The thunderous flutter of a helicopter's rotor alerted Shin and made him roll over onto his back. A Combine copter touched down roughly a hundred meters back behind the line of hills, and he and the scout team ran gleefully to the streamlined craft. Once they had boarded it and were strapped in, the pilot got the chopper airborne again.
He kept the craft low, but when they bounced up over hills, Shin got another look at the battlefield. The Jaguar formation had been compressed into a wedge shape. The point of the wedge had engaged the First Sword, and the flanks were being hard-pressed by the other Combine units. Still, despite having given ground early and having suffered losses to the Otomo trap, the Clans had consolidated their position.
Just then, Shin thought he saw something in the smoke behind the Clan lines, but a hill cut off his view. It took him a precious ten seconds to convince the pilot to pull up his craft, and then the man did so only reluctantly. As the copter came up, the battlefield again came into view, but it no longer looked as it had only seconds before.
The movement Shin had caught in the smoke had been the charge of the Nova Cats. Their 'Mechs were black as death except for the brilliant blue star pattern in their center chests. Funnelling through the middle of the Jaguar wedge, their troops had sliced straight through the point of the wedge. Their charge carried them through the First Sword's line almost as though it were not there. The Jaguars split their wedge in half, forming up in parallel lines, then began to drive the Combine troops toward the east. At the same time, Clan aerospace fighters swooped in low to strafe observation posts.
Shin pulled the headset and mike away from the co-pilot and put it on. The screeching static of jammed radio frequencies drilled into his head. "Hanson," he said, noticing the pilot's name on his jumpsuit, "take this chopper directly to headquarters in Imperial City, now!"
"I have orders."
"To hell with your orders. The Clans are breaking through. If we don't let the Kanrei know what's going on,
Imperial City is lost. And the whole of Luthien with it."
41
Consulate of the St. Ives Compact, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
5 January 3052
"No, Candace, I don't think you're silly to be worried about Kai." Coming up behind her, he rested his hand on her right shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "After all, he is a warrior stationed in a war zone."
Candace glanced up at Justin's reflection in the mirror of her vanity table. "We have been together too long, my dear, for me to not hear the hesitation in your voice."
Justin smiled and bowed his head. "You know, had you not been inclined to seek a diplomatic solution to the differences between the Capellan Confederation and the Federated Suns so long ago, I do believe you could have turned me against Hanse Davion."
Candace reached up and pulled his hand into her own. "Are you not worried for our son?"
"Of course I am."
"See."
"But he's with the best forces we have. He's in a 'Mech equipped with the latest technology. And he's probably the finest Mech Warrior who ever strapped himself into a cockpit." Justin disengaged his hand from hers and walked across the suite to his dresser. "To be quite frank," he went on, "I worry more about Victor Davion and his apparent disregard for his own safety. Yes, we all cheered the 'Fighting Prince' during the battle for Twycross, but poor Hanse's heart was in his throat the whole time. I'm certain Hanse watches Victor go into battle and remembers his brother Ian's death."
Candace turned in her chair and pointed at him with a black eyeliner pencil. "You are correct that Victor is impulsive, but Galen Cox and Kai are there to calm him down. And to protect him, too. But who protects those who guard the Prince?"
Justin scooped up two cufflinks from the top of the dresser and returned to her side. Holding them out, he smiled sheepishly. "Could you?"
"Getting old, my love, or does your arm need new batteries?"
The diabolical glint in her eyes sparked a laugh from him. "Neither old nor in need of new batteries am I, Duchess. Cufflinks never were easy for me, even when both my hands matched." Justin stood rigid as she dutifully fastened the cufflinks. "And if my lady requires a show of my youthful vigor, might I boldly suggest she invent a way for us to leave this reception as early as possible."
In a melodramatic pose, Candace pressed the back of her right hand to her forehead and sighed, "Oh my, seduced by the Champion of Solaris ..."
Justin shook his head. "I've not been Solaris' Champion for a long time."
"What is it they say—once a champion, always a champion?"
"And for that, you will always have my heart." He pulled her to her feet and kissed her then held her tightly. "Trust me, my love. Kai will be back with us soon."
Releasing her, he glanced at his chronometer. "Damn, we're already running late." Justin turned to where he had tossed his black jacket on the bed. "I hate charity functions. Were it not for your company, I'd much prefer spending the evening in the war room reviewing reports."
Until the laser bolt hit Candace Liao on the left side of her chest and spun her to the floor, Justin had believed them alone in their suite. Mercifully, his wife fell on the other side of the bed, leaving only the sight of the hem of her evening gown and the black leather heels she'd chosen for the reception. The puff of white smoke curling up like a vaporous mushroom and the acrid scent of burned wool scoured away the scent of her perfume that he so loved.
Laser pistol in hand, the assassin stepped from the closet where he'd been hiding. He looked at Candace, then up at Justin and smiled. "Romano wanted her to die first, to be sure you knew you'd failed to save her."
As the black-clad murderer swung the pistol in line with Justin, the Intelligence Secretary dodged to the right. His black metal left hand snapped back as far as it would go. Something tugged at the underside of the wrist, popping the cufflink free of the white shirt. With a fluidity born of years of practice, Justin thrust his left arm toward the assassin and willed its machinery to work.
The wrist-laser's green beam struck the assassin full in the chest. It cored a hole through him and flashed-burned a dark circle on the mirrored panel behind. The light reflected up to strike the crystal chandelier, but the forest of rainbows it unraveled were harmless. Yet fast as Justin's strike was, the assassin managed to tighten his finger on the trigger of his laser pistol before he fell.
Searing agony grabbed Justin by the throat as the ruby beam burned into his neck. He staggered forward a few steps, then dropped to his knees beside his wife. His right hand clutched at his neck and found it slippery with warm fluid. He glanced down and watched blood drench his white sleeve. Despite the pain radiating out from the wound, Justin forced his right hand harder against it, fighting to stop the precious fluid from leaking out between his slicked fingers.
With the clarity of mind that only imminent death could bring, Justin knew he had to sound an alarm. Yet the visiphone on the bedside table might as well have been two light years away from where he knelt. The consulate's soundproof walls made screaming futile.
A wave of nausea passed over him, then spots began to form before his eyes. Knowing he had no time to spare, Justin raised his left arm and pointed it upward. He triggered the wrist laser and slashed a black scar across the ceiling. He kept it moving for the three seconds until the beam died, then he slumped over, exhausted.