We can have it all

28

"Kill her now and get it over with," said Elizabeth Hoond, her voice flat and strained. "We've got all the information out of her that we can."

"What information?" replied Vost. "We don't know anything except that Takuda is close by. And we knew that just from catching her. There's a lot more to get."

Hoond kicked viciously at the wooden table that held the pinioned body of Ariake Sanae. The DEST sergeant didn't respond. She was so deeply drugged that the pain from the wrist and ankle restraints didn't even penetrate. Hoond kicked again. "Look. She's so doped up now that we'll never get anything out of her. You didn't have to give her four shots. It just blacked her out."

"We weren't getting anything out of her before the shots, either. These DEST types can stand a lot of pain. The drugs at least got her to babble about some combat she'd seen. Something about wrecked vehicles."

"You just didn't like the screams." Hoond walked around the other side of the table so she could see Vost directly. "I thought you liked a little pain with your women. Or is it you just like women?"

"You knew the deal when you came with us. You have no rank better than either Fiona or Michelle. And if Tami Wilson wants some of the action, she's welcome to it as well. You knew that coming in." Juggling three women, and perhaps a fourth, was harder than he'd thought it would be. The two techs had been docile about the situation, but Hoond, the navigator of the ill-fated Telendine was a different matter. Perhaps it was because she was odd man out in the organization, with nothing really to do, that made her such a witch. Vost was sorry he'd decided to add her to his list.

"In any case, we've got enough." He stepped away from the table to gaze out the window that looked out over the early sun and the broad expanse of grasslands that stretched toward the distant forest. "You're the one with the navigation skills," he continued. "Use some of that to find out where Takuda and his people are. I'll deal with the rest of it."

Hoond left the unconscious sergeant to come alongside Vost. She took his hand in hers. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't draw away, and she held him tighter. "I think she's dangerous. We know she's talked to Sirayuki. After all, he's the one who gave her to us. I think he'll use that to cut a better deal. But aside from that, she may have talked with others. It's like a virus in the body. She and it need to be destroyed. Kill her now."

Vost turned to face her. "She's a danger only if we don't act. Find me Takuda, and we'll go stomp him. That's what will convince these people that we're the future. And an expensive future."

Hoond rested her head on his chest. "All right, Garber," she purred. "I find them, you stomp them. But then this one is mine."

"Done. Find them and she's yours."

* * *

It didn't take Elizabeth Hoond long to get a reasonable fix on Takuda and his group. She knew from the information Sanae had given to Sirayuki that they were between five to eight hours away by foot. The patrol had made it to the city in one night. She also knew that other contact patrols had been sent to the other enclaves. That put the DEST group somewhere north of the city and probably at the edge of the woods. The drugged reference to a battle gave her an even better fix. The forces of the Usugumo had been in contact with those of the Amatukaze. A few questions to the leaders of the Usugumo gave her the battle location. She had the Takuda force well located.

The sun was directly overhead when the BattleMechs fired up. They had made their headquarters in one of the deserted bastions of the outer wall, well separated from the rest of the defenses and outside the city proper. Seagroves and Pesht had wanted to be inside the enclave, but Vost had vetoed that idea at once. He was more interested in keeping the mercenaries separated from their possible employers until the deal was done. In any case, the bastion provided security.

The bastion, with its towering scarp and counterscarp, would keep all but the most insistent away from the 'Mechs. The walls were no problem for the two land 'Mechs, and Seagroves' LAM could also traverse them with ease. Being isolated had the advantage of adding mystery to their presence.

The operation against Takuda was to be a straight "brute force and ignorance" operation. Three 'Mechs against less than a dozen infantry would be a cake walk. Even a lance as weak as Vost's should be able to deal with them. Granted, Takuda's group had a short-range missile launcher, but how much did that count against the smothering fire that the Javelin could deliver at the same range? If Takuda's people had the temerity to open fire with their SRM, the Javelin would deluge the location with its own missiles. The counterfire radar on the right side of the Javelin's head could plot the location of the launcher to within twenty-five meters, and even if its missiles didn't make a direct hit against the system, the dozen explosions in the area would probably make the enemy gunner very respectful. There would be no second shot. It was BF and I all the way.

Vost and Pesht blasted out of the bastion in boiling clouds of incandescent gas. They hunched down just outside the walls and began to make their way through the waist-high grass toward the scene of the previous day's combat. Seagroves would fly out later. Fuel for the air portion of the LAM was critical. He still had hours of flight time remaining, but the fuel he had scrounged at the DropShip would have to last until he could find a suitable local substitute. And that would have to wait until after they'd finalized the deal.

Pesht trotted out ahead of the medium Panther, and Vost had to call him back. He wanted to hold back the Javelin's SRM armament until they'd located the targets. Vost was in the interesting position of having to lead with the medium and follow with the light 'Mech. In normal conditions the light Javelin would have been deployed in support of the two Locusts, with the Panther and the LAM as reserve. But Vost didn't have the two Locusts. No one did. Seagroves' had reported a definite kill on one of them, and the other was damaged, at best. The finest technicians in the galaxy couldn't have jury-rigged the parts to build a functioning 'Mech, and Takuda did not have the finest techs available. Nor did he have the depot workshop such repair activity would require. The mercenary settled comfortably into the Panther's command seat and let its easy gait across the savanna lull him into a feeling of euphoria.

The scattered trash of the battlefield littered the grasslands. Patches of burned, brittle stalks marked the death throes of some giant metallic beast. This was the site of the recent and continuing combats. He knew there would be no fighting here today, however. The Amatukaze and the Usugumo were observing a one-day truce. It had all been arranged. There were, however, observers from both enclaves somewhere among the patches of trees. This would be good sales promotion. Vost turned the pair of 'Mechs toward the forest.

The Javelin moved up to the left of the Panther, two hundred meters away and slightly behind. Vost noted the other 'Mech's position on the secondary screen as well as on the heads-up display. He wiped the information from the HUD, leaving nothing but targeting symbols. There was no use having it cluttered with extraneous data. With no other 'Mechs in the battle, the location and activity of the allied 'Mechs would just get in the way. Vost pressed forward on the throttle and felt the pressure against his back as the Panther began to gain speed.

The Cat's Eye 5 targeting system swept the approaching wood line. No targets. Vost adjusted the sensor array to I/R maximum. Under normal conditions the infrared sensors were adjusted to react to the heat of a 'Mech rather than a human. It was only in city fighting that the presence of humans became a survival imperative. In restricted terrain, where the PNT-9R was even more dangerous than in the open, the shadowy presence of an infantryman could spell the difference between a 'Mech's survival and becoming a heap of glowing metal. The secondary screen showed the Javelin to the right rear as a bright green, its IFF identification number across the top of the image. Vost disregarded it.

Then, emerging from the background clutter of the forest to the front, Vost saw the soft glow of an I/R signature. A human. A human lurking in a hidden bunker right on the edge of the woods. He let the cross hairs of the PPC steady on the image. At this range he could blast both bunker and the human to smithereens. His finger tightened on the trigger. No, he thought, that would be too easy. He lowered the 'Mech's right arm and accelerated. Stomp the little beggar flat, he thought. That'll show 'em who's boss.

The Panther sprang into the air and came down on the unmoving I/R image, its right leg extended stiff and straight for the crushing blow. Just as the foot crashed through the top of the surprisingly soft bunker roof, Vost had a fleeting thought; the poor, stupid grunt had not moved. The 'Mech's foot, a three- by six-meter slab of articulated Maximilian armor, sank through the overhead cover and kept on going down. And going and going. And then stopped dead.

The shock threw Vost against the restraining harness. The Panther's right foot was caught in an eight-meter-deep pit, off balance. The 'Mech's impetus had carried it forward. Vost brought the left leg under the toppling 'Mech, but it stubbed its toe against the ground. He fought to get it free. The 'Mech continued forward, falling. Vost swung the left arm back, trying to twist the 'Mech free, trying to throw some weight onto the immobile left leg. It was no use.

With stately grandeur the Panther toppled forward into the scrub, the PPC driving itself into the soft earth. Then the cockpit struck, and Vost was thrown against his harness again. His feet came off the controls, his finger tightened on the firing buttons. The PPC roared to life. Great gouts of molten, incandescent, glowing dirt spewed out. The right shoulder of the thrashing 'Mech lurched backward, twisting the head face-down against the ground. Vost hung suspended by the harness as he fought to regain control.

By the time he got the Panther upright and functioning, the Javelin was into the forest verge. Vost shouted a warning over the commline, but it was too late. He had a momentary vision of the Javelin lurching forward, its legs enmeshed in a web of vines. A tree snapped upright, his secondary screen showing the legs of the 'Mech sideways. The Javelin broke free and staggered on.

"Where are they?" screamed Pesht into his communicator. "They're everywhere. I'm lost!"

Vost swept the area. There were I/R signatures scattered through the trees. More signatures than Takuda could possibly have men. It was a trap. The secondary screen glowed with the identification of the incoming LAM. A heavy laser strike vaporized the ground in front of the Panther, leaving smoldering branches and glowing earth. Vost looked around for the antagonist, but it was just the LAM arcing away. "Seagroves! I'll get you for that!"

"Sorry, boss. Thought it was one of them in front of you." There was a pause. Vost thought he heard a chuckle as the transmission ended. "I have no targets," came the next report from the LAM.

Vost saw another I/R blur. This time I'll get you, you little crud, he thought. The signature blinked. It was retreating into the deeper forest. The Panther sprang forward. There was a slight tug on the 'Mech's legs as it passed between two trees. Damn vines, thought Vost. Gotta be careful. Then he saw the log swinging toward the Panther's torso. He braced himself, felt the shock as the wood struck home. This was madness. There were nothing but shadows to fight. "Pull back," he ordered over the commline. "We're out of here."

29

Remaining hidden in the patches of scrub outside the main gate of the Usugumo enclave, the four DEST members and the Tetatae watched the 'Mechs blast out of the bastion and stalk northward along the river. Knyte, Holland, Horg, Miranda, and Topi huddled as low as they could. The plan was to enter the enclave at dawn if possible, and they had moved from the DEST position and across the open ground as fast as they'd dared. But they hadn't been quick enough. By the time they reached the outskirts of the enclave, activity had begun at the gate and on the walls, forcing them to wait until traffic around the entrance became heavy enough for their entrance to pass unnoticed.

They'd decided to make their move just before noon, but a flurry of activity in the bastion housing the 'Mechs had driven them to cover again. Now, as the 'Mechs leaped out of their fortification, the team had their chance. The sudden explosion of the Panther and Javelin's jump jets had scattered the stray pedestrians. In the confusion Knyte gave the word, and the five rose from their positions and joined the confused throng crowding toward the main gate.

The guards, who usually checked the identification all who passed through, were huddled in their gatehouse, peering through the vision slits at the settling dust. They waved the crowd of panicked people through the gate, the DEST group getting past them without earning so much as a glance. The guards would become officious later, making up in arrogance their lack of attention earlier. But not now.

Topi got the four humans off the main street and into the back alleys as quickly as possible. Miranda was still in the mundane clothing he had worn during his sojourn in Usugumo, and Knyte and his section were dressed in the clothes they'd worn among Amatukaze. Now, they realized, the dress of the three enclaves was so strikingly different that they were immediately recognizable as outsiders. They scurried into an alley and huddled behind some crates.

They didn't have to wait long. A pair of civilian humans wearing the loose jackets and trousers favored by the lower class of Usugumo approached. As the pair passed the team's hiding place, Miranda stepped out in front of them and raised his hand. The two men stopped, beginning to utter protests at this unwarranted intrusion on their lives. What was this civilian doing trying to stop them? They never got a satisfactory answer. Their necks were broken before they hit the street, and their clothes were off a moment later.

The job finished, Knyte and Horg were already dressed in attire appropriate to the enclave before they noticed the small group of Tetatae children staring at them in open-eyed wonder. Then the little bird-like creatures fled before any explanation could be given. The team moved on, directed by Topi toward their goal.

The little alien trotted ahead, chirping to any of his kind that she encountered along the way. She nodded and bobbed as she went, sometimes stopping for more lengthy conversations with the adults. But it was from the children that she seemed to get most of her information. The adults occasionally made scolding sounds as the humans approached, snapping their beaks in the direction of the team. The children crowded around at a respectful distance, their eyes bulging wider than usual.

Topi directed the team through the streets, heading directly toward the highest point in the enclave. She finally stopped where an alley so narrow that they had to squeeze through sideways debouched onto a broad square. She hunkered down and gestured to Knyte, indicating a room on the second floor. She rattled off some words that the section leader didn't understand, but the little alien was quite insistent. Knyte made walking signs with his fingers, and she nodded. When he indicated that she should accompany the group, she shook her head violently. She would not enter the building.

Topi stood to her full height and let the DEST members crawl between her legs until they were all in front of her. She spoke to Horg, the last in the line of four, as he passed and made some guttural sound. It sounded like a benison, and Horg took it as such. Knyte indicated that Horg was to stay outside and guard their escape route. Then they were ready to move inside.

Knyte went first, stepping into the early afternoon sunlight that flooded the square. The building directly in front of them was an imposing structure of stone and gold. The edifice was apparently intended to dazzle and humble all who approached, but Knyte was too interested in deciphering its internal structure to be impressed. The broad double doors probably gave access to a central staircase that led to the second floor, he thought. That floor probably had a central corridor that ran the length of the building, with doors leading off to rooms on either side. Up the stairs and then down the hall toward the windows Topi had indicated. He made a mental map of the building just by looking at the exterior. The others were doing the same thing, coming to the same conclusions. Training and experience made a difference.

They plunged through the darkness of the entrance. The stairway was ahead in the light that poured through a broad window halfway up and above a landing. The stairs doubled back on themselves to reach the second floor. They started up, climbing slowly, as though they belonged there. They made the turn, two going up each side.

The transverse corridor was what they expected. They turned left, Miranda hanging back to cover the rear of the other three. The right hall was empty, but the one they chose had a uniformed guard. He raised his hand to stop them, but before he could utter a word, Knyte challenged him. "We're here for the prisoner. And why are you not at the door to her cell? You should be there and not wandering the hall. Go there at once, or I will report you immediately to your superior."

The guard stood open-mouthed at the challenge. It took him a moment to recover, to remember that he was at his assigned post, to recognize that the language used by the stranger was just as strange as his garb. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. The thrust took him square in the throat, crushing his larynx. He tried to speak, tried to gasp, but there was nothing. He reached for the pistol in the holster on his right side, but he felt a hand grasp his wrist. He struggled. Then a red mist covered his eyes.

Knyte lowered the guard to the floor and lifted the heavy pistol from its holster. He motioned Miranda to stand guard while the others went down the corridor in swift strides. They came to the door of the suspected room. Knyte put his ear to the solid wooden door to listen, but he heard no clue as to who or what was beyond the portal. He motioned Holland to stand to one side of the door while he took the other. They brought their short-barreled laser rifles out from under their cloaks. He then nodded to Andi Holland.

She crept forward to try the knob, the solid gold heavy and rich under her fingers. She twisted it gently until it came against the stops; the door was locked. She stepped back and leveled her rifle at the lock plate below the knob. Knyte tapped her on the shoulder and bent to whisper. "Not the laser. The gold will only absorb and dissipate the heat, fusing the lock. Use the slug pistol."

"But the noise," whispered Holland. "Everyone will hear it."

"Can't be helped. We'll have to move fast."

She nodded, shifted the rifle to her left hand and took the heavy pistol from Knyte. Poetic justice that she use the guard's pistol to smash the lock. The report of the weapon was loud in the confines of the corridor. The golden lock plate, knob, and innards of the mechanism exploded under the hammering impact. The door swung inward.

Andi Holland was through the door before it reached its stops. She rolled to the right, ending her move in a crouch. Sunlight cascaded through the windows beyond, momentarily blinding her. Then she saw the table and the pinioned figure. She cleared the room with a quick glance; no use being surprised by someone else. Clear. She sprang to the table.

The figure of Ariake Sanae lay motionless. Holland bent over the body, listening for the sound of breathing while she felt Sanae's throat for a pulse. A yes to both; Sanae was still alive. She slashed at the bonds with her vibrodagger, the straps giving almost no resistance. Behind her she heard the high-pitched whine of a laser rifle and Knyte calling, "Faster, Andi. We've got company!" There was motion beside her and then Johan Miranda was there, sweeping the prostrate figure off the table and into his arms. He turned toward the door. Holland jumped in front of him and led the way into the corridor.

Knyte was waiting, a laser rifle in each hand. Holland saw the blast deflectors glow red as Knyte fired both weapons from the hip. She had a momentary vision— probably from some old vidisplay she'd seen as a youth—of hatted gunfighters moving down a street, weapons in their hands, firing from the hip. Then the vision was swept aside by reality.

As they moved down the hall, Miranda fired into the darkened corridor, the laser hits splashing golden minnows of slag from the walls. His shots were unhurried. first at one side, then the other, a machine doing its job. She trotted after him. Behind her she could hear the heavy steps of Knyte.

Miranda stopped shooting and led the way down the stairs, two at a time. Then they cleared the landing, with the others pounding along behind. Somewhere in the building a klaxon sprang to life, its shrill blasts echoing through the halls. From somewhere above came the sound of doors slamming. They didn't stop, didn't look back. Knyte fired up the stairs without taking aim.

At the foot of the stairs Holland saw silhouettes to the right. She sprayed laser shots at them and saw figures fall away from the mob. Then there was a flash of light and a roar. Something hummed past her head to rattle off the wall behind her. A cloud of acrid, pungent smoke that stank of decay swept over her. She kept going.

The square was blindingly bright. Holland paused, letting her eyes adjust. The others crowded behind her. Civilians were scattering across the bright stonework. There were other, uniformed types, who stood their ground. A sharp sound made Holland turn to her right. A lump of lead glanced off the stone pillar and howled away.

Then a horrible, shattering, screeching roar drew the attention of the party to the broad central street that led from the square. Rattling into the plaza came a strange machine, all lumps and knobs and exhaust stacks. The copper-bound wheels screeched pathetically as it turned toward the building. Guards scattered from in front of it, others ran toward it cheering. Emblazoned on the front slope in green and gold was the symbol of the Usugumo. The monstrosity shuddered to a halt in front of the group. Holland raised her laser rifle and let the cross hairs center on a vision slit.

The top of the hatch popped open and the head of Topi emerged. The little Tetatae bobbed out, waving her arms toward them. From somewhere to the rear came another roar and the howl of a ricochet. Topi ducked and looked hehind. She waved her arms more enthusiastically. "Let's go!" shouted Knyte as he vaulted into the vehicle. "We can't run from this mob, but we can use this. Let's go!"

The team was no sooner on the vehicle, not yet even within its protective confines, before it shuddered into reverse. Holland heard shouts of terror and disbelief as the guards scattered away from the flailing wheels. Then the vehicle was moving forward, rumbling toward the main street and the gate beyond. It picked up speed going downslope, roaring past the gate guards as they raised their hands in protest.

Then they were out on the main road, still careening along, the vehicle lurching and banging as it went. Horg sat in the driver's seat, cursing at the unresponsive controls like one possessed. Inside the dark interior, the little team held on to whatever they could find that was not burning hot. Cradled among them was the unconscious form of Ariake Sanae.