice sounded in Rossbach’s earpiece.
"Lead the way," the Archon said. |
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