He frowned. “Bad news travels fast, Clayhatchee. Tell everyone to get ready. The siege of Ravensglade is about to begin.”

19

St. Michael Station, St. Michael

St. Andre system

Prefecture V, The Republic

24 December 3134

Word of the impending invasion traveled fast in Port Archangel. Small boats could be seen leaving the harbor, heading along the coast, or out to sea. A few stragglers appeared at each of the lower tunnel entrances, looking for sanctuary at the base. That was one of the first decisions awaiting Erik when he arrived back at the command bunker.

“Send them up. Put them in one of the unused barracks, under guard just in case Liao tries to send spies or saboteurs that way.” He had a thought. “Also, canvass them and see if you can find one or two who know the local waters and the shipping trade. If Liao is coming by water, some local knowledge might prove valuable.”

The number of personnel in the command bunker had tripled since the last time he was there. The place buzzed with activity, with people literally bouncing off each other as they rushed from place to place. Computers chirped, phones rang, printers whirred. Large holodisplays swirled with colorful patterns that might have passed for somebody’s art project. The room smelled of ozone, hot metal, sweat, and a slight but noticeable stink of fear.

They had, at most, hours. Hovervehicles could arrive at almost any time, and surface shipping would take six to ten hours. Erik’s guess was that, other than probes and scouting by hovervehicles, the big assault would arrive more in that six-to-ten-hour window. Probably shortly before or after dawn.

Intelligence reported several large surface vessels. Unless they had illusions they could take the heavily defended tunnels from below, the ’Mechs would have to come over the cliffs first and try to open the way for either a sea assault, an air assault, or both.

“They’ve got multiple DropShips in low polar orbit,” reported Clayhatchee. “There’s a formation of four in line for a coordinated drop, and five others spread out evenly around the planet. If they keep making orbit-correction burns, reentry opportunities for the formation come about every sixty-eight minutes, and there’s an opportunity for at least one ship to drop in on us about every eleven and a half minutes.”

“Meaning,” said Erik grimly, “that if they take out our air defenses, we won’t have to wait long for company. Are the natural gas ’Mechs deployed according to plan?”

“Yes, sir,” said Clayhatchee. “Standing by.”

The bunker’s thick outer door swung open just enough for one man to enter. Justin Sortek, turning sideways to fit his wide shoulders through, entered the room. There was an air of urgency about him. “Commander Sandoval, you sent for me? I really should be in my ’Mech.”

Erik shook his head. “Sorry, Justin. You’re going to spend this one in command.”

He frowned. “Commander?”

“I need somebody here I can trust to tell me what I need to know, not what I want to hear.”

“Sir, with respect, I’d be more use out there with my MechWarriors.”

Erik nodded. “Possibly you would, Justin, but this time, it’s going to be me in the ’Mech. You’ve got to stay here as my eyes and ears—focus on the big picture, so I can lead these people into battle.”

Sortek said nothing.

“You know it’s true. Without the Duke here, they need a tangible demonstration that the noble line is with them. Without that, your men can’t do what needs to be done.”

“It’s a terrible personal risk for you, Commander.”

“I know that. I won’t claim I’m half the MechWarrior you are, Justin, but there’s more than one way to fight a battle. I can’t win this by playing it safe. Ever play Texas Hold-’em, Justin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you know what ‘all in’ means.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“If I go down in battle, then this fight is yours to finish. You know what we’ve set up. You know where we’re vulnerable, and you know what their objectives are. Your family has been tied to the noble line for generations. If you have to find some of that divine light, do it.”

He smiled grimly. “Yes, sir.”

He patted Sortek on the shoulder. “I’m headed for my ’Mech. I’ll radio as soon as I’m in.”

For Erik, however, there was one stop to be made on the way. The stockade was located one level below the command bunker.

Even more so than most of the base, it had a dank, abandoned feel to it. The area had been unheated for years, and lichen grew in patches on the concrete walls. Though it was relatively free of rust, paint peeled from the metal fixtures and bars. The bare concrete floors were damp, and a leaking overhead pipe in the hallway had a full-blown puddle forming under it.

Erik found a lone guard leaning against a wall—the brim of his hat over his eyes—dozing or close to it. He walked up to him and stood there for a moment unnoticed, then said loudly, “Private!”

The soldier’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Erik with horror, then came to attention. “That’s Corporal, sir!”

“It was until a minute ago,” he said dryly. Then he smiled just a little. At least he wasn’t talking with the prisoner, which would have been of greater concern. “At ease, Corporal. Be more attentive next time. For now, I’m going to speak with the prisoner. Take a break.”

“Sir?”

“Ten minutes. Go wash up, find some coffee.”

The soldier looked almost pathetically grateful. “Yes, sir! Thank you, Commander!”

Erik glanced down the hall toward the cells. “Has she said anything to you?”

The young corporal looked suddenly uneasy. “Not really, sir. She …babbles.”

“Good. She’s either a spy or a lunatic. I’m still not sure which. She latched onto me when I was on Shensi, and she’s stalked me across half The Republic.”

The corporal looked relieved. “Insane? That would explain things, sir. You sure you don’t need me here, in case—” He held up his rifle.

“No, I think she’s harmless. Back in ten. Sharp! ”

“Yes, sir!” He dashed off down the hall.

Yet, even after he was gone, his face haunted Erik. The pale, hollow cheeks, the bags under the too-young eyes. He had to keep remembering that face. It reminded him of what he was fighting for. Not the Duke. Not House Davion. These men, who believed in something bigger than all of them. He might have weakened, might have considered betraying those other things, but not these men and women, these soldiers.

He walked down the line of barred cells to the one occupied by Elsa. He found her sitting on the cot, wrapped in blankets, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back against the wall. Her appearance somehow startled him. She’d washed off her makeup, tied back her hair. The sophisticated society woman was gone. She looked young, vulnerable, lost. She looked up at him, and her eyes flared with anger. “Well, this is a fine pesthole you’ve put me in, Erik.”

He shrugged. “It’s the best cell we’ve got. I don’t have the troops to spare to put you under house arrest in a barrack, and it’s easier to keep you from talking to people this way.” He looked at the ceiling. “Besides, this is probably safer.”

“As safe as anywhere at ground zero. Erik, they’re going to walk over you. You don’t have a chance.” To his surprise, she seemed as concerned for him as for herself.

“There’s always a chance.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

She stood, the blanket still draped over her shoulders like a shawl. She held onto the bars and looked at him with desperate eyes. “Erik, I don’t want to die here. Please. This isn’t my fight.”

He shook his head sadly. “It was your fight as soon as you started working for House Liao. Like you said: People like us, we don’t have many choices—and you can’t opt out this late in the game. Neither can I.