Close quarters Read online

  First Battalion 'Mech jocks tumbled from ready rooms in their bulky cooling vests and skimpy shorts. Sirens blasted Second bodily from their racks and from the kitchen where, under the widened eyes of the HTE commissary staff, they'd been preparing trays of pastries shaped like tiny skulls and skeletons for baking. BattleMechs lumbered into positions around the walls as rescue vehicles converged on the enormous black pillar of smoke rising from the wreckage.

  With electronically augmented senses, the warriors of the Seventeenth scanned the skies and streets surrounding the great Compound. There was no further change in the traffic patterns, no more sign of threat.

  No man or woman of the Caballeros believed that would last.

  * * *

  The newswoman had straight blonde hair cut off even with her chin and light blue-green eyes with pronounced epi-canthic folds. Behind her stood the great bronze gates on Tai-sho Dalton. Above them a black smoke tree rose into the darkening sky. In addition to explosives, the helicopter had carried a substance that kept the fire burning far longer than conventional fuel.

  "After a tense half-day of waiting for answers from inside the grim, fortress-like headquarters of Hachiman Taro Enterprises," the reporter said, "at last hints as to the true situation have reached anxious city and planetary officials."

  Viewpoint switched to an oblique telephoto shot from a helicopter orbiting well outside the defenders' comfort zone. It clearly showed mercenary BattleMechs patrolling inside the walls or standing by near the citadel. In the midst of the image the crater still smoldered.

  "In the wake of the still-unexplained helicopter attack this morning," the reporter's voice said, "authorities have learned that elements of the offworld mercenary Seventeenth Recon have mutinied in a dispute over pay. The mercenaries have taken hostage HTE Chief Executive Officer—and cousin of our honored Coordinator—Chandrasekhar Kurita.

  "No official word has come from Government House in Masamori, but it is expected that Planetary Chairman Fillington will soon order decisive military action to suppress the uprising and, if possible, free Lord Kurita. The Draconis Combine maintains an ancient tradition of refusing to negotiate with terrorists, no matter who their hostages might be.

  "For MBC news, this is Miyako Tadamashi."

  Seated in the white sterility of the meeting room buried deep in the roots of the Citadel, the Mirza Peter Abdulsattah expelled a long breath. "So it has begun."

  Chandrasekhar Kurita rubbed his palms slowly together. "At least the wait is ended," he said.

  The holovision broadcast switched back to the regularly scheduled program, a class on the proper way to make sushi from Hachiman's varied sea life. Someone switched off the set.

  "Send our people home," Uncle Chandy said, "except for yours, Peter-san. Shut down the Fabs and tell the off-shift employees to stay home."

  "But, Lord Kurita!" an executive protested, "That will cost us millions."

  "You think fighting a battle in the middle of my factory will not? I have a duty to my people. Besides, they can do nothing until the crisis is resolved. I will not subject them to unnecessary risk."

  "They might risk being taken hostage if we send them outside the walls," Abdulsattah pointed out quietly.

  "My enemies evidently believe I am a poor kind of Kurita," Uncle Chandy said equably, "but they cannot neglect that I am, still, Kurita. I care for my people, but I'll not treat with hostage-takers, either."

  The Mirza inclined his long head in acknowledgment.

  "You will inform Colonel Camacho that as of this moment we may expect a full-scale assault at any time. He should dispose his forces accordingly."

  "But who will attack us, Lord?" another executive, smooth face glossy with perspiration despite the air conditioning, asked. "The—the ISF?"

  "They've taken their try at us, and failed," Chandrasekhar said, "though it may be they will play a part."

  He paused, and his great moon-cheeked face looked more sad than fearful.

  "Gentlemen, as to who will attack us, I fear there can be only one answer."

  * * *

  "I don't believe it," Tai-sa Eleanor Shimazu told the Planetary Chairman. They faced each other in his office, which was cluttered with bric-a-brac from old Terra. He was standing to face her as he delivered her orders. She was in no mood to appreciate the honor.

  "I beg your pardon?" Fillington asked, head tipped back to look the Ghost commander in the eye. He was a good four fingers shorter.

  "With all respect, your Excellency, I cannot accept that the Seventeenth Recon would mutiny against their employer. I know these people, Lord. They take their loyalty as seriously as we."

  "You know some of them, Colonel. Yet you cannot know them all. Our intelligence is beyond dispute. Some of them, at least, have risen in revolt. It's up to your people to put them down."

  Lainie ground her teeth, but made herself face him. She knew full well it was a lie.

  But she had no choice. The Earl had the power to order her. He had done so.

  "What support shall we have, milord?" she asked, her voice rasping.

  "You are the sole 'Mech unit currently on-planet, as you're aware. The Masamori Civilian Guidance Corps will be mobilized to assist you as infantry forces."

  Lainie's lips compressed to a line. She would pit a company of Ghosts or Caballeros against all the Candy Stripers on Hachiman.

  "Your Excellency was a military man," she said, "once. No doubt he is well aware that generally accepted military doctrine holds that an assault against a strongly held position requires an attacking force at least three times as great as the defenders in order to achieve a reasonable chance of success."

  For a moment the Earl's eyes blazed, but he controlled himself with visible effort. "They have ninety-five BattleMechs. With the addition of half a dozen machines that Tanadi has been fitting with Cat's Eye targeting and tracking systems and that the Marquis had agreed to release to our service for the duration of the emergency, your Regiment has its full paper complement of one hundred and eight machines. For the first time in its life, I expect?"

  Glaring, Lainie nodded.

  "You are battle-hardened veterans who have served together for years. You are also DCMS. Your opponents are foreign hirelings of a degenerate who disgraces his name."

  "It gladdens my heart that your Excellency feels the mystique of the Dragon renders His servants invincible."

  Fillington tipped his head back again. "Tai-sa," he said, in a dangerous-quiet voice, "do you tell me that you feel unable to discharge your duty by leading your troops into battle against Chandrasekhar Kurita's money-soldiers tomorrow morning?"

  Lainie snapped to attention. "All that I am," she said, staring fixedly at a point well above the Planetary Chairman's head, "I owe to Coordinator Theodore Kurita. My life is his to claim at any time."

  She lowered her eyes to his. They were black as jet beads. "In this matter, you speak with his voice. And so I will obey."

  He nodded brusquely and transferred his attention to the screen discreetly inset in his desktop. She remained at attention.

  "Does his Excellency know what the gaijin mercenaries call tomorrow?"

  He looked up at her in annoyance. "No, Tai-sa, I do not."

  "They call it el Dia de los Muertos," she said. "The Day of the Dead."

  * * *

  Lainie's eyes burned and her stomach roiled with nausea as she pushed out the glass doors of Government House; the seethe of helpless rage within literally sickened her. In contrast to what would have greeted her in the Federated Commonwealth or even the Free Worlds League, no media minions thronged the broad steps to stick microphones and holocams in her face and demand to know every detail of the coming operation. The Combine press would wait patiently for whatever its masters chose to feed it. The nighttime street was nearly deserted, though flashing lights and bullhorn voices a few blocks away marked an evacuation route out of the Murasaki district, tomorrow's redzone.

  Still, she was a
waited. A white stretch limousine was parked behind the light utility car that had brought her. Emma and Sutton, personal bodyguards to the oyabun of Masamori, lounged beside it.

  "The Father Figure wants to see you, Cinnamon," Sutton said, straightening.

  She glared at the two. "Are you out of your tiny minds? I'm a DCMS officer, and this is a military emergency. You lousy chimpira don't dare lay a finger on me."

  Emma growled and puffed himself up like a giant spitting toad from the swamps south of Funakoshi. Sutton cracked his knuckles and laughed.

  "Funny," he said. "That just what he said."

  He nodded his head toward the rear bumper of Lainie's vehicle. The stocky form of her faithful Tosei-kai shadow, who had driven her to the meeting with Fillington, lay facedown in the gutter between the cars. He wasn't moving.

  "Moon!" she exclaimed, starting forward. The vast sumitori barred her way.

  "Is he all right?" she demanded.

  "He just took a little knock on the head," Sutton said, "to teach him to be reasonable. He'll be fine—just as long as you come with us."

  Lainie reached up to grab a hank of red hair and glared at the two enforcers. There were other men moving on the street, strolling casually to flank her. Men wearing dark glasses and shoulder-padded, dazzle-pattern, zaki yakuza sports jackets with bulges in the armpits.

  She bared her teeth, nodded convulsively. "Very well," she said. "Let's go."

  33

  Masamori, Hachiman

  Galedon District, Draconis Combine

  1 November 3056

  It felt strange for Cassie to be cocooned in the safety— however temporary it might prove when the Ninth Ghost Regiment came to call—of a deeply buried bunker while her friends prepared to fight. "What am I doing here?" she asked the Mirza flat-out. "I need to be up top with the Regiment, figuring out how we're going to stop the Ghosts."

  "You have a mission," the security chief said, "that I think you will agree transcends the importance even of pursuing your personal vendetta against BattleMechs."

  "What is it?" Cassie asked testily, in no mood for deference.

  "The seed you planted in Marquis Hosoya's office," Abdulsattah said, "has already borne fruit."

  She stood in the bare underground briefing room and felt heat prickling the surface of her skin, even as the hyperactive air conditioning raised goose bumps on it.

  "So quickly?" was all she found to say.

  He nodded, watching her closely. "Fortune has smiled upon us. It is no more than we deserve, I think, given what we are up against."

  "You have the goods?"

  "The Marquis is consorting with individuals who are unmistakably Clanners." He smiled. "As an added bonus, none other than Kazuo Sumiyama was also in attendance."

  Her heart missed a beat. "And the Chairman?"

  Abdulsattah shook his head gravely. "Nowhere in evidence."

  She drew in a great breath, expelled it with a sigh. Why should I care? But she did. "What now?"

  "Ninyu Kerai Indrahar has established a command center in a hotel being built a kilometer northwest of the Compound," the Mirza said. He smiled. "Our efforts to maintain cordial relations with our neighbors continue to prosper: one of the construction crew tipped us. We have irrefutable evidence demonstrating that Hosoya of Tanadi is guilty of those crimes of which Chandrasekhar Kurita is suspected. It is your job to place that evidence before Ninyu Kerai."

  She smiled humorlessly. "I just walk in and ask for an appointment, right?"

  "You fight. There are at least fifty DEST operatives gathered in the building with him."

  The red-haired man hadn't struck her as the sort to hide behind a phalanx of bodyguards. "A strike team."

  Abdulsattah nodded. "Ninyu may expect the Combine military force present on Hachiman to overwhelm your troops, although the odds favor only a protracted slaughter ending in bloody stalemate. Our assessment is that he does not care. He regards the Ghost Regiment assault as little more than a diversion—the Word of Blake attack on a grand scale. If they can breach the walls and allow his men to slip in unhindered to murder Chandrasekhar Kurita, he will be satisfied."

  "And we're not strong enough to keep the Ghosts out," she said bitterly.

  He inclined his head. "Indeed. Many will die today, to no purpose." He raised his face and stared deep into her eyes.

  "Unless you can win through to Ninyu and force him to look at the evidence that clears us."

  She inhaled unsteadily. "When do I go?"

  "You won't move out for several hours yet. The Ghost assault will be your best cover, too." He touched her arm. "We'll tend to the preparations. You'd best get some sleep."

  * * *

  "Cassie."

  She set her jaw and kept walking. Around her, floodlights had turned midnight to day to light the purposeful confusion of a camp preparing for battle. The night had gone deadly chill. It was full of shouts and hammering and the sputter-spark of arc-welders as the techs and armorers made last-minute adjustments to the mighty, man-shaped war machines. Carts rumbled by, pulling trailers riding low on their suspension under stacked missiles and bins of autocannon ammunition to designated resupply points within the Compound. Uncle Chandy had been most generous when it came to stockpiling munitions. The Regiment had enough reloads to fight a major war. Which was approximately what it faced.

  "Cassie, damn it, talk to me. Please?"

  She stopped, whirled. Captain Kali MacDougall was striding up behind her, bundled in her cooling vest.

  "What do you want?" Cassie shouted with a vehemence that surprised her. "I let you slip past my guard. And now I'm falling apart!"

  "Are you falling apart," Kali asked levelly, "or coming together?"

  "I'm losing my edge. Is that what you want? For me to lose it and ... and die out there?"

  "I want you to make a choice."

  "What's that?"

  "To be human."

  Cassie turned away. "I can't. I'll weaken. I won't be able to do what I need to do." She spun to face Kali again, and her eyes glistened with tears. "It's already started, damn you. Already almost got me killed."

  Lady K was shaking her head. "You don't understand, Cassie. You can do what you need to do without becoming what you fight so hard against: a soulless robot, a killing machine."

  "You're just like Father Bob. Is that it? You think I'm just a sociopath?"

  "No," Kali said, "but I think you might turn into one."

  "Fine! Let me be a sociopath then! It's the only thing that's going to save us."

  "Cassie," Lady K said, "when are you going to start believing in yourself?"

  "What the hell are you talking about? I don't have time for this!"

  "The skills you've got are yours, Cassie. You're the best scout in the Inner Sphere—you are, not some ... some robot monster. You can be a human without giving up anything you've fought so hard to gain."

  Cassie stared at Kali as if any moment she might leap at her and tear out her throat with her teeth. "I don't believe you."

  "Then believe this." The taller woman laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know what happened to you, Cassie. And it wasn't your fault."

  Cassie felt as if Kali had punched her in the stomach. The breath left her, and the strength flowed from her knees. Her vision grayed-out at the edges.

  "The same thing happened to me, Cassie," Lady K was saying. "My father—but the details don't matter, not right now. We'll talk it out when all this is over, if you want. The point is, you're not soiled, you're not guilty, you're not bad. Because you didn't do anything wrong."

  Cassie felt as if she had been made from porcelain, and been dropped, and had cracked. "Why are you telling me this now?" she whispered. "You're killing me."

  "No. Because I'm not what's been trying to get you killed."

  She touched a gloved fingertip to Cassie's sternum. "It's in here. Something inside you wants you to self-destruct, because it can't live with the fear any longer. It's the fear of
what you did wrong, and the punishment that's coming. You're tired of waiting for the blade to drop, for punishment to overtake you. But it isn't coming, Cassie, because you didn't do anything wrong." Tear-blind, Cassie turned and fled.

  * * *

  "It pains me, Eleanor," Kazuo Sumiyama said in tones of infinite sadness, "to tell you how disappointed I am in you."

  Lainie stood in the yakuza boss' office. Because the walls were glass and the lights were low, it was as if she stood in the open, surrounded by blackness and towers of light. The light-worm of the evacuation wound through the night's bronze canyons below. She had nothing to say, and said it.

  Sumiyama shook his wizened turtle head. "These are gaijin ... tanin. More than that, they're mercenaries. Yet you chose to keep company with them, despite my express disapproval."

  I'm not your captive whore anymore, she wanted to shout into his face. I'm not one of you anymore at all. I'm a soldier of the Dragon. Yet this wasn't the time or the place to say it. Because right now Sumiyama had the power to make sure she never walked out of this room alive. And if her regiment had to go into battle against the Seventeenth, she would trust no one else to lead it.

  "Even as among our samurai brethren, giri must overcome ninjo," the yakuza leader said. "We have our traditions of ninkyo, nobility, to maintain."

  You mealy-mouthed old fraud, she thought. How dare you call the samurai our brothers? If there's honor to be found in our yakuza history, it's in our roots as machi-yakko, the neighborhood self-defense bands who fought the samurai. Now you and your kind wrap yourself in the traditions of our ancient foes. Foes to whom we are still nothing but eta: filth and gatherers of filth.