Now she must deal with the present, however. She faced a twenty-kilometer march in a battered 'Mech. Her cockpit was already hot because several heat sinks had been damaged in the fall. The dysfunction lights indicating the failures in the heat exchangers were almost lost in the crowd of yellow and red lights on her systems board. One of the Donal PPCs was completely out, but all other weapons registered as functional. Assuming that the telltales were themselves reliable, Natasha reminded herself. She hoped she wouldn't have to fight.
The chasm was floored with blocks of granite and mounds of glacial till, much of it taller than her 'Mech and probably weighing five or more times as much. The massive rocks blocked most of her sensors and all of her comm frequencies. Visual range was reduced to handfuls of meters. Yes, she definitely hoped she wouldn't have to fight.
Before she had gone half a klick, the first blip showed on her Mass Anomaly Detector. Opting for avoidance, she altered her course. Twice more, she evaded what read as 'Mech-size masses moving among the rocks. When the fourth appeared directly in her only available path, Kerensky advanced cautiously. When she reached a visual observation point, however, there was nothing to be seen.
She ran a check on her MAD sensor systems, which came up green. Either the check system was faulty or she was chasing ghosts. Investigating three more blips gave the same results. It had to be the sensor system. There were no such things as ghosts, she told herself. Here amid the gloom and giant stone reminders of an ancient time, her rationality seemed subordinate to those old Human fears of the dark and the unknown. The Warhammermoved on, its cautious motions reflecting its pilot's growing nervousness.
“Bang! You're dead,” came a distorted voice over the taccomm.
Kerensky whirled the Warhammeraround, searching for the mark that had appeared on her MAD sensor. A voice meant a foe she could face, not some nameless shadow. She found the target, snugged into a cleft in the rockface, the collapsed folds of a camouflage screen draped over its clawed feet. It was a bright green Marauderwith silver credit symbols glittering on its carapace.
The protective hatches on the Warhammer'sSRM launcher opened and her functional PPC came up as Natasha recognized the 'Mech. It was the Bounty Hunter. She didn't know his name, and she didn't want to.
The dorsal hatch of his BattleMech was open, and the pilot stood there, arms spread wide. Kerensky stopped herself from triggering any weapons, unable to burn down someone who had put himself at her mercy. Even this scum. It appeared that the Bounty Hunter wanted to talk. Maybe he would give her a reason to change her mind.
“Don't shoot, Widow Lady. At least, not till you check your rear.”
Three more 'Mechs had moved out of concealment, an Orion,a Quickdraw,and a Shadow Hawk.That was a hundred and ninety tons of trouble added to the seventy-five in front of her. Even if her Hammerhadn't been battered by the last week's fighting and her recent slide down the mountain, Kerensky knew she probably wouldn't have been able to get away from this ambush.
“Can't you at least say hello, Natasha? I know we didn't part on the best of terms back on Le Blanc, but it cost me quite a bit for your comm frequency.”
Kerensky disdained to reply. The last time she had met with this man-with-no-name, they had fought. Michael Hasek-Davion had informed the Dragoons that he was holding a family of renegade Techs, and Wolf had sent her to make sure the Techs were not runaways from the regiments. When Kerensky arrived on Le Blanc, the Duke offered her employment and a share in the services of Techs. She still wondered why he thought that would tempt her. When he refused to let her see the Techs and her Widows moved to take them away, the Duke sprang the Hunter and his dogs on the Dragoons. The Hunter had bagged two more Dragoons that day. The Widows had grabbed the Techs and gotten away, but so had the Hunter.
Her Warhammerstood motionless now. The Hunter and his bullyboys had the drop on her, and so she'd let him make the next move. If it was hostile, he would be cinders before the Black Ladywent down.
“Come on, Widow Lady. Anything in the past between us was just business. You burned old Michael H-D when you scampered with his Techs. Let's call it even between us on that one.”
“We'll never be even, scum. You've cost me too much!”
“Ah, those dulcet tones. Never say never, my dear Widow,” he chided, relieved that he had gotten her talking. It would be downhill from here. First, she needed to be reminded of exactly where she stood because it would make the negotiations easier. “If I'd wanted your butt today, you'd be hanging on the wall. But, I'm in a good mood,” he said expansively. “I've got a deal for you.”
“Shove it up your exhaust ports.” How could he expect her to trust him? She had “dealt” with him before.
“Now, is that any way to talk to someone who's trying to do you a favor?”
“The only favor you can do me is to drop dead.”
“You're trying my patience,” he said, the harshness in his voice due to more than the electronic distortion. “Let me make it clear. I've got a contract on you and you're under the guns of my boys. You don't walk out of here unless I go with you. Which is exactly what I want to do.”
“Never.”
“Now what did I tell you about that word? Listen, we've both got problems. Your pet Snakes ain't showed. They've left you Wolves on the rack to dry. You're stuck on this rock until you take the tracking station at Beaux Pawl, unless you want to lose half your DropShips on the way to orbit. You ain't taking that station till you get through twice your number in defenders.
“As for me, my boys and I have offended our friends somehow, and they've decided they don't like us anymore. We been double-crossed and our ride out of here has been chased off. So we're stuck, too.
“We've got a lot to offer each other. You've got Jump-Ships insystem. I've got a friend in Beaux Pawl who's very good with explosives. Not only that, I'll cancel the contract I have on you. All it takes is a ride out of this system on your JumpShip. A DropShip hitchhiker is a small price to pay to keep that silky skin intact.”
“I don't travel with cold-blooded killers.”
“That's not what some people are saying.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had a call from a friend of mine. He placed you on New Mendham eight months ago. Same time that a bunch of black 'Mechs trashed a town held by Kurita. Very messy. Those Jocks tried to blame it on Davion as well.”
“My company was elsewhere.”
“ Ibelieve you, sweetheart. You wouldn't lie to me. But you can't prove it, can you?
Kerensky thought hard. No, she couldn't prove it without compromising Dragoon security. That would mean big trouble with Wolf, something she was unwilling to risk. The Hunter took her silence as his answer.
“Thought so. My friend says there're pictures to back up the story.” Inside his helmet, the Bounty Hunter smiled at Kerensky's curse. “You know, Widow Lady, I think you and your buddies are being set up. Somebody's got a real mad on for you. You're not the only Wolvie brass I was offered a pass at.”
“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, letting her indignation leak into her voice. The Hunter might want to gloat and thereby let something slip.
“That ain't for me to say,” he replied. Sorry, Natasha,he said silently. I'm not that easy to catch.Aloud, he continued. “Client privilege, you know. I'll tell you that my employer wore a badly disguised Waco Ranger's get-up, because that doesn't really tell you anything. Everybody in the business knows about old Whacko's Death Oath. It's an obvious cover for anyone who wants to target Wolvies.
“Of course, once we're out of this system, I might recall some significant details. I might also name a few names and dates that might be worthy of further pursuit.”