Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  “If I try to do as you ask, I can make no promises about results. And there are things I need to know.” When Wolf frowned, he added, “I am not asking for your secrets. I need to know what you will accept. What is the limit?”

  “Bottom line?”

  “Yes.”

  Wolf wet his lips and drew a breath. “The bottom line is that each regiment must stay together. I won't have even one of them broken up, and I won't let the independent units be isolated from the rest. As long as we have An Ting, I'll keep up the rotations to the planet because I won't leave our civilians defenseless.”

  “I would not think of asking that.” Neither man felt it appropriate to mention that others might request that very thing. Minobu looked out over the garden, weighing Jaime's words. “Your position is not unreasonable. Perhaps the Coordinator will listen.”

  “But you expect Samsonov will be hard to argue down.”

  “Yes. He is a Warlord. The failure on Barlow's End has given him reason to flex his muscle. The action of your troops there will be hard to deny.”

  “We won't deny it,” Jaime said matter-of-factly. “We did what we had to do. I'll give you all the data I can—tapes, transcripts, sworn statements. Anyone with half a brain will see that we only did what had to be done.

  “The Dragoon combat record is good, better even than most Sword of Light Regiments. We are valuable to the Combine. Takashi Kurita will surely see that my troops are worth more to him than satisfying some megalomaniac's ego.”

  Minobu studied Jaime's earnest, imploring expression. The Colonel was calling on Minobu's loyalty to a friend and comrade in adversity. That would be enough for many men, but Minobu was also bound by other chains. Because he had saved Jaime Wolf's life, he was responsible for Jaime's actions. Under all laws, Jaime, as a commander, was responsible for his troops. That meant Minobu was also responsible for their actions. If the Dragoons acted against the Combine, Minobu would be responsible. He could not allow the Dragoons to be forced into unjustified acts of rebellion.

  “Very well, friend Jaime. I will try.”

  29

  Hoshon Mansion, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  1 December 3026

  Michi opened the door to Minobu's study, expecting to see his mentor at work, but the room was vacant. In one corner lay the shards of several shattered vases, their delicate shapes destroyed forever. Curious, he stepped into the room. Near the workstation, he found traces of blood.

  Fearing the worst, Michi threw back the panels to the outside and burst onto the veranda of Hoshon Mansion. The garden was empty and quiet as well, its harmony undisturbed in the twilight.

  If something had happened to Minobu, surely he would feel a disturbance here, Michi thought. He tried to focus his inner senses as Minobu had taught him. Yes, something had distorted the flow of energy over the ancient building. It was high, above the level of the walls.

  Michi looked up at the corner tower. Minobu was standing on the third level, lit in the glory of the setting sun. His kimono flapped about him in the breeze, its motion contrasting with his stillness as its pale color contrasted with his black skin.

  Michi's breath huffed out in relief. Minobu was safe. He ran to the tower and mounted the inner stairway, his holstered laser pistol slapping against his leg as he climbed.

  On the third level, a brazier was lit; smoke curled from charred pieces of paper to crawl along the ceiling, seeking escape. Michi ignored it and stepped out onto the balcony. He caught his breath before speaking. “I found blood in your study. Have you injured yourself?”

  Minobu did not look at Michi. He continued to stare out over Cerant as he held up his right hand. A stark white cloth was wrapped around the palm. “It is nothing important.”

  Perhaps the cut was not important. Michi could tell that something else was. “You are disturbed. I felt it.”

  “Yes.”

  Michi waited for more, but Minobu did not seem inclined to offer it.

  “What disturbs you, sensei?” he prompted. “Perhaps I can help?”

  “What disturbs me is the news that the Ryuken is to expand,” Minobu said, finally turning toward his aide. “Each of its companies is to form the cadre of a new unit. These units are each authorized to expand to regimental strength. It seems that the experiment is a success, despite the experience on Barlow's End.”

  “That is good news,” Michi asserted. He did not understand. The success of Minobu's training program and the acceptance of the Ryuken concept should have brought him joy, not this dark mood. The folly of Satoh was being ignored and the genius of Minobu-sensei exalted. Why was he upset? Something was not right.

  “Why, then, are you disturbed?”

  Minobu continued to speak in a monotone, as though he had not been interrupted. “Assignments are to An Ting, Capra, Misery, Thestria, Delacruz, and Marlowe's Rift. Does that suggest anything to you?”

  Michi thought about it. He knew of no connection among those six systems, except their proximity to the Federated Suns and their location within the Galedon Military District. That was too obvious and simple. Minobu had been receiving messengers from the Dragoons all week. Perhaps that was the connection. “The first four are all planets where the Dragoons are present. I do not see a connection between them and the other two systems.”

  “All are now garrison systems for Wolf's Dragoons. Alpha has been assigned to Delacruz, while Beta is to go to Marlowe's Rift. Increased Davion activity has been 'discovered' near those systems.”

  Now the assignments made sense to Michi. Each unit of the Ryuken was to share a garrison with a unit of the Dragoons. That was good. The Ryuken would complement the Dragoons, learn from them.

  The riddle of Minobu's melancholy remained unsolved, though Michi was beginning to suspect the answer. Six regiments would be a formidable force under the command of a general. Loss of command must be the reason for Minobu's depression over this news. Michi forced himself to ask, “Are you to command the Ryuken?”

  “There is to be no general for the Ryuken regiments. Each is directly answerable to Galedon. If our resident Warlord cannot control the Dragoons, he will control the Ryuken.”

  “Then you are to be retired.” Michi tried to put the sympathy he felt into his voice.

  Minobu did not notice. His voice was as distant and cool as it had been, neither accepting nor rejecting what was offered. “No. I am to command Ryuken-m on Misery.”

  Second regiment? Why not first? The Ryuken was Minobu's creation, and he deserved the pride of place. “What of Ryuken-ichi?”

  “Ryuken-ichi is based on An Ting under the command of Chu-sa Jerry Akuma, Professional Soldiery Liaison to Wolf's Dragoons.”

  Michi was shocked, both by the appointment and by Minobu's passive acceptance of it. “That is an insult. You cannot accept it.”

  “There are many things I cannot do. At this time, foremost among them is refusing to accept this. Warlord Samsonov has informed me that it is Lord Kurita's wish.”

  “At least Akuma has not been promoted to stand over you,” Michi declared defiantly. “You don't have to follow his orders.”

  Minobu turned to look up at the stars beginning to appear in the sky. His voice was as distant as their cold presence. “My young friend, you still have much to leam.”

  30

  Dragoon HQ, Farsund, Misery

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  8 April 3027

  “At ease,” Wolf said. “Congratulations on your promotion, Captain Fraser.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” the young ‘MechWarrior replied, relaxing his stiff-backed stance. He wondered what was up. The Colonel didn't call in shiny new Captains just to pat them on the back. Was it possible that Dechan had finally risen high enough to be let in on some of the unit's secrets? Seven years now he had fought with the Dragoons and he still didn't know where, other than their DropShips, they called home.

  “I exp
ect you're wondering why you're here.” Wolf said, ignoring the start his words gave Dechan. “I am putting together a special team for a fast strike. The team will include lances from all the regiments, people who are not used to working together. That's something you had some experience with last year on Barlow's End. Your group performed well there and again here on Misery.

  “I'd like you and your lance on the team. But it's all volunteer ...”

  An all-volunteer mission was unusual. The grouping of units from all the regiments was even more so. “I don't understand, Colonel. What's the deal?”

  “About the mission or the team?”

  “Both, sir.”

  “The deal with the team is simple. I want somebody from each of the regiments on this operation as a statement to our employers.

  “The mission is a raid. One of our system recon ships intercepted a Davion communique. The Feds have uncovered part of a previously unknown supply cache that we have had occasion to use. If we get in there fast, it's ours. If we don't, intel predicts that the gear will go to re-equipping the same Seventh Crucis units that we just invested so much in cutting down here on Misery.

  “You want another shot at the Lancers?”

  The Crucis Lancers were the raiders who had just hit Misery. They were also Davion House troops, a rare quantity here on the border. In the past year, most of the opposition had been merc units instead of the Fed regulars that were the Dragoons' rightful targets. Dragoon intel briefings had mentioned House troops moving along the border, striking, and then winding up in another location instead of heading home. The pattern was an oddity, but nobody, not even information-scrounging Dominguez, had any idea what was behind it.

  It meant that the Dragoons rarely got a chance to fight Davion Regulars. But here was an opportunity to follow up on some of those Regulars to make the damage the Dragoons laid on them really stick this time. That is was going to be the Seventh Crucis who got the short end was just icing on the cake. “All right, Colonel. We're in.”

  “Good. Have your Techs set up the 'Mechs for Udibi. They can access the operation file from the Chieftain.” Wolf handed Dechan a computer-access code disk. “It's going to be a bit of a jump for your people from the snow here to the dunes there. Udibi is quite a ways into Davion space, so make sure your D-Ship is stocked for a long run. You've got a week to get things done.”

  Wolf paused and threw Dechan a stern look. “This is important, son,” he said. “No passes for those who are going. No letters back to dependents on anything, either. This has to be kept quiet.”

  Wolf's insistence on such extraordinary security made Dechan curious. “Sir, this isn't a breach of contract, is it?”

  “No, son. It's letter-by-letter legal. We need some supplies, and we're making the arrangements to get them for ourselves, per contract. Our employers aren't going to care for us taking an excursion across the border, though. They might not understand the situation quite right, so we just won't tell them about it.”

  Dechan didn't like the sound of that. The scuttlebutt must have been right about the cash flow. “Is the supply situation that bad?”

  “It's not good, son. I don't want it to get worse. Our friends in the Kuritan PSL office have been pushing us harder and harder since they changed the garrison stations last December. It wouldn't be good business to push back, so let's just say that this time we're doing a little sidestep.”

  31

  Gakken County, Benet III

  Draconis March, Federated Suns

  19 May 3027

  “Recon, this is Command,” Natasha Kerensky repeated. “Clavell, can you hear me?”

  Boshemoi! How could he? She could hardly hear herself over the clatter of small arms rattling off the sloping hood over the Warhammer's cockpit.

  The Fed infantry that her lance was wading through was the weakest enemy force they had faced since grounding a week ago. Without anything heavier than rifles to use on the 'Mech in their midst, the Feds were wasting time and ammo. The best they could hope for was a series of lucky hits to scrag the BattleMechs' sensor probes. The chance of such a hit was very, very slim. They had guts, she had to give them that. No one would get her to stand up to a BattleMech with nothing more than a rifle.

  The Widow 'Mechs moved single-file through the pass, ignoring the harmless groundpounders. Why waste precious ammo?

  Colin MacLaren suddenly seemed to get another idea. His Marauder lunged out of the line toward a concentration of the Davion infantry. Like a beast of prey, the alien shape of the BattleMech stalked forward. With blistering laserfire emanating from its blocky forearms, it sought among the entrenchments for its victims.

  The Feds held their ground until MacLaren opened up with the 120mm autocannon. Its snout ranged back and forth above the 'Mech's carapace, spitting explosive death at the infantry. The destruction so wrought was enough for the Feds. They broke.

  MacLaren declined to pursue. They were just ground-pounders after all. The Marauder returned to its place in the formation.

  “Lose your temper, old man?” Kerensky asked, smiling in the privacy of her cockpit.

  “I heard the Captain trying to reach Recon Lance, and I thought she might appreciate some quiet.” As always, Sergeant MacLaren addressed his superior in the third person.

  “You are very considerate. Thank you.” She took advantage of the lack of distractions to try again while her lancemates took up defensive positions. The newest attempt brought no better results. For some reason, the Recon Lance was out of touch. She tried the rest of her company. “Command to Fire, report.”

  “Command, this is Fire. Trouble on homeplate.”

  That meant something had happened at the DropShip. This whole mission was one problem after another. “Where are you, Ikeda?”

  “In the hills above homeplate. Had some guests nosing around earlier. We sent them away, but I expect they'll be back with friends soon.”

  “What about the ship?” If the Feds had determined the DropShip's location, they would make it a target in an attempt to isolate the Widows.

  “Don't think they marked it, but they must be wondering what a lance is doing out here in the boonies.”

  “Excuse me,” MacLaren's gruff voice cut into the taccomm, “but I thought the Captain might like to know that we have Davion 'Mechs moving up the valley.”

  “Thanks, Colin,” Kerensky replied. “Hold tight, Ikeda. I've got to check on this.”

  Kerensky brought her Warhammer up to where Hayes's Griffin crouched by a boulder some forgotten glacier had discarded. From there, she could see MacLaren's Marauder and Sheridan's Crusader further down the ravine. Beyond them, a lance of Davion BattleMechs advanced up the valley.

  The Fed machines were in open order and moving slowly. Apparently, they had neither scanned the Widows nor been informed of their presence by the retreating infantry. Lambs to the slaughter.

  “Hold fire till I give the word, people,” Kerensky called over the taccomm. “Let them get close, then concentrate fire on the leader. We don't want a real fight just now. If we can spook them by taking out their pointman, they should pull back and leave us alone for a while.”

  As the Davion BattleMechs continued their advance, Kerensky waited for the leading Enforcer to close to thirty meters from Sheridan's position. When it did, she sidestepped her Hammer clear of cover and triggered both her 'Mech's Donal PPCs. The beams ripped into the target's torso as she shouted the command to fire over the taccomm.

  Her lance responded with a rainbow of energy beams. Before the Feds could react, the Enforcer was a smoking hulk, its pilot riding his ejection seat to safety.

  The Widows turned their attention to the rest of the enemy lance. Facing opponents of unknown numbers and already down to three-quarters strength, the Feds decided to withdraw. Their weapons spoke often in their retreat, but they caused no real damage to the Widow 'Mechs. The Dragoons scored better, but didn't bring any more of the Davion machines down.

  “Good sh
ow,” Kerensky congratulated her lance. “Hayes, scoot down and look for a way off this mountain that won't take us through the Feds. Colin, Sheridan, keep your eyes open. I'm going to get Ikeda back on the comm.”

  Kerensky had to move her 'Mech further back up the pass before she could get clear reception from the Fire Lance. “Any sign of our Draco helpers, Ikeda?”

  “Negative, Widow.”

  Never trust a Snake, she reminded herself. Without the Kurita unit that was supposed to land on Benet to support them, the Dragoons had insufficient force to punch through the Davion forces. As yet, her company had not run into any insurmountable problems. Unless Recon Lance's silence meant otherwise, they were still in reasonable shape. Things were getting hotter all the time, though, and they had not come near to completing their objectives. If the rest of the Dragoons weren't doing any better, they could be looking at big trouble. “What about Epsilon?”

  “They're stuck in heavy traffic up on the escarpment. Colonel Arbuthnot is expressing interest in packing his suitcase.”

  Kerensky gave vent to a string of Russian curses. Ikeda, used to Kerensky's vocal tantrums, waited patiently for her to finish and resume normal conversation. “We're coming in, Ikeda. If you hear from Recon, call them home.”

  She hoped the raid on Udibi was doing better. With the growing supply problem, the Dragoons needed whatever they could grab there. She had wanted to go, but the Colonel thought it better if her high-profile company stayed where the Kuritans could see it, a distraction of sorts. So the Widows had been stuck with this hopeless jaunt on Benet, which, it was beginning to look, the Snakes didn't want any Dragoons to survive. That didn't mean she was going to let this operation turn into a suicide run.

  “All right, lance,” Kerensky called over the lance circuits. “Time for all us little spiders to head for the web.”

  The Command Lance began the trip down the mountain. Hayes reported that Davion forces had all the easy routes blocked, but that he had found a trail near a firewatch station, which led around to the east face and then switch-backed down. Wanting to avoid entanglements with the Federated Suns troops, Kerensky decided to use the path.