BattleTech, page 6
Fynn looked between the other cadets. “So, find as many armored vehicles and drivers willing to make a mad dash to save Emporia’s heir. How much time do we have?”
Jasper paused. He thought about the enemy still on the ground as well as the enemy in orbit. “Not long. Basically the sooner we can get Mason Ritza on that DropShip, the better.”
“So, tomorrow?” Benjamin asked.
Jasper nodded. “If you can manage it.”
Amelia tilted her head. “Will we…any of the cadets…be going off-planet with him?”
He knew what she was asking. Are we expecting to sacrifice ourselves? He took a breath and shook his head. “I really don’t know. I wouldn’t count on it. I would plan to remain on-planet and continue to fight until we’ve run the enemy off Emporia.”
“Or fight until we’re dead.” Amelia’s voice was neutral. She and Questa exchanged a look and a nod. “All right. At least we know where we stand.”
Jasper agreed. “We fight until the enemy is gone or we’re dead. Now, I need to call Diamond—Nadine’s contact in the Ritza household—and find out where the Ritza family is hidden.”
Fynn, Benjamin, Amelia, and Questa stood almost as one. It surprised Jasper. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a formal dismissal, but it was clear they’d taken it as one. It was just as well. He wanted to make the call to the Ritzas in private anyway.
Fynn clapped a hand to Jasper’s shoulder. “I’m three doors down from you on the second floor. Let me know if you need anything else from the infantry. We’ll get you those vehicles and drivers ASAP. Count on it.”
“Thank you,” Jasper said, and watched the infantry cadets file out of the sitting room. The sense of camaraderie left with them and cut off at the click of the door shutting behind them. As much as he missed it, he knew he needed time to think, and the conversation with Diamond needed to be quick and precise.
It took him a moment to gather his wits and figure out what to ask Diamond. When it came down to it, it was simple, really: Where are you? How soon can you be ready to leave? How many of you are vital to the health and safety of the Ritzas?
He knew, deep in the bottom of his soul, the only person who needed—needed—to get off planet was Mason Ritza. Everyone else was expendable, including himself and Nadine. But he wanted to make sure Dowager Countess Elizabeth Ritza made it off the planet as well. She was a formidable woman. Getting her off-planet to advise her grandson might get the Federated Suns to move faster in helping free Emporia.
Jasper checked the shortwave radio. There were no messages waiting. He suspected that was because everyone was watching and waiting to see who did what first. He toggled the switch and spoke into the mic. “Diamond, this is Baphomet. Are you there?”
Static greeted his ears, then came Diamond’s voice, tired and a little ragged. “This is Diamond, Baphomet. I’m here.”
“I want to keep this as short as I can. Encrypted or not. We have a plan. From this moment on, no matter what you hear from the unsecured line, the encrypted line is what you listen to. Copy?”
“I copy, Baphomet. What’s going to happen on the open channel?”
“A ruse. I will agree with Tiamat, but know that all correct details are from the encrypted channel.”
Diamond was silent for a moment then said, “Acknowledged. What do you need to know?”
“We need to know where you are so we can figure out the closest landing point to you. We also need to know how many people we will be evacuating from the planet when the time comes. How many of you are vital to the health and safety of the heir and his grandmother?” Jasper clenched his fist, hoping like hell that he wasn’t going to have to fight with them on this. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Nor was he going to give way.
Diamond was silent for a lot longer. It wasn’t her who answered him. “Young man, this is Grandmother. You are the brother of Tiamat, I assume?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Will the rest of the household be saved as well?”
“Those of us left behind will do our best to protect them, ma’am.” Jasper held his breath and waited. He used the word us in specific to let her know that he would not be evacuating with them. Also, it was not a lie. He and the rest of the cadets would do whatever they could to help the Ritzas’ household…along with every other civilian they could.
“In that case, three people. Me, my grandson, and Diamond. We are located at Stag’s Head. Also, young man…?”
His mind raced. Stag’s Head was a jagged mountain peak not too far away. Part of the Stonehaven Mountain Range. It was close enough to get to. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I recommend that you have a code word for the open channel that means you actually want us to follow what is said instead of the encrypted channel. Things happen.”
Jasper nodded. That was a smart idea. “Yes, ma’am. If the open channel ‘swears by the stag’s heart’ that they know what they’re talking about, follow it. I’ll tell my sister.”
“Very good, Baphomet. I expect to hear from you soon. Our situation is not dire, but it is not good.”
“Yes, ma’am. Please prep for evacuation. Anything else?”
“No. Good luck to you and yours.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Over and out.” Jasper paused before setting the microphone down. Stag’s Head. It was only a couple hours away. Assuming they had a clear enough path.
Good money said they didn’t.
8
NEKOHONO’O-CLASS DROPSHIP FUJINAMI
LOW ORBIT, EMPORIA
FEDERATED SUNS
17 APRIL 3150
2300 HOURS
Chu-sa Fume Aoki did not pace in her quarters as much as she would have liked to. She was a short, neat, controlled woman who wanted to keep that image. More than that, she did not want Tai-sa Takeji Yoshizawa to see how much his actions had rattled her.
Yoshizawa, she thought, you are not the man you once were.
It was a hard realization to swallow, but it was the truth. He was no longer “Takeji” to her, but “Yoshizawa,” the fierce, enigmatic man who led the Seventh Ghost Regiment. He was not her friend anymore. Even if they recovered from this, they would never have the same rapport they once had.
In all the years they had served together, she had only denied his requests a handful of times. While this was unusual, she had always had a good reason, and he had always paused in his actions. Never had he reacted with confining her to quarters. Every single time, he had stopped and asked her for more information, an explanation, something. He didn’t always agree when she’d explained her refusal, but he had always been logical and strategic. Never had he been so out of control. Not like he was now.
She glanced at one of the hidden cameras she knew Yoshizawa had placed around the room. It was involuntary. Was he watching her as she brooded? Or had he tossed her away and forgotten her in his madness? She knew why he was so obsessed with burning Emporia to the ground while still claiming it. It was the cadets, and their reminder to the Seventh’s shameful past.
It was his predecessor’s pyrrhic victory on Sakhara V. The Seventh Ghost Regiment’s previous leader had been so inept that he’d lost all their infantry, most of their tanks, and a third of their ’Mechs to a group of cadets. It could barely be called a victory. More like a fight of attrition that the Seventh won…and only because Yoshizawa had stepped up to finish the fight.
As a rising tide lifts all boats, Yoshizawa had taken some of his most trusted and efficient officers with him. She had been among them. Her inclusion had given her the much-needed reminder of who she was and where she’d come from.
Yes, the Seventh Ghost Regiment was where you were assigned when the DCMS no longer wanted you. It was an undesirable’s last chance to fight for the Dragon and retain their personal honor, even if every warrior outside the Seventh saw them as nothing more than their past shame. The weight of their former sins marred every success. They were, despite everything, still burakumin; unclean and untouchable.
Fume turned from the camera. It was a life she’d come to accept with the grace of a woman who had sacrificed everything to make certain her superior officer’s reputation remained intact. It was why she still had high-level friends outside the Seventh Ghost Regiment—like Tai-sho Nisi Aymara—even if they could not be overt about it.
And now she was here. There was little she could do but keep herself busy until a new opportunity arose. It would. It always did. Exploiting unexpected opportunities was what the Seventh Ghost Regiment was known for.
The first opportunity arose fifteen minutes later, when her door chimed. It could only be one of the council. She was confined to quarters, after all. No one else would dare draw Yoshizawa’s unstable gaze with such a visit. “Come in.”
Ona Nanba entered, her hands open and empty. Dressed in the high-quality clothing of her noble background with her long hair pinned in place, she glanced around the tidy, spartan quarters, her face a mask of polite neutrality. It was not the first time she’d been here, but she did not come here often. No one did. Fume appreciated her solitude.
“Good evening,” Fume said, waiting to see if this was an official visit or not.
Ona’s eyes picked out where several of the cameras were hidden. “Good evening, Fume. I came to see how you are doing.”
“The cameras watch, but they cannot hear.” Fume gestured to the small sitting area. “Please, sit.” She was one of the few on the Fujinami allowed to have her quarters on the gravity ring. It was part of her unspoken favor. How long would that last? Perhaps she would soon be assigned to remain on her DropShip, the Hannibal-class Akikaze. She would appreciate that. She was too separated from her own crew as it was. Perhaps by design.
“I see and hear, but do not record,” Ona said as she sat. “I will tell our tai-sa about this conversation, but only what I believe he needs to know.”
“Did he send you here? Or are you here on your own accord?” Fume still was unsure if this was a personal visit or an official one. It had all the hallmarks of a personal one, but with Sho-sa Ona Nanba, one could never be sure. She was sly. A good person to have in your corner. A dangerous one if not.
Ona’s smile made a brief appearance. “Officially, this is a pleasant visit to see how my unwell peer is doing. Unofficially, I am here because I need to be. I want to know what is happening. Also, I suspect if I had not volunteered to, ah, relay your condition and thoughts to Yoshizawa, things would not go well.”
“Things are not well now.” Fume decided the other woman was here as a friend, even if the visit had pragmatic overtones. That was what Ona was known for.
Fume fixed two cups of tea, using the time to think before she asked, “I am unwell?” as she put them on the table.
Ona warmed her hands on the small cup as she appeared to choose her words carefully. “He decided our people knowing you were confined to quarters due to illness rather than disobeying a direct order would be best for your reputation.” And his, her unspoken subtext whispered.
“Ah, rather than having everyone know his most trusted officer disobeyed him. It would make the rest of them question his orders to begin with. They must already be having such thoughts.”
“I am not certain he’d had forward-thinking thoughts when he made the declaration, but I suspect the tactical part of him did. Even in his madness, he is strategic.”
Fume decided she didn’t want to play the politeness game. “Why are you here?”
Ona made a show of sipping her tea before speaking. “What order did you disobey?”
“I told him I would not go to the planet to capture the Ritza heir. He has the thought that if we capture the child, the planet will immediately bow down to us. I believe we cannot win this war at all. Not with the escalation of weaponry Yoshizawa has made.” She left her question asking what Ona thought of the situation unspoken. Her peer would answer it, or not, in her own time.
“I believe there is a small chance this planet would surrender if we captured the child. Yoshizawa wants to groom the boy into a puppet he can use to rule the planet.”
Fume said nothing to this. She’d thought much about their current situation. The planet was plague-ridden and in shambles now. It would take a miracle to get the population on their side. There were so many things they should’ve done differently in this campaign.
“I am not certain he is right,” Ona said. “But I know he will not let go of this idea. Even in the face of the Federated Suns DropShip in orbit. That said, what do you want me to do?”
Furrowing her brow, Fume considered the woman and the question. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, what do you want me to do to salvage this situation? You are still my superior officer until you are officially stripped of rank. That has not yet happened.”
Anger surged and fueled Fume’s words. “Get him to go to the planet to see what he has done. Make him see why the population will not concede. He hasn’t been back to the planet since that disaster at the spaceport, where his lance lost a battle to a lance of cadet MechWarriors and, thus, lost our edge. He doesn’t realize the damage he’s caused—especially to his own people. If he can see it with his own eyes, he can realize we need to pull back, gather our forces, and request assistance. If we are denied, we must admit defeat. I believe Tai-sho Sunada sent us here to die. I don’t know if he knew it would go this badly, but he had to know we weren’t prepared for this kind of campaign.”
Ona put her half-finished cup of tea on the table. “Perhaps he did. I don’t know. But now I believe I know what I need to do.”
“What will you tell Yoshizawa?”
“That you are angry and confused.”
Fume nodded. “That is not a lie.” She looked at her cup. It was untouched, but not cold. One did not waste anything while in space. She drank the tea in a couple of long swallows, comforted that Ona did the same after seeing her action. Standing, she extended her hand for Ona’s cup.
Ona stood and handed it to her. “I will help you as much as I can. But I do not know if anything will work on him now. He is deep into his own mind, and I do not know if we will ever see the leader we both once knew.”
“Thank you.” Fume watched as Ona took her leave.
Outside the door, one of the men guarding her glanced in. He had the troubled face of a man who was sure he was doing the wrong thing, but did not know how to get out of the situation he was in.
She understood and empathized with him. Later, she suspected she would have to use that confusion for her own means. For now, she would clean up and wait for her next visitor.
Fume did not have to wait long. She knew who it would be before the door chimed. She opened it and stepped aside for Sho-sa Nagaaki Ukita to enter. She had no doubt that when he felt the need, the man would piggyback on Yoshizawa’s surveillance equipment to see who was doing what.
He did not bother to utter a greeting as he turned to regard her.
Fume snorted, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Did you wait for her to be gone, or had the two of you planned separate visits?” Her question was blunt, but not spoken in anger. There was a certain relief in no longer feeling like you needed to play nice.
“The latter, but I suspect she already knows of my visit.”
Fume narrowed her eyes. “And you are here why?”
“I am concerned.”
“About?”
Nagaaki walked into her quarters and looked around. “Everything, but more specifically, Yoshizawa. His behavior has become erratic over the last two months. More so over the last couple of weeks. He acts as if he is under a great strain—one I do not understand. May I?” He gestured to one of the chairs.
At least I am still owed some respect. She nodded and took a seat opposite him. “I agree, his behavior is erratic. Do you know what happened to make it change?”
He shook his head. “No, but I am concerned. He acts like a man abandoned by his parents or his superiors.”
“They wouldn’t have sent us here to abandon us openly, would they?” she asked, already believing Tai-sho Sunada would.
“I don’t believe so. But there must be a reason we haven’t requested assistance. We have not sent one message or report up the chain of command since we arrived. That in and of itself is unusual. Dai-i Sumi Yoshida presence could’ve explained that. But since her death and the destruction of the Inazuma, Yoshizawa has not ordered any of us to write a report. He has sent nothing to the JumpShips to pass on. I believe he allowed you to write your letter for Dai-i Yoshida to deliver only to quell your sense of wrong.”
It felt like more words than Nagaaki had ever spoken to her at one time. She glanced at the hidden cameras, wondering if this performance was for her or for Yoshizawa.
Answering her unasked question, he said, “The cameras are all off, and there are no hidden microphones in here. My system would’ve alerted me.” He glanced up and around. “Though, that is a very nice audio jammer you have. Where did you get it?”
Fume gazed at him, allowing her silence to answer the question.
Nagaaki nodded, accepting the non-answer. He bowed his head and was also silent. Only the fidgeting of his hands, clenching and rubbing them, revealed his inner turmoil.
Something he said niggled at the back of her brain. “We have not sent a report in. It’s as if Yoshizawa knows we have been abandoned by the DCMS,” Fume mused. “We may be outcasts, but we are well-trained cannon fodder who do the impossible. That is a known thing. We would not have simply been abandoned. We are valuable to the DCMS in the same way ammunition is valuable. What did the original orders say about the campaign?”
