Loren L. Coleman - BattleTech - MechWarrior - Dark Age 12 - Hunters of the Deep

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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 Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com
To Loren and Heather Coleman.
In the bleakest times, a friend’s true colors are revealed. In one of my family’s darkest hours, you
both showed the brilliance within: a hand in aid, a shoulder for comfort, an ear to listen. True
friendship is a rare and precious gift, and in that circle, you are both counted highly.
Thank you.
Acknowledgments
To my first readers, for catching some great stuff: Herb Beas, David McCulloch, Jeff Morgan, Oystein
Tvedten, and especially Jason Hardy.
To Michael Miller, for the help on the spinning DropShips.
To Loren Coleman, who kept tossing additional writing projects at me during this novel and helped to
prove I can do it.
To Jim Long and Janna Silverstein, for going to bat for me when they didn’t need to; I hope the novel is
worth the hassles that may have followed.
To Sharon Mulvihill: eight years and counting; thanks for the friendship and the constant help along the
way in improving my writing.
Finally, to my magnificent wife, Tara, and beautiful children, Bryn Kevin, Ryana Nikol, and Kenyon
Aleksandr: I simply couldn’t write without their love, support and understanding . . . nor, I imagine,
would I want to.
Prologue
Clan Sea Fox CargoShipVoidswimmer
Zenith Jump Point, Berenson System
Prefecture VI, The Republic
19 June 3134
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The data cube fit in the palm of his hand, its sharpedged, angular realness a harsh contrast to the dark
secrets it so jealously guarded.
And the day had dawned with such promise.
“ovKhan.” Petr Kalasa pulled his gaze from the inert object that had swallowed his concentration for
long minutes and watched Jesup enter his command cabin. Petr never locked the door. He set the cube
on the small desktop and leaned back with studied casualness. The creak of his spine betrayed the length
of time he’d been hunched over.
Petr almost commented on the ungainly way Jesup moved into the room, but refrained when he realized
it might shame his aide. If he moved so awkwardly in the magnetic slips that kept him attached to the
deck, then he truly must be in pain. It seemed the man fought innumerable Trials of Grievance; had his
latest trial come close to defeat for Jesup?
“What is your report?” Petr tried to conceal his amusement; Jesup’s burning ears marked his failure.
“The repairs to theBehemoth proceed apace. Senior Technician Pol assured me we will be cleared to
make the jump to the Augustine system within the hour.”
“What caused the breach? We sealed theStarmoth more than three years ago; the other two have been
attached far longer with no deterioration in their seals.”
Petr stood and walked around the left side of the desk. He refused to glance at the cube, but could
almost hear it calling him, a keening siren luring him to return and breathe the flames of life into the
banked coals of its contents.
“Pol has initiated an investigation, and assures me any trials required to challenge shoddy maintenance
will be dealt with. Personally.”
Petr moved with the deliberate grace of one long-accustomed to gravity slips. If he were claustrophobic,
the addition of one more person to the command cabin of theVoidswimmer would have driven him over
the edge of sanity. If that were the case, years of being trapped within the metal skin of a vessel 1,508
meters long, adrift in the unimaginable largeness of the galaxy (not truly adrift, of course—Petr’s mind
held a laser-lock on the hundreds of coordinates constituting the stellar path Delta Aimag would travel in
the next few weeks) would have driven him mad or downside long before now.
“Pol has never lacked in initiative, nor disappointed with performance. I do not doubt by week’s end we
will know what happened.” He shifted slightly, his dark blue one-piece body suit undulating like gentle
water in moonlight.
“Still, it has given me time to think.” He glanced expectantly at his aide, waiting for the usual acerbic
comment, his eyes emerald chips that could cut if he were provoked.
“Beta Aimag?”
“What else?” The man must be seriously hurt if he had abandoned his habitual sarcasm. He must find out
who came so close to defeating Jesup in a Circle of Equals.
“Your obsession with ovKhan Sha Clarke will be the death of you.”
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“Of course it will. But I will kill him first.”
“Kill?” scoffed Jesup.
Petr laughed out loud. “You are right. I have always said death is too good for thesurat . I need only
steal from under Sha the deal that would make him a legend, the deal that would guarantee his place in
The Remembrance. Then my work will be done and I can pass. My genetic material would be judged
superior and used to create a new shiver of Sea Fox.”
Jesup’s laugh echoed down the corridor. “Your humility never ceases to amaze me.”
There is the sarcasm I am used to.Petr pushed away from the wall and stepped back toward the desk.
Still he refused to acknowledge the insidious call of the data cube. “Humility is an invention of the weak
to salve their egos when they fail.”
Jesup held up his hands. “And you, my ovKhan, are anything but weak,quiaff ?”
Silence was the only appropriate answer. Jesup insulted everyone: there were times when Petr believed
his aide insulted those around him for the sole purpose of creating the opportunity to put others in their
place with a pile drive of his bony flesh. One day, Petr himself would call his aide to the Circle and Jesup
would learn thereare limits.
This day, like many days before, would not be that day.
“You understand that he will try to beat us to the prize?”
“He will try, my ovKhan. Sha, like you, is simply trying to do what is best for his Aimag. All for the
greater good of the Clan,quiaff ?”
Petr’s eyes burned with an inner fire. “Neg.You know as well as I that he is a parasite masquerading as
ovKhan of Beta Aimag. Spina Khanate would be well rid of him.”
“Do I?” replied Jesup. “Has he not brought great glory and honor to his Aimag? To Clan Sea Fox?”
“Are you trying to aggravate me? You appear to be in no condition to accept a challenge.” His anger
overwhelmed his decision to allow Jesup his self-respect. Petr would no longer ignore the man’s pain and
the near-defeat it indicated.
Jesup’s eyes widened, yet Petr caught a hint of something more behind his aide’s expression of surprise.
“Far be it from me, ovKhan, to provoke a challenge from your august person. I would be destined to
lose, for have you ever lost a challenge?”
Rage burned in his chest; a vortex of emotions battered his iron control. He choked on the memories
invoked by Jesup’s veiled reference. He took a half step toward Jesup, his hands balled into fists. “I will
accept no such reminders of my failures.” Each failure was etched on his soul as a searing brand to goad
him to greater perfection. Especially one, whose connection to Sha he ignored.
“Reminders of what, magnificent ovKhan? It would seem I cannot even remember how to fight. How
can I remember anything but your glorious victories for our Aimag?”
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Though Petr could almost taste a strange undercurrent to Jesup’s response, the man’s tone of voice, his
shrug and slightly canted head worked their usual magic, pouring water on the heat of his anger, drowning
the flame and leaving only ashes. He permitted a small smile to touch his lips. “One of these days you will
not find the words, and I will relish that moment.”
“ ‘Words spill like solar wind from a star, nearly infinite—theright words, precious commodities to be
hoarded and wielded with laser precision.” ’
“You quote our Clan’s founder to me?” Petr pretended outrage.
“If I become a small footnote next to Karen Nagasawa, I will be honored indeed.”
Petr couldn’t help sink a barb, so rarely did the other man offer such an opening. “More so than by a
Bloodname? How . . . unClanlike.”
Jesup jerked as though kidney-punched, then assumed a contemplative look for several long heartbeats.
“I will take both,quiaff ?”
Petr laughed. “Aff,Jesup. Nowthat is what we need in our Aimag. The determination to seize victory.”
“If that is what we need, ovKhan, then simply challenge him to a trial and remove him. Be done with this
obsession.”
Petr grimaced and waited for the flood of anger. It failed to materialize, allowing the memory of his last
trial against Sha to rise to the surface. He attempted to distract himself from the memory with a glance at
the mysterious data cube, but that further soured his mood. Already he had spent hours trying to pierce
the veil of its central riddle, to no avail. One obsession (to himself he would admit that word) was bad
enough. Two would be intolerable.
“Jesup, such action could have . . . unintended consequences.” He met Jesup’s gaze. “The Khanates’
loyalty to Khan Hawker could be considered weak; some may even question the Aimags’ loyalty to each
Khanate.” Sha’s name echoed loudly, though unspoken.
“And one ovKhan messing in the affairs of another Aimag might cause a cascading effect?” Jesup
finished the thought.
Petr smacked his palm against the desktop, venting his frustration. For the first time in many years,
multiple Aimags worked in close proximity, with dozens of JumpShips and multiple ArcShips canvassing
the same tracks of interstellar space, covering the same worlds. He feared for the consequences. More
important, he feared what ovKhan Sha Clarke might do.
The vehemence of his attack on the desk made the data cube jump, and once again it snared his
attention. Could this have something to do with Sha? With the great endeavor saKhan Mikel Sennet
marshaled the entire Spina Khanate to achieve?
“Leave me,” he said abruptly.
Silence was the only reponse; even Jesup knew when to abandon a line of questioning and leave his
superior.
For the first time in memory, Petr closed the hatch and dogged it before returning to his chair; his mind
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barely registered the squeal of springs that usually jogged a mental note to chastise the labor casteman
assigned the task of properly maintaining his equipment (promptly forgotten). Picking up the data cube,
he weighed it in his hand, as though to assess its value simply by tactile senses, and then slotted it into the
reader.
A holographic image immediately materialized and the head of an astonishingly ugly woman spun into
view from nothingness. Her lackluster black hair (shorn off with a dull knife?), pimply skin and swarthy
complexion made Petr wrinkle his nose, as if he were preparing for an olfactory assault that could not
exist. He wanted to dismiss this woman out of hand, but her smoky gray eyes held an intelligence that
could not be denied. And her message, and the means of its delivery, intrigued him.
“Salutations, ovKhan Petr Kalasa. You are no doubt wondering how this data cube appeared on
your CargoShip, when no DropShip has made planetfall for more than five weeks. And beyond
this mystery, you must wonder why I believe such a powerful man would agree to meet with such
a lowly person as myself. The fact remains that I have information you will find most . . . valuable.
Information that affects your entire Khanate, and possibly the whole of Clan Sea Fox.
“Oh, I know this sounds like hyperbole, but that is for you to decide. If you wish a meeting, I will
be on Adhafera when you arrive.”
The image dissolved into the nothingness from which it came. Petr was intrigued by the appearance, as if
by magic, of the cube in his cabin. This accomplishment alone, for such an ugly woman, brought
admiration.
But in the brief discussion with Jesup, the idea had blossomed that this somehow tied in with Sha Clarke.
Could thesurat have managed this? Could Sha truly have sunk to such a level that he would use ugly
spheroids to accomplish his work?
He stood abruptly, pulled the data cube from its socket and moved to undog the hatch.
It was time to alter their course.
1
Clan Sea Fox CargoShipVoidswimmer
Zenith Jump Point, Augustine System
Prefecture VII, The Republic
20 June 3134
The scientists swarmed like microbes, attacking the body of their experiment in their desire (need!) to
make their work succeed.
Petr floated just above the deck in the Scientist Quarter of theVoidswimmer , observing the almost
frantic activity with satisfaction.They do this for me, for the Clan.
“We barely deploy the sails and already you have the scientists jumping through hoops? Oh great one,
what hoops mayI jump through?”
Petr turned to find Jesup expertly sliding in next to him, though he engaged his magnetic slips to latch
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himself to the deck.
“I see you are moving better today,quiaff ?” Petr said with a tight smile.
“Aff, oh my most observant ovKhan. A good night’s rest strapped into your bunk will make any bruise
disappear as an underarmored vehicle flees before a storm of PPCs.”
Petr’s smile became real under the deluge of sarcasm and feigned sophistry. Jesup did not possess the
seasoning to untangle the tight whorls of current in a negotiation, yet he seemed to delight in hiding his true
intelligence behind a facade of obviousness. It made him look stupid at times. A lack that, normally, Petr
could not stand.
Good thing he makes me laugh, among his other qualities.
A minor tone insistently pierced their conversation. They both turned.
“So the experiment,” Jesup said, more seriously than usual; they both regarded a veritable mountain
range of computer terminals, monitors and other objects Petr simply couldn’t identify.
“Proceeding apace.” Petr tasted the breakfast paste he had swallowed too quickly in his desire to arrive
early. Be tasting it all day. He grimaced, then brightened as the tone changed slightly. It would begin
soon.
“Hard to believe scientist Kif outbid scientist Jonnic for the right to present first.”
Petr shrugged. “Scientist Kif believes he has found the answer that has eluded us.”
“Do you not wonder if he might have pushed too hard, too fast? He has a reputation for recklessness.
His attempt could be disastrous.”
Petr locked his emerald eyes with Jesup’s questioning gaze. His aide held up under the stare this time,
apparently feeling more himself today.Do you believe that, Jesup, or is this another of your allusions?
“We are all meant to seize our futures,quiaff ?” Petr responded. “I laud scientist Kif for seizing the
advantage.”
“Aff, ovKhan, but if the shortcuts are too short, his conclusions might lead to the deaths of thousands,
even tens of thousands. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but eventually.” Jesup paused. “You have not
achieved your goal if you sacrifice those you are trying to help. I simply believe we should make sure
scientist Kif did not overstep himself.”
Petr found no accusation in Jesup’s eyes, but the words rang a little too close to their conversation
yesterday.Recriminations, again? You could never tell with Jesup.
“ovKhan Kalasa, we are ready,” a voice interrupted.
Petr turned to scientist Kif, and the man’s gauntness struck him anew. All Sea Fox Clansmen who spent
most of their lives in microgravity tended to have slight physical builds and skinny bodies; only the Clan’s
genetic engineering allowed them to compensate for all the degradations the body encountered in such
weightless environs. Yet Kif seemed to embody the extreme; if he turned sideways, he just might
disappear.
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Petr nodded his head. “Proceed.”
Uninvited, Jesup accompanied Petr and Kif as they made their way closer to the milling scientists and
their tools.
A phalanx of computer monitors and other machines formed a large bulwark ring around a central
holographic table, while multiple large-screen projection monitors showed exterior shots of the depths of
space. At least forty white-coated individuals worked at various stations, monitoring and inputting
information. Though he found the whole exercise fascinating, Petr knew most of it passed over his head.
To each his own. To each his contribution to the Clan.
They stepped carefully over what seemed like kilometers of twisting, multicolored
wires—interconnecting all of the various computers and electronic equipment—around bustling scientists
and between tables before breaking into the relative calm at the eye of the storm around the main
holographic table.
“As you know, ovKhan,” Kif began immediately, “there have been numerous attempts to create a large,
mobile, simulated gravity, and until today, all have failed. They tied themselves too firmly to centuries-old
technology: drastically increasing the size of a gravity deck, spinning the entire ship, latching the
DropShips onto a spinning collar and so on. All failed and will continue to fail because they rely on such
outdated methods, rather than changing the paradigm within which we work.”
Jesup and Petr shared a brief, hidden smile at the pompous tone and obvious jab at Jonnic’s own
research.
“Please turn your attention to the central display, and I will provide an explanation of what is about to
unfold.” Scientist Kif waved his hand at the holographic display, showing anInvader -class JumpShip in
exquisite detail.
“My epiphany occurred almost three years ago during theVoidswimmer ’s refit at the Tukayyid orbital
yards. There, I watched an extrusion of a carbon polymer composite cable, part of an attempt to make a
cable with the strength to create a space elevator. Though those attempts continue to fail, I reasoned the
tensile strength, in ratio to the thickness of the cable and required length to create a full standard gravity,
would allow for the creation of a series of tethers for DropShips, provided they could be spun within the
necessary parameters.”
Though Petr fought his mind’s impulse to drift, the man’s technical jargon made him glassy-eyed; instead,
he gave his attention to the display, concentrating on remembering the information gleaned from progress
reports.
The initial challenge was to understand the need to create standard gravity. Though literally millions of
Fox Clansmen lived most of their lives in microgravity, there was a significant enough number of
downsiders who lived on Fox-controlled Inner Sphere worlds that large-scale, movable simulated
gravities needed to be built for training these personnel. This goal had proved elusive as a result of
technical and structural limitations.
Until today—at least, that was scientist Kif’s claim.
TheInvader hovering in the air before him represented the quintessential JumpShip: bulb at the front end,
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connected to a five-hundred-meter, relatively narrow length ending in the stationkeeping drive and solar
sail array, giving rise to the ubiquitous description “needle thin.” Close to the middle of the vessel, a
narrow, collarlike structure circled the diameter of the JumpShip, housing cargo holds, docking collars for
DropShips and small-craft launching bays. Nearly four months of in-transit reconstruction had radically
modified that section.
The previously flat plane of the collar was now broken in two, a fifteen-meter gap between each
overhanging outer section providing a view of the interior section in the middle. Petr knew from the
reports that that central, mostly hidden section now spun. Those extensive modifications, however, did
not captivate him so much as the four monstrous cables anchored to the central trough that swung out to
where four DropShips lay tethered.
TwoMule s, aMammoth and aBehemoth kept station at different distances, the twinMule s and their
11,200 tons of empty weight tethered at equal distances of just more than a kilometer. The 52,000-ton
Mammoth was tethered at less than half that distance, and the gargantuan 100,000-tonBehemoth at half
again. As the DropShip’s cargo weights shifted, their tethers would adjust in length, automatically
compensating (that much came through from Kif’s endless talking).
The whole thing suddenly reminded him of a child’s toy he’d seen on some forgotten downside years
ago: a top, with four strings attached, metal beads at the end of each. If spun correctly, the beads created
a counterbalance, increasing how long the top would spin, while eliciting oohs and ahhs from the gathered
children as the sun glinted off the solid-appearing line of metal spinning in a flat arc around the top’s
center. Yet if spun poorly, those strings would tangle hopelessly, stopping the top before it could even
begin spinning. As he stood arrested for that moment, Petr watched a half dozen children try to spin the
top, and only one of them succeed.
Jesup’s words filtered through the memory, giving Petr a moment of disquiet.Is Kif that child to set it
spinning correctly, or will it be hopelessly tangled?
“By your leave, ovKhan?”
For an instant, Kif’s voice held the timbre of a small child; then Petr shook himself from his reverie.
Concealing his unease, he nodded. “Proceed.”
With a smile almost childish in its glee at the coming victory, Kif nodded to his scientists, who fell to their
tasks, entering alphanumerical sequences only they could understand into several remote command
consoles.
Though he knew what to expect, Petr still felt disappointed as long minutes passed and apparently
nothing happened. The grins and nods of the scientists, however, told him they were excited about
something he could not see.
Petr decided to focus on the monitor showing the interior of cargo hold 1 of the distant JumpShip. A
giant skein of wires spun into view, connecting the control monitors to the bulkhead of theInvader and
the housing for the mammoth axle. He had a sudden image of a living, breathing machine, the scientists
tapping into the mechanical beast with their devices in an attempt to control it. He shook his head at this
flight of fancy.
“So exciting,” Jesup commented. Kif looked at Jesup as if he had just become aware of his presence,
then nodded firmly before returning to his work.
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Petr smiled at the scientist’s obliviousness to the sarcasm. Another handful of minutes bled away, and
finally he could see a change. The holographic display showing the entire vessel and the visual feeds from
numerous shuttles arrayed around the ship revealed movement.
The cable’s length required the DropShips to spin up at a glacial pace, or his tangling top image would
prove all too accurate. The experiment should have bored Petr, but the scientists’ ability to be
mesmerized by the minute shifting of objects hundreds of kilometers distant kept him enthralled. The
minutes ticked into hours as the DropShips showed visible movement. Petr still did not understand the
technology, but he did understand the potential of such technology.
A little more than four hours after the experiment began, a terrible Klaxon began to blare, demanding
immediate attention. Petr quickly found the monitor displaying the warning, but he could not make sense
of the information cascading across the screen.
“Scientist Kif, what has occurred?” Anger began to burn as the scientist ignored his question. As he
opened his mouth to demand an answer, Jesup laid a hand on his shoulder.
“They have enough to worry about, ovKhan. Let them work,” Jesup advised.
His aide’s serious tone jarred him more effectively than harsh words. Petr nodded his understanding.
There would be enough time for trials later.
Another handful of minutes passed as the scientists moved at what could have been light speed in their
attempt to rectify the problem. In the exterior views, Petr could make out the blazing plumes of attitude
jets firing on all four DropShips; they were trying to stop the spin, and quickly.
He clenched his fists, the biting pain of his nails digging into his flesh keeping his anger at bay. Petr rarely
sat on the sidelines, unable to affect unfolding events. The forced inaction scraped his nerves and mashed
him flat with suppressed rage.
Finally, even Petr could see the problem: one of the cables was oscillating. Where the movement
originated or why it had begun didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that, as the vibration
undulated up and down the cable, one of theMule s began to swing as the energy peaked. The interior
view of theInvader leaped and the entire ship shuddered as the sine wave slammed into it; the horrific
energies built.
Despite firing the attitude jets, they would not stop the experiment in time.
Petr stepped forward and Jesup grasped his arm once more. He wrenched his arm away and spun
toward his aide, eyes blazing.
“There is nothing to be done,” Jesup stated simply. “Let them salvage what they can. After all, there will
be a lot to salvage.”
Petr allowed himself to be calmed, and they turned to watch the conclusion, as inevitable and
unavoidable as the tides.
The views of the exterior began to shift as the shuttles obeyed orders to remove themselves from near
space. Twin shuttles launched from theInvader , carrying away the few personnel on ship.
The energy in the cables continued to crescendo exponentially until the cable began whipping the
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DropShip at its end back and forth, like a frustrated child banging that long-ago-seen top on the ground.
The destructive energy bled into the other three cables until all four wove a pattern that could not last.
Horrified, but unable to look away, even most of the scientists stopped working to watch the coming
end.
It came quickly and with brutal efficiency, as the sine waves on three of the four cables momentarily
matched rhythm and descended to the anchor points at roughly the same moment. Unimaginable kinetic
energy tore into the anchors, which were not designed to withstand even a fraction of such stress,
buckling and snapping meters-thick composite plates with the ease of a child breaking the wooden top.
The JumpShip’s spine snapped in a glittering blizzard of shattered metal and composites, three of the
four cables tearing completely away and slithering into the silence of space like snakes escaping their
confines; the fourth continued to hammer the mortally wounded ship, jerking as though desperate to join
its now-free comrades.
Even after a lifetime in the soundless vacuum of space, witnessing such horror in absolute silence still
created a surreal sense of distance: as though events were not real, but unfolded only within a reality
created by the digital display unit.
But Petr knew it to be all too real: the cost in the destroyed JumpShip and its expensive KF drive; the
failure of hundreds of thousands of man-hours of work. Petr’s mind always fell to the bottom line.
For the length of several labored breaths, the room held motionless. Then the scientists dove back to
their work, attempting to salvage what they could of the information deluge. Everyone except Kif. The
scientists subordinate to Kif would suffer no adverse consequences from the experiment’s failure. Kif,
however, stood fully responsible.
Like a deer caught in headlamps, Kif turned glassy, stunned eyes toward Petr.
“There will be time for trials later,” Petr said, forestalling the man before he could speak, pleased with his
lack of anger (it happened so seldom these days). “Now your duty is to determine exactly what occurred
and why. You have fourteen days until a Trial of Grievance”—he paused a moment—“to be fought by
scientist Jonnic. You will prove to Jonnic’s satisfaction that your design can succeed, or you will be
reassigned to the technician caste.” The man flinched as though struck by a micrometeor. He just might
have an answer by then, faced with such an incentive.
“Quiaff,” the scientist barely managed.
He turned to Jesup and speared him with a raised finger. “And I have no wish to hear of failures from
you.”
“I would never speak to you of your failures.”
Petr held his gaze, a contest of wills.No, but you would remind me without a word. Remind me of
past failures and my hatred . . . and rage.
Breaking eye contact, Petr unclamped his magnetic slips and arrowed toward the exit hatch. Tried to
forget the look in Jesup’s eyes.
You cannot compare scientist Kif to me. When I reach to achieve my vision, it will not end in
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摘要：

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareeithertheproductoftheauthor’sImaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,eventsorlocalesisentirelycoincidental. ThePenguinPutnamInc.WorldWideWebsiteaddressishttp://www.penguinputnam....

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