Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  “No problem, boss,” Geiger said, tilting his head at the door.

  Woomack turned his head to see a Federated Suns Leftenant standing in the open doorway, arms folded across his chest.

  “Captain Woomack,” the Davion officer said. “Major Whitfield wants to see you again.”

  “Does he? Well, I don't think I want to see him.” If the Feds were going to baby them, maybe he should act like a sulky kid to see how far he could push them.

  “I don't believe you have that option, Dragoon.”

  “You gonna carry me, Feddie?”

  “Not personally. I can, however, have it arranged,” the Leftenant said with calm assurance. His voice left no doubt of the firmness of his intention to enforce the invitation.

  “Tell you what, Feddie. You take my people for a walk outside and I'll go along peaceably.”

  The Leftenant laughed at that. “Your peacefulness is unimportant, Woomack. If your people want to take a walk, they'll have the company of some of my troopers. It's no big deal. After all, where are they going to go?”

  Woomack cast a glance at Keegan. Already her eyes were lit with anticipation of getting out into the open. Woomack may not have impressed the Feddie, but he had gotten what he wanted.

  “All right, Feddie. Let's go see your Major.” Woomack pushed past the Leftenant and started down the corridor. The Davion Leftenant just shook his head and followed after.

  Woomack did not wait for his escort. He knew the route. He ought to. The Major had been calling these talk sessions three times a week since the Seventh Crucis had pulled out three weeks ago. Two or three hours of boredom each time. Things had been more interesting when McKinnon's Raiders were in charge of the prisoners. It had been fun to bait Kate Nomura. She was gorgeous when she was mad.

  The Dragoon waited once he reached the Major's office, but not for long. The Leftenant was only a few steps behind him. When the officer caught up, he keyed open the door. Woomack strode through.

  Major Whitfield was seated at his desk. At his left, as usual, was his secretary, manning the recorder. A white-haired stranger was seated at the other side of the desk. The business suit he wore was a rare sight at this military installation. Woomack figured he was probably some kind of psych specialist here to analyze whatever the Dragoon said.

  Whitfield indicated the empty seat to Woomack, and the Dragoon took it. Once his visitor was settled, Whitfield said, “Captain Woomack, I would like you to relate your part in the recent raid by Wolf's Dragoons against the Federated Suns planet Udibi.”

  “Again?”

  “Again, Captain.”

  Woomack shrugged. He told the tale of the Dragoon raid and their successful escape with most of the material uncovered in the supply cache. This time, he made an effort to emphasize the Dragoon accomplishments and their strict adherence to the Ares Conventions of War. Woomack didn't know who the old guy was, but it wouldn't hurt to play to Dragoon strengths and might even improve the Dragoon reputation if the old geezer had any influence. Woomack finished his recitation with a politely phrased request for the formal ransom that was customary for captured mercenaries.

  “I assure you, Captain Woomack, that you will be returned to your unit as soon as possible.” Whitfield was as earnest and sincere as he had been every other time he'd made the same assurances.

  “I heard that one, Feddie,” Woomack came back. “I heard it from Ryder when he took my parole. I heard it from McKinnon before he left. I've heard it from you for three weeks. From where I sit, it seems to be a lot of hot air.”

  “No need to get testy, Captain,” the white-haired man said. “I am the reason for the delay.”

  Woomack gave the man a calculating look. The geezer didn't look like much. “So who are you, old man?”

  “My name is Allard. I am a minister in the government of Prince Hanse Davion.” Allard gave the Dragoon a pleasant smile. “I am here to finalize the arrangements for your return to the Dragoons.”

  “Not more bureaucratic nonsense.”

  “Bureaucratic, perhaps,” Allard said with a chuckle. “But I certainly hope you do not find it nonsense. You and your companions, as well as what remains of your 'Mechs, will be conveyed to a rendezvous on Le Blanc. There will be no ransom.”

  Woomack closed his mouth. “What do you mean no ransom?”

  “You only have to perform a single task.”

  “So that's it,” Woomack snapped. “I'll have you know Dragoon soldiers are no traitors.”

  “No one mentioned treason, Captain. We merely wish you to perform the services of a courier. Prince Davion has a rather lucrative offer he wishes to convey to Colonel Wolf.”

  34

  Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  29 June 3027

  Warming sunlight drenched the central plaza of Cerant. The tall shape of Government House, seat of Kurita planetary authority, glowered at the former office complex that was now the Wolf's Dragoons' Administrative Headquarters. Unaware of, or at least unconcerned with, the tensions between the two parties, the civilians of An Ting went about their daily affairs. Food vendors and trinket hucksters vied for the attention of the noonday crowds. Here and there could be seen the bright red and white stripes of Civilian Guidance Corps men intimidating criminals and disruptive influences with their merc presence. Everywhere people bustled about, concerned for their own interests. A knot of Kurita soldiers moved through the throng, headed for the Dragoon building.

  At their head was Minobu Tetsuhara, deputized by the absent PSL officer. Following him was his aide Michi and Sho-sa Charles Earnst, his second-in-command of Ryuken-ni. With them was Tai-i Dela Saraguchi and a detachment of six of her security troopers. The group's grim faces cleared their path without the need to speak a word.

  They climbed the long stairs at the front of the office building and passed into the shadows of the portico. As they crossed the line of supporting pillars, Minobu looked up at the fierce faces of the guardian Myoo into whose shapes the columns had been carved. The resolution there was unmistakable. Grant, oh great spirits, that my own resolve be as strong, he asked of them.

  A quartet of Dragoon sentries stood by the door, their faces showing only puzzlement and concern. The Kuritans swept past them without acknowledging the ragged salutes.

  The warm air of the lobby was an abrupt change from the temperatures outside. As he walked up to the desk, Minobu noted the modifications that had been wrought in the building since the Dragoons had occupied it. Gone were the inspirational posters showing Lord Kurita urging the government workers to productivity for the Combine. Gone, too, were the works of art set there to inspire the spirits of those same workers. The Dragoons had stripped the place for utilitarian efficiency. If they could have removed the Myoo without damaging the building, they probably would have.

  “Where is Colonel Wolf?” Minobu asked the Lieutenant seated at the reception desk.

  “The Colonel is in the middle of a session in the conference room, Tas-sa Tetsuhara.” The man was good at his job and showed no surprise at the armed security troopers. Maintaining his pleasant tone, the Lieutenant went on, “If you and your party will take seats in the waiting area, I'm sure he will see you as soon as he is finished.”

  “Secure the desk,” Minobu ordered without looking at his men. “Noketsuna, take over the commnet.”

  Before the Dragoon Lieutenant could protest, two of the troopers had him by the arms. The stunners in the hands of the rest of the Kurita soldiers stifled the captive's attempt to protest. Outnumbered and with no desire to experience the unpleasant effects of those weapons, he let himself be marched to the waiting area. As his captors led him from the desk, the Lieutenant could see the lone figure of Minobu striding down the interior corridor. It had all happened so quickly and quietly that the guards outside were undisturbed.

  Minobu had no trouble finding the conference room. He had often been there in happier
times. His PSL-validated keycard overrode the lock and the door hissed open. When Minobu entered the room, heads turned in his direction, and all discussion ceased.

  He surveyed the faces. Some showed minor annoyance at an interruption. Others looked confused or surprised. A few revealed naked hatred. Minobu presumed it was not directed at him personally. His ki senses agreed that the ill-will was directed at his uniform. The Dragoons had been given reason to hate the symbols of House Kurita.

  Seated at the far end of the table was Jaime Wolf. His face showed nothing of his thoughts, and Minobu could not sense the mercenary's emotions. Jaime was an enigma.

  Natasha Kerensky broke the tableau. “You didn't get an invitation. What do you want here, Snake?” she hissed. Hers had been one of the openly hostile faces.

  Minobu ignored her and addressed Jaime Wolf. “I have just received a communique from Warlord Samsonov. It is a matter that bears immediate discussion.”

  “We are in the middle of a strategy session,” Wolf stated.

  “It is your strategies that are at issue here.”

  “Very well. Take a seat.” As Minobu moved to do so, grumbling rose around the table. “Damp it, people,” Wolf ordered. “We're going to hear him out.”

  As Minobu approached the table, Colonel Shostokovitch rose and gestured for Minobu to take his seat. The big bear of a man then moved down the length of the table to stand beside Wolf. He seemed content to observe the proceedings, standing with arms crossed across his chest.

  Minobu settled himself in the vacated chair, and placed a message flimsy on the table. He made no move to open it or to pass it to the Dragoons on either side of him. “The Warlord has sent me an account of last month's action on Udibi.”

  Minobu waited for a reaction or an explanation from Wolf, but none came. Silence stretched uncomfortably. He tried again. “The Warlord states that Wolf's Dragoons have made an unauthorized incursion into enemy space. In response, he has filed a formal protest of insubordination with the Coordinator's office.”

  “Not treason?” Colonel Korsht asked.

  “No. Treason is impossible from mercenaries,” Minobu pointed out.

  “But that's what he means, isn't it?” Korsht continued. “I am not privy to the Warlord's thoughts, Colonel. It is possible. In any case, the charge is serious.” Minobu's eyes passed across the faces of the other officers. “The Warlord has prepared a number of other charges as well, not the least of which is breach of contract.”

  That excited a babble of protest, as Minobu had known it would. Just as Akuma must have known it would, too. Minobu wondered if the former Sworder had deliberately chosen him as a messenger in a move to focus Dragoon hostility against Minobu rather than himself. There was nothing Minobu could do about it. The Warlord had ordered him to take the place of the PSL officer on this mission, and he could not refuse.

  “The Dragoons have taken no actions that violate the strict wording of our contract with the Draconis Combine,” Wolf said.

  Minobu had hoped that his friend would deny the charge and offer proof to back up that denial. Instead, Wolf's words left Minobu with no doubt that the Dragoons had conducted the raid on Udibi, just as Samsonov reported. The carefully chosen wording meant that Wolf was relying on legalistic interpretations. A merchant's trick, not a samurai's solution. “Then you do not deny that the Dragoons have conducted a raid on the Federated Suns planet of Udibi.”

  “As commander of the Dragoons, I will neither confirm nor deny anything until I see the specifications of the charges.”

  “Very well, Colonel Wolf.”

  Minobu thought he caught a flash of distress in Wolf's eyes at the formal address, but he could not be sure. Wolf sat today as master of his troops, not as Minobu's friend. There had been a bond between them, but it was strained and perhaps broken now. For the sake of what once was, Minobu felt compelled to speak.

  “The wording in Warlord Samsonov's account of the Udibi action shows that he is furious. He is a man who does not take kindly to being embarrassed. As far as he is concerned, your success speaks against you in this. It has also been related to me, in private, that he has sworn the destruction of the Dragoons if they break faith with House Kurita. Regardless of your fidelity to the Combine, he seems to feel that your actions have touched his honor. A shamed man may take drastic steps. Even when such steps may not be in his own best interest, shame may drive him on.”

  Wolf sat quietly for a moment after Minobu finished. He interlaced his fingers and ran them back and forth across each other. Still looking at his hands, Wolf asked, “Are you saying that he will try to destroy us anyway?”

  “I am not sure what he will do.” Minobu took a deep breath. “He has warned me that he will have the head of any Kuritan who aids Wolf's Dragoons against the Combine ... or against him.”

  “We don't need any help against that toad-licking slime snake,” Kerensky boasted. “The Dragoons can kick his butt to Aldebaran and back. If he tries anything, that's just what we'll do.”

  Dragoons around the table chorused agreement. Out of the midst of the insults and complaints about ungrateful employers, Kerensky's voice rose again. “Let's cut them off now, Colonel. Unity knows they've asked for it.”

  “There is much to what Captain Kerensky says,” Korsht seconded. “Perhaps it would be best to break contract now and forfeit the bond.” Many other officers nodded or voiced their agreement.

  “And where will we go?” Wolf asked. “Nobody wants a merc unit that runs away when things are tough.”

  “They'll understand,” Major Patrick Chan protested. “Nobody will fault us for leaving Kurita.”

  “You're wrong, Pat. The Successor Lords watch our every move,” Wolf reminded him. “If we break faith with one of them, each one will assume we'd to the same to him or her if we get unhappy. What seems like a good reason to us doesn't look the same from the other side of the paychest.

  “Even if we have a good business reason to break contract, we still have our own honor to worry about. We gave our word. If we break it, what are we worth? We'll be the cheap sellswords they claim we are. Can any of you say you want that?”

  The only reply was silence.

  “We'll keep our contract, to the letter,” Wolf continued. “If the Combine steps over the line, then we can act in all honor. Until then, we work for House Kurita.”

  The acknowledgements were soft, but they came forth, Minobu noticed that some of the Dragoons, including Kerensky and Korsht, said nothing. At least they did not disagree. Despite their outspoken opinions, Minobu did not think they would disobey Wolf.

  “Your devotion to honor is most ennobling, Colonel Wolf,” Minobu complimented him. “It will stand you in good stead.”

  Wolf looked up sharply. “There's something else, isn't there, Tai-sa Tetsuhara?”

  Whether or not Wolf had felt anything earlier, Minobu experienced the sting of the formal address. He inclined his head, took a deep breath, and released it. He pushed the message flimsy forward on the table before raising his gaze toward Wolf.

  “Lord Takashi Kurita summons you to Luthien to account for your actions.”

  Interlude

  Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  28 August 3027

  The small Dragoon contingent arrived at Unity Palace. There were only six of them, all that the travel passes accompanying the summons would allow. Jaime Wolf had wanted to go alone, believing that the fewer who went, the fewer might be made hostage. Major Stanford Blake had made the case that, as intel chief, he would be needed to present the Dragoon position. Major Olga Kormenski had included herself, claiming that her job as Wolf's Security Chief required her presence. The three others in the group wore the uniforms of Dragoon officers, but looked as though they'd be more at home in muddied combat armor. It was Kormenski who had insisted that they come. If she couldn't take BattleMechs to protect Wolf, she settled on the next best thing: trooper
s from Seventh Kommando, the highly secret Dragoon Special Forces Team.

  A squad of Otomo, the Coordinator's fiercely loyal bodyguards, met them at the palace gates to serve as escort. The Tai-i of the Guard wore a black leather holster and the traditional two swords, each bearing the insignia of the Sun Zhang Military Academy. The white tunic of his dress uniform contrasted sharply with the red and blue uniforms and polished ceramet defenses of his squad. Those guardsmen wore the ceremonial armor of the palace, and each carried a heavy-barreled stunner at port arms. The weapons looked almost delicate against their bulky chest plates and gauntlets.

  The Tai-i greeted the Dragoons with a stiff, formal bow before leading them in silence through the gardens surrounding the carved splendor of Unity Palace. The group passed wondrous topiary creations and splendid examples of horticultural art as they moved through gardens unrivaled in the Inner Sphere.

  Once they entered the Palace, with its predominantly teak architecture and woodwork, they found that the interplay of light and shadow among the carved decorations created an impression that was both strong and airy. The Otomo led them through hall after hall until they came to a small shoji-paneled room.

  “Colonel Wolf, your party will await you here.” The Tai-i indicated a row of straight-backed chairs, distinctly out of place against the pervasive Japanese decor. “Only you shall enter the audience chamber.”

  “Major Blake is to present relevant data,” Wolf objected.

  “All data may be entered here.” The man clapped his hands, and one of the guards rolled back a gorgeous gold foil screen to reveal a glittering chrome and plastic computer console. The Tai-i bowed, again stiff and formal, and left them alone.

  “This doesn't look good, Colonel,” Kormenski said.

  “It's even worse than I thought,” Wolf said gloomily. “They're not going to listen.”

  Blake looked up from the computer console. “You don't know that for sure, Colonel.”