“It’s a terrible personal risk for you, Commander.”
“I know that. I won’t claim I’m half the MechWarrior you are, Justin, but there’s more than one way to fight a battle. I can’t win this by playing it safe. Ever play Texas Hold-’em, Justin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you know what ‘all in’ means.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“If I go down in battle, then this fight is yours to finish. You know what we’ve set up. You know where we’re vulnerable, and you know what their objectives are. Your family has been tied to the noble line for generations. If you have to find some of that divine light, do it.”
He smiled grimly. “Yes, sir.”
He patted Sortek on the shoulder. “I’m headed for my ’Mech. I’ll radio as soon as I’m in.”
For Erik, however, there was one stop to be made on the way. The stockade was located one level below the command bunker.
Even more so than most of the base, it had a dank, abandoned feel to it. The area had been unheated for years, and lichen grew in patches on the concrete walls. Though it was relatively free of rust, paint peeled from the metal fixtures and bars. The bare concrete floors were damp, and a leaking overhead pipe in the hallway had a full-blown puddle forming under it.
Erik found a lone guard leaning against a wall—the brim of his hat over his eyes—dozing or close to it. He walked up to him and stood there for a moment unnoticed, then said loudly, “Private!”
The soldier’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Erik with horror, then came to attention. “That’s Corporal, sir!”
“It was until a minute ago,” he said dryly. Then he smiled just a little. At least he wasn’t talking with the prisoner, which would have been of greater concern. “At ease, Corporal. Be more attentive next time. For now, I’m going to speak with the prisoner. Take a break.”
“Sir?”
“Ten minutes. Go wash up, find some coffee.”
The soldier looked almost pathetically grateful. “Yes, sir! Thank you, Commander!”
Erik glanced down the hall toward the cells. “Has she said anything to you?”
The young corporal looked suddenly uneasy. “Not really, sir. She …babbles.”
“Good. She’s either a spy or a lunatic. I’m still not sure which. She latched onto me when I was on Shensi, and she’s stalked me across half The Republic.”
The corporal looked relieved. “Insane? That would explain things, sir. You sure you don’t need me here, in case—” He held up his rifle.
“No, I think she’s harmless. Back in ten. Sharp! ”
“Yes, sir!” He dashed off down the hall.
Yet, even after he was gone, his face haunted Erik. The pale, hollow cheeks, the bags under the too-young eyes. He had to keep remembering that face. It reminded him of what he was fighting for. Not the Duke. Not House Davion. These men, who believed in something bigger than all of them. He might have weakened, might have considered betraying those other things, but not these men and women, these soldiers.
He walked down the line of barred cells to the one occupied by Elsa. He found her sitting on the cot, wrapped in blankets, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back against the wall. Her appearance somehow startled him. She’d washed off her makeup, tied back her hair. The sophisticated society woman was gone. She looked young, vulnerable, lost. She looked up at him, and her eyes flared with anger. “Well, this is a fine pesthole you’ve put me in, Erik.”
He shrugged. “It’s the best cell we’ve got. I don’t have the troops to spare to put you under house arrest in a barrack, and it’s easier to keep you from talking to people this way.” He looked at the ceiling. “Besides, this is probably safer.”
“As safe as anywhere at ground zero. Erik, they’re going to walk over you. You don’t have a chance.” To his surprise, she seemed as concerned for him as for herself.
“There’s always a chance.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
She stood, the blanket still draped over her shoulders like a shawl. She held onto the bars and looked at him with desperate eyes. “Erik, I don’t want to die here. Please. This isn’t my fight.”
He shook his head sadly. “It was your fight as soon as you started working for House Liao. Like you said: People like us, we don’t have many choices—and you can’t opt out this late in the game. Neither can I.
“What you were doing—it may have seemed like a game, but it wasn’t. This is what it was about. You made me forget that for a while, but I remember now.”
“Is that what this is? You’re punishing me for your moment of weakness?”
“You know too much to be let go. I never should have let you go last time, but I honestly thought you might get out. Instead, you undoubtedly went back to your controllers and told them how weak Erik Sandoval-Groell was. This attack might not even be happening if I’d done what I should have done with you in the first place.”
“Which would be?”
“You’re a spy, Elsa. An agent of the enemy. What do you think?” He turned and walked away.
The ’Mech bays were underground, along the ’Mech-sized tunnels that ringed the base. Erik trotted his Hatchetman out of one of those tunnels and up the ramp to the surface. The brightest stars still shone in the purple predawn sky, but at this time of year in St. Andre’s arctic, the sun only went down for a few hours each night, and even then, not far below the horizon. Erik could see a glow near the horizon that promised the sun would be back soon.
He switched his viewscreen toNIGHT VISION , and watched the line of armor and artillery along the cliff edge, ready to bring their ranged weaponry to bear against any ship that tried to land. There were sporadic reports of hover scouting vehicles up and down the coast, but they always withdrew as soon as they were fired upon.
Down below the cliffs, there were clusters of armored units guarding each of the tunnel entrances, and squadrons of armored troops inside each tunnel. Armor and ’Mechs were clustered around each upper entrance as well, since any ’Mechs that made it over the cliff would likely make those a target. Beyond that, he had scattered armor, artillery, and infantry units—dug into the abandoned streets of Port Archangel, or hidden close to the cliffs.
He’d kept most of his ’Mechs up above, some out of necessity, since they lacked the necessary jump jets to transverse the cliffs. But in general, he thought they would be more effective on the flats, where they had room to maneuver.
“Commander.” It was Sortek. “We’ve got one of the locals, who says she knows the ins and outs of shipping here.”
“Put her on.”
There was a delay as someone probably scrambled to find the woman a headset. “Commander Sandoval, this is Mary Neskowin.”
“Mary, thank you for aiding us.”
“It’s my planet, too, Commander. What can I do for you?”
“I don’t quite know yet. It would help to know something about your background.”
“Well, I served on a tanker for six years, and I work for the Harbor Authority on dredging and channel maintenance. I’ve seen every kind of ship that operates in these waters.”
“Very good, Mary. If you can stand by there, I’ll consult with you if I need you.”
He trotted the Hatchetman along in front of the line of armor, making sure that every pilot and tank commander got a good look at him.
“Sir.” It was Clayhatchee this time. “We’ve got ships on radar, big and slow-moving. Could be hauling ’Mechs.”
“Mary, are you there?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“If you can give me any kind of information on those ships, it might be useful.”
“I can’t tell you much without visual. Based on the speed and size of returns, they’re probably tankers or cargo-haulers of some kind, but I can’t be more specific.”