NEW EXETER SPACEPORT
EMPORIA
FEDERATED SUNS
8 APRIL 3150
0100 HOURS
At 0059, Jasper slagged the makeshift guard post on the way into New Exeter Spaceport. A couple of shots from his ER large laser did the job. No muss, no fuss. No attempted calls for help. Not that the comms would’ve worked anyway.
They sped into the spaceport, his Ostsol’s MASC working as his lance used their jump jets. The goal was to get within ninety meters of the target ’Mech bay to cover the rescue mission’s comms. From there, all three of them should be able to do the jobs they were meant to do.
After a volley of training rounds to shock and awe, Delany fired a volley of missiles and demolished the fuel dump near the hangars, destroying a nearby squad of tanks in the resultant explosion—including a couple of Saladin HCVs and a Cizin hovertank. She followed the missiles up with a couple of blasts from her PPC. The Griffin moved and scanned for the academy vehicles. “Our people are approaching the target.”
“Acknowledged,” Jasper said. “Keep things clear for them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scanning as much of the movement all around them as he could, he saw the Goblin fire several training rounds. Loud bangs, bright flashes, and smoke confused the scene, making it look as if a much larger force was attacking. “Vasseur, report.”
It was several seconds before Claire responded. “Power line to the radar system cut. Moving for the sensor array. Comms last.”
“Acknowledged.” Keeping half an eye on the ground, Jasper looked for the heat signatures of enemy ’Mechs powering up outside of the Emporia bays. There would be a response. But if he had anything to say about it, they’d already be retreating to the academy by then.
At the first sounds of combat, Nadine’s convoy moved in. The Vedettes were in the front, followed by the Fox and the Goblin, all making a beeline for the target bay.
On site, the drivers of each vehicle pulled automatic rifles to lay down suppression fire. Nadine and Lyric leaped from the Goblin, leaving Cadet Radcliff in the turret to throw flash-bangs and confuse the situation even more. He also had an automatic rifle he could poke out a port and fire.
The two cadets ran toward the back of the bay. Before they got there, enemy soldiers attacked. Two of them bowled the young women over. Both were in fatigues, but not armor. Nadine shot the first one in the gut and followed it up with a three-round burst to the chest. She rolled over and watched Lyric stab the other soldier, a woman, in the neck, and grapple her until the enemy stopped moving.
Nadine helped Lyric up. Her girlfriend was covered in blood, but her eyes were bright and excited. Nadine, on the other hand, felt nothing. All she wanted to do was get the mission done. She didn’t want to think about anything. There would be time enough for that when the fighting was done.
They turned as one and ran to the makeshift prison. All of the back offices and storerooms had become cells. Shooting the lock off the first door, Nadine yanked it open. “My lords and ladies, your ride is here.”
Dame Emma Meier came to the front. The woman looked tired but pleased. “Report,” she commanded.
Faced with one of the academy’s cadre, Nadine was suddenly aware that she’d lost her helmet in the scuffle with the enemy soldiers. She saluted anyway. “The goal is to escape. The Goblin is to transport any MechWarrior or captive who can’t get in a ’Mech. We have a ’Mech lance distracting the enemy. They’re giving us the five minutes we need to get you all to a ’Mech or to the Goblin and evac. The Ostsol has its ECM suite going.”
“Good,” Dame Emma said. She glanced over her shoulder and did a quick count of the people. She raised her voice, taking command of the room. “The MechWarriors in here will take the ’Mechs. Use the emergency override codes to get in. Everyone else to the Goblin.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nadine left Dame Emma to direct the MechWarriors with her. Better to have one specific group get to the ’Mechs and the rest to the Goblin. With Lyric guarding her back, Nadine moved to the next cell door.
Vale and the Combine soldier stared at each other for a long surprised moment. The enemy was younger, but Vale had the advantage. He kicked the soldier square in the jaw, knocking the man backward down the stairs. Leaping halfway down, chasing the kid—he couldn’t have been more than twenty—Vale followed it up with another kick to the head, then a stab to the heart. He clamped a hand over the dying man’s mouth to keep him from making any noise.
Silence was Vale’s only ally.
He waited as the young man died in his arms, listening for the sound that anyone in the stairwell or outside of it had heard the commotion. After an impatient count of thirty without hearing anything but the fast beat of his own heart, Vale moved. He kept the standard issue combat knife in hand. The longer he could go without a shot fired, the more time he’d have to get his mission done.
Cracking the door to the top floor, he saw one soldier at the end of the hallway.
Vale looked down at himself. The fresh blood looked like oil stains against his black coveralls. They still did the job of hiding his armor. He put his knife back in its sheath, smoothed his hair, and whistled a jaunty tune as he opened the stairwell door without trying to hide himself. He kept his eyes on the floor on his way to the janitor’s closet.
As his hand reached the doorknob, he pretended like he was suddenly aware of the Combine soldier bearing down on him with his pistol out. “Hands up!”
With a cry of fear, Vale threw his hands up and ducked his head. “I’m a janitor. I’m cleaning. Don’t shoot! Please, oh, God!”
“There’s a curfew.” The soldier slammed him against the wall. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Shaking, Vale let himself drop to one knee, his shoulder to the wall. “I’m supposed to clean this floor. It’s my job. They told me to.”
“Damn civilians. You never listen, do you?” the soldier muttered.
After he holstered his pistol and reached for his comm, Vale moved. Surging upward, he punched the soldier with a hard uppercut then a short, sharp jab to the stomach. Gasping for air, the enemy slammed Vale’s head against the wall. Vale kicked at the man’s knee and was rewarded with a crack and the soldier’s yelp of pain. The two of them fell to the floor. Vale got his knife out and stabbed the soldier in the torso twice as pain tore through his left side.
They rolled on the floor, stabbing at each other until Vale came out on top and got the man in the throat. He lay on top of the dead opponent, catching his breath. His armor had mostly done its job—except for that first stab in the side. He prayed the man hadn’t hit anything vital.
When he looked up, he saw the door he wanted. Vale pulled himself to his feet, then used the knife to break the lock on the door. He pulled the dead soldier into the room with him. There was nothing to be done about the blood on the floor. With luck, it would look like spilled coffee when it dried.
Spilled coffee? Who are you fooling, old man? Anyone worth their salt will know it’s blood.
Vale sighed at his inner voice. Yeah, but I don’t intend to be around when they find it.
What about patrol shift change or a missed call-in?
“Then I’m screwed.”
After propping the dead man against the server-room wall, he took the man’s pistol, comm, and earpiece. If nothing else, he’d have some warning when the Seventh Ghost’s forces missed either of the dead soldiers. He didn’t expect to hear about an attack on the spaceport. Not with the ECM blocking comms or the cadets’ plans to cut all power lines to comms, radar, and sensor arrays. At least, he hoped he didn’t hear anything about the attack on the spaceport.
Vale moved through the room lit only by the outside lights and the computer lights winking and blinking in the control panels. There, in a box the size of a suitcase, the Black Box sat forgotten on one of the bottom racks of the server room. He set it up on a nearby table, praying the ancient thing still worked.
He looked at his watch. 0107. The attack on the spaceport was underway. He refused to think about the brash, bold, foolish plan failing. The Roux siblings were right. Emporia had to fight back. Even as handicapped as it was.
Please let this work. The prayer encompassed all of their plans that night.
The Black Box, once reactivated, lit up as it was supposed to. Vale pulled his noteputer—its screen was cracked—from one of the coverall’s cargo pockets. He set all nine channels with the same prepared message: a call for help and an explanation of what had happened, the invasion, and the perpetrator. Once the Black Box was set, he tapped the transmission button and sighed with relief.
With the message on its way, there was nothing left for him to do but cover his tracks.
Vale erased both the Black Box’s memory and his noteputer’s digital archives. He broke the noteputer in half, tossing the two parts of the tablet into the trash. After he checked again that the message had been sent through hyperspace and the Black Box’s digital history was gone, he turned the machine off, packed it up, and replaced it on the shelf.
As he prepared for his secondary mission, the comm crackled to life.
Jasper saw the first set of enemy ’Mechs heating up four minutes into the attack. “We’ve got incoming. Four heat signatures. From the east.”
“Sensor arrays down,” Claire commed. “Working on communication power lines now. Abort?”
“No, Vasseur. Stay on target. Menard, report.”
“Emporia MechWarriors freed. Eight in ’Mechs and powering up. One small group of our people broke off from the Goblin.” Delany paused. “They were led by Nadine.”
He looked at his sensors, trying to find the group that separated from the main force and their rescue plan. “What? Why did she split off?”
“I don’t know. I only recognized her because of her hair. She was with two MechWarriors.”
“She wouldn’t have split off without a good reason.” Jasper punched his thigh. Fear and anger were opposites. He let his fear for his sister channel into anger and focused on his job. Right now he had enemy ’Mechs to deal with. His best bet was to disable them so they couldn’t follow when the rescue party retreated.
None of the enemy ’Mechs were moving yet. They were all still coming online, and they took more time than the nobles’ ’Mechs because this lance intended to fight instead of run. Jasper read his sensors. There was a thirty-five-ton Venom, a fifty-five-ton Quasimodo, a fifty-five-ton Wolverine, and an eighty-ton Hatamoto-Suna. This last one made his stomach turn. Someone important had to be in that assault ’Mech. But it was slow, a good thing to remember.
He focused on the Venom. The fast recon ’Mech was agile enough to be a nightmare to pin down once it came fully active. If he could disable it before it could get going, it wouldn’t be able to follow them. He focused all three of his ER lasers on it, aiming for the left leg. Taking out the light ’Mech’s leg would do what he wanted. With the enemy ’Mech still powering up, it was like target practice. The Venom’s heat signature spiked, then the ’Mech fell over.
As he shifted his focus, he saw Delany throw a volley of missiles at the enemy ’Mechs. Friendly ’Mech heat signatures appeared on the board. “Emporia ’Mechs, this is Cadet Jasper Roux. We have enemy ’Mechs powering up. This is a rescue mission, not a fight mission. Power up, and get ready to run, escorting the Goblin, Fox, and Vedettes to the academy. Repeat, rescue and retreat to the academy.”
“Acknowledged, Cadet Roux. This is Dame Emma. I’ve got this. You manage your lance. Focus on distraction. We’ll wait on the retreat order from the ground. Channel two.”
“Channel two. Understood.” Jasper wanted to scream with joy. Their plan was working. It was actually working.
Nadine and Lyric broke open the rest of the makeshift cells. As each was unlocked, Lyric informed the former captives of the plan and sent them to the Goblin. Several adults grabbed the extra automatic rifles and laid down cover fire for the MechWarriors climbing into their ’Mechs.
The last door contained only four people: Baronesses Meredith Cole and Shannon Vogel, Sir Robert Corbin, and Baron Nadeem Menard. Nadine, while pleased to see the Lady Vogel, felt her heart drop at Lord Zachary’s absence. She met Lady Shannon’s eyes. “The baron?” She didn’t want an answer; she needed it.
“Not here, but I know where they’re keeping him.” Lady Shannon’s answer had an unasked question attached to it: Do we have the time and means to go get him?
Nadine realized her Sponsor was asking her the question. Vale’s warning of acceptable losses came to the forefront.
Baron Zachary Vogel was not an acceptable loss.
“Where is he? Is he close?”
Lady Shannon nodded. “We need a vehicle.”
Nadine looked at the ground, then Lyric, then made a decision. “Cadet Hayton, escort the others back to the Goblin. We’re going for the baron. Leave if you have to. Don’t wait for us. We’ll find another way.”
Lyric looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dark gray circles under Sir Robert’s eyes marred his tawny skin. “I’m coming, too. The baron is hurt.”
Nadine and Lady Shannon glanced at each other and agreed.
“Give us as much time as you can,” Nadine told Lyric, wanting to say so much more, “but remember our primary mission.”
Lyric nodded then led Lady Meredith and Lord Nadeem away under a hail of covering gunfire.
Nadine focused on Lady Shannon again. “All right, where’s Lord Zachary?”