Running barefoot, Diana quickly made her way from the edge of the forest to the helicopter. She always went shoeless any time there was a need to run. Dressed in the shorts and cooling vest that were standard cockpit garb for a 'Mech pilot, she could feel the cold night air raising goose bumps on her bare arms.
Reaching the helicopter, she went up to the hatch and knocked lightly. It opened immediately to reveal the face of the Comstar adept within. "I saw you coming," he said.
"One bad mark for me. I hope those vermin in the city did not spot me as well."
"Why didn't you radio ahead?"
"We were not sure if the rebels were monitoring transmissions. I plan to enter Vreeport, and I do not want to run into any welcoming committees."
She explained to the adept that Aidan Pryde and Melanie Truit had been taken hostage inside Vreeport. The man immediately volunteered to do anything to help rescue the Demi-Precentor, impressing Diana with his loyalty.
"What do you need?" he asked. "A weapon heavier than this pistol. What have you got?"
Without another word, the adept went to a storage bin at the rear of the craft. He pulled out a submachine gun and handed it to Diana. "You can have this," he said.
Diana sneered at the weapon. "Is that the best you have?"
"I'm a ComStar helicopter pilot, not a member of the Com Guards. Besides, that submachine gun could be very useful. It has great range for a small-bore weapon. If your aim is good, what difference does it make whether a weapon is low caliber, right?"
"Aff."
Rummaging further into the locker, he pulled out a sheathed knife.
He held it up triumphantly. "And here's a survival knife. Never been used. Should also be useful in there. You going in by yourself?"
"By myself."
"You have my admiration, beauty."
"Do not call me that."
Her voice was low and menacing, and the tech got the point. She hated the man for his impertinent Inner Sphere manner, but she suppressed her rage, knowing she needed his help.
"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to scorch your armor. But you're quite a looker, you know."
"My looks are of no importance," Diana said irritably. "I am going to enter Vreeport by that hole in the city wall. Can you create a diversion for me?"
"Glad to. I'll make a flyby, then come back here. That should grab their attention. You can hide in that small clump of bushes just outside until I've passed over the city walls."
"Right." She moved toward the spot he indicated, then settled down among the shrubs while the helicopter revved up, rose, and then soared low over the city wall.
She was up and running as soon as it disappeared. At the wall she pressed herself against the area just alongside the hole, listening for movement on the other side. Then she glanced quickly through the gap in the wall, the next moment diving through. Coming out the other side, she somersaulted and came up with the knife ready in her left hand. But there was no one near. Diana ran for the shadows of the nearest building, stopping for a moment under an overhang, listening to the sound of the helicopter going away from her. She could also hear a commotion, the sound of angry shouts, no doubt directed at the aircraft.
* * *
Aidan wanted to wave the helicopter away. Who had authorized such a foolhardy maneuver? These rebels were already so wound up that they might commit any kind of violence, including blowing up the AgroMech in a mass suicide. Indeed, Jared Mahoney was running around like an animal whose head had just been chopped off as he tried to rally some response from his astonished cohorts.
Finally, the rebel leader grabbed a pulse laser rifle from one of his supporters and aimed it skyward, firing wildly. His reckless act inspired others, and soon many of them were shooting at the aircraft.
What fools they were, thought Aidan. Did they not see how easily their fire could hit the wrong target and create a chain reaction that would destroy all of Vreeport?
Most of the shots went wild, until one hit the side of the helicopter, loosing tongues of flame from the side of the aircraft. As the copter began to go out of control, spinning first to the right, then to the left, it looked as though it would come down right in the middle of the town square, directly on top of the AgroMech.
Aidan held his breath as he watched the pilot regain control of the helicopter, which now hovered shakily in the sky over Vreeport. The pilot's attempts to control his craft were only partially successful, however. The next moment it began to slide downward toward the square.
Aidan braced for the expected crash, but somehow the pilot lifted just enough to clear a building on one side of the square. The helicopter continued onward, dipping a bit, then rose and leveled off. The pilot must have used up the last of either his luck or his skill, however, for the craft crashed to the ground just after clearing the city walls. The explosion sent up a flame that rose above the treetops of the forest, then disappeared.
Aidan stared at the wall, then at the bodies of Astech Trion and Melanie Truit, lying nearby but covered now with blankets. He wondered how many more would die.
Perhaps all, he thought, perhaps all.
* * *
Diana did not see the crash, but she heard it and the gunfire that preceded it. She did not have time to speculate on the crash or the death of the ComStar adept who had helped her, because she saw, in a building across the way, one of the rebels. The man was so amazed at her presence that he forgot to raise the automatic weapon held casually at his side. That moment of hesitation let
Diana draw her own submachine gun and burn a scorching hole between the man's eyes.
When she was sure he was dead, she stripped him of his tunic and loose trousers, slipping them over her shorts and vest. Then she went searching for the mob itself, the man's automatic weapon replacing the submachine gun in her arsenal.
14
"All right, Pryde, what is this offer you wish to make?" Jared Mahoney said, speaking loudly, making a play for audience attention.
"You and I, Mahoney, on a field of battle. I will grant you warrior status and the right to choose both weapons and the site. The winner will decide all issues. I win, you and your mob give up. You win, I find a way to stop the claiming of your people as bondsmen.
Jared Mahoney stared at Aidan for a long moment, then laughed harshly. "I have heard about your Clan battles. What is it you call them? Trials? And what you said to me, was that your bid?"
"Not exactly. But close enough, I suppose. For these circumstances, at least."
"And I have also heard that such bidding does not consist of idle challenges. It is based on strategy, the attempt to achieve the best possible results with a low bid of personnel and weaponry. If I understand the process correctly, it is strategic for the bidder to make his bid from a presumed stance of victory. And I submit to you, Pryde, that that is what you are doing. You make the challenge sound even, knowing that you, as a trained warrior, have advantages that I, as a barely trained militiaman, could not match. Don't speak to me of an even match between us. It cannot be."
Aidan nodded. The man was right. The bid was not legitimate. It was against warrior custom to make the kind of bid that Jared Mahoney suggested, one that would allow for differences between true warriors and hastily trained rabble.
"Sit down, Pryde."
"I wish to stand."
Jared Mahoney pushed Aidan roughly, with unexpected strength, back into the chair. Then, surprisingly, the man sat down in the other one, the chair so recently occupied by the ComStar Demi-Precentor.
"I have lived all my life on Quarell," he said suddenly. He looked away from Aidan, obviously not expecting a response. "The Free Rasalhague Republic never considered this world to be of much value, even though the reason for its underdevelopment is the years, centuries, of war. But we who live here like it that way. We like living in what is considered a frontier existence. We know of the luxuries available on so-called civilized worlds, but they do not interest us. Hell, we would not even use Agro-Mechs if it were not necessary. We like getting out into the fields and working with our hands.