Trial by Chaos Page 22

  His expression was a neutral mask. "I have never lied to you. Isis, and I'm being truthful now. This is one reason we Inner Sphere types aren't so big on the complete honesty thing. Sometimes the truth hurts, and sometimes it doesn't serve any useful purpose."

  She frowned, but her anger was fading into resolve. "I know where I stand. That is useful information to me, especially now."

  "I'm sorry, Isis."

  She stepped closer to him. put her hands on his shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "Vince, things could go from bad to worse here very soon. The way things are shaping up, we could find ourselves at war any minute now. It may have the appearance of a war with the local insurgents, but regardless of how it looks, we will actually be fighting the Draconis Combine. I need the people of Vega to understand the distinction and to support our military, or it is going to be a very short and unpleasant war."

  He shook his head sadly. "I can't deliver the Vegan people to you. Isis. not even the ones who are nominally sided with me."

  "I do not expect you to. Much as I hate to admit it, that old bat Chance Elba has been right all along. I need to win the hearts of the Vegan people, and I will never be able to do that by asking them to believe in the Ghost Bears. But perhaps I can convince them to believe in themselves again, and convince them that the Ghost Bears believe in them too."

  "How can you do that?"

  She stared at him as though she could somehow transmit the seriousness of her intent through her gaze. "Bold, sudden strokes. I am now prepared to act on things that have been in my mind for a long time, things that I have barely been able to admit to myself. I am prepared to do extreme things. I will anger some people, but hopefully I will win more than I lose. I need you to unconditionally support me now, Vince. Not against your love of Vega, but because of it. If we do not work together at this moment, you will soon find your world under the control of the Combine. At best as their puppets; at worst, as their slaves."

  He looked at her, something like wonder in his eyes, and fear. "Yes, I will support you."

  He pulled her close. Their lips met.

  They parted, and she leaned against him for a brief moment. "There will be hard days ahead, Vince. Our trial has begun."

  * * *

  The technician's name was Reuben. Conner had seen the man in the 'Mech hangar dozens of times. Now that he thought about it, maybe hundreds of times.

  Technicians, mechanics, laborers—they all tended to be invisible to warriors, or at least interchangeable. Unless something went wrong. Certainly he knew the chief mechanics and technicians in his unit by name, but he really did not know them in any personal sense.

  They were simply moving parts in the military machine that was Omega Galaxy.

  After they left the hangar, Conner appropriated a ground car and they drove across the spaceport to an isolated spot near a fueling terminal where they could talk in private. Technicians had been interchangeable to him, but as Conner talked with Reuben, he quickly came to recognize him as a unique person.

  Reuben was an electronics specialist who knew every centimeter of wiring in every 'Mech in their inventory. His small stature was useful for climbing deep inside a 'Mech to locate shorts and damaged cables, and he took great pride in his ability to pinpoint damage and repair it in half the time of other technicians.

  Conner was perhaps surprised at the pride with which the man talked about his work, and the pride he had in Omega Galaxy. This was a man considered by the Clan to be. at best, a malcontent, at worst, a traitor, yet he was fiercely loyal to the Clan in his own way.

  Though Conner could not pretend to find the man's job interesting or desirable, he would gladly admit admiration for the energy and enthusiasm that Reuben applied to the task.

  He also discovered that Reuben had a rather shocking life outside the walls of that hangar. Technician Reuben had two wives. One was Clan, a senior technician at a power plant back on the planet Policenigo. Their marriage had been arranged by the Eugenics Board, and together they had dutifully conceived four children, all of whom were being raised in a creche.

  But he had a second wife named Doris, a non-Clan native of Policenigo. She was a tri-vid camera operator. They had met when he was rewiring her broadcast center seven years earlier. They lived together as much as his duties allowed, and had a four-year-old daughter. He spoke lovingly of this family, and became emotional when he talked of how difficult it had been to leave them.

  A few weeks earlier, Conner would have been totally unsympathetic, even horrified by this story. But now, as he thought of the possibility of losing Karen Tupolov, he shared the man's pain in a way he would not have thought possible. He understood why the Freeminder organization would appeal to this man, despite his clear loyalty to the Clan and his devotion to his job. "I want to hear about the Freeminders: what you want, what you do. But first, I want to know why you painted those words on the buildings."

  The man looked sheepish. "I felt bad about that sometimes. But while I might have defaced Clan property, I never damaged it. You must understand, we have to act in secret. We cannot openly meet, or recruit members. Those little bits of paint are our way of reaching out to others who feel as we do. They serve both as a reminder that we exist, and a comfort whenever one of us sees them. We know that we are not alone. And painting them is often dangerous, both physically and in terms of the risk of being caught and punished.

  "It feels good to take risks for what you believe in. If you are not willing to take risks, perhaps you do not really believe."

  Take risks? Doing this, I am taking the greatest risk I have ever taken outside a 'Mech. Can I embrace this with enough conviction to take the next step?

  He listened as Reuben described the goals of the Freeminders: first and foremost, the freedom of marriage and family, ideals that Conner believed he could embrace. But also the right to free thought and expression, the right to individuality. Conner was less comfortable with those ideas, and more nervous yet about any notion of breaking down the caste system.

  Reuben was almost apologetic about that. "That was not part of our original agenda. When I first joined the Freeminders. it was different. But the movement then was also much more scattered and ineffectual. Then parts of the Final Codex began to appear, and that changed everything."

  "I have heard of this thing, but I do not know that I believe it."

  "It exists! I have seen good copies of several pages. It is the lost writing of our Founder, of Nicholas Kerensky himself! He meant for this to happen! Our return. Our sharing of our superior genes with the Inner Sphere." He smiled beatifically. "Don't you see. Star Colonel? Doris and I. with our child, we are fulfilling our Clan's destiny. Our children will do great things. Of course, I am only a technician, but if scientists, even warriors, were to—"

  "Wait. One minute you talk of ending the caste system. then you invoke it."

  "The Codex doesn't call for the end of the caste system, only a reform of it, a melding of the lower castes. The warrior caste would still operate much as it does now. though with more opportunity for individual expression."

  "And marriage and family?"

  "Of course! The warrior genes must be shared with the Inner Sphere. They are the pinnacle of everything we are as Clan. Our loyalty and devotion to the warrior caste remains strong, Star Colonel! We are not traitors. We do not wish to diminish the strength of the Clan. We only wish to share it. enriching the Inner Sphere, and in so doing, enrich ourselves!"

  There was a certain mad logic to it all, yet there was something Conner had to know before he could continue along this path. "What castes are represented in the Freeminders?"

  Reuben looked surprised. "Well, all the castes, in some numbers. Of course, the great majority are laborer caste, in part because they are most numerous in the general population, but also because they have the most to gain from the Freeminder reforms. Technicians and merchants are also strongly represented, though not in the same proportion as laborers. Scientists a
re much rarer, but they are there."

  "But warriors. Are there warriors?"

  Reuben looked apologetic. "There are some. A few. To be honest, very few. Most are paramilitary police. Often they are assigned to investigate us, and end up joining and helping us hide our activities instead. Most of them feel ill-treated by the rest of the warrior class, and not appreciated for the benefits they provide the Clan. Galaxy Commander Bekker's reforms since our arrival on Vega have eased those resentments some, but we continue to gain recruits."

  "But how many Bloodnamed warriors have joined the Freeminders?"

  Reuben just stared at him. saying nothing. Conner shifted into his command voice. "How many?"

  "There are—I have never—" He swallowed. "I do not believe that there has ever been one. If you join us, you would be the first." He blinked. "Do you understand how important that could be to us? If a Bloodnamed warrior were to join us, it would be a great sign that our cause was just, and that we were not traitors to the warrior caste."

  "I could lose that Bloodname far more easily than I gained it."

  "That would have to be your decision, to take such a risk. Frankly, I would not blame you if you chose against us."

  Conner considered carefully. To a warrior, his Bloodname was everything. His codex was everything. His honor was everything. But Conner Hall found that the definitions and importance of those things kept shifting and evolving. "You have leaders here in the Freeminders? People in charge?"'

  "Yes, of course. The leader of the Freeminders is here, the one who first discovered records of the Final Codex."

  "I wish to meet this person, as soon as possible. Can you arrange that?"

  Reuben nodded. "I will have to ask. but I am sure that he would want to speak with you. As I have said, having such a famous Bloodnamed warrior join us would be of great importance. It could be the most important thing that has happened since the discovery of the Final Codex itself." He frowned. "But I will need to make contact off base, when I am off duty.

  "You are off duty now. Tell me where to drop you, and then I will return to the hangar and explain that I have given you a special assignment. If I am going to do this, I must do it quickly, or not at all."

  * * *

  Isis Bekker looked around the subbasement complex that was the war room. It had not been fully activated since the end of the warlord conflicts, but it was active now.

  The military command center, of course, which occupied a glass-walled space that took up a third of the complex, had never fully shut down.

  But the functions of the rest of the space, handling communications, intelligence, civilian planning, logistics and coordination with off-planet resources, these functions had largely been transferred to regular civilian departments after the fighting stopped.

  Now, Isis was pulling all the strings back down to terminate here.

  She walked around the large backlit glass table that represented a map of the surface of Vega. Under the table, numerous tri-vid projectors created floating icons over the map, representing their various forces. A smaller grid at the far end of the table showed a more abstract representation of off-world forces and space assets.

  As she was inspecting the displays, Trenton entered the room. "Just in time," she said to him. "A lot is about to happen, and you are my right hand in making it all work."

  "Whatever you say. Galaxy Commander. I was surprised when you ordered this room reactivated, but—"

  "Shut up, listen carefully and answer the questions I am going to be asking to the best of your ability. I know some of these questions probably require research for a detailed answer. Never mind that. Just consult that encyclopedia you have for a brain, and give me your best estimate."

  He blinked in surprise. "Yes, Galaxy Commander."

  "You're certain in what you said about the Freeminders. You honestly believe that they are ultimately loyal to the Ghost Bears and will support our cause here on Vega?"

  "Nothing is certain, however—"

  She had no time for waffling. "Are you sure?"

  He stared at her for a moment. "Yes, they are loyal and not a threat to our mission."

  "Next question. How self-sufficient is Vega?"

  "In what respect?"

  "In every respect. Worst case, if we were cut off from Ghost Bear support or faced a trade embargo, how would we fare?"

  He considered carefully. "The planet Vega is very rich in natural resources. With the damage done during the Warlord Massacres, energy production is an issue, but one that can be solved. The true challenge is that Vega is also an arid planet. Food production is difficult."

  "We are not self-sufficient, then?"

  "I didn't say that. It would be a close thing for a few months, but if we relocated workers to ramp up production on the south delta farms, we could manage."

  "What about factory production?"

  "If we can feed the workers and miners, we can make a lot of stuff. This is a rich world. Aerospace assets will be an issue, especially repair. We have much to trade for such services off-world, of course, but if there were a blockade—"

  "Can we make BattleMechs?"

  "What?"

  "Big machines. Walk around. Carry really big guns. Perhaps you have heard of them?"

  "Without importing key parts? It would be hard. Of course, there are several factories producing IndustrialMechs, and plenty of myomer. The big issue would be fusion reactors. But Cosby Myomer Research used to manufacture them before they shifted completely into myomer production and merged with MyoMaxx. In theory, the capacity is still here."

  "So it is possible?"

  "Possible, but unlikely in the near term."

  "All I really need is for others to think we would be able to develop the capability. It makes bottling us up less desirable, and less likely. It might buy us some breathing space if we can get through the immediate crisis. Now, pay attention."

  Picking up a headset hanging next to the table, she inserted the earpiece into her ear and touched the talk button. "Star Captain Durant."

  An officer in the military command center turned and looked at her through the glass wall. "Yes, Galaxy Commander."

  "Where is Star Colonel Hall? I need to confer with him on strategy."

  Durant looked embarrassed. "Sir, we cannot seem to locate him."

  "You cannot find him?"

  "He may have left the base. But we cannot seem to—"

  "He left the base without a security detail?"

  "As I said, sir, we are not sure—"

  She cut him off again. "Well, find him, and when you do, tell him I need him here. Meanwhile, there are things that cannot wait. Durant, issue a recall to all nonessential forces on Cebalrai. Cut our numbers as thin as we can while still ensuring stability there. On my authorization, reassign any of our ships headed to the Rasalhague Dominion to transport of personnel and equipment here, instead."

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Galaxy Commander," Trenton interrupted. "Any forces coming from Cebalrai will take—"

  She nodded grimly. "Yes, I know. Best case, more than seventy days. Worst case, up to four months, depending on the logistics of where the JumpShips start and which JumpShips are available. There is nothing I can do about that, and I suspect that in seventy days we will have won or lost this war. But at least they will be able to relieve us, and help us reinforce our position here." She looked Trenton in the eye. "Nothing about our situation here is ideal. I am simply making the best of a bad situation."

  "I see."

  "I doubt you do. But you will soon enough. Now, I am going up to the executive gallery to commandeer a computer terminal. I have a very important speech to write. Whether I like it or not, I am about to turn our little branch of the Ghost Bears on its head."

  Just then, Chief Ricco appeared in the doorway, a broad, uncharacteristic smile on his face. "We got him!"

  "Got who? Bannson's man?"

  "No! The saboteur. The one who interfered with our radar. Bec
ause the three radars were separated by so much distance, we thought it had to be multiple agents working in cooperation. But that turned out to be our clue. Only one Vegan traveled to all three installations during the period when the tampering took place."

  She frowned. This could be very good, or very bad. "How certain are you? How solid is your proof?"

  "Once we knew when and where to look, it was easy to establish proof. We have two sets of surveillance recordings showing him committing the crime. The recording at the third installation is less conclusive, but it still puts him in the right place at the right time. Even by the lenient standards of Inner Sphere justice, the case is a lock."

  "Good enough, then. Arrange for an execution tomorrow at dawn. A firing squad. We will figure out the legalities later."

  Ricco looked shocked. "You want this kept quiet?"

  "On the contrary, alert the media. I want this to be completely public. And contact the First Vega Regulars and see if anyone wants to volunteer for the firing squad. I bet you get a few takers. This man is responsible for nearly killing their commander."

  Ricco's eyes were wide. "Yes. sir."

  "There may be people out there who think the enemy of their enemy is their friend, and who think we are their enemy. They may think acting as agents for the Draconis Combine is some kind of game. We need to show them that it is not. It is treason against Vega, and that is something we will not tolerate!"

  * * *

  Conner Hall felt uncomfortable in the civilian clothing that Reuben had insisted they wear. They'd obtained the clothing at the sole surviving unit in a bombed-out apartment building located just outside the base.

  This place apparently served as a kind of way station. There had been stacks of men's and women's clothing in various sizes, and he had seen a number of technician and laborer uniforms hanging in a closet. He'd refused to leave his own uniform and had found a stained backpack in one of the piles that he could carry it in, despite Reuben's objections.

  "These aren't good areas we're going into, and a lone Clansman is a target for gangs. If anyone confronts us and you have to talk, try to use contractions and not be awkward about it."