As the car left the base, he had yet another opportunity to assess their defensive situation. There were no natural breaks in the steep cliffs that a vehicle could use, or even a ’Mech. The only way over the cliffs would be by air, precluded by their defenses, or in a ’Mech equipped with jump jets.
Two tunnels angled down from just outside the base to the foot of the cliffs below. The west tunnel connected the base directly with the wharves; the east, roughly four kilometers away, led to a barge terminal. These tunnels were sized for bringing up heavy construction, mining, and oil-drilling machinery, and were large enough for almost any conventional armor, though too small for BattleMechs. A similar, though smaller tunnel also existed in Boiler Bay, fifteen kilometers to the east.
All of these were heavily guarded by SwordSworn forces, but any attack would logically focus on opening them to the enemy, and on taking out the air defenses, making them vulnerable to an air assault.
Erik found himself shuddering. The intelligence reports indicated they were outnumbered. Liao could leave adequate forces to hold the capital and other mainland strongholds, while mounting an overwhelming attack.
The tunnel curved slightly as it burrowed down through the cliffs to the town below. The car emerged on Dock Street, which served as the town’s main thoroughfare. It was nearly deserted. Many storefronts and homes were boarded up—however both the Edgewater Hotel and The Devil’s Punchbowl appeared to be open for business.
The Edgewater was an ugly, gray, three-story structure that appeared to have been constructed from stacked and interconnected modular units. Exposed piping and ductwork crawled up the sides and twisted at seemingly random angles over the roof.
The Devil’s Punchbowl at least appeared to have been built on-site, and for something like its current use, though it was old and run-down. It was a two-story frame building. Erik thought the paint on the outside was dark green, though it was so streaked and weathered it was hard to be sure. Perhaps, he speculated, it was just a coating of moss. An animated neon sign over the door featured a cartoon demon stirring a cauldron. Jutting from one side of the cauldron was what appeared to be a cocktail umbrella; the other side was garnished with a slice of lime.
He left both car and driver on the street and wandered in. The place was dark—most of the illumination coming from various neon signs, the lights suspended over an eight-pocket pool table, a few spotlights on the back-bar, and the glow of a holovid screen showing a soccer game. The bar had a dozen stools, and half a dozen tables were scattered around the room; all of them were empty. The bartender watched the soccer game, while a lone man in what was probably a merchant marine uniform played alone at the pool table.
The bartender looked up as Erik slid onto a bar stool. He walked over and dumped a basket of whole, salted peanuts on the bar top. “What’ll it be?”
Erik looked at the peanuts, then noticed that the floor around the bar and a few of the tables was liberally scattered with shells. It was that kind of place. “Beer—whatever passes for your best around here.”
The bartender grinned. “Ran out of that almost two weeks ago. Ran out of second best a couple days after that, and third best later that evening. Now I’m down to ‘what I’ve got left’ and peanuts, and not that much of either. Of course, business isn’t exactly booming.”
“I’ll take some of that, then.”
The bartender produced a long-necked, clear bottle filled with amber fluid, which he opened and set down in front of Erik. The only label was the letter “A” on the side of the bottle. He took a sip. It was awful—bitter and acidic. He looked around. “Town looks pretty deserted.”
“The invasion route comes right through here. Folks know that. Town’s been rebuilt four times now. Sometimes, I wonder why we even bother.”
“You’re still here.”
“My house backs onto the cliff. I’ve got an old mine shaft there, converted to a shelter. I’ll sit things out, then see what, if anything, is left of this place after you military guys are through.”
“What about the hotel?”
“My ex-wife runs it. She’s gonna come stay in my shelter.” He grinned and poked at Erik’s arm with his finger. “I think we’re gonna get back together. Third time’s the charm.”
“Good luck on that.”
His smile faded. “We’ll probably just kill each other, but I figure it’s worth a try.”
“At least something good could come out of this.”
The bartender squinted at Erik’s uniform. “Hey, you’re somebody important, aren’t you?”
“You might say that.”
The bartender squinted at Erik’s nameplate and whistled. “A Sandoval, in my bar. That’s one to tell the grandchildren. Assuming me and the ex get back together, anyhow. So what brings you down here?”
“Came to meet someone.”
The bartender nodded. “Lonely at the top. Well, ’fraid you’re out of luck. Not much of anybody left here to meet. Even the hookers took a boat headed south.”
“I’m here to meet somebody specific. They sent me a note to meet them here.”
Erik looked around. The guy at the pool table had disappeared; the rest of the bar was still empty.
The bartender made a little “O” with his mouth. “What do they look like?”
“I’m not sure. Seen anyone strange hanging around? A woman, maybe?”
“A woman? No, nobody like that.” He paused, looking past Erik at the door. “But here’s somebody who seems to be looking for you.”
Erik turned and stood, expecting to see Elsa Harrad.
Instead, he was shocked to see the would-be mercenary from the liner. An evil grin crossed the man’s face. “Sit back down, poker boy. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Erik sat on the edge of the stool, keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor. The merc looked serious, and if Erik was reading the bulge under the man’s coat properly, he was carrying a handgun of some kind. Better to just settle down and see what he wanted. Probably just money. Erik could deal with that.
The merc grinned. “Bet you never thought you’d see me again, poker boy. Least of all here.”
“No,” he said, “I’ll admit, the thought never crossed my mind.”
“Man, you don’t know how good it feels finally getting the upper hand on you.”
“It was just a game.”
“I hate to lose.”
“You realize, of course, that I have enough forces just over that cliff back of town to turn you into a puddle about five million times over.”
“Yeah, well, I have enough just across the big water to come over and clean your guys’ clocks.”
“You’re saying you work for Liao?”
He grinned. “I’m saying I work for her.” He jerked his thumb toward the door.
Erik looked over to see Elsa, dressed in a trim maroon jumpsuit, walking toward him. She smiled. “Erik, you remember Paul, don’t you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Did you know, for instance, that he knows how to fly a shuttle? Not only did he get me off St. Michael, we even made a tidy profit hauling the rest of the passengers down to the planet.”
“Does that include whatever you’re paying the spaceline when they notice their shuttle is missing?”
She laughed softly. “The way things are going, that could be some time, if ever.”
Erik frowned at her. “What do you want, Elsa? I warned you about coming down here.”
“It’s a free planet, Erik. For the moment, anyway. I came to confer with my employers, and lo, they sent me to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? About what?”
She looked at the bartender, who was hovering nearby. “There’s a table in the back corner. It would be more private.”
“Yeah,” agreed Erik, “good idea.”
They moved back to the table. Erik was relieved when the merc stayed at the bar. He looked at Elsa. It infuriated him that he was so glad to see her. “What do you want, Elsa? More spy games?”