Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  “But right now, my place is host to this party. Let's go back and join it. Eat, drink, and be merry, eh?” Wolf laughed in an attempt at good cheer, but Minobu thought it forced. Not all the shadows had fled, despite Wolf's brave speech.

  “Yesterday is done and tomorrow will bring its own problems,” he said, clapping Minobu on the shoulder. “After all, how often are the stars so quiet?”

  15

  Cerant City, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  12 November 3024

  Galedon Warlord Grieg Samsonov arrived at An Ting orbital station at 1300 standard hours, precisely on schedule.

  Two hours later, he disembarked from his DropShip Winter Dragon at Cerant spaceport, entourage in tow. Among them was a man Minobu recognized at once, though he had not seen him in years. It was Jerry Akuma, a tall Japanese wearing the smartly tailored uniform of a Sho-sa, or Major in the Eighth Sword of Light Regiment. A small pin bearing the Galedon seal marked him as an aide to the Warlord.

  Wolf had not been able to assemble his usual battery of Colonels to meet Warlord Samsonov. Only Ellman of the Training Command and Jamison of Zeta Battalion were on hand. As the group of visiting officers neared, an aide stepped forward with a packet. Coming before the Dragoon Colonels, he extended the packet and asked for Colonel Jaime Wolf. “Credentials and protocols, sir,” he said, handing the envelope to Wolf. The aide scurried back into the crowd around the Warlord, leaving the way clear for Samsonov himself to step up. Now that Wolf was identified, the Warlord paid no attention to anyone else in the Dragoon group.

  “I am pleased to meet the illustrious Jaime Wolf,” he rumbled, though his voice indicated something other than pleasure.

  “The honor is mine, Warlord Samsonov,” Wolf replied with a bow. Minobu knew that Wolf did not feel particularly honored, but the mercenary's voice betrayed nothing.

  Samsonov's squinty eyes roamed Wolf's face as the mercenary spoke, taking his measure. His own face settled into an expression of disdain. The condescending tone that the Warlord took for the rest of the preliminaries told Minobu that he considered Wolf an inferior, a merc hireling soldier. Minobu wondered how long before the Warlord learned that he had made a mistake in underestimating the mercenary.

  The reception group and the visitors organized themselves for the trip to Dragoon Administrative HQ, where facilities had been prepared for the meeting. Samsonov climbed into an opulent groundcar that pulled away almost at once, escorted by the lightly armored cars of Cerant's Civilian Guidance Corps. While Wolf and his officers boarded the second vehicle, the Warlord's aides scrambled for places in the remaining groundcars. Before Minobu could join Wolf, Akuma cut him off.

  “You look well in your Chu-sa's uniform, Tetsuhara,” Akuma said with a cold smile. “Is it comfortable?”

  “I am doing well enough, Sho-sa.” Minobu had not seen Akuma since Dromini VI, where dealing with the man had become trying. Akuma had performed his duty and was always respectful when others were present, but in private or on the field, the story was different. Akuma had questioned Minobu's decisions, always pushing, always deriding and belittling the code of bushido. Now the two crossed paths again. As an aide to Samsonov, Akuma would be in a position to affect relations with Minobu's charges, the Dragoons. It would be best to humor him.

  All but one car had pulled away. The two men turned and strolled down the colonnade toward it. The brisk breeze flapped their uniforms about them and occasionally pelted them with fugitive petals from the flowering trees that lined the boulevard. The Sworder was trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes were carefully measuring Minobu's reactions.

  “You certainly seem to be on top of things, which should give you a clear view of all around you. Perhaps there are clouds that make your sight a bit unclear,” Akuma suggested airily.

  Minobu was puzzled by Akuma's approach, but refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing it. He kept his face impassive and said nothing.

  Akuma was undaunted. “You have been piloting a BattleMech in your forays with these hireling soldiers, haven't you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don't you find it even slightly interesting that your name is still listed on the rolls of the Dispossessed in the books of the DCMS?”

  The reminder, coming from someone Minobu knew to be a poor pilot at best, stung. He found that he had to leash his temper. The man definitely knew how to needle him. “I am aware of that.”

  “Careful of that tone, Tetsuhara. One must be polite to a ‘MechWarrior.”

  “It is as you say, ‘MechWarrior.” Insufferable puppy. Puppies must be taught their place. “Is it not also true that a junior officer is expected to show respect to a senior?”

  “Indeed it is, Chu-sa” Akuma replied, with suave urbanity. “Even when the bars have no stays.”

  Minobu looked up sharply. How could Akuma know of the rank insignia that had been sent along with his promotion? Had he a hand in Minobu's disgrace after Dromini? Was he ISF? Was that the reason for the constant baiting? Minobu had always assumed that it was personal, a difference in philosophy. Could it be something more?

  To buy time to gather his composure, Minobu directed Akuma's attention to the practice field, where some Dragoon trainees were at work in a mock battle. Their simulator 'Mechs careened about the field firing low-power beams at sensor-studded armor. A computer recorded and evaluated hits, freezing portions of the machines when damage was estimated at sufficient severity.

  “Did you know that the Dragoons train most of their ‘MechWarriors themselves?” Minobu asked.

  “So ka. Can they not find enough soldiers from the dregs of the other Houses?” Akuma countered.

  “The Dragoons are good soldiers, not dregs. They are competent and efficient warriors. They are, in fact, more knowledgeable concerning the honor of a warrior than you will ever be.”

  “Watch your temper, Chu-sa” Akuma chided. “You will upset your precious wa, and then who knows what silly things your code of bushido will demand of you?”

  And so it went. Akuma finding ways to needle Minobu, and Minobu attempting to demonstrate the quality of the mercenaries with whom he worked. They drifted further afield as Minobu showed more and more of the Dragoon facilities to the Sworder. Behind them, Noketsuna trailed along, a silent shadow. Forgotten, the last car had left for the city.

  An hour passed before Minobu caught on to Akuma's ploy. He meant to keep Minobu from the meeting with Samsonov. For some reason, his new master did not wish the Liaison Officer to be present, as he should.

  Claiming a need to check in with his office, Minobu excused himself to use a nearby communicator. Once out of sight, he exited by a back door and summoned one of the private taxis at the port, ordering the driver to head for the central plaza.

  The fact that he'd left Noketsuna to occupy Akuma and field his protests did not worry Minobu. His aide was clever and did not have shared history with Akuma that the man could use for bedevilment. Besides, after Natasha Kerensky's invective, not even Akuma's would seem as blistering. Noketsuna might find Akuma to be a trial, but it was one the young Captain should be able to handle.

  There were traffic delays, and by the time Minobu arrived at the meeting, it had been underway for some time. He slipped into a chair near the door, apparently unnoticed by the Warlord. One of Samsonov's aides was narrating a film of recent action on Courasin. His words built a picture that was unflattering to Epsilon Regiment, with hints of incompetence scattered throughout his commentary. If the meeting was a typical Samsonov production, things were being orchestrated to a climactic point, when the Warlord himself would step in to make his point.

  Wolf sat woodenly throughout the spiel. The senior men were also remarkably quiet, but some of the junior officers shuffled papers and looked decidedly uncomfortable. Minobu could feel tension emanating from the Dragoon side of the table, but the Warlord and his people seemed oblivious to it. When the aide finally finished, Samsonov stoo
d up, taking advantage of his height to tower over the seated Dragoons.

  “As you have seen and heard, Colonel Wolf, your officers have continually balked at the proper chain of command. In some cases, they have gone so far as to abrogate command responsibility to themselves.” The Warlord stalked about the room as he spoke, gesturing theatrically. “The worst offender has been this Korsht woman. How you could allow a woman so much responsibility beyond her place is baffling to me.”

  When he got no reaction from Wolf, the General seemed to take it as agreement. Minobu wondered how the man could be so blind, but Samsonov drove on to his point. “I am here to allow you to place your units directly under my command, effective immediately.”

  “Warlord Samsonov, that is in direct violation of the contract,” interrupted Minobu.

  Samsonov looked up, clearly displeased at the interruption. When he saw the source, the muscles on his face tightened, tugging his features into a vicious scowl. Minobu felt the sudden wave of hatred. Had the man been a ki master, the power of his emotion would have been dangerous.

  “Chu-sa Tetsuhara is correct,” said Wolf. His voice was quiet, but it snapped the Warlord's attention back to him.

  Samsonov's face contorted. He was not used to being contradicted by those he considered his inferiors. He slammed the papers in his hand violently onto the table. “I wanted this meeting to be amicable. The evidence is clear. Your hostility and resistance are unimportant. The Coordinator will order this when I ask him.”

  “Then ask him,” Wolf said.

  It was a dare.

  “If you don't wish to have a discussion,” Wolf continued, “you won't mind if we send along a little evidence of our own.”

  “Send what you will,” Samsonov replied to the challenge. Puffed with his own importance, he added, “I am a Warlord of the Draconis Combine and have the favor of Lord Kurita. You are a homeless hireling. My position is irrefutable.”

  Wolf stood. From across the table, he looked up into Samsonov's eyes. “I will retain command.”

  “You will not.”

  Wolf's gaze never wavered. “Don't bet your life on it,” he said.

  Interlude

  Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  16 December 3025

  Takashi Kurita entered the maze of corridors that made up the lowest level of the Unity Palace. The proper turns engraved in his memory, he took each without hesitation. When the passage finally came to an end, it was crossed at a right angle by another corridor. Without stopping, Takashi proceeded directly ahead and passed through the far wall.

  That wall was a hologram. Immediately behind the image was a flight of uneven steps, which Takashi took with an ease born of habit. Anyone not familiar with the way could easily be thrown off balance and fall to the bottom of the stairs, where two of the Coordinator's most loyal Otomo stood guard at the entrance to the Black Room.

  Of all places within the borders of the Draconis Combine, there was none so secure as this room. Its existence within the palace was hardly a secret, for every Successor Lord had his or her own version of it. The exact location of Takashi Kurita's was known only to the top leaders of the Combine and to select members of the Household Guard.

  Access to the Black Room was limited and strictly monitored. The level of the palace on which it was located was accessible only by elevator. Getting to the level required a special code.

  The obvious purpose of the room was secrecy. To that end, its five walls, ceilings, and floor were shrouded with technological barriers and sheathed with materials to foil the prying eyes and ears of spying devices. To foil microwave transmission, specially formulated black paint—which gave the room its name—covered all the interior surfaces. Chief among the defenses was a magma-pulse magnetic field that activated when the door was sealed.

  Takashi reached the bottom of the stairs, where Chamasa and Potemkin, two of his trusted Household Guards, flanked the doorway. The red light, which allowed them to maintain their night vision in case of power failure, did not leak through the hologram masking the stairway. The ruddy illumination glittered off the high points of their breastplates and helmets, lending them the air of guardian Myoo spirits.

  “Seal the room, Tai-i Chamasa.”

  “Hai, Coordinator!”

  Takashi did not wait for the acknowledgement or even hear it when it came. Obedience was expected. He strode through the open doorway into the small room. Behind him, the door slid shut.

  Awaiting him in the room were the Director of the Internal Security Forces and the Warlords of the Draconis Combine's five Military Districts. The only senior council member missing was Takashi's cousin, Marcus Kurita, nominal Chief of Strategies. It was unlike Marcus to be absent, Takashi thought. Ever since the Coordinator had removed him as Warlord of the Rasalhague Military District six years ago, Marcus had been faithful in attendance, even though it must be clear to him that he was not really chief of anything. Takashi still listened to his valuable advice, but Marcus showed signs of bitterness over the loss of his power base. Those signs told Takashi that he had done well in relieving Marcus as Warlord. To gratify dangerous ambitions, the younger Kurita might have stooped to treason.

  Takashi took his place at the head of the table, greeting each Warlord in order of seniority. He concluded by welcoming Hirushi Shotugama, recently appointed Warlord of the Benjamin Military District, to the council. There was no mention, however, of the cloud under which his predecessor Yorioshi had been removed. After acknowledging the presence of Subhash Indrahar, the ISF Director, Takashi settled back in his chair and called for situation reports from each Military District.

  Each of the Warlords presented a favorable report. Each also was questioned and corrected by his fellows. Takashi watched the byplay carefully. He played a dangerous game in balancing the rivalries of his Warlords. Always, he had to watch for changes in the equilibrium, shifts in the undercurrents.

  After the District reports came a general discussion of the strategic situation. The Generals argued noisily about one another's performance and the priorities of the Combine, which seemed most often to lie with the priorities of each Warlord's district. As usual, Takashi gave the Generals leeway, listening carefully to sort out the nuggets of real concern from the dross of self-interest. When he was certain that he could gain no further enlightenment from their bickering, he called a halt to the debate. “Thank you, Warlords. General orders will be issued after I have meditated on your advice.”

  Takashi then turned to Indrahar. “Director, I know that you have some matters to bring before the council. Please, proceed.”

  Indrahar rose from his seat to take the floor. After polishing the archaic spectacles he affected, he favored the assembly with a brief smile.

  “The correlated data secured from the raids on Davion BattleMech facilities on Quentin and Hoff have proven beyond a doubt that a technology transfer is occurring between the Federated Suns of House Davion and the Lyran Commonwealth of the Steiners. Captured documents of recent date contain data from the Lyran facilities on Hesperus II, Coventry, and Alarion. These documents were found at both raid sites. One Steiner technical file even carries a citation by Doctor Robert Willis, a Davion scientist last reported to be working in the Federated Suns' top-secret BattleMech development program.

  “A diplomatic pouch has been dispatched to Maximilian Liao by special courier, carrying documentation on the Davion-Steiner military trades. This information should motivate him to some action, for he has even more to lose from this coalition than do we.

  “There are other signs, perhaps even more ominous, that Davion and Steiner are drawing closer together. Prince Davion has admitted Lyran officers to his highly touted New Avalon Institute of Science, which my investigators report is more a military academy than the research institute that Davion propaganda claims. Davion military advisors have also recently been observed on the Lyran front. ISF analysts believe t
hat this explains recent improvements in the Lyrans' battlefield performance.

  “All these signs point to a deeper and stronger bond between Houses Davion and Steiner than has yet come to light. It's possible that Prince Davion has secretly agreed to Archon Steiner's cease-fire proposal of 3020, though we have not seen any evidence of the assurances necessary to seal such an arrangement. To date, all of the benefits, beyond an improvement in trade allowances, seem to be to the Commonwealth. Surely, the Davion fox has a deeper plan.”

  Indrahar took his seat again, content to let his audience mull over his words. The Warlords were clearly upset by Indrahar's presentation.

  Takashi was gratified to note their concern. An alliance between Steiner and Davion could be disastrous for the Draconis Combine. It would wed the strongest economy in the Inner Sphere to the military might of the Federated Suns. A potent combination, even without the wily Hanse Davion in command. After a suitable interval, Takashi quieted his councilors to allow Indrahar to proceed to his next point. The Director stood again.

  “In the matter of the disastrous campaign on Galtor, media coverage has been satisfactorily contained. According to our popular media, we have achieved a victory—” Indrahar looked pointedly at General Samsonov—”despite the military situation.”

  Samsonov's eyes narrowed at the implied criticism. “We may have lost the Star League cache, but it was not due to any failure on my part. The Coordinator himself has taken that position.”

  What Samsonov referred to was the ceremony in which Takashi had publicly refused the Warlord the right to commit seppuku for his “failure to achieve the goals of the Combine.” Takashi had cited the Combine's continuing need for the General's services. Samsonov's co-commander in the invasion, Warlord Yorioshi, had been broken in rank and banished to an obscure staff position deep within the Combine's interior. The Coordinator's absolution had persuaded Samsonov that he had been justified in goading his rival to rash action and that he was strong in Lord Kurita's favor.