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It had happened before, after all. In the original Clan invasion of the I
Noritomo carefully brought up a few of his concerns, dialing back on his personal feelings and simply pointing out how such tactics had backfired on the Jaguars.
“Another time, another place,” was Malvina’s answer. “The Republic is not the entire I
Except for here on Skye, he wanted to remind her but did not. Here on Skye, forces from The Republic and Lyran sympathizers and the Steel Wolves had banded together in just such an alliance. And they were giving the Jade Falcons every bit of fight the Clan could want. Noritomo looked to Beckett Malthus, who stared back without expression.
If the Galaxy commander appointed by Khan Pryde would not gainsay Malvina Hazen, what could Noritomo be expected to do?
Once the box had been opened, the evils released could not be put back inside.
“It is slaughter, not battle,” Noritomo said, trying once again to push Clan tradition back at Malvina.
“It is controlled and deliberate. And it will. Be. Done.”
Noritomo met her gaze, but could not hold it against the fanatic gleam that brightened behind her right eye. The left eye, the dead one, remained cold and impersonal.
“When?” he asked.
“As soon as you can assemble your Cluster,” she said calmly. Noting his surprise, betrayed in the sharp glance he traded with Lysle and with Malthus, Malvina smiled. “This is your surkai, Star Colonel Helmer. You will prove yourself to me, or be discarded once and for all.”
And it would happen regardless. Nothing was going to stand between Malvina Hazen and her perceived destiny. Especially him. Not unless he found some way to raise his standing among the Clan. Damned in either event.
“How is it to be done?” he asked, seeking any reprieve she might allow.
“It matters not to me. Storm through with BattleMechs. Level the area with missiles and lasers. Send Elementals from door to door.” She shrugged her indifference. “I make you responsible for this because without my endorsement you are outcast, and I know you could never abide that. You are honor-bound and, despite your past failures, an excellent warrior who knows when it is time to submit.”
She smiled thinly. “You are Jade Falcon.”
28
Roosevelt Island
Skye
8 December 3134
The three-story building was Cyclops, Incorporated’s administrative headquarters. Its flat rooftop, tiled and decorated in the style of a wide piazza, often hosted outdoor business parties. Today it was being pressed into service for more sober duty.
Tara Campbell had walked its banistered edge earlier, before anyone else arrived, looking over most of Roosevelt Island. The waters of Truxton Sound washed up on the three sides she could see, separating the large island from Skye’s main continent of New Scotland. The fourth side, north of the administrative offices, was hidden behind several larger buildings that Cyclops used to smelt ore, roll armor, and assemble hovercraft APCs and tanks using the components brought in from other factories across Skye.
This site was one of Skye’s premiere military-industrial facilities, which was why it had been chosen.
That, and the fact that Shipil’s Norfolk dockyards had been lost the day before.
“I do not care for this,” Gregory Kelswa-Steiner whispered, not for the first time. “It seems to me we are cutting off our nose to spite our face.”
It was against the northern edge of the rooftop that they now gathered. Tara stood with Duke Gregory and Paladin McKi
She sent a surreptitious shrug back to Tara Bishop. There was no telling what the two discussed, though it was obvious they had history together. Kerensky certainly got around.
Other than those two, who were able to hold themselves apart, the mood was dark and angry as the projection unit finished displaying the devastation visited on New London. The footage was only twenty-four hours old, and still punched Tara deep in the gut. A formation of ’Mechs and vehicles followed a line of Elemental warriors who swept ahead to clear any remaining civilians out of the area marked for destruction. Galaxy Commander Hazen later pointed out the humanitarian efforts Clan Jade Falcon had undertaken, this time, to limit casualties. Tara could tell by her frosty demeanor that she cared little for the civilians. For her, a massive wave of displaced residents flooding nearby cities and towns only added to the pressures mounting behind the defenders to do something quickly in order to save Skye.
No one else spoke as the footage played out. Buildings were razed to the ground. Parks were burned. Homes destroyed. In the end, a trio of BattleMechs came at the New London Tower and tore at its hardened walls until the entire structure finally collapsed under its own weight. It was the first major resource to be completely—and intentionally—destroyed in the Jade Falcon onslaught.
It would not be the last.
“This”—Tara Campbell spoke up, raising her voice to address the captive audience—“this is what we are dealing with. A ruthless invader who acknowledges no boundary between military targets and wartime atrocities. Malvina Hazen would have us thank her for sparing lives– this time! But what of the crew of Gondola Station? The citizens of Chaffee subjected to blistering agents? Belletaria on Kimball II. Nukes over New London! I’m not sure how much of her generosity we can survive.”
She had subtly changed from questioning Malvina’s actions to outright condemnation. Given what she was asking of these people, of this world, she needed all of the moral indignation she could raise.
“We have no body count out of New London. Certainly some are dead, despite any ‘humanitarian efforts’ by the Jade Falcons.
“We know that a significant portion of the city has been leveled. Residences. Offices. Stores and industry. This, in a city we voluntarily evacuated to spare such treatment.
“While we raise the value on every life, resident or citizen, the Clan invaders lower themselves to indiscriminate warfare.”
Her spell over the audience was not quite complete. One newsvid anchorman edged forward. “If The Republic ca
He speared his question right at the lord governor. A Herrma
If Tara was worried about losing the train of her argument, she needn’t have been. Duke Gregory might question the need to match such terror tactics with a hard-nosed response of their own, but he remained a consummate politician.
“I concede no such thing,” Duke Gregory promised. “Skye may be reeling from the attacks on her soil, and before we are done this day it may seem we have entered darker times. But industry can be rebuilt. Cities restored. So long as our people hold true to the ideals of The Republic, they will always be the free people of Skye, and they will never be forgotten or left behind.”