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Chapter Six


Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157


The corridor stank; effluent had bled from ruptured pipes and found its own way out. McVay led his team through the stinking mess; Lupus and Frakman half-carried the bound Technician by his elbows. Barnes assumed the Cadet had a plan, so he meekly followed along, eyes scanning for unknown dangers ahead.

“This way,” McVay said, leading his group up a flight of stairs, “it’s the long way round, but lifts are out of our resource list, for now anyway.”

“Where are we going...Sir?” asked Lupus, ignoring Barnes’ cautioning glance.

“The brig first,” commented McVay as he cracked open an unmarked door, “and then the armoury.”

Lupus grunted as though he understood the plan; he was a simple man who needed nothing more than reassurance. Cadet McVay had a plan, and that would do for now.

It took them a short while to ascend two levels, but finally they reached their objective. Weapons were checked and the Technician restrained; he was bound to the stair rail by Lupus, whose less than veiled threats seemed to have an immediate effect on the man. Once finished, he joined his comrades where they huddled around McVay.

“Just a few rules,” said the Cadet quietly, “no-one fires until I say so. Our intention is to free whichever of the crew decided not to join up with Sheehan’s traitorous fellows. Information I received, prior to joining this ship, would suggest that we will find a number of our shipmates ready to join us. And no, before you ask, I am not going to tell you where I got the information.”

Barnes’ jaw snapped shut amid restrained laughter.

“Secondly, there can be no survivors. Our presence must remain a secret for as long as humanly possible. That means Frakman, that you and your toy will be busy, both during the fight and after.”

The rat-faced man grinned evilly and fingered the sharp point of his shiv.

“Barnes? You will wait here with everyone but Frakman and I, until you hear the signal. Then come out ready to kill.”

“What signal, Sir?” asked Barnes, sure that they had never discussed it.

“Oh, don’t worry,” McVay said with a wry smile, “you’ll know it when you hear it.”

“Now remember,” he continued in a more serious tone, “we will get only one chance at carrying this out. You have all shown yourself to be capable, as well as the most nasty, mother-frakkers it has been my pleasure to meet. Just the sort of qualities I like and the Dark Falcons need. Do me proud!”

They would have cheered, but all knew the deadly nature of their task. Instead they grinned, slapped hands, or just nodded in agreement. There was an avid greed in their eyes as Frakman followed McVay into the corridor. They were ready.

Good stuff, keep it coming.

Your wish is my command...

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157

McVay eased himself back behind cover; two guards stood in front of the entrance to the brig, although relaxed, they looked alert. This needed to be done quickly, but with as little noise as possible. Seamus smiled; if only his brother could see him now. Euan was still on Winfield and knew little of the double life led by Seamus. He was a stolid man, a farmer who had also looked down on his little brother. It had never entered the older McVay’s head to leave their holding, he saw responsibility at every turn and was passing that same stolid view of life on to his own children. Seamus could only hope that Euan’s non-combativeness and live and let live attitude would protect him from Sheehan’s more rapacious forces.

A sound drew Seamus back to his observations; one of the guards had laid his rifle up against the wall and was ambling inside the doorway.

McVay grinned; it seemed as though their luck held. He waited just long enough for the guard to disappear and then turned the corner in full sight marching purposefully towards the remaining soldier.

“You!” he snapped, bringing the man to attention in response to the authority in his tone, “what do you think you are doing?”

There was a puzzled look on the guard’s face, but it changed to chagrin as Seamus’ finger stabbed towards the abandoned rifle.

“It’s just that...”

The Cadet was close now and the man realised that something was wrong. Call it instinct, or lack of recognition. Whatever it was, it meant death.

A sharp movement of his left hand slapped the muzzle of the rifle away, rigid fingers stabbed deep into stomach muscles and a knee cracked upwards. Seamus grinned; he must remember to tell whoever was in charge that his men needed retraining, or at least reminding that they were at war. Not today though, he was busy.

His low whistle brought Frakman scurrying out from his hiding place.

McVay offered him one of the rifles but the evil little man only smiled and kissed the blade of the weapon he already held in his hand. As Seamus slipped into the room beyond he heard a wet thump and realised that his sidekick was making sure that no threat was left to the rear. Seamus wiped the image from his mind and continued stealthily forward, drawing two knives from his belt. It was repugnant, but correct. Many other lives depended upon their professionalism.

Frakman zipped past him as they crossed in front of a side door, his blade thrusting quickly into the second guard’s body; the man had emerged, two steaming cups of liquid in his hands. With a crash they hit the floor and there was no time for remonstrating as the rest of the guards boiled forth like an angry storm of bees, knocking Frakman aside in the process.

There were four of them more angry than prepared; none carried his rifle. One ducked back inside the door and another tried to make a bolt for the open corridor. McVay hefted and threw one of his knives; the silvered metal flashing as it sank into the man’s throat. One down.

Frakman jumped into the room leaving McVay with the other two. The Cadet grinned at the little man’s confidence and his apparent happiness unnerved the first of his two opponents. His glance to his partner was all the distraction that McVay needed, his second blade sinking into the man’s right eye. This left one.

He was a big man, with a jagged scar running from above his left eye to his jawline. Instead of speaking he merely nodded, drawing a combat knife. The wicked looking blade went well with his demeanour.

“I do not have time,” said Seamus, half-turning away.

Instantly his opponent struck, but McVay was already moving. He continued his turn, his back kick delivered with all of his whipped momentum. The heel of his right boot slammed into the onrushing man’s side with a clear cracking sound. Seamus followed his strike with a second kick; this time the ball of his foot impacting onto the man’s temple as it whipped forward, crushing bone. There was no need for the third blow as the body crashed to the floor, bouncing once before coming to rest.

Frakman whistled in appreciation from the doorway, sipping from a steaming cup of liquid held in his hand.

Council Chamber Grounds
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157



Mechwarrior Sven Davids checked his equipment; he knew that they would be coming. He grinned to himself at the thought of how close he had been to ending his father’s life. The loremaster was all for rules, but in the case of Sven’s mother, he had made an exception. She had spoken little of the details of their relationship; he had never been recognised by his absent father and the only thing of him he really carried, was his name. That and the hatred he bore for the man.

His attack on the Council Chamber itself had not been, in the first instance, driven out of loyalty to the Dark Falcons, rather it had been an opportunity for payback. He had gravitated towards the groups which spoke openly against the Khan and his father, laughing with them at the coincidence of his name. Something of their resistance had rubbed off on him, but whatever the reason, he now needed to get out of here.

At last he had everything and began to move away, steering in a general direction which took him in the opposite direction to the Council Chamber. First of all he had to survive, then he could decide what to do next.
A sudden autorifle burst which shredded the leaves above his head, sent him scrambling for cover whilst he tried to pull his needler pistol free. Another series of shots from his left told him that he was being flanked. Sporadic fire held him pinned behind the trunk of a large tree, spitting bark fragments in his face every time he risked a look. They wanted him alive, of that he was sure.

He was thinking of how he was going to get out of this, when a boot crunched into his back. The pistol flew from his grasp as pain spasmed his body. Another kick took him in the ribs and lifted him from the floor. A boot mashed his fingers into the ground and he cried out.

“That is right, traitor,” growled a harsh voice, “scream, it is what you will be doing for a while...”

“I think not...” this was a new voice; cold and frightening in its certainty.

A pistol spat, whickering as its charge flashed out. Something wet splattered over the Mechwarrior and a steady hand gripped the back of his jacket.

“Time to be going, I think,” said Mattlov as he heaved the young man to his feet, “this is not over yet, by a long way.”

It was slow; their journey to the Bridge needed to be cautious. They had armed themselves from the Guard Room and Seamus led the way. Curious glances from Vera and the two pilots received no answer, the XO merely following in the Cadet’s wake. There had been a brief conference, the XO merely nodding as the colour drained from his face.None of the others had been party to the conversation, but it was obvious that the XO had been the recipient of some rather strange news.

Barnes, flanked by Lupus and Frakman, stayed close to the Cadet, Lupus with a fixed grin of contentment on his face. Vera tried to speak to the XO, who merely waved her away.

“We are here,” Seamus held up his hand, halting their forward movement, “Frakman with me, Lupus and Barnes behind. The rest of you wait here.”

Vera began to protest, but Lupus shook his head at her insistence and the XO silenced her quickly.

“This needs to be quick,” Seamus said to his companions, “and there will be no prisoners. We have no idea how many of them there are and we need to gain control of the ship. Are you ready?”

On receiving grunts of agreement, Seamus jumped out into the corridor, his arm swinging back as he hurled the first of his knives. It struck cleanly, burying itself up to the hilt into the chest of one of the two men guarding the entrance. He did not wait, following his movement with a dive and colliding with the second man. His momentum crumpled the soldier to the floor and his second knife finished the job.

Frakman was already through the door, vaulting over a control panel his shiv held out in front of him. Lupus and Barnes started firing, short bursts slammed into any who were standing. Ratings were swept aside by the fusillade of fire, too shocked to react. McVay was now in the room and heading for the Captain’s chair. One man was seated and another two close by, they had obviously been discussing their next planned move, but they had no chance of carrying it out.

A silver sphere flashed forward, shattering one man’s temple and then Seamus was among them. His front kick threw the second man back into and over the chair, fouling the pistol which the seated man was attempting to draw. Before he could recover, Frakman appeared, swiping his shiv across the man’s throat in spray of bright red blood.

The moans of injured men reached McVay’s ears, but these were quickly cut short.

“Get this trash out of here,” snapped Seamus, as he checked the communications array, “and invite the XO to join us.”

There was the sound of running feet and the ex-prisoners rushed in, only to stop short in amazement at the carnage.

“What…?” began the XO.

“No time,” said Seamus, rolling the body off the Captain’s chair, “take your place and let’s see what we have here.”

Vera was astonished as the XO meekly obeyed Seamus. There was something going on here. Who was this so-called Cadet?

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157

“I want answers...”

McVay felt the crushing pressure of the Elemental’s huge forearm as it encircled his neck.

“Vera!” snapped the XO, but she was past listening to him. He had demonstrated what she had seen as cowardice and lack of fitness to command, and her breeding had taken over.

“I said...ugh!”

Lupus had appeared quickly, his silence unexpected, as was his attack. The reversed pistol slammed into Vera’s skull once, twice and then a third time, driving her to her knees. Blood streamed from her hairline and Lupus ignored it, stomping her to the floor. Still conscious she recognised the madness in his eyes and watched him twist the pistol round and centre it on her forehead.

“Now, now Lupus,” said McVay calmly, “is that any way to treat a lady?”

Puzzlement was replaced by a sheepish grin and the big man swapped his pistol to his left hand, offering Vera his right. She allowed him to help her to her feet and turned to face McVay.

“I still want to know...” she whispered.

“Of course,” said McVay, motioning Lupus away, “I suppose everyone does. Now though is not the time.” His voice was cold, hard.

“You are a Dark Falcon, and you will obey, or...” and here he grinned, “I will leave you to Lupus’ tender mercies.

"Just so we have no further squabbling, let me give you one piece of information. I outrank you all.”

The erstwhile Cadet did something with his belt buckle, opening a hidden catch and withdrew a thin metal symbol. He held it up high so that they could all see. It was a stylised gold etched claw, the one thing they had never expected.

“Talon,” he said, “by name, and Talon by nature.”

“But the Talon’s are nothing but a story used to scare children...” began Vera, her voice strengthening as she recovered her composure.

“And McVay definitely scares the frak out of me,” said Lupus, patting the Cadet roughly on the shoulder.

“I believe him,” commented the XO, as he punched numbers into his console, “and that should be enough for you.”

Vera stared at him belligerently and then shrugged, “Well at least you have not got us killed yet.”

“True,” replied Seamus, looking at the tactical read out to his left, “but that could all change...”

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157

“You wanted a job?” McVay spoke directly to Vera, “Well here it is. I need you to take charge of the cleaning of this vessel. Not all of the Ratings will be untrustworthy, merely confused, and they need to be enlightened. How many people do you need?”
Vera looked as though she was ready to challenge him, staring into his unflinching eyes. She was the first to break contact, an acceptance, if only miniscule, of his dominance.
“That depends on how clean you want the ship...”
“Spotless,” replied Seamus with a grin, “and if any of the crew does not sparkle after this spring clean, they should be sent to join the rest of their brethren...”
Seamus looked fixedly at the bloody corpse being dragged from behind the Captain’s chair.
“Understood...Sir,” acknowledged Vera.
“Good,” McVay indicated she joined him by the tactical screen, “you can see from the read out here that we have a situation.”
The screen showed three large concentrations of red dots and one smaller in blue.
“This,” Seamus indicated the blue, “is us. The rest are the enemy, or at least those in need of our own peculiar brand of re-education. It seems that they are concentrated in the Landing Bay, Engine Room and Sleeping Quarters. I want you to deal with the Engine Room as a priority. Take Lupus with you.”
For a moment it looked as though she would argue, but instead she smiled for the first time, “Do you not think that Lupus and I will be enough, without putting anyone else at risk?”
“Probably,” returned Seamus, “but take a couple of the others with you, just to keep things in line.”
“It’s my animal magnetism,” Lupus whispered to Frakman, “she can’t resist me...”
Frakman saw Vera’s shoulders hunch. She had heard Lupus’ comments, which was not surprising, as Lupus’ idea of a whisper was tantamount to shout. He was glad that he was not going with him, fireworks there would be, of that he was sure.

Mattlov Estate
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157

It had taken a couple of hours of hard walking to reach the outskirts of the estate. Sven was impressed. Although not huge by the standard of many within the Council, Mattlov’s property was well laid out and defended. The main house sat on a raised hill, its walled gardens now lit with roving search lights. There were three concentric series of barriers in place, the last obviously hastily raised by whoever was in charge. Razor wire and metallic spikes faced outwards from the latest edition, with two winding entrances left clear. These were manned by what appeared to be a mixture of Infantry and automated emplacements.
Inside the first barrier, the distinctive tread of Battlemechs could be heard, and Sven watched as a Mad Dog hove into view. It stopped almost directly opposite them, activating a search light mounted on its shoulder, which pierced the darkness and threw their hiding place into bright relief.
“Identify yourselves!” boomed the enhanced voice, “This is your first and only warning!”
Mattlov stirred and marched out to where he could more easily be seen, “I take it you got my signal then?” he asked, a genuine smile on his face for the first time.”
“That we did, Sir,” the relief in the voice was clearly audible, “we only hoped that you would be able to find your way here. Your orders were specific.”
“Indeed,” replied Mattlov, “I have brought a few friends with me, Elementals and another Mechwarrior.”
“They are welcome, and I would suggest you make haste to join us inside...”
“Trouble?” asked Mattlov starting towards the first barrier.
“Lots of it,” replied the Mechwarrior, moving her machine back into the shadows, “and approaching rapidly.”



Mattlov Estate
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 05th July 3157

“What do we have?”

Mattlov had immediately taken command once they had reached the Command Centre laid out within what had once been the dining room. Hastily run cables snaked across the floor, terminating in the rear of various consoles.

“Various units seemed to have remained loyal,” commented his aide, Sheana, who had joined them after leaving her Mech, “you can see where the Khan´s forces are being retained.”

Her finger stabbed down on two or three concentrations of blue dots, “Unfortunately, there appears to be more disloyal Falcons then loyal ones,” now her finger traced a line of red moving to encircle the friendly positions.

“How are we positioned to help?”

“Badly, Sir,” she replied pointing towards more red, “these are headed our way.”

Mattlov grunted, “And Williams?”

Sheana grinned, “On his way. I asked him to work on a couple of surprises before he joined us.”

“He will enjoy that,” laughed Mattlov, “I hope you impressed upon him the need not to have too much fun?”

“Very clearly, Sir,” replied Sheana.

“Good. I am on my way to pick up my Mech and then I want all of our people ready. Winfield is about to get entertaining, probably for the first time in a long time, and I do not want to miss the party.”