He guessed that the two light ’Mechs headed his way were there to finish the job.
Behind him, he could hear Deena muttering to herself. “Ulysses, I think Deena is praying. You are welcome to join her if you have nothing better to do.”
He was answered with fatigued laughter. Ulysses’ voice was slurred and uneven. “I’m too busy, my Lord, bleeding out into my bruises and trying to put my teeth back into their sockets. Will this hellish ride be over soon?”
“The good news is that one way or the other, it will be.”
Ordinarily the Black Hawk would have been a good match for its opponents, but damaged, lacking missiles or jump jets, and already carrying too much heat, the situation didn’t look good. There was only one thing left to do: Negotiate.
He switched his radio to broadcast on all civilian channels. “This is Duke Aaron Sandoval, Lord Governor of Prefecture IV, on a diplomatic mission. I claim diplomatic immunity. I demand free passage off-planet.”
“Unidentified Black Hawk, this is Spaceport Security One. Duke Sandoval is dead. We don’t know who you are, but we have orders to take you dead or alive. Dead is fine with us.”
Both ’Mechs opened fire, and autocannon shells peeled off a line of armor below the cockpit. Deena’s muttering grew louder.
Time to change strategy.
“This is Duke Aaron Sandoval to any listening ship in port. I am being illegally attacked and detained by the government of New Canton. I offer my eternal gratitude, and five-hundred thousand C-Bills, for aid and safe passage off-planet.”
There was no reply. He hadn’t expected any captain there to have the courage to challenge the local authorities, but it was worth a try. He angled between the converging ’Mechs, hoping they’d have to cease fire for fear of hitting each other.
“I don’t lift for under a million C-Bills.”
“Who said that?” There were half a dozen cargo ships in port, spheroid and aerodyne. It could have been any one of them, or even a trick.
“A man who’s asking a million Cs. Plus expenses.”
A pulse laser cut into the Black Hawk’s arm, uncomfortably close to Paxton’s compartment.
“We can negotiate fair payment as soon as we’re off-planet.”
“You heard my terms. They are fair.”
He sighed. “Done. My honor as Duke. What ship are you?”
“You’ll see,” said the voice.
Abruptly, to his north, Aaron was surprised to see the waist turrets around an egg-shaped Excalibur flash to life, spitting a stream of lasers and missile fire between the Black Hawk and its pursuers. Aaron managed a grim smile. A converted military ship, but not entirely toothless. His would-be savior was full of surprises.
Another voice crackled in Aaron’s earphones. “DropShip Tyrannos Rex, you are in violation of Port Security Protocol One. You are ordered to cease fire and surrender your ship, or face military retaliation.”
There was a scratchy laugh. “With all respect, Control, bite my thrusters.”
Aaron was making the best speed he could toward the waiting Excalibur. The door of what had at least started out as a ’Mech bay was open, boarding ramp extended. They were almost home. He could see the ramp just ahead of them.
The cockpit shook violently, and a ball of fire swallowed the Black Hawk–probably a short-range missile. Red lights flickered all over Aaron’s panels, and the ’Mech’s left leg froze.
In his rear camera, he could see the two security ’Mechs closing in for the kill. Then one of them exploded as a volley of missiles slammed into it. The other was soon covered with glowing stripes as lasers swept over its light armor. It angled away from the big DropShip, seeking cover.
Aaron flinched as he spotted another ’Mech nearly upon them. He realized it was an IndustrialMech, a loader, apparently from the Excalibur–class vessel itself. The little yellow ’Mech swept past him, close enough that he could almost count the gray whiskers on the pilot’s chin, then it disappeared behind him.
Then Aaron realized the ’Mech was towing a cable.
There was a scraping noise, and the LoaderMech came back around the other side. Aaron saw a large hook in the ’Mech’s manipulator hand. The pilot expertly slipped the hook over the cable, forming a loop around the Black Hawk’s waist, yanking it tight with the LoaderMech’s other hand. It turned and charged back up the loading ramp.
“Take slack, then full power till she’s in,” came a voice on the radio. It sounded like the Excalibur captain’s voice again.
The cable shifted, went taut. Then the Black Hawk started to tip over. Using what little control he had left, Aaron shifted the big ’Mech to land on its back. The impact threw him against his harness and slammed his helmet against the side of the command couch. He heard Paxton curse somewhere. Deena was very quiet.
Metal squealed against metal as the powerful cargo winch dragged them up the loading ramp. Despite the agonizing sound, Aaron started to relax.
Then the second security ’Mech came out from behind the ship’s massive landing leg, guns blazing. Aaron watched the armorglass canopy in front of him craze and finally shatter. Something ripped into his chest and made him hurt straight through to his back, where he felt something warm and wet.
His last thought was that he hoped it didn’t get Deena, too.
5
“My grandmother was a huge influence on my life. Health problems kept her bedridden from the time I was ten, but her mind never lost its edge. I would sit by her bed for hours as she told me the most wonderful and amazing stories. She knew the whole glorious history of the Sandovals: every name, every title, every treaty, every conquest, every battle. She taught me what it meant to be one of them—something I’m not sure all of my relatives fully understand.
“When she died, I did not mourn her, because she told me that there was a special place in Heaven for loyal Sandovals—a palace where those true to the family ideals and traditions would rule forever. I’d like to think that if such a place exists, I’ll see her again there someday.”
Excalibur-conversion–class freighter Tyrannos Rex
Outbound from New Canton
Prefecture VI, The Republic
12 October 3134
Before the strokes had left her a bitter cripple, young Aaron Sandoval’s grandmother would receive him at her summer estate on the southern shore of Lake Tikonov. It had been a magical place, with warm beaches for swimming, miles of open coastline he could explore with his little hydrofoil, endless trails through fragrant cedar where the head groundskeeper taught him to bow-hunt deer and wild boar. A place where fresh game and blue potatoes roasted in the massive stone fireplace became the finest meal in the Inner Sphere.
Sometimes when it was late and he couldn’t sleep, or when the storms blew down from the north and filled the lake with foam-flecked whitecaps, he would retire to the mansion’s extensive and little-used library. There, he would dig through the dusty volumes and stacks of data cards so old they only worked in an antique reader that sat on a corner desk.
It was there he had discovered an ancient holovid dating back to Old Terra—no, just a vid actually, since it was only two-dimensional. Parts of it were even curiously lacking in color. It was only a fragment of the original, a few cheerful songs, actors in silly costumes, a few scenes of campy melodrama, yet it had somehow fascinated him, and he’d watched it again and again.