Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  “Still no good,” Chan objected. “The banks are veritable cliffs. Fifty meters, if they're one.”

  “Ah,” Minobu said. “That is why the attacking force must all be jump-capable ...”

  “... So they can hit the convoy, smash through them, and jump down into the valley,” Yukinov said, finishing the thought. While Chan was objecting, he had figured out what Minobu was leading up to. “I like it.”

  Minobu bowed his head in acknowledgement. “If our onworld reconnaissance is accurate, no more than half of the Davion 'Mechs in the vicinity are jump-capable. The proportion of these that accompany the convoy is likely to be somewhat less.”

  “How do you figure that, Tai-sa?” asked Sho-sa Charles Earnst. Of all of Minobu's staff, he was the most outspoken. One or two of the other Ryuken officers also signaled curiosity by nodding agreement with Earnst's request for enlightenment.

  “If McGuffin's prototype is indeed valuable to House Davion,” Minobu said, “they'll want a strong force to defend it, in case the convoy runs into trouble. A strong force means heavy BattleMechs, and most heavy 'Mechs are tied to the ground. Due to his requirements to defend other possible targets, the Davion commander will also wish to keep sufficient mobile elements to respond to our maneuvers. Mobile elements mean light BattleMechs, preferably jump-capable.

  “That means something less than half the escort force will be available to pursue our raiders through the valley. Now, see the alternate channels that the river has carved over the eons. The Federated Suns commander will not know which channel we plan to use for our escape route, and he'll be forced to split his forces to cover all the possibilities. Some of his 'Mechs will end up in channels diverging from our route, effectively removing them from the battle. Others will reach dead-ends and the same result.”

  “There's still a hole in this plan,” Chan put in, probably upset that his choice for an ambush site had been rejected. “The other convoy 'Mechs will be able to follow along the bank. They could provide direction to the pursuit as well as harassing fire, and their height advantage would be devastating.”

  “It might, if they were allowed to take advantage of it.” Minobu had everyone's attention again. “But the Davion 'Mechs on the south bank will be occupied. After our main force makes the expected attack on Landova, we'll leave a skeleton force there to demonstrate our nonexistent intent to invest the proving grounds. Another contingent will form a cordon around the city, while the main force moves to engage the Davion 'Mechs with fire from the north bank of the Shaw. As soon as the ambush force is clear, the covering forces will disengage. The forces in Landova will also pull out and head for the DropShips. There should be no more than the usual problems in getting offplanet with our prize.”

  “Sounds workable,” Yukinov said. “Who gets what assignment?”

  'The hit-and-run nature of the ambush force would be best left to the Dragoons, I think,” Minobu suggested. “Got that right!”

  “Thank you, Captain Stane.” The admonishment in Yukinov's voice had no visible effect on the ebullient woman. “I agree. That leaves the Ryuken and our heavier machines for the Landova operation.”

  “Yes. But I think the lighter elements of the Ryuken can provide distraction for the Davion forces by moving—”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” Chan interrupted. “Look at the dam here. It's got access paths down into the river bed. The Feds could pull their heavies back to it and move them down there to chase our raiders. If their lights maintain contact and slow our troops, we could have real trouble.”

  “Respectfully, Major Chan,” Michi Noketsuna said, heels clicking as he performed a sharp bow. “If they do, they shall have the same trouble you feared they would provide our raiders.”

  “Humph!” Chan looked sour. He did not like having his own objection brought back to shoot down his argument, especially by a whippersnapper Kurita officer, no matter how respectful. A glance at the holotank brought another idea. “What if they didn't go down but came back across? Whether they went after our covering force on the north bank or headed for Landova, they'd be in trouble.”

  “I think you are right, Major,” Minobu conceded. “The dam will have to be destroyed after the convoy crosses it.”

  “Kristen, your airpower going to be up to the job?” Yukinov asked.

  “Too busy with the Davion flyboys.”

  “Looks like we'll have to do it from the ground. What about those diversionary forces of yours, Tai-sa Tetsuhara?”

  “They are the choice of necessity. Once we've encircled the Achernar facility, they would be available to make the strike.” Minobu considered the distances involved. “They should arrive at the dam just after the convoy reaches the ambush site. That timing may be later than Major Chan would wish, but they should still be able to destroy passage down or over the dam well before the Davion commanders consider any options along those lines.”

  When the discussion moved to specific problems, such as timetables, jump-off points, zones of responsibility, and designating resupply points, Akuma lost interest. He found such trivia boring. He had listened intently to the earlier discussion, however, and agreed that the plan was well-formulated. It was a good scheme, with an excellent chance of success, and would suit his own plans very well. In the buzz of discussion that filled the MHQ, no one could hear him when he turned to his aides and said quietly, “Tonight.”

  21

  Ryuken-Dragoon Field Camp, Barlow's End

  Draconis March, Federated Suns

  1 October 3026

  ‘MechWarrior Malcolm Spence dropped two sugars into his coffee and looked up at the clock on the wall of the monitor hut. Unity! It was only 0130. There were still four and half hours till his relief arrived. It was going to be a long night. The Feds didn't know where the raider camp was, so they weren't likely to be making any attacks. But Stone Face Chan didn't care. “Full standard surveillance,” he had ordered, and Spence had ended up with the dead-man's shift. What had he done to piss off old Stone Face? Oh well, nothing for it but to muddle through. He would just have to stay awake, but that's what coffee was for. If only it wasn't so quiet.

  When a knock sounded at the door, he nearly spilled the hot liquid into his lap. Before Spence could say anything, the door opened to reveal a tall, muscular Ryuken ‘Mech-Warrior. The outside moonlight turned his close-cropped blond hair to a silver skullcap, and the scar down his right cheek might have made him sinister if not for the man's easy grin and manner. “Hey, didn't mean to startle you.”

  “That's O.K.,” Spence said, mopping up the mess. “What's up?”

  “Nothing. Couldn't sleep. Nerves, I guess. Figured whoever had monitor duty might be wanting to talk awhile to kill some time. I've had the watch myself and know how boring it can be.”

  “Too straight,” the Dragoon agreed.

  “Name's Kahn,” the visitor said, holding out a hand adorned with a heavy gold ring that glinted in the light. Spence shook the man's hand, impressed at the strength of his grip.

  “First or last?”

  “Your choice,” the Kuritan answered, pulling up a chair.

  They fell into the easy talk of fellow ‘Mech Warriors. Kahn was sympathetic to Spence's problems with a glitch in the jump jets on his Shadow Hawk, for it turned out that he had had the same problem with his own 'Mech two years ago. He and his Tech had never been able to trace it down. It had taken a complete replacement of the jet systems to clear up the problem.

  Spence was caught by surprise when Kahn opened his eyes wide and leaned forward. “What's that?”

  “Where?”

  “Monitor four. There behind the 'Mech.” The Kuritan got up and leaned over Spence's chair, left hand pointing at the screen. Kahn's right hand rested on Spence's back and swiveled the Dragoon toward the bank of monitors. Kahn's ring was cold where it touched the skin on the back of Spence's neck.

  Spence squinted at the screen, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. “I don't see anything.�
��

  “Thought I saw something move. Must have been my imagination.” Kahn rubbed his eyes with his left hand and went back to his seat. “I'm not used to the distortions on these nightscope video cams. It's not the same as the light amplification circuits on my 'Mech. Must take some getting used to.”

  “Yeah, some.”

  “You been working them long?”

  “Longer than I like.” Any time was too long. Unity! He was tired, ready for sleep.

  “Still got a haul on your shift?”

  “Huh?” It was an effort to concentrate on what Kahn was saying. “Yeah, long haul.”

  “Your relief will probably be late, won't he?” Kahn's voice was insistent, assured, and convincing. “La ... late ...”

  “But it won't matter, will it?”

  “Na ... no ...”

  “The night is quiet. Nothing to be seen on the monitors. All is boringly normal.”

  Kahn's voice was utterly convincing. Spence made no response.

  Kahn gave a satisfied grunt and rose from his seat. He moved to the monitor console and brought an image from the bivouac area to the main screen. After adjusting the image quality, Kahn took a slim black case out of his tunic pocket. He placed the object onto the screen's casing and touched a button recessed into the upper edge. A set of small green letters and numbers began to glow at one corner of the case. They repeated the time and location codes from the video screen. Smaller letters on the case spelled out the word “recording.”

  Within a minute, a figure in dark fatigues appeared on the screen. A patch on his shoulder caught a stray flash of light to reveal an open-jawed wolfs-head against a circular field.

  The stocky shape walked casually past the tent bearing the personal insignia of Minobu Tetsuhara and disappeared briefly into the shadows. The man appeared again beside the tent and stepped up to the hovercar parked there. He lifted the hood and bent into the darkness beneath it. He did something and then shut the hood, looking around as though to see whether he had been observed. After a moment, the man vanished into the dark.

  Kahn adjusted the controls on the console. The image he settled on showed a section of the perimeter fence. The green symbols on the box changed to match the new codes on the screen.

  This time, it was nearly fourteen minutes before anything moved on the screen. The same man Kahn had just observed entered from the left, moving at a trot to the coiled wire fence. With a lithe spring, the man was over the wire, and landed in a crouch on the other side. He disappeared into the murk beyond the range of the camera.

  Eight minutes later, he was back. He reentered the camp by cutting his way through the fence. Once inside, he spent a while burying small objects around the area. Still working at his task, the man moved out of the camera's field of view.

  After Kahn could no longer see the man, he shut down his black case and put it back in his pocket. He took a small cylinder from another pocket and placed its end against Spence's jugular, creating a soft hiss from the cylinder. Kahn checked Spence's pulse and nodded in satisfaction as the counteragent for the drug he had administered earlier brought the Dragoon's pulse back up. The cylinder went back into Kahn's pocket. Before returning to his seat, Kahn replaced Spence's coffee with a fresh, full cup.

  Kahn began to talk in a monotone. He spoke of boring things, creating clear, detailed word pictures of dull video monitors and duty shifts punctuated by cups of coffee.

  “Must have faded out for a second,” Spence said eventually. His words were slightly slurred, but Kahn didn't seem to notice. He must be half-asleep himself, Spence decided. “What were you saying?”

  “Wasn't important. I'm pretty beat myself. Think I'll turn in.”

  “Lucky you. I can't leave till my relief signs on.”

  “You'll be O.K.? Won't drift off again?”

  “Naw. I just got this cup of coffee. It'll keep me going for a bit.” He took a sip. “Yuck! Must need this coffee. I was so drowsy that I forgot the sugar.”

  Kahn smiled and shut the door behind himself.

  Two hours later, the first explosion ripped the night.

  Minobu was off his cot and dressing before the blare of the warning klaxon sounded. The blast of the first explosion had awakened him. Tunic halfway on and belt still in hand, he shouldered aside the flap of his tent and stepped into the cold, predawn air. The sounds of explosions and gunfire were coming from the southwest perimeter. The sentry 'Mech in that quadrant was flashing its searchlight around, groping to reveal the intruders. Soldiers were running in that direction. Most were half-dressed like Minobu, but all carried weapons. Among them was Kelly Yukinov. Minobu moved to intercept him.

  “What is happening?”

  “Not sure yet,” Yukinov said. “Looks like a commando raid on the southwest fence. Didn't think the Feds knew where we were.”

  “Mechs?”

  “Not that I know of. I'm on my way to check it out.”

  “My skimmer will get us there faster.”

  “Right.”

  Michi, still rumpled from sleep but buckling on his side-arm nonetheless, stumbled from his own tent just in time to see the two officers leap aboard the hovercar. The engine roared to life, drowning out his shouted questions. Then the craft rose on its air cushion and roared away into the night, leaving Michi behind. Both disappointed and annoyed, he stood watching it go when the hovercar suddenly jerked to port and spun out. One skirt caught a boulder and the vehicle flipped high into the air. Silhouetted against the flare of a perimeter explosion, Michi saw a body tossed doll-like from the skimmer before the machine crashed heavily to the ground, where it lay in a broken, tangled mass.

  Michi ran toward the wreck, stopping where he had seen the body land. Despite his prayers to Buddha, the body proved to be that of Kelly Yukinov. One leg was twisted back along itself, but the Dragoon's moan of pain showed he was alive.

  “MedTech!” Michi shouted into the chaos of the night.

  Michi looked about for his sensei, praying that Minobu had also been thrown free. The passing searchlight threw the scene into harsh relief. Stark whites and inky blacks chased each other across the wreck, making a grotesque picture. The hand that protruded limply from the crumpled skimmer made it all too real.

  Michi left the Dragoon Major to fare for himself and dashed to the wreckage. Minobu was pinned within, and there was blood everywhere. With trembling fingers, Michi felt for a pulse. When he found none, tears flooded his eyes, but Michi did not let go of the sensei’s hand.

  22

  South of the Shaw River, Barlow's End

  Draconis March, Federated Suns

  3 October 3026

  Dragoon Lieutenant Dechan Fraser looked up at the sky and tried to decide if it was going to rain, but a careful scrutiny of the clouds left him no more enlightened than before. He walked back under the thermotec canopies that screened the waiting 'Mechs from aerial and orbital IR scanners. The shrouding diffused their heat signatures while complex camouflage patterns printed on the fabric masked the machines from optical observation.

  The Lieutenant ambled over to a group of ‘Mech Warriors. Except for his own lancemates, he had never worked with any of them before. They were here in Millon's Woods on detached duty, a special “light company” assembled for the ambush from different lancers of Alpha Regiment elements present on Barlow's End. Like soldiers everywhere, the troops were grousing and trading scuttiebutt to kill time and to relieve the palpable tension that always preceded battle.

  As Dechan approached, he recognized the pretty blonde ‘MechJock who was speaking as Jenette Rand, from Laskowski's Company. He'd hoped to get to know her better, but she didn't seem to have noticed him among all the other ‘MechWarriors. “Anybody know what happened to that Draco Colonel?” she was saying. “The one the Ryuken Jocks call the Iron Man?”

  “Heard the Fed commandoes did for him in that raid two days ago,” said Sergeant Kerri Tennler. The stocky redhead was the pilot of a Grasshopper, which at sevent
y tons was the heaviest 'Mech in the ambush team. Though Dechan hadn't met her, either, he'd heard about Tennler's reputation as a tough customer. When Corporal Thom Dominguez brayed out a laugh at her comment, Dechan thought he might get to see that rep in action.

  “Where do you get your info, Tennler?” Dominguez managed when he caught his breath. Every 'Mech battalion had its scrounger and Dominguez was it for Chan's Battalion. Unlike most scroungers, he was as good at gathering information as he was at acquiring spare parts looking for a new home. He had little patience, however, with those who merely dabbled at what he considered an art. “It wasn't any Feds. The Draco was in the same skimmer crash as the Old Man. Don't know yet if he's a farmer, but the MedTechs who rushed him off to the Draco D-Ship had real long faces.”

  'Too bad if he invested,” Dechan mused. Noticing the many sour looks around him, he added, “He helped me save the Colonel back on Quentin. He's all right... for a Snake.”

  “Hey, Dominguez. Since you've got the poop, what's the word on the Old Man?” Rand asked.

  “Gonna be laid up for a while.” Dominguez was preening in the spotlight. “I saw him that night. Leg looked like it had an extra joint. Very messy.”

  “He gonna lose it?” The new voice was Private Erik Johansson. Like Dominguez, he was a member of Fraser's Lance. Unlike the scrounger, Johansson was a novice, fresh out of Alpha's Training Company. Despite the mildness of Dominguez's description, the kid looked a little green around the gills.

  Dominguez shrugged. “If he does, Wolf will see to it that he gets the best, a full replacement with myomer artificials. Nothing's too good for the Colonel's fair-haired boy.”

  “Why shouldn't he get good stuff?” Tennler bristled. “He may be a little old, but he's a good CO. Takes righteous care of us.”

  The snide reference to an officer she respected riled Tennler more than Dominguez's earlier slight of her own abilities. She started to get up, ready to make the scrounger eat his words. At the same moment, Private Donal Cameron also rose from his seat next to her, as if by coincidence coming between Tennler and Dominguez. Dechan knew better, however. Cameron was his lance's peacemaker and had plenty of experience in heading trouble away from the scrounger.