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  THE WRATH OF THE BANSHEE

  Rose bracketed the Marauder with the Shigunga missile launcher and fired again. He also triggered the medium pulse lasers, but at this extreme range, only two of the four scored hits. He knew it was too little, too late. Moving to the side, he saw the Banshee emerge from the trees and approach the Marauder. Rose knew he was finished, but something screamed at him to keep moving. He checked the scanner and saw that Rianna was still too far away for a shot.

  The Marauder was bringing up both arms and the Banshee was raising its right. Rose kept moving, but knew there was little chance either of the pilots would miss. The Shigunga was still in the midst of reload. By the time his missiles and lasers were ready to fire again, Rose wouldn't be around to press the trigger. As he took one final look out the cockpit, the Banshee aimed its arm and fired.

  BATTLETECH

  LE 5245

  MAIN EVENT

  James D. Long

  ROC

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,

  London W8 5TZ, England

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

  Victoria, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2 Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

  Published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

  First Roc Printing, May, 1993 10 987654321

  Series Editor: Donna Ippolito Cover: Boris Vallejo Interior illustrations: Terry Pavlet Mechanical drawings: FASA Art Staff

  Copyright e FASA, 1993 All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  BATTLETECH, FASA, and the distinctive BATTLETECH and FASA logos are trademarks of the FASA Corporation, 1026 W. Van Buren, Chicago, Illinois, 60507.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN BOOKS USA INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

  Prologue

  It is the year 3054. Mankind inhabits the stars, but has taken his warlike nature with him. The thousands of human-occupied worlds of the Inner Sphere were once bound together in a glorious, prosperous Star League. With the fall of the League in 2781, a Dark Age descended as each of the five surviving star empires warred for dominion.

  For almost three centuries, the five Successor Lords fought among themselves in the endless conflict that became known as the Succession Wars. Millions died and a few worlds changed hands, but for all the fighting and dying, little changed until 3049, when the Inner Sphere met the Clan juggernaut.

  With their superior war machines and superhuman infantry, these warrior descendants of the legendary Aleksandr Kerensky's vanished Star League Army came to reclaim the Inner Sphere. For three years, the Clans were unstoppable, until the Com Guards battled and bested them on the world of Tukayyid. Their victory bought the Successor States a fifteen-year truce, paid for by countless lives.

  The Truce of Tukayyid has held for two years, but simmering hatred on both sides threatens to tear it asunder. Rival Clans raid each other's holdings, fanning the flames of civil war. Once more, the Inner Sphere trembles on the edge of apocalypse.

  This time, no one may survive.

  Part 1

  1

  Tara, Northwind

  23 April 3054

  As the hatchway of the Bristol began to open outward, a cool breeze and a host of fresh scents rushed into the cramped interior of the DropShip. Shuffling from one foot to the other, the passenger nearest the door waited impatiently for the opening hatch to meet the rising gangway. The moment the two connected, the man bounded through the hatchway and down the steps. Elsewhere on the ship other hatches began to open as spaceport workers began bringing in the trucks and cranes they would use to unload the huge DropShip.

  Jeremiah Rose stopped to draw in a deep breath. The dawn breezes on Northwind had a scent all their own, one he had never forgotten in all the years away from his homeworld. The real thing was far better than any memory, but he had no time to tarry. Moving quickly Rose headed toward the customs building where his gear must first pass inspection before he would be free to enter the streets of Tara, capital of the planet.

  Muscling his twin bags with practiced ease, Rose stepped lightly between and around the port workers as they hurried to and fro with their burdens. He trotted across the slightly damp tarmac and shouldered his way through the main entry. Startled custom agents in their regulation Stewart tartans stared at Rose as he pushed the unexpectedly light door open with a crash. Across the room a small man with service bars up his entire left arm turned to stare at Rose, while all around him the junior custom agents tried, and failed, not to show their amusement.

  The hawk-faced old man, obviously the senior member of the staff on duty, motioned Rose toward his table with an evil leer. Rose had seen and worked with this petty-minded type before. King of this one shrall room, he was going to make sure Rose knew it. Rose's clumsy entrance had embarrassed him and now Rose would have to pay. All thoughts of a quick and easy entry into the city vanished as the man moved with deliberate slowness to examine Rose's belongings. For what seemed an eternity, he poked and prodded through Rose's cases, none of which contained anything unusual or even vaguely suspicious.

  Rose was born and bred a warrior and his clothes reflected it. The warrior life was his heritage and, until recently, it had been his occupation. Returning to his homeworld, he believed it would be again. Like most soldiers, he traveled light. The three flight suits in the first case were identical to the one he wore. His single set of dress clothes was piled in a heap after the senior agent's search, but the mistreatment did not bother Rose at all. The clothes had been stored during the entire trip from Terra and they would continue to be packed away, in their current disarray, after the agent was finished. Shaving kit, underwear, socks, belts, and boots received the same treatment, winding up in the same tangled pile. Thirty minutes later the man moved to the second case. Around him the room filled with the passengers Rose had earlier outdistanced.

  "So much for the first one, son. Now, what's in the second case?" The agent lifted the bag on end and attempted to work the double latches. Despite his best efforts, the case refused to open even though it was apparently unlocked. Rose smiled as the man looked up at him.

  "Allow me." Rose set the case on its bottom and pushed open the two latches with his thumbs. Spinning the case around, he stepped back slightly. "It's keyed to open only on my thumbprints." The agent shot Rose an evil look. "Sorry," he added quickly.

  Lifting the top of the custom case, the agent could not contain his surprise to see a single laser pistol with three energy clips. Without looking at Rose, the agent lifted the pistol out of the case.

  "Fancy weapon you've got yourself, son. It's a little over-balan
ced, though."

  Rose shrugged. The weapon was his remaining pride and joy. Custom-made for his large hands and long arms, it had more range and penetrating power than any laser pistol he had ever seen. It fired more like a rifle with a short grip.

  "Why do you need a pistol like this?"

  "I didn't know pistols were forbidden on Northwind," Rose said levelly.

  "They're not. Not unless you look like trouble or have a criminal record."

  "I assure you I am neither." Rose held out his open palms, smiling slightly. The agent seemed unconvinced.

  "This is a MechWarrior's weapon, though I don't recognize the brand. You fancy yourself a Mech Warrior?"

  Yes, Rose was a Mech Warrior, but one without a 'Mech, which put him among the ranks of the dispossessed. The agent's remark hit too close to home and he glared back at the small man.

  "So you're a 'Mech jock." The man replaced the weapon in the case and closed the lid. "Let's see some papers."

  Even in this modern age of computers and microprocessors, most people preferred to have the titles to their lands and valuable property on paper or on plastic. There was something solid about looking at the signatures and knowing the property was yours. In addition to the electronic back-up, many people liked to personally carry the legal titles to their property when relocating.

  The customs agent was expecting Rose to show him the title to the 'Mech he assumed was on the DropShip. Rose reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and tossed some papers onto the gun case. The agent picked them up and quickly read through them.

  "No 'Mech?"

  Rose shook his head, unwilling to utter the words aloud.

  "Dispossessed." The man's voice rose above the noise of the crowd. Heads turned, all eyes on Rose, who stood frozen. Had he been facing the crowd, he would have seen the mixture of pity, amusement, and scorn that rippled through the crowd. A Mech Warrior was a member of the elite fighting force that controlled the balance of power in the Inner Sphere. He enjoyed an elevated position in society, just as the knights of the Middle Ages were elevated above the people they protected. To lose one's BattleMech was the height of shame for a member of this warrior elite.

  Behind him Rose heard the crowd murmur and knew that people were pointing. He regarded the customs agent with silent intensity. Though publicly shamed, the insult did not register on his face. The agent smiled and tossed the papers back to him.

  "Welcome to Northwind and Tara, son. Enjoy your stay." Keeping his eyes on Rose, the man pushed the two cases down the short ramp and out of his way. "Next."

  Rose sidestepped to the end of the ramp and rearranged his belongings into a loose order, then closed the case. Without looking back he walked down the short corridor and into the main terminal of the spaceport. Crowds of people milled near the doors, waiting for loved ones to finish with the customs procedures.

  Pushing through the crowd Rose crossed to the far side of the huge room. Having been away for so long, he was not used to the clash of colors that was the cornerstone of Highlander apparel. Tartans of every shade swirled about him, some traditional and easily recognizable, others unfamiliar. As always, however, he also felt the unmistakable undercurrent of Northwind: the joy of living.

  Of all the people and places Rose had seen, none could match the vigor of the Highlanders when it came to enjoying life. They seemed to relish everything it had to offer, the good with the bad. Ever since the Highlanders' return to Northwind when Rose was just a small boy, they had discovered new enthusiasm for old work. Twenty-five years had gone by and it was still the same.

  Rose paused near the main doors of the terminal and drank in the mood of the spaceport. "Opening the soul," his mentor would have called it. Rose looked around once more at the scene, then went out through the heavy doors.

  A long line of cars stood waiting in the circle drive just outside the terminal building. Approaching the first in line, Rose opened the rear door. The driver hopped off the hood and slid into the driver's seat just as Rose was closing the door behind him.

  "The Fort, please."

  The driver glanced over his shoulder and gave Rose a look of obvious confusion. When the man made no move to put the vehicle in motion, Rose returned the look.

  "The Fort," he repeated. "I'm not some stupid tourist or dumb mercenary. Take me to the Fort, now."

  Cowed by Rose's forcefulness, the driver faced front again and eased the car into traffic. Rose was grateful to be left alone with his thoughts during the brief trip to the Highlanders' Assembly Hall of Clan Elders, the chief government building on Tara. Set exactly in the center of the city, it was flanked by attendant buildings that supported the work that went on in the central building's hallowed halls. It had been called The Fort ever since the Highlanders had come back to Northwind in 3028. In that year the Highlander Clan elders had reached an agreement with the Federated Commonwealth in which the Northwind Highlanders renounced their allegiance to House Liao in return for being allowed to garrison their homeworld as part of the armed forces of the Federated Commonwealth.

  The returning elders had declared that they would defend Northwind from the fortress of these walls against any and all who threatened. From the little Rose could remember, the speech had been a passionate one, but politics had mostly gone over his seven-year-old head.

  Rose knew that the Highlander elders were meeting in full session today. The yearly event was a gathering of the elders of Tara and all the chiefs from the outlying provinces. When in session the High Assembly served as the main Highlander governing body.

  The Assembly decided matters of planetary importance and considered proposals that would affect all the Highlanders and Northwind. Although powerful, the High Assembly was actually in session for only two to three weeks each year because most governmental matters could be handled and decided by the sub-assemblies that met year-round. Each sub-assembly was responsible for one aspect of Highlander life. The arts, science, medicine, education, and warfare, as well as dozens of other issues, were all directed by an individual governing assembly. The largest, and most prestigious, was the Assembly of Warriors, which controlled all aspects of the Highlanders' military. Composed of exactly one hundred proven Highlander soldiers, the Assembly of Warriors was the first to meet at High Assembly and the last to leave. In all ways the group was the cornerstone of Northwind.

  The cab pulled up next to the curb, and Rose stepped out. He slid a fifty G-bill note through the driver's window and started up the stairs without waiting for the change.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he only slowed his pace upon reaching the courtyard. The court marked the entry way into The Fort and protocol must be observed. Undue haste was definitely not seemly.

  Silently sliding doors parted as Rose neared the entrance. He proceeded through into the foyer, heading straight for the main desk. Flanking the wooden desk were ceremonial guards, silent and steely-eyed. Ignoring them Rose spoke to the small woman behind the desk. Everyone who entered The Fort was required to register with the desk, but traffic was unusually light this early in the morning. Normally Rose would have had a long wait, but it looked as though he'd beaten the rush.

  "Rose, Jeremiah. I'm here to speak before the Assembly of Warriors." Rose looked at a point above the woman's head, careful to keep his back straight and his eyes forward. Out the corner of his eye he could see the eyes of one of the guards reacting to his unexpected statement, but like Rose he kept his body perfectly still and his head straight.

  "You are expected. The Assembly has already begun. You will wait until summoned," she said sternly.

  "I have just arrived on Northwind and could not deposit my belongings." Rose stopped, knowing the simple statement would be enough. Within seconds a boy appeared with a plastic token. Rose handed him the bags, took the token in return, then went to the row of elevators lining the wall. Pressing the third button, he waited until one set of doors opened.

  Once in the car he was again forced to w
ait until the car's automatic sensors decided that he was clear of the door and that no other passengers were entering. Then the doors closed with a soft whoosh and the car began to rise.

  Rose glanced at his chronometer, recently adjusted for Northwind's current time, and waited. Seconds later the car stopped smoothly at the third floor, the doors sliding open with the same soft whoosh.

  The corridor before him was bare and silent. Twin guards flanked the doors to his left, the only ones on the floor. Behind the massive oak frames he could just hear the sounds of the Assembly. Though the guards did not turn to look at him, Rose knew they could see him perfectly.

  Quietly, he stepped off the elevator and went to sit on the single bench across from the Assembly Hall door. What had started six months ago with a request to speak before the Assembly of Warriors was finally coming to fruition. His numerous requests had initially received a poor response, but with persistence he had finally managed to win a place on the agenda. After almost three months aboard ship, he finally arrived by JumpShip at the nadir jump point for Northwind. The trip insystem had been aboard the DropShip Bristol.

  Since that time Rose had been in daily communication with the office of the Assembly secretary. He had always known protocol was important, but he'd never realized how little he knew about it until the secretary uplinked a two-hundred-page document on the subject. If he was to speak successfully, Rose was expected to know, by heart, the procedures described on those pages and to behave accordingly. He'd studied them long and hard, enough that his confidence was high. Sitting on the solitary bench outside the Assembly of Warriors, he waited with high hopes.

  Nine hours later he was still waiting, his confidence a shadow of its former self. The doors had opened several times during the day and the guards had been replaced twice, but Rose's name was not called. Soon the session would end for the day. Forcing himself to remain calm, he looked up slowly as the doors opened once more. Voices spilled into the hallway as a special guard stepped into the hall.