Picking his way over the rocks between looming black walls, he wondered whether Hanya was using the dissident network to get in touch with him. Or, did the network itself want him for some reason? Then it occurred to him that the message might not be from the dissidents at all. After all, he wore the same symbol on the arm of his ‘Mech. Anyone who knew of Hanya's origins might guess that the burning heart was Tormana's personal symbol for his wife. It could be used to lure him into a trap. He still had to go. but not, he decided, by the most obvious route.
Stabbing the control for his jump jets, he sailed up and over a low spot in the canyon wall and down again, landing on flexed legs amid the rubble of a canyon that wandered southwest. It was a longer walk. He would be late, but he'd approach the rendezvous from the south instead of the east.
His radio crackled with the voice of Warex Base trying to raise him. He switched it off. They wouldn't worry too much, not yet In all these canyons, and with Kali's background radiation, direct radio communications were often impossible. And the satellite relay in this quadrant had broken down two days ago.
Ahriman set, with Asmoday close behind it. Belial and Bael approached the smoky horizon. The wind picked up, whistling around the Vindicator'shead and lashing the radio antennae back and forth like saplings. The cockpit was well-sealed, but the cold seemed to come straight through the viewport. He was glad he'd worn long underwear beneath his environmental suit
The meeting place, when he finally came within a kilometer of it, seemed to be radioactive. He paused in the shadow of a wind-sculpted obelisk, thinking this over. With several canyon walls still separating him from the message senders, he could not tell whether they had any atomic-powered equipment. His Geiger counter wasn't built to tell the difference between a faulty 'Mech engine, for example, and a vein of radioactive potassium. From the strength of the reading, though, it was probably an old mine. That also meant it was not likely to be a dissident base. The radiation would jam most kinds of sensors, making the area a good hiding place, but not a healthy one— unless a person was shielded, as Tormana was in his 'Mech.
It was possible to land 'Mechs on Kali undetected. With the satellite out of commission, the radar coverage for this quadrant was the manual set at Warex. If someone switched off the proximity alarm and then created a distraction at the right moment. .. He hated to think that there could be a traitor among his own men. Yet it could only have been someone from the base who had slipped that note under his door.
Nearly convinced by now that it was a trap, Tormana switched on his radio to ask for a flyover of the rendezvous point. Then he changed his mind. Better to move back another kilometer or so, climb to high ground, and send out a tight beam.
Palming the joystick, he swiveled the Vindicator-Only it didn't move.
‘Damn,’ he growled, thumping the underside of the control panel with his fist Then he tried it again.
The Vindicatorstood like a black statue, wind moaning across its armor.
He knew the motor was running, for he could feel the vibration. He disengaged the controls, moved them all through their full range, reengaged them, and tried to lift the 'Mech's right foot It remained planted.
‘Bloody narcoleptic antique,’ he said In a level tone.
A shadow fell across the viewport. He looked up just as the face of another Vindicatorclicked into contact with his own. Seen through the dust on both ports, the other pilot was only a Humanoid silhouette.
‘There's nothing wrong with your machine,’ came a hollow voice, conducted through the plexisteel. ‘I've switched off your manual systems.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I have to kill you. but not until we talk.’
‘Oh?’ Getting no response from the Vindicator'sweapons. Tormana reached casually behind his seat for his hand laser. ‘You speak pretty good Liao, for a Davion man. What've you done to my 'Mech?’
‘It's not what I did, so much as what Sheila Po did. All I had to do was get close to you and flip a switch. But ever since you left the base. I've had a hell of a time trying to get close. That is, until you so kindly stopped here for a nap in the shade.’
‘You followed me from Warex?’ All the Vindicatorpilots at the base were Tormana's personal friends. Except for the one newcomer from Hsien. ‘Maclean?’
‘MacLean is here, but he's dead. He and his BattleMech are going to have an unfortunate accident’
Tormana knew that if he fired his laser through the pot, it would take ten or twelve seconds to melt through two layers of plexisteel. Time enough for the other man to do something about it. So he waited fora better chance. ‘If you're not MacLean, then how can you operate his 'Mech? Or is it his? I can't see it very well.’
‘It's his. But it was reprogrammed on Hsien to respond to my code as well as MacLean's. The same with your machine, while you were gone. I could get in it right now and walk it away.’
‘Who are you?’
The other man was silent for a moment. ‘When you have someone at your mercy, Tormana, and you're going to kill him—do you toy with him first?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Then I won't, either. I'll tell you straight out. Who I used to be doesn't matter. Your father wants a son like himself, a useful son, a son who thinks like a Liao. So with the help of a lot of doctors, he made me into that son. From this day forward, my name is—Tormana Liao.’
‘You're insane!’ Throwing off his safety straps, Tormana hurled himself at the viewport, slamming his fist against it. ‘MacLean, you need help! Release my 'Mech, and I won't hurt you.’
‘Sorry, my friend, it's Maximilian who's crazy. Me, I'm just ambitious. With your identity, I can bring back the glory days ot the Confederation. Meanwhile, I've got plans for Bandora. Or didn't you know your father intends to give—his son—a Dukedom there?’
Tormana dropped back into his seat. He felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. ‘But he's my father. I'm his son. This can't be happening.’
There was no reply from the other' Mech.
‘Till this day,’ Tormana said. ‘I never knew him. He is a monster. A reptile that eats its own young.’ Pulling off his neurohelmet, the MechWarrior ran his hands through his tousled hair and touched his face as though assuring himself that he was awake. Then he stopped and frowned. ‘I suppose there aren't really any 'Mechs in the old mine up ahead there.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Then you don't know.’ Tormana thought for a moment ‘About a kilometer north of here, in an abandoned mine. I think there are some enemy MechWarriors. They're probably planning to sneak up on the base.’
The other man laughed. Even distorted by the plexlsteel. it was a familiar laugh. Tormana's own laugh. ‘You're stalling for time. I find myself reluctant to get on with this, but l promised not to play cat-and-mouse games. Good journey, Tormana.’ The other 'Mech's face pulled away from Tormana's viewport In its place, a huge steel hand clanged down, shutting out the twilight The canopy locks groaned as the hand began to lift up the hatch. Cold, sulfurous air hissed through the seal. Gagging, Tormana jammed his helmet onto his head, pulled down the faceplate, and twisted the oxygen valve.
From the static of the radio, a crackly voice emerged. ‘I don't think he fell for it Bent When are we gonna sack the base? Oops! Jeez, sorry, I—’ The voice broke off. leaving only static.
The transmission had come from close by, and it was in English. They both heard it The attacking Mech froze. Tormana sank back with a gasp, then sealed his helmet and scrambled for his survival gear.
He felt the cockpit shudder as the gray Vindicatorreleased its grip. It turned and walked up the canyon. Now he could see its gray camouflage pattern, reminiscent of a dappled horse. It was MacLean's 'Mech.
Then he turned his attention to staying alive. The radio transmitter, as he'd feared, was dead. The hatch, bent out of shape by the gray Mech's hand, was jammed shut.