The Ruins of Power

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Ruins of Power

  A Roc Book / published by arrangement with the author

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2003 WizKids, LLC, by Robert E. Vardeman

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

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  The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

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  ISBN: 0-7865-4154-7

  A ROC BOOK®

  Roc Books first published by The Roc Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ROC and the “R” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

  Electronic edition: August, 2003

  1

  Barren plains 200 km north of Cingulum

  Musasalah, Mirach

  Prefecture IV, The Republic

  3 April 3133

  Twilight clutched at the hopeless world.

  Nothing appeared as it should, and this bothered Austin Ortega. He had been on this range before, but it was different this time. Subtly different. Bloody light leaked from the sky and dribbled across the rocky plains, giving a surreal appearance. Hills in the distance vomited out black tailings as he remembered, but the uneven terrain where he guided his ’Mech showed mining activity at a variance with Mirach’s environment. To Austin’s rear lay vast chasms where surface mining had ripped the planet’s hide until all the tungsten ore had been extracted, with no effort made at mending the scars or closing the entrances to underground shafts. Walking the Centurion BattleMech over the broken field would be easy enough if he avoided the pits.

  Austin had piloted this model before—many times before—and controlled it with expertise unmatched on the planet. But he had no idea what model BattleMech he faced. Not yet.

  It was time to get to work.

  Austin settled his neurohelmet firmly, tipped his head slightly to check balance response in the ’Mech, and felt tiny feedback tingles in his scalp telling him all was well; then he connected the hose from the command couch to his cooling vest. A soft sigh filled the ’Mech cockpit as the liquid coolant began circulating. He went from too hot to too cold in an instant. That would change once he engaged the enemy. A BattleMech generated incredible heat in the cockpit, which heat sinks couldn’t entirely radiate away.

  He positioned his arms on the couch armrests, gripped the joysticks confidently, reveling in the feel of his fingers curling around to rest lightly on firing buttons, testing systems vital to the BattleMech’s operation, making certain that his weapons were ready for action. Austin chewed his lip as he studied the instruments, which relayed data around the periphery of his forward screen. He worried most about the Luxor autocannon in the ’Mech’s right arm, although he saw nothing but green lights across the board. The gun had a tendency to jam at the worst possible time.

  Austin piloted the fifty-ton Centurion with confidence borne of familiarity. It was a medium BattleMech with excellent heat efficiency and good speed and maneuverability, especially suitable for this rocky terrain. He had his LRMs and two lasers, one protecting his vulnerable back, while the forward-aimed Photec laser mounted in his center torso showed only eighty percent charge. Austin worked with growing frustration before he decided he didn’t have time to coax the faulty laser. It would either automatically complete the charging cycle or not. His feet worked the pedals as he unconsciously leaned forward, pushing against the restraining straps in his eagerness to get moving. Myomer muscles stretching down the ’Mech’s legs contracted as he swung about in a full circle for one last operational check.

  All set, Austin thought. He moved the throttle forward a third, and the ’Mech launched into motion, striding over the rugged landscape at twenty kilometers per hour. A quick smile crossed his lips when he saw the forward laser had charged and its indicator registered full.

  The Centurion’s sensors showed infrared, full visual spectrum, and special seismic readouts. With lasers ready and full ranging gear powered up, he sent the Centurion at a forty-kilometer-per-hour trot toward an area he thought afforded decent cover for an ambush.

  As he crunched along the ragged surface, placing his ’Mech feet securely proved increasingly difficult. The ground between the twenty-meter-high mounds of slag was curiously brittle, and more than once, the fifty-ton Centurion broke the surface, its armored feet threatening to plunge into huge tunnels cut to access subterranean veins of ore.

  I need to map both surface and hard-rock mining regions, he thought, loading seismic information gathered automatically into his navigation computer so he wouldn’t make foolish assumptions about the stability of the ground in the heat of battle. Austin worried more now about how familiar—and yet different—the area looked. He dared not assume he really knew every detail of the slag-littered landscape around him. The terrain was revealing more potential for threat than he had anticipated. Austin took a deep breath and tasted the metallic tang of filtered air. He settled down in the couch, feeling it cradle his every contour, as he studied his forward screen, hunting for the opponent he knew so well. Nothing airborne. Clear sky. Austin knew Dale would want to make this fight real, down and dirty, strategy versus strategy on the ground, for a hands-on feel of victory.

  Austin intended to make this his victory.

  Flipping through the green-glowing displays, hunting for a target in his Heads Up Display, gave him a completely different view of the battlefield. His eyes widened a little when he detected radioactive mounds nearby.

  Ore from a pitchblende mine? This was possible but unusual in a tungsten ore field. Austin considered this anomaly for a moment, then cranked up power to his ’Mech’s fusion plant and raced forward. The radioactive area provided a sensor-confusing hiding place for his opponent—just the sort of place Dale would use. It was reckless charging forward blindly, but surprise could carry him through to victory.

  If Dale even lurked at this patch, using its radiation as a shield.

  The Centurion surged forward in a heavy-footed gait devouring the landscape at sixty-five kilometers per hour. Austin worked methodically, using seismic sensors to check the ground for tunnels and weak spots that might hamper his advance. As necessary as it was to focus on his surroundings, Austin’s attention never wavered from the forward and secondary monitors as he sought any hint that Dale lay ahead.

  Austin wasn’t certain what caused him to react. None of his screens showed danger. His index finger curled back on the LRM trigger, and ten missiles launched at a small, shadowy zone to the left of the largest radioactive slag hillock. One rocket went whining away as it creased the side of the mound. Seven blew up a patch of ground, sending cinders sailing high into the air to create a glittering fog in the dusk. The dull red light from Mirach’s distant sun reflected off the dark slag and produced a mist that both glinted like fresh blood and spun like silver confetti, obscuring visuals.

  Austin felt a bit sheepish at wasting the missiles until his sensor alarms blared. Green-glowing, ghost-imaged infrared shimmer on his forward screen revealed heated heavy metal armor. His other two missiles had smashed directly into t
hat spot. Molten metal had joined the slag.

  First hit! He wasted no time gloating about his cleverness in detecting Dale before he had revealed himself. The battle had begun.

  Got you now, Austin thought, pressing his all-out attack. This wasn’t his usual cautious approach, feeling out the situation, gathering intel about his opponent before engaging. Austin wanted this done fast, and changing his trademark tactics would bring him victory.

  His forward 806c laser fired, a deadly amber-colored energy spike hitting its target squarely. Shrapnel flashed upward into the waning crimson rays from the sun, showing that a few hundred kilos of aligned-crystal steel exterior armor had been blown away. Austin gunned the Centurion’s fusion engine to go in for the kill.

  He burst through the shroud of debris kicked up by his opponent and identified Dale’s ’Mech. Dale piloted a fifty-ton Enforcer III armed with a BlazeFire ER Large Laser, a ChisComp 2000 ER Small Laser, and an Imperator Automatic Ultra AC/10 Autocannon. No rockets. The Enforcer rivaled Austin’s ’Mech in class, speed, and maneuverability. They were well matched, but the deciding factor in combat might be the Enforcer’s jump jets.

  Austin had to hammer away at the other BattleMech with his LRMs to keep it from bringing its heavier lasers to bear accurately. Without a stable platform, the inertial guidance and tracking for the lasers degraded. That was the easiest shortcoming to exploit in the Federated Hunter targeting and tracking system.

  He fired another barrage of ten LRMs at the chest of the Enforcer, hoping the shock would further shake up Dale. Armor shattered off in a cascade that made his IR display useless. Austin changed to visual, brought the targeting reticule to the Enforcer, and fired again. He was rewarded with even greater loss of armor. This salvo wouldn’t penetrate the StarGuard CIV armor, but Austin wanted to keep Dale from using his McCloud Special Jump Jets. Using them, Dale could dodge and dart through the slag mounds and turn a toe-to-toe fight into hide-and-seek.

  Austin fired his forward laser again. His heart skipped a beat when red lights winked on across his control panel and new warning alarms sounded. His forward laser wasn’t recharging.

  That worried Austin just enough to cause him to hesitate.

  This wavering allowed the Enforcer to grind about and open up with its BlazeFire laser. Austin involuntarily threw up his arm to protect his face, although the searing blast never reached the cockpit. It did destroy part of his Corean-B Tech targeting and tracking system. He lost fully half his displays in that single attack. A quick status check showed he had also been stripped of a considerable amount of armor on his right leg.

  Austin turned the Centurion about to bring into play undamaged tracking elements. He saw the Enforcer lifting its right arm, saw bright flashes as the autocannon fired, and then staggered when the heavy slugs hammered into his ’Mech. Alarms rang as the depleted-uranium shells ripped away even more of his metallic flesh, leaving part of the metal skeleton exposed on his right leg. He twisted about, lost sight of the Enforcer, then kept pivoting to avoid the punishment from the autocannon and to get the other BattleMech in his sights again. As the Enforcer swung past on his targeting screen, he launched a salvo of LRMs.

  He didn’t have to scan his sketchy readouts to know that he had missed.

  Austin had no choice now. He cut to his left and kicked the Centurion into full speed. Glowing, ionized air all around his ’Mech registered on his instruments, but his outer temperature didn’t surge. Dale was firing and missing.

  Good, Austin thought. Let him waste his energy and ammo.

  The mapping he had done earlier aided him now. Mostly blind to the front because of the damage his sensors had sustained, Austin let the navigation computer guide him back through the hillocks and small mountains of dark slag as he kept a lookout to the rear. He had lost contact with the Enforcer but knew only too well who was hunter and who was prey now. Austin had gained a small edge with his preemptive attack and had lost it through damage and the difference in ’Mech characteristics. The Enforcer, with its jump jets, could get into the attack faster. Worse than this, Dale was more skilled with long-range weaponry. If Austin wanted to bring down Dale’s ’Mech, he had to engage with not only his missiles but also his autocannon and medium laser.

  The coolant vest began to sizzle and hiss around him. Austin noticed it only when he slowed the Centurion and started a complete damage tally. Whether Dale’s laser shot had impaired the cooling system or the Centurion’s system had failed on its own hardly mattered. Heat began building in the cockpit. Fast.

  If he didn’t take out the Enforcer soon, he would roast in his own BattleMech.

  Austin stopped, then bent slightly at the waist to present as small a target as he could. He swiveled about and took in as much as he could with his undamaged peripheral sensors. Although his tracking readout didn’t show it, he knew Dale was on his six. The Enforcer stalked him, waiting for the perfect shot that would disable him. Dale wouldn’t go for the kill. He would humiliate first by immobilizing the Centurion and then coming over to place a heavy metal foot on the toppled carcass while trumpeting his victory on all broadcast frequencies.

  Better to be destroyed than to endure such disgrace.

  Austin’s mind raced. He felt sweat tickling at the edges of his neurohelmet and running down his chest. Panic now and he would lose. Austin had rushed Dale and gained a small advantage earlier. Dale would expect him to go lick his wounds now.

  Austin repeated his earlier audacity. Feet working the pedals, he swung the Centurion around, watching for the Enforcer.

  You expected to catch me from behind, Austin thought when he saw the Enforcer approaching fast. Teeth clenched with determination, Austin fired another decade of missiles directly into the ground in front of Dale, sending up fresh sprays of debris. The curtain of hot cinders twisted crazily in the dying sunlight and worked to dissipate any laser beam coming his way. He didn’t know for certain if Dale was even shooting at him.

  Austin’s chancy tactic worked. The missiles had ripped open a hole in front of the Enforcer, and Dale had blundered into it. Austin checked his earlier mapping and saw that his foe had fallen into a tunnel ten meters underground.

  Which way will you run? he wondered. Austin knew Dale wouldn’t pop back up into another barrage. He would use the tunnel to shift position and return to the surface some distance away before renewing his attack.

  Austin followed the Enforcer’s heavy seismic thumping as it moved to his right. Kicking the Centurion to a ground-devouring stride, Austin gauged distances and fired another salvo ahead of Dale, hoping to collapse the tunnel roof on the Enforcer.

  He kept up his relentless advance even after he saw his LRMs had led Dale too much. A new hole to the surface opened where the missiles exploded, but the rest of the tunnel was blocked. Austin readied his weapons. He would get one perfect shot and no more.

  Jump jets flaring, the Enforcer lifted from the hole. Austin fired with all he had. Missiles crashed into the other ’Mech, but Dale had not been caught unawares. He jumped upward, all weapons blazing.

  As if it were his own arm, Austin screamed when a laser slashed through his ’Mech’s right arm and took off the autocannon, the detonating rounds in the weapon adding to the fiery hell. Worse, his forward laser winked once with its deadly pure-light lance, but the second shot was delivered with diminished power. The forward laser refused to recharge.

  Sensing the weakness in his opponent, Dale came in for the kill. Austin rocked him again with another salvo of rockets, then had even this offense stripped from him by Dale’s accurate laser fire. The launcher erupted, rocking him and destroying most of his torso.

  No autocannon, forward laser damaged, missiles not responding as he tried to launch them—Austin was a sitting duck. His HUD showed the Enforcer advancing, but its lasers fired wildly, most shots going astray. Austin’s fierce attack had damaged the Enforcer’s targeting system but had done nothing to deny Dale of the lasers’ power. It was only a mat
ter of time before one laser blast hit a vulnerable target.

  Austin jerked as a laser blast sawed off his ’Mech’s left arm. Then more of his right vanished in a mist of molten armor. He tried again to fire his torso-mounted laser but produced only tiny sparks as debris in front of him vaporized, hardly enough for Dale to register on his threat assessment readout.

  The Centurion was ready for the scrap heap, but Austin refused to surrender. He spun away as if to run, then slowed, bent over to give a smaller targeting cross section, and waited. Time ticked by, a dozen heartbeats for every second, but he did nothing. Austin tracked the Enforcer’s approach with his still functional rear sensors. Sweat soaked the front of his vest as the cooling system threatened to die completely, although the persistent, sluggish coolant flow gave him hope. Small, faint hope. Austin made certain his rear laser was fully charged.

  By instinct, Austin straightened the Centurion to its full height, no longer trying to present as small a target as possible. In a single huge gulp of information, he took in every detail of the rugged battlefield. Austin fired his rear laser into the Enforcer’s torso. Dale had not expected to find a fighting, firing Centurion when it appeared that Austin was disabled and trying to escape.

  Austin’s vision blurred as the heat in the cockpit blasted upward. He felt as if he had been popped into an oven like a loaf of bread. But he saw the firing assessment show that he had speared the Enforcer dead in the center of the torso and had killed it. He waited to see if Dale ejected. The other pilot stayed with his ’Mech. Austin’s rear laser had destroyed Dale’s emergency pod capability along with the rest of the BattleMech.

  Then the out-of-control Enforcer smashed into the Centurion, knocking both to the ground. Austin fired his rearward laser again as he crashed forward. His control panel flared red when his LRM magazine exploded under him. Everything went black.