18

Dormuth
Mandoria, Marik
Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
19 November 3136

Rikkard scanned the tall corridor of the four-lane road, skyscrapers standing like sentinels along the major traffic artery. Despite the eerie silence of the long, apparently abandoned stretch of road, it screamed death trap for anyone stupid enough to enter. He scrutinized every secondary screen in the Shadow Hawk’s cockpit as he flipped through multiple scans, trying to get a firm read on what might be lying in wait. But as was the case in most modern cities, the high metal content of Dormuth’s construction made it difficult. Very difficult. And they have become very good at hiding their intentions.

‘‘A trap a Sea Fox would be proud of, quiaff?’’ commented Karli, his second-in-command.

‘‘Aff and aff,’’ Rikkard responded.

‘‘Every attempt to penetrate into the heart of the city has been booby-trapped.’’

‘‘Spheroids,’’ he swore in reply. The damage the Marik defenders were willing to wreak on their own civilian infrastructure—not to mention the collateral damage to civilians, no matter how many they evacuated—appalled him. Years of fighting in the Republic of the Sphere had not prepared him for this low behavior.

‘‘Yet if we do not penetrate the heart, the city will never be ours.’’

Rikkard nodded at the rhetorical statement, bringing up a map overlay of the city once again with a few strokes on the small keypad. With no apparent overall city plan, Dormuth had developed along the lines of an out-of-control contagion, flanges morphing in any direction as new suburbs and business parks sprang up over the centuries to incorporate the increasing population.

So incoherent. So lacking in order. It perfectly captured the spheroid way of life. Yet even a rabid dog can be dangerous. And the defending forces had proven most dangerous, repulsing repeated forays; the Spirit Cats’ ferocity was blunted against the defenders’ superior knowledge of the terrain and their willingness to do anything to keep the Spirit Cats from taking the city, even if it meant burning it down.

In his original estimate of the campaign, he would already be on the second leg of securing the world by this time, tackling the League Central Command and Coordination facility; something he would expect to take a lot more effort than securing Dormuth. And if Dormuth has proven this formidable, what will that fortress bring? The idea left him cold; worried. They will send reinforcements. They cannot let a world as important as Marik fall without sending reinforcements, even if other worlds must be sacrificed. He knew that much about spheroid idea of empire. And we must have this world secured before then, or my vision might fail!

‘‘And here you sit, debating.’’ The cool tone sliced as cleanly through his thoughts as a beam of energy.

He unclenched his jaw from its automatic reaction to the familiar voice. ‘‘Not all of us have the luxury of leading troops to their deaths without repercussions, Janis.’’

A barking laugh was a slap. ‘‘If any of my command doubted my ability to lead they would initiate a Trial of Grievance. None have done so. More than I can say for you, Commander.’’

‘‘Any that would, Commander, are dead under your hand.’’ He closed his eyes, furious with himself for speaking such words out loud. His frustration was palpable. He thought he’d found the key to unlocking the potential of the warrior and leader, only to find her fighting him even more fiercely, as though she sensed he’d found her Achilles’ heel. And now she appears to have found your own Achilles’ heel, and is targeting it with laser-guided precision to undermine your authority. He sighed heavily.

‘‘The great Star Colonel Rikkard accuses, and yet who has taken the most ground in this city? Who will take this avenue and drive into the heart of the city once and for all? Unafraid!’’

Her voice did not shout triumph. That would be akin to saying that the launch of a DropShip was merely loud.

‘‘Purifiers, with me!’’

Before Rikkard could respond, Janis’ Nova Cat lurched into motion, followed by a reinforced Star of ’Mechs, vehicles and battlearmor; a spear cast at the city’s heart. Despite the 70 tons above the clawed feet hammering into the ferrocrete of the road, the road withstood the strain, with only indents marking the ’Mech’s passage.

I cannot stop her without calling a Trial of Grievance. And I cannot risk a trial. Not now. Despite the deaths caused by her reckless leadership, she has achieved more victories than I or any other. And if I win without killing her, it will only submerge what is boiling below the surface. I must find a way to reach her before she destroys everything.

He watched their progress, eyes flicking between the forward viewscreen and the bevy of secondary monitors, trying to guess when the trap would be sprung. Long seconds stretched to a minute, and Janis was nearly a full kilometer from their position.

Is there no trap? The doubts already fluttering around his head like a flock of ravens seemed to multiply until they blocked the light; abruptly, a spectacular flash rent the late-morning air, followed by a billowing, sooty cloud that spurted from across the entire base of one of the midsized skyscrapers on the right-hand side; vibrations rocked the Shadow Hawk IIC; then the thunderous shock wave reached the kilometer distance, multiplying the unfolding chaos. Horror wracked Rikkard’s face; his skin, dried from the days of endless heated battle, stretched until it threatened to snap like damaged myomer.

In horrid, slow motion—as though the building wished to savor the moment—the structure toppled into the street in an avalanche of unimaginable energy, completely burying Janis and her troops.

Daniella Briggs willed her emotions to nothingness as she watched the replay again from the basement of the Jesuit Secondary School, only thirty blocks from the latest attempt by the Spirit Cats to penetrate to the heart of Dormuth.

The Harving Trust and Loan building dated back two centuries to a decade-long resurgence of the pre-Star League-era fad of ornamenting buildings with a heavy brick façade. While any of the buildings along that stretch of road could’ve been brought down to accomplish the goal, her combat engineers argued that the building with the brick façade not only required fewer explosives to explode—a critical element in the decision, as their resources dwindled dangerously—but the bricks themselves would be higher-energy projectiles; the building’s own shrapnel. And the old, stately building produced the desired results, with battlearmor and even a ’Mech seen toppling under the high-velocity brick rain before the cloud of smoke and dust obscured the area. The entire structure came down, slamming into the buildings across the street in an orgy of shattered glass, imploding façades and massive structural damage that stretched for hundreds of meters from the point of impact.

Six hundred and twenty-two million, three hundred and seventy-six thousand, four hundred and eight C-BILLS. And thirty-three cents. She closed her eyes as the to-the-penny report on the cost of the delaying action ran behind her eyelids like the ever-expanding white paper produced with careless abandon by a bean counter adding up material cost and ignoring the human cost. Not a single civilian life lost. But even if the war ends tomorrow, how many livelihoods have I just annihilated? Not to mention, I’m sure, a committee for the protection of historically important buildings will scream bloody murder over this.

A dark smile twisted her lips. I’ll let them flog me naked in Seagull Square, if it comes to that . . . because that would mean we won. We kept the world and most of Dormuth still stands.

‘‘General,’’ a voice interrupted.

She pasted a more reasonable look on her face (she hoped) and peered through the darkness, trying to make out the fellow outlined by the brighter light in the hallway. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘You told me to inform you immediately when a JumpShip arrived in-system.’’

Her heart leapt to her throat and she clasped her hands to keep them from reaching toward the comms officer and shaking him for an answer. ‘‘And?’’

‘‘Nothing, Commander. Just a trader. No news that bears upon our situation.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’

The man saluted smartly and departed, leaving General Briggs to slowly turn back to the table. To replay the desperation she’d been forced into once again, despite her best efforts to stop. Knowing the same scene would replay tomorrow and the day after and the day after that, until the entire world swam in a haze of dust and smoke and destruction.

Where are you, Anson? Where are you?