St. Andre system
Prefecture V, The Republic
25 December 3134
A second wave of DropShips followed the first—mostly aerodynes, bringing with them not just more reinforcements, but supplies. The last ship to land was the Tyrannos Rex herself, coming in just before sunset, gleaming in the last rays of the day.
With practiced efficiency, the blast doors over the formal entry retracted and the decorative wood doors dropped into place. Crewmembers immediately emerged, attaching the rest of the decorative portico, and the steps leading to the door. A cheer went up as the red carpet was rolled out. The Duke’s Black Hawk walked up and stopped next to the entrance, turning outward before shutting down, standing like a sentry in front of the ship.
The troops began appearing from every tunnel, barrack, and bunker, cheering as the Duke emerged from the cockpit of his towering ’Mech, waving and smiling. As Erik watched from the shoulder of his Hatchetman, it seemed the Duke wasn’t even sweating, and not a hair was out of place.
A JI100 Field Recovery Unit pulled up to the Duke’s ’Mech. The JI100’s boom arm raised up until it was even with the Black Hawk’s cockpit, and the Duke hopped across the narrow gap to the arm, waving as it lowered him slowly to the pavement of the landing apron.
The men rushed in, and the Duke was lifted onto their shoulders. They carried him in a circle, completely around the hundred-meter-wide DropShip, chanting:
Hail, Duke Sandoval!
Hail the Flying Duke!
Hail, Duke Sandoval!
Hail the Flying Duke!
Finally, they put him down, and the troops cheered as he climbed the steps to the false porch of the Tyrannos Rex. He turned and waved his arm over his head, a final broad gesture before vanishing through the doors.
Even then, the troops rallied, singing and dancing, around the huge SwordSworn shields painted on the sides of the ships. Someone located a stash of beer in the basement of a ruined warehouse in Port Archangel, and it came up through the West Tunnel, which had the advantage of not being filled with the charred hulks of House Liao vehicles and the half-cremated bodies of House Liao troops.
The bottles were passed through the throngs, hand-to-hand, and the singing grew louder. As the sun faded, people started pulling fire-starters from their survival kits, waving the little flames over their heads as they sang and chanted.
Weary of it all, Erik Sandoval-Groell slid back into the cockpit of his ’Mech. As he activated it and coaxed it into reluctant motion, the battered machine seemed to moan in pain. He staggered down the ramp into the tunnels, past ruined hulks of IndustrialMechs and ambushed Liao ’Mechs, until he found his alcove and backed the ’Mech into its support structure.
He shut the machine down, and heard it make a sound somewhere between a sigh and a cry of pain, like a wounded soldier, grateful for the sting of death. He knew it would be a long time before this particular ’Mech saw battle again.
The interior of the base was quiet, as most everyone not engaged in other duties was outside joining the spontaneous celebration.
Erik staggered into the mess hall, where crates of supplies were being broken open. There was no hot food yet, but Erik got a cup of fresh coffee and a bologna sandwich—a refreshing change from the meager B-level field rations they’d all been eating for days. He found a quiet table in the back of the hall. But he need not have bothered, he thought. I’m invisible now that the Duke has returned.
He leaned back against the wall after doing nothing more than smelling the coffee. He pushed the sandwich away, no longer feeling hungry. He closed his eyes, and perhaps he dozed for a moment.
“Commander?”
He looked up as Justin Sortek slid into the chair across the table from him.
“You fought well. I wish I could have been at your side.”
He nodded. “Thanks for noticing.” He closed his eyes again.
“They rally around the light, Commander, not the man. The light is drawn to spectacle and ceremony, but without you, it would have been extinguished. The troops haven’t forgotten you. They’re merely …distracted.”
Erik looked at him through heavy, half-opened lids, saying nothing.
“The light knows nothing of pride, but it knows those who wield it well. It returns to them again and again. Your day will come, Commander.”
“Perhaps.”
Sortek leaned his elbows on the table and sighed. “I bring a message from the Duke. You’re invited to dine with him in the Tyrannos Rex. and to take the hospitality of its guest rooms while it is here.”
Erik felt his empty stomach twist into a tight knot. “The Duke can take his hospitality straight to hell, and the devil can have my dinner.”
Sortek half-smiled. “Well then, can I have your sandwich?”
Erik pushed the plate across the table to him. Sortek grabbed it and dug in as though famished.
Erik stood. “Justin, you’re a good soldier, and a good friend. My anger is with the Duke. I would never betray you.”
Sortek put down the sandwich and looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “Of course not, my Lord.”
But Erik was already walking away. Then he stopped and turned back. “Justin, wait. Scratch what I just said. If the Duke is willing to dine late, after I take care of some pressing business, I’d be happy to take dinner with him.”
Sortek seemed relieved. “You’re sure?”
“What kind of fool would I be to sleep in a hovel, when I can have a palace?” They both shared a chuckle. “I’ll sleep in the Duke’s soft bed, I’ll eat his fine food, and I’ll drink his best wine. After all, I am a Sandoval. Aren’t these all my things as well?”
Sortek smiled, assuming he was joking. “I’m not sure the Duke would see it that way, Commander.”
“How the Duke sees things is less important than how I see them. I’m starting to understand that now.”
His “business” finished, Erik managed to find a dress uniform and an operable shower before heading for the Duke’s ship. He showered, shaved, and groomed himself as though headed for an affair of state, which, in a way, he was. He checked himself in the cracked mirror, adjusting his collar and the ceremonial dagger on his belt
He emerged from the barracks to find his uncle’s limousine waiting for him. Ulysses Paxton was at the wheel of the otherwise unoccupied car.
He entered without a word and sat down.
The short drive to the Tyrannos Rex took only a few minutes, and Erik would have been content to pass it in silence. It was not to be.
Paxton looked at him in the mirror. “I’ve been reviewing the events before our landing, Commander. I compliment you on a brilliantly fought defense against overwhelming forces. One for the textbooks.”
“They write books about generals who claim victories, Paxton, not soldiers who fight wars.”
“For the masses, perhaps. But the warriors will hear about this one. They’ll know.”
He leaned back in his seat and nodded. “They will, and for now, that’s all that’s important to me. For now.”
Paxton looked at him but did not respond. The car pulled to a halt. “We’re here,” he said.
Erik waited as Paxton came around and opened his door. He walked up the red-carpeted steps, past the guards and through the grand entrance. But instead of proceeding into his Duke’s quarters, he took a side service door out of the lobby, leaving the theatrical façade behind.
He took a lift to the upper decks and wandered the corridors aimlessly, not even sure himself what he was doing. Until he saw Captain Clancy, and Clancy saw him.