Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

At the same time, the Dragoon aerospace forces began to reassert themselves, scuttling any Davion hopes of shuttling troops by DropShip from the southern capital at Barnaby or from the lesser continent of Aja Minor. The defenders were tenacious. Even though Dragoons held the prime orbital lanes, Davion atmospheric fighters still contested Dragoon control of atmospheric space over the continent.

  Once the bulk of the Davion forces was engaged, Major Yukinov led his team into the foothills of the Ridge Mountains to attack Fasolht. Progress was steady, and Dragoon gains came at little cost. Because the Davion commanders had been caught off guard, their opposition was spotty. As the Dragoons neared Fasolht, resistance stiffened, but not enough to worry Yukinov. The fighter pilots of the Fasolht Defense Team had proven too aggressive and competent for his tastes, however. He canceled the combat drop by Gamma Regiment, deeming the advantage of extra BattleMechs not worth the risk of losing the expensive machines. Instead, Yukinov pushed forward with the troops on hand. Perhaps Major Yukinov was regretting that decision, for the assault had bogged down yesterday.

  The sudden commotion of Yukinov and his officers returning wrenched Minobu from his studies. The Major secreted himself in the secure comm booth while his subordinates busied themselves with their duties. One wiped Minobu's map clear to ready the holotank for new data. He made no apology.

  Wakened by the disturbance, Hawken watched carefully. The rapid activity indicated that something was up, and Minobu recognized the smile twitching at the Sworder's mouth as a sign of anticipation. Hawken no doubt hoped that the Dragoons had found a way to embarrass themselves.

  Yukinov left the booth and joined his staff at the holotable. “I've informed the Colonel. He can't break any of Delta free and wants Gamma down on the double.”

  “Unity! There goes the capture bonus, split all ways to Sunday.” That from Major Patrick Chan, a strong note of protest in his voice. “Kelly, we'll take that dump in a few more days. Why can't Gamma just go on cooling their butts in orbit and leave the loot for us?”

  “That's what we all hoped for, Pat, but things have gotten a little sticky. The Davion intel has finally twigged to what they're facing. A 'Mech force of the White Witches has punched through Dumont's screen around Port Gailfry and is headed to reinforce the Federated troops on the Plains of Glass. It could shape up into an expensive slugfest. The Colonel wants us to finish up business here before that happens.”

  With a smug expression, Hawken rose and sauntered over to the table. “You paid soldiers have no heart for battle,” he said.

  As the Sworder had so obviously planned, all eyes turned to him. Minobu watched Yukinov's face darken with anger as he spoke. He had risen easily to Hawken's bait. “I suppose you could do better?” he snapped.

  “Of course.” Hawken shrugged.

  A Captain whispered in Yukinov's ear. He nodded. “What if I give you a chance to eat your words?”

  The Kuritan smiled in reply. It was a shark's grin, reinforced by his cold, hard eyes.

  “That's the bottleneck,” Yukinov said, pointing into the holotank. “The Independence Weaponry complex. Think you can take it by tonight?”

  Hawken looked over the holomap. “Those are your best estimates of the enemy strength?” When Yukinov nodded, Hawken barked a short laugh. “We will dine in their commissary.”

  The Sworder started for the door of the MHQ, then stopped to face Minobu before he had taken three steps. “Tetsuhara, I don't suppose you'd want to come along and see some combat.”

  “My orders do not include participation in assaults.”

  “Thought so.” Hawken turned and headed for the door again. He didn't bother to check the reaction to his parting shot. “Well, we wouldn't want you damaging borrowed property anyway.”

  Minobu's cheeks burned.

  Yukinov put a hand on his shoulder, no doubt intending a show of comradely concern. Minobu simply stared down at it. The Major quickly removed his hand.

  “Uh, Colonel, I plan to watch this show from my 'Mech. I'd appreciate it if you would join me in yours.”

  Minobu stared at the man. He must be obtuse to have missed Hawken's reference to borrowed property. Something in Minobu's face made the Major flinch. Minobu Tetsuhara could not join him in his 'Mech. He owned no 'Mech.

  “I will join you in the Vindicator” Minobu said as he turned and headed for the door.

  * * *

  “Tol' ya, didn't I, Jenkins? Them wolf bastards was gonna come dis way. Dinna tell ya?”

  “Yeah, yeah, you told me, Gramps.” Too many times, old man. Why did you have to be right?

  “They're too damn sneaky. Fought 'em up in Marik space back when they's working for old Max Liao. Their tricks are too fancy by half. Whupped my company damn good.”

  “You told me that story, too, Gramps.” Jenkins was tired of the old man. He was tired of the losing fights against Wolf's Dragoons. He was just plain tired. He rolled over, hoping the old man would decide he was trying to catch some sleep while there was a lull. It didn't work. Gramps went right on. He told the whole story of his ill-starred merc company, right on through the slaughter of his family by the Kuritas on Bergman's Planet up to his joining the Snake Stompers for revenge.

  The story was similar to Jenkins's. Hellfire, it almost was his own. Different details, different locations, but the same loss, the same need for revenge. Every ‘MechWarrior in the Stompers hated the Snakes with good reason. All you had to do to join the Stompers was to swear “Death to Kurita!” That's what he wanted, to kill Snakes. Not mercs, least of all the thrice-damned Wolf's Dragoons. With them, it would be all blood and no payback. His ghosts would get no release. If only the raiders had been Kurita Regulars.

  The Dragoons had brought blood with them, all right. They had suckered the Davion command right and proper. Now things were really in the pot. After the Fire Rift disaster, Stomper command had called for what was left of the detachment at Fasolht to join the rest of the battalion at Carson. They were to go with the mobile forces to hit the Dragoon flank. The lance had refused, the Lieutenant insisting that it was a diversion and that the real attack was coming down on Fasolht. Command wouldn't believe him, not even when Captain Edison, now commander of the mercs and the survivors of the Batan Defense Team who had fallen back on

  Fasolht, had agreed with Stomper Lance Leader. Their arguments were for naught.

  The Hard Riders, the other 'Mech unit defending the city, marched their machines out of Steel Valley, along with the armor and APCs of the Fasolht Defense Team. The Davion planetary ruler had horned in with threats to haul the mercs who refused to abandon the city before the ComStar Contract Review Board. Edison had told him to go to hell. Eloquent lady.

  Events had proven the recalcitrant mercs right. The Dragoons had come to Fasolht. There would be no review board hearing. Vindication had only brought them hard knocks.

  The Lieutenant was gone now, leaving Jenkins, Gramps, and some Techs the sole surviving Stompers in Fasolht. Jenkins rode the Lieutenant's Phoenix Hawk because his own Stinger was a smoking wreck three klicks north, at the edge of the valley. Edison's mercs had come straggling into Fasolht with only eight of her company's 'Mechs. Now he heard that only six were still running. The Batan expatriates were using light recon hovercraft in counter-assault duty. There was no hope of reinforcements before the Dragoon juggernaut rolled over them.

  If they put up a good fight, they could expect honors of war. A far better fate than real Snakes would leave them. Small comfort. At least a regiment of Dragoons was breathing down their necks. It wouldn't be much longer now.

  A sound came swelling from beyond the wall sheltering the Stomper bivouac. The pounding of BattleMechs moving at speed was unmistakable. Jenkins sneaked a glance over the wall while the ground crews scrambled for their weapons. Expecting to see the badlands' camouflage that the Dragoons used, his mind was slow to register what his eyes saw. The charging 'Mechs carried a scheme he knew too well.

  “Lord in heaven,”
he groaned. “Sword of Light!”

  His shout was enough to turn the disciplined turmoil of the camp into bedlam. One young Tech dropped what he was carrying and stood up, unmoving, eyes focused on some other place. Gramps howled and barged toward his 'Mech through the running figures. He squirreled up his Commando and into the cockpit. The 'Mech had been standing at idle, and he took off before the neurohelmet kicked in. Jenkins watched the machine sway and almost topple before the gyros came under guidance. Gramps was firing before he cleared the wall.

  Seeing the old man light out galvanized Jenkins. He climbed up his machine. By the time he was settled into his own cockpit, ravening energy beams were cutting through the camp and rockets impacting on the surrounding buildings. On the other side of the wall, he saw Gramps reach the front rank of the Kurita 'Mechs. A shot from the Commando's chest-mounted SRM launcher caught a Jenner with a full spread, staggering it. The old ‘Mech Warrior closed in for the kill, sending volley after missile volley into his foundering opponent. A Sworder Panther came down on him from nowhere and knocked the Stomper to the ground. Before he could rise, a second one loosed a PPC blast pointblank into the Commando's cockpit.

  Jenkins had no more time to worry about Gramps, for his own 'Mech was under attack. A crippling blast of charged particles wiped out half the actuators in the left leg. He staggered the P-Hawk to cover and tried to lay down suppression fire for the retreating ground troops of the Defense Team.

  “Get out of here, you bastards,” he urged them over his speakers. “Hell's own are here now.”

  Over by the main factory building he saw Edison's 'Mechs coming up. Her troopers were good, but clearly outclassed against the fanatics of the Sword of Light. Wild as the Kurita assault was, their gunnery was precise and their piloting superb. Before he could warn the mercenary 'Mechs off, one of them went down. Beyond Edison's machines, Jenkins caught sight of Dragoon BattleMechs moving to outflank the position. They would soon cut off the defenders completely.

  “Edison, get out of here. They're cutting us off. Take to the hills.”

  “Hold on, Jenkins. We'll give you cover. We'll all get out together.”

  “Negative, lady. Leg's shot. Won't make it.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You'll only get caught, too. The Snakes don't take prisoners.”

  “But ...”

  “No buts. Get out and keep the fight going. The damned Snakes are here in person, lady. Send 'em back to the hell they crawled from.” He breathed a sigh when he heard her give the order to withdraw.

  A Kurita 'Mech passed his position. Don't get too cocky, s.o.b., he said silently. I'm not out of the fight yet. The blast from his 8cm laser caught the enemy machine full in the back, its beam burning through the Kuritan's armor and flashheating a warhead to explosion. A chain of detonations ripped the 'Mech apart.

  The heat overload alarm screamed for Jenkins's attention. Something from the explosion had shredded the cooling jacket on the laser and damaged the weapon. The laser wouldn't fire but continued a dangerous heat buildup. The P-Hawk was on its way to heat overload. He crouched the 'Mech and waited. One by one, he disabled the automatic overrides.

  A Kurita Crusader approached. As the enemy passed, Jenkins pushed off from the wall. The P-Hawk stumbled toward the enemy. Lasers melted his 'Mech's armor, while missiles spalled and cracked it, but Jenkins didn't care. He got his 'Mech's one good arm around the enemy, hauling the two machines into close contact. Against the struggles of the Crusader, he brought the useless laser cannon around over the cockpit. On what he hoped was the Kurita battle frequency, he broadcast, “You're staying with me, you samurai Snake. We're going for a ride.”

  Then Jenkins shut down his heat exchangers, letting the heat destroy the magnetic containment on the Phoenix Hawks's fusion reactor.

  * * *

  Minobu found Hawken leaning against the hulk of a burned-out Harasser hovertank while he bandaged his left hand. As Minobu approached, the man stood and called out, “A glorious fight, Tetsuhara. A fine victory.”

  Minobu searched the sweat-streaked face. He saw no concern for the carnage wreaked that day or for the lives spent to soothe the Sworder's ego and fulfill his desire to embarrass some mercenaries.

  “You would not be able to hold it.”

  “Hold it? Against what?” Hawken asked, voice dripping contempt. “We whipped the Davion dogs, and they ran with tails tucked. They will not return.”

  “And if they did?”

  “We would whip them again, of course.” Hawken was very confident of that. Minobu heard it in his voice and saw it in the way he stood.

  “With what?” Minobu asked. “All your 'Mechs are damaged. A quarter destroyed beyond salvation and another quarter will be days in the repair bay. A third of your men are dead.”

  “There'll be more 'Mechs. There'll be more soldiers,” Hawken said. “Any true Kuritan would gladly die for the chance to take part in such a glorious battle.”

  “Like yourself?” Minobu's tone was mild, simply inquisitive. He would not be baited as easily as the naive Major Yukinov. He ignored the implication that he might not be a true Kuritan.

  “Yes,” Hawken hissed, eyes full of hate. “Like myself.”

  The men stared at one another in silence for a few moments. When a medic came up to check Hawken's bandage, the Sworder kicked at the man. “Get away, fool,” he shouted. “Go mother someone who needs it.”

  The man scrambled away from the Sworder, his expression confused and angry.

  Hawken stalked away without another word to Minobu and joined a group of his soldiers in the shade of a demolished Davion Scorpion.

  Minobu shook his head as the Sworder walked off.

  “Colonel Tetsuhara,” came a voice over the comm unit at his belt. “This is Yukinov. I've just received confirmation that we have secured the perimeter around Independence Weaponry's main factory. Thought you might like to see the loot before we pack it out.”

  “Thank you, Major. I'll be there shortly.” Minobu headed for the main building.

  Duty called.

  12

  Independence Weaponry Complex, Steel Valley,

  Quentin IV Draconis March, Federated Suns

  21 June 3023

  The vaults of Independence Weaponry were swarming with Dragoon Techs, most of whom were tagging crates and individual pieces of equipment to be moved by conscripted locals. Dragoon ground troopers watched the conscripts carefully as they loaded the loot into trucks or hoppers rigged for BattleMechs to carry. The work was proceeding briskly.

  A few Techs manned the computer stations. Their job was more than merc identification of physical booty. They were trying to crack the security codes for access to encrypted computer data. Long ago, the industrial firms of the Inner Sphere had learned to keep their important data as nonportable as possible. Their factories were that much safer when an outsider who wanted the data knew that blowing his way in would cost him what he sought.

  Senior Tech Bynfield was in charge of the scavenger teams. When Minobu and Yukinov entered, she called to the Major. Bynfield was excited and soon had Yukinov engrossed in what was on her console. Minobu paid them little attention, preferring to take his own survey of the operation.

  Into the midst of this organized chaos walked Sho-sa Hawken. Like a lord moving among the serfs of his domain, he strolled to where Yukinov and Bynfield stood. Ignoring the Senior Tech, he announced to Yukinov, “This is all Combine property, Major.”

  “What?” Bynfield sputtered angrily. Her face reddened, drawing a satisfied smile from Hawken.

  “At ease, Bynfield,” Yukinov ordered. To Hawken, he said, “I think you may be a little confused, Major. Our contract specifies a split on all spoils and salvage, apportioned by risk and costs of operations borne.”

  “Your contract?” Hawken snorted. “A scrap of paper. You mercenaries are, I am sure, concerned with scraping up the debris that warriors leave behind, and so salvage is of great interest to you. Soldiers are conce
rned with military information and supplies.” With a wave of his hand, he took in the building and the activity around them. “Such as this. It is all strictly military, and hence, property of the Draconis Combine.”

  “Military ...”

  “Bynfield!”

  “You really should teach your underlings better manners, Major Yukinov.”

  “You slimy—”

  “Bynfield!”

  Bynfield heard the warning in Yukinov's raised voice. She blanked the computer screen and stamped off to another terminal.

  Yukinov didn't bother to watch her go, but kept his eyes on Hawken. Controlling his temper, he said, “I think you'll find the contact specifies that ...”

  “You,” Hawken interrupted, “will find that the Combine has classified all materials here as military supplies and information. Which makes all this the property of House Kurita.”

  “You won't get away with this. We'll take it before the ComStar Board if you insist.” Hawken merely laughed and walked away, Yukinov looked around, located Minobu, and headed for him. The anger he had held in check while talking to the Sworder overflowed into his voice. “All right. You're supposed to be the Professional Soldiery Liaison. What's going on?”

  “Calm yourself, Major,” Minobu cautioned. “Your defense of your contract was adequate and accurate. However, Major Hawken is correct with regard to the disposition of properties here. That is, if they are declared as military priority.”

  While they spoke, some Sword of Light troopers came in and began to direct the changing of destination tags. Outside, a Kurita BattleMech arrived to guard the guardians of the conscript labor.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Yukinov demanded.

  “For now, Major, I suggest you go along.”

  “All right. In the interest of amicable relations, I will. But I'm expecting a different tune when the Colonel gets here.”

  Go along they did, but with no joy. Minobu doubted that Hawken could see the difference, but he noticed a distinct drop in the efficiency of the Dragoons tagging and moving property. The air grew tense as the Sworders became more brusque with their orders. A fistfight between a Dragoon and a Sworder ‘Mech Warrior started, but was quickly broken up. Shortly after that, a second Kurita 'Mech joined the first outside the building.