Warrior: Riposte (The Warrior Trilogy, Book Two): BattleTech Legends, #58 Read online

  Dan hesitated and the seconds-long silence felt heavy and awkward. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” Brother Keith said apologetically. “It’s just that Morgan always seems so normal and friendly and open until the conversation touches on his past. I don’t mean to suggest that anyone is trying to dig into his background… Anyway, the history of the Kell Hounds is an open book. Open, except for what happened in that battle on Mallory’s World.”

  Dan forced a grin but there was no smile in his eyes. “No offense taken, Brother Keith. As they say in MechWarrior circles, ‘No autopsy, no foul.’ What happened in that battle has never been a closed or hidden story.” Dan’s reserve began to thaw as dread drained from his insides. “You just haven’t spoken to anyone who knows about it.”

  Brother Keith swallowed and steered the aircar around a huge Hydra cactus. “I must confess, Captain Allard, that before I realized my vocation, I dreamed of leaving the regular army and joining a mercenary company. I read all I could about contemporary merc MechWarriors. I devoured Jay Mitchell’s book about the battles for Mallory’s World. But his account of the final battle, in Hell’s Anvil, seemed so unreal.”

  Dan sighed heavily. “Mitchell fictionalized much of the last third of the book. Granted that the Kell Hounds weren’t talking much at the time that Mitchell was finishing up the book, and the Draconis Combine had scattered the men in command of the Second Sword of Light. That guy Mitchell ended up drawing on unreliable sources to create what he thought was the only possible explanation for how a single mercenary battalion could have driven an elite Draconis regiment from the field.”

  Brother Keith nodded. “I heard and read about how good the Kell Hounds were, but I couldn’t see how your First ’Mech Battalion could hold off Yorinaga’s regiment. It couldn’t be done, no matter how much time you’d had to prepare or how good your defenses were.”

  Dan nodded. Those were my thoughts exactly as I watched their DropShips burning into the atmosphere above us. We’d already heard how elements of the Thirty-sixth Dieron Regulars had pinned down our Second ’Mech Battalion far to the north. We knew there would be no reinforcements coming to save us.

  “Mitchell was right when he suggested our defenses were good. We had created a situation where the Kurita ’Mechs had to come in at us in places where we had overlapping fields of fire. If you look at our defensive positions and the reported strength of the Kell Hounds First ’Mech Battalion back in those days, and compare them with our reported strength after the battle, well, it looks like our defenses paid off. The big problem with that approach—the approach that Mitchell used—was that our ’Mechs were in the same shape before the battle as after it. We’d not lost any ’Mechs in the earlier battles, which is a credit to our techs, but we weren’t all up to full strength, either.”

  The aircar left the arroyo and sped across flat desert expanses. Brother Keith pointed toward a red mesa rising tall above the shimmering heat of the desert. “That’s St. Marinus.” He glanced over at Dan. “So, Captain Allard, what did happen?”

  Dan shrugged heavily and winced as the slight pain from a recent collarbone break lanced down from his left shoulder. I’ll tell you the part you can understand. “Colonel Kell—Morgan—marched his Archer down out of our defenses. He opened a channel to the Draconis commander, Yorinaga Kurita. In Japanese, after Kurita fashion, Morgan slowly gave an accounting of his lineage and the Kells’ proud history as MechWarriors. It’s an old tradition among samurai, and one still respected within the Draconis Combine. It honors the combatants.”

  Dan stared straight ahead while the landscape blurred past. “Yorinaga Kurita walked his Warhammer out in front of the Second Sword of Light regiment. In turn, he gave an accounting of his lineage in English. Once he’d finished, the two ’Mechs closed.”

  Brother Keith frowned. “Closed? The Archer is armed with long-range missiles as its main weaponry. Why would Morgan close with a Warhammer?”

  Dan shook his head. “I don’t know. The Warhammer, with its particle projection cannons, short-range missiles, medium and small lasers, is built for close combat. Morgan came in at Yorinaga and never used his LRMs. He used the medium lasers in his ’Mech’s arms and scored hit after hit on the Warhammer. Yorinaga staggered the use of the two PPCs so that Morgan couldn’t rush him while the Warhammer ran hot. He also used his SRMs and lasers to keep Morgan at bay.”

  Dan’s voice dropped to a deeper bass rumble. “Morgan hit the Warhammer’s right PPC twice and it appeared he’d knocked it out. Then he moved in quickly, perhaps intending to use his Archer’s hands against the Warhammer or to get inside the PPC’s optimum range. That’s when Yorinaga brought the right PPC up and its charging coils came to life.

  “That bolt of blue lightning sheared straight through the Archer’s right shoulder.” Dan stopped and his eyes focused distantly. When I saw that limb drop to the ground and Morgan’s Archer stumble to its knees, I knew he was done for. I saw the targeting image of his ’Mech fade from my scanner screens, but I never questioned how it was possible for that to happen. I guess because I knew it was some kind of omen.

  “Yorinaga moved closer and raised both PPCs. He pointed them straight at Morgan’s Archer as it knelt there helplessly. Somehow, though, the twin bolts flashed around the Archer and ripped jagged furrows through the ground beyond it. Morgan answered by triggering two flights of LRMs.”

  The cleric frowned. “But he was far too close for them to be effective, wasn’t he?”

  Dan nodded. “The flight was too short for the missiles to arm themselves, but that didn’t matter. They battered the Warhammer, crushing its armor and bathing the ’Mech in fire as propellant exploded. Missiles spun the Warhammer, but somehow Yorinaga kept the ’Mech on its feet. Morgan’s desperate tactic had failed to destroy his enemy.”

  Dan tugged at the aircar’s shoulder strap and leaned forward. “Yorinaga threw everything at Morgan’s Archer, but it didn’t matter. SRMs flew off wildly and exploded in random patterns across the landscape. Lasers and PPCs passed around or wide of the Archer as though Yorinaga had been blinded by the attack. His Warhammer was definitely operational, but he allowed the Archer to struggle to its feet.”

  Dan licked dry lips, remembering how the Archer had simply vanished from all their screens. Every ghost story he’d ever heard about ’Mechs piloted by men who had already died in the battle filled his mind. Seeing the Archer stand upright, he had believed that Morgan was dead and it was his ghost that now drove the Archer. How wrong was I?

  “Morgan levered the Archer up off the ground with its good arm, then just stood there as Yorinaga’s assault stormed around him. Morgan didn’t return fire. He closed the LRM launch pods and opened the Archer’s empty left hand. Then, in a move both subtle and elegant, he finished off Yorinaga.”

  “What? What did he do?”

  Dan chuckled lightly. “He bowed.”

  “Bowed?” Brother Keith shook his head as the aircar dropped down the last hillside and raced toward the towering mesa. “I think Mitchell’s account is more believable.”

  Dan smiled wryly. “There are times, Brother Keith, when I share your belief. Morgan made the Archer bow, and Yorinaga immediately stopped his attacks. The Warhammer executed a similar, yet deeper, bow, then straightened up and Yorinaga cracked his ’Mech’s canopy.”

  Brother Keith smiled. “That’s when he threw out his two swords, the katana and wakizashi.”

  Dan frowned. “That’s not in Mitchell’s book.”

  Brother Keith shrugged. “I know, but I’ve seen the blades. Morgan has them hanging on his wall. Those blades are over three hundred years old, did you know?”

  Dan nodded absently. So Morgan did take the blades with him when he left. “Yorinaga ordered the Second Sword of Light to retreat. One lieutenant dared broadcast a protest, suggesting that Yorinaga had been injured. Yorinaga destroyed the lieutenant’s ’Mech in a withering assault. Out of respect for their commander, the rest of the unit withdrew
as commanded.”

  “What about Yorinaga’s death haiku?” the cleric asked as the red-rock mesa housing the monastery filled the aircar’s viewscreen and heralded the journey’s end.

  Dan shook his head. “It wasn’t a death haiku. I’ve heard it translated as:

  * * *

  Yellow bird I see.

  The gray dragon hides wisely.

  Honor is duty.

  * * *

  “The gray dragon is the Second Sword of Light. That’s their regimental patch. The Yellow Bird is a bit of Draconian mythology… it’s supposed to be the only enemy the Dragon knows. A lot of the analysts I’ve talked with since seem to think that Yorinaga saw, in Morgan, or the Kell Hounds, or the battle for Mallory’s World, something that would destroy the Combine. He decided, at all costs, that he must withdraw from the fight and inform the Coordinator of what he had seen.”

  Brother Keith nodded and slowed the aircar. He steered it toward an arched opening tall enough for even a ten-meter-high ’Mech to pass with ample headroom. As the aircar passed through the opening and into the mesa’s hollowed and shadowy interior, the temperature dropped sharply from the sweltering heat of the desert. Brother Keith brought the aircar to a stop near the base of a stairway carved from the mesa’s blood-red stone.

  The aircar’s gull wing doors slid up and Dan peeled himself from the vinyl seat. When he straightened up, the MechWarrior towered over both Brother Keith and another, rounder, balding brother who had arrived at the base of the stairs in time to greet both driver and passenger. Dan narrowed his eyes. Shave off twenty years, six or seven kilos, give him back his hair, and that guy’d be the spitting image of Hermann Steiner.

  The elder brother extended his hand to the mercenary. “I am Brother Giles, abbot of St. Marinus House. I bid you welcome, Hauptmann Allard. Ah, forgive me. You Kell Hounds use the term captain, I believe.”

  Dan nodded slowly. This is Hermann Steiner! Steiner was the man who had resigned his commission as commander of the Second Royal Guards to keep those who supported his brother Alessandro from using him as a force against Katrina Steiner. So this is where he ended up. “Thank you for meeting me, Brother Giles. I would like to see Morgan Kell as soon as possible.”

  The abbot nodded gravely. “I understand, Captain Allard, but I wish to speak with you first. St. Marinus House is a sanctuary for MechWarriors who renounce the violence of their past.” Brother Giles turned and waved Dan up the stairs. “Our community is named for a martyr who chose not to renounce God to win a promotion to the rank of centurion. Because the men who are here have come of their own free will, I attempt to shield them from the outside world.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Abbot, but I would not have come all this way if it were not a matter of the utmost importance.”

  When they reached the landing, the abbot stepped around Dan and swung the door open for him. “I understand this, Captain, and that is why I sent a car for you. Morgan has not formally become a member of the community, and so my jurisdiction does not extend to him. Still”—the cleric shrugged—“I am concerned about his well-being and sanity.”

  “Sanity?” Dan frowned.

  “Ah… Captain… perhaps that was not the precise word. But you have seen battle and death and you know how it can change a person—warp him or destroy him. Morgan has conquered many of the demons plaguing him, but there is still one he cannot control.”

  Dan seated himself in the chair indicated by the heavyset cleric. “What are you talking about?”

  Brother Giles settled himself behind his desk. “Something still haunts Morgan Kell, Captain Allard.” The former MechWarrior pointed out and up toward the sky. “Something waits for him out there. He’s hidden here for eleven years and he’s prayed every day to avoid it. Now, with your arrival, he no longer can.”

  Dan felt suddenly cold. “What is waiting for him?”

  The abbot pursed his lips and stared hard at the Kell Hound captain. “I believe what he fears is the encounter with his own death.”

  Chapter 6

  ZANIAH III

  ISLE OF SKYE

  LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

  22 OCTOBER 3027

  In silence, Brother Giles and Daniel Allard rode the elevator to the top of the mesa. When the elevator doors opened, it was at half a level below the uneven, weathered surface. Brother Giles pointed toward a wide ramp curving up and around to the brilliantly lit exterior as waves of heat washed into the elevator.

  Dan stepped from the elevator and slowly walked up the ramp. How will I tell him? Yes, Patrick Kell died a hero, but is that any solace? Will he even care? Dan shivered, then ground his teeth in anger. You still care about your brother Justin, despite his defection. How could you expect less from Morgan?

  Dan rounded the ramp’s corner and instantly spotted Morgan Kell: tall and muscular, yet lean—wolf-lean—the ex-MechWarrior stood with his back to Dan. He was clad only in a loincloth, the ends of which fluttered in the hot desert breeze, and the sunlight etched his muscles in sharp highlights and dark shadows. The deep bronze of his flesh hid all but the barest traces of scars earned in his career.

  The wind ruffled Morgan’s long black hair and blew enough of it away from his profile to let Dan see that he wore a beard. Because the other man had his head bent forward in prayer, Dan did not speak. The wind, too, suddenly became quiet, no longer drowning out the sounds of Morgan Kell’s strong, eyen voice.

  “Soul of Christ, sanctify me,” he said. “Body of Christ, save me. Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Water from the side of Christ, wash me. Passion of Christ, strengthen me. O good Jesu, hear me. Within Thy wounds hide me. Suffer that I not be separated from Thee. From the malignant enemy, defend me. In the hour of my death, call me, and bid me to come to Thee, that with Thy saints, I may praise Thee for ever and ever. Amen.”

  When Kell’s head came up, Dan spoke softly, though he felt a shiver of awe. “Colonel Kell?”

  Morgan Kell was a big man but he turned gracefully. Despite the beard, Dan saw the same handsome face he remembered and the same, wary look of cunning that had inspired fear in many an enemy over the years. He also saw the changes wrought in the man who once commanded the Kell Hounds. The surface changes—the wrinkles at the corners of Morgan’s eyes and the streaks of gray shooting through his beard and hair—were ones he had expected. The other changes, though, startled Dan.

  He looks so peaceful, so much more restrained than before. Brother Giles was right. Morgan has changed. Dan stared into the other man’s brown eyes and felt an uneasy roiling in his guts. He also looks haunted…

  A slow smile brought some animation to Morgan Kell’s face. “You’re Dan Allard.” Kell’s gaze flickered toward the patch riding on the left breast of Dan’s tunic. “And still with the Hounds?”

  “Yes, sir.” Dan straightened up and saluted. “It’s good to see you, Colonel.”

  Morgan awkwardly mimicked Dan’s motion, but it was as though a salute were a gesture alien to him. He furrowed his brow. “I know why you’re here, Dan. It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Dan’s mouth went dry. How can he know? All the Kell Hound staff agreed we shouldn’t send him the news by message. We wanted someone who knew Patrick to deliver the news. Not some ComStar acolyte who didn’t care.

  Morgan turned and clasped his hands behind his back, his silhouette strong against the western sky. “I knew this would happen some day. I knew it wasn’t finished eleven years ago. Yet I’ve hoped and prayed this day would never come.”

  Dan bowed his head. “You and the rest of the Kell Hounds, sir.”

  Morgan turned back toward Dan. “Very well. When you return to the abbot’s office, tell him to give you the packet of messages I passed to him when I arrived. Then have him drive you into Starboro so that ComStar can send them out as soon as possible. I’ll join you in a day and we’ll ship out from there.”

  What’s going on here? Dan wondered. He doesn’t seem at all sad about his brother’s death. He sho
ok his head. “Sir?”

  Morgan stiffened. “What didn’t you understand? You don’t believe I would forget him, do you? Yorinaga Kurita has returned. Our truce is at an end.” Morgan looked at Dan. “Tell me… where does Patrick have the Kell Hounds now?”

  Shocked, stunned, Dan stared blankly at Morgan Kell. “Colonel, Patrick Kell is dead!” Dan’s hands balled into fists. “Yorinaga Kurita killed him. Patrick sacrificed himself to save Melissa Steiner and the rest of the Kell Hounds.”

  “NO!” Long hair whipped back and forth as Morgan shook his head violently. “No! That was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to happen that way!” He dropped to his knees, and except for a few strands pasted to his cheeks by hot tears, his long black hair shrouded his face. “I never would have let it happen!”

  Anger that Dan had kept buried for eleven years burst through the walls where he’d entombed it. “You’d never have let it happen, would you? You gave up all responsibility eleven years ago when you abandoned us.” Dan stabbed a finger at Kell. “You more than abandoned us. You broke the Kell Hounds, then scampered off to this hellhole. No explanation, no apology. You just bolted and left us to pick up the pieces.”

  Morgan looked up, agony threading his words. “I did what had to be done.”

  Dan laughed. “Did you? You drove off two-thirds of the Kell Hounds. At your request, two full battalions left the regiment, but you never told any of us what you had said to make them leave like that. You reduced us from a regiment to a single battalion. Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?”

  Morgan looked down. “You’d not have understood.”

  “No?” Dan spat in disgust. “Let me help you understand what happened after you left, Colonel.” He spoke the title with contempt, but Dan was beyond caring. “You’d recruited me straight out of the New Avalon Military Academy and I was so proud to be the lieutenant in charge of a recon lance. But when you sent the others away, the whole structure of the Kell Hounds collapsed. Responsibility for the ’Mech company fell to me.”