Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  Wolf stopped massaging the bridge of his nose and rounded on Blake.

  “Don't I? You're supposed to be an intelligence officer, Stan. Look around you. Look at how they're treating us. What other conclusion can there be?”

  “Being a stubborn old man won't help,” Kormenski chided, and Blake nodded agreement.

  Wolf scowled at his staff officers. “I may be stubborn and I may be old, but I'm not fool enough to waste my strength. Not even a young man can single-handedly reverse entropy.”

  Having served under Wolf for years, Blake and Kormenski knew when to back off because the Colonel was simply not receptive to their arguments. After exchanging helpless glances, Blake returned his attention to the console while Kormenski pretended interest in one of the five Fudo statues adorning the room. Wolf stood in silence, his back to them both.

  Half an hour later, the Otomo Tai-i and two guards returned to escort Wolf through the great arch into the lesser audience chamber. Before them were two massive teak doors carved with scenes from the history of the Kurita clan, with a guard to either side. The Tai-i stopped halfway across the room and indicated a row of chairs. “Please be seated, Colonel Wolf. Warlord Samsonov will join you shortly.”

  Sure enough, Samsonov came boiling through the archway before long. The Warlord drew a sharp breath when he spied Wolf already seated and waiting. Without a word, Samsonov stalked up to the great wooden doors to the inner chamber. Behind him the dapper Akuma trailed, ice to the Warlord's fire. The Sworder nodded a polite acknowledgement to Wolf as he passed. Wolf stood and joined them.

  As the massive doors opened silently, they revealed the inner audience chamber. Though the architecture was simple, clean, and functional, it was opulent in its own way. The finest woods gleamed in oiled perfection, accented subdy by the gold fittings where beams joined. In the few niches were pedestals displaying exquisite masterworks of carved ivory. Standing at the far end of the chamber was a stocky figure in a black kimono of glistening daigumo-spider silk.

  The man kept his back to them for a few moments after their footsteps began to echo in the room. Then Takashi Kurita turned to face his visitors, inclining his head in greeting to each of the officers in turn.

  “Warlord Samsonov, welcome again to Luthien.

  “Chu-sa Akuma, you are welcome also.

  “I am pleased to see you, Colonel Wolf. It has been a long time since Quentin, and we had no time to chat after I presented you with the Bushido Blade on Benjamin in '26.” Takashi made no reference to the summons that had left Wolf little choice but to come to Luthien.

  “You have gone to a lot of expense for a little chat, Coordinator,” Wolf said.

  “As Coordinator, I can often judge such whims.” There was a hint of regret in Takashi's voice. “I wish that were the case this time. Warlord Samsonov has had some harsh things to say about your Dragoons, Colonel Wolf. I thought you might want the opportunity to face your accuser and reply to his charges.”

  “There is nothing he can say that will stand against the facts,” Samsonov shouted. Takashi and Wolf turned to look at him, surprised at his sudden, vehement entrance into the conversation.

  “Be very sure of your facts, Warlord,” Wolf warned.

  Samsonov looked ready to say something more, but held his peace as Takashi cleared his throat.

  “Facts are, gentlemen. They exist as separate entities. It is the interpretation of facts that concerns us here. I have studied your situation summaries, and now I will listen to your presentations.” Takashi seated himself on the low dais and waved his arm to indicate that the officers were free to use the mats at the edge of the dais. Wolf and Akuma knelt. Samsonov remained standing. “Warlord, state your case,” Takashi said.

  “Wolf's Dragoons are a danger to the Draconis Combine and the security of House Kurita,” Samsonov began in his typical bombastic fashion. “Their officers are cowards— afraid of the inevitable losses of battle. They hoard their troops, to the detriment of the military operations to which they are assigned. And this practice ultimately harms the Combine. We cannot allow such insubordinate incompetents to maintain powerful positions in the military structure. Uncontrolled, the Dragoons threaten to cripple our border defenses against the imperialistic House of Davion.”

  When Takashi did not contradict Samsonov, the Warlord flashed a savage grin of victory at Wolf and launched into a detailed assault on the history of the Dragoons' service to the Combine. Whenever he faltered for a name, date, or statistic, Akuma supplied it in a cool, detached voice.

  The verbal attacks continued for an hour. When Samsonov seemed satisfied that he had finally driven home his point, he raised his haughty face to the Coordinator.

  “Surely, the Coordinator can see that the Dragoons, by their very nature, endanger the Draconis Combine. That threat must be eliminated. Their leaders, criminals all, must be eliminated.”

  Takashi had remained perfectly still throughout the tirade. He noticed that Wolf had done the same, almost as though the mercenary were deaf to Samsonov's words. “You have spoken strongly for your case, Warlord.”

  The look that Samsonov gave Takashi seemed to say he didn't believe that the Coordinator really appreciated the danger he outlined. With slow, awkward movements, the Warlord knelt on his mat.

  Takashi turned his gaze to Akuma. “Chu-sa Akuma, what have you to say?”

  Akuma bowed smartly and then rose to his feet. “I have no emotional case to plead, Coordinator. There is little I can add to what the Warlord has already said. As Professional Soldiery Liaison, I have worked in the best interests of the Draconis Combine, always trying to shepherd the Dragoons into better cooperation with the plans of House Kurita. It has not been an easy task. The Dragoons are headstrong.”

  “My written evaluation covers this delicate matter adequately, Coordinator. I believe there is nothing I can add to it. If, in your wisdom, you have discerned any areas that I have not explicated completely, I will try to the best of my ability to rectify that failure.”

  “Thank you, Chu-sa. I have no questions for you at this time. Leave us now and attend to your other duties.”

  Akuma acknowledged his orders with a deep bow and retired toward the back of the room. The carved doors opened at his approach, and the Sworder strode through them without a backward glance. When the massive teak panels had closed behind him, Takashi turned his head toward Wolf.

  “Now, Colonel Wolf. You have heard the case against you and the Dragoons. What have you to say?”

  Wolf remained where he was. He did not bow. When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice. “The Dragoons are what they are, Coordinator.” Despite the softness of his tone, the words were clear and distinct and would have carried through a larger room than the audience chamber. “Their leadership is inseparable from their nature. They will accept no other leaders than their own. You cannot remove the father and expect a family to accept a new man as head of that family.”

  “An interesting rebuttal, Colonel Wolf.” Takashi sat silent for a moment. From the corner of his eye, he could see Samsonov frowning, his jaw working with barely suppressed rage. The Warlord was expressing more than enough emotion. It made a displeasing comparison to the cool and detached Wolf. “You have not denied any of the charges.”

  “An account of our actions since undertaking contract with the Draconis Combine is contained in the data file that Major Blake fed into your computer system. I stand by it. Beyond that, there is little point in my saying anything, Coordinator. We are prejudged.”

  “Not so. I have made no decision.”

  “Why not?” roared Samsonov, leaping to his feet. “The situation is intolerable. You have heard the evidence. You have seen this craven worm fail to deny anything his rogues have done. I demand that Wolf's Dragoons be immediately placed under my direct orders. I demand that Korsht and Dumont be relieved of their regimental commands. I demand that the criminals, especially the foul Kerensky and the butcher Arbuthnot, who instigated the bloody supp
ression of the unruly populace on Kawabe, be immediately tried and sentenced to death for their atrocities.”

  The Warlord punctuated each demand by shaking his fist at Wolf.

  “You demand nothing of the Coordinator, Warlord.” Takashi's voice was harsh as he glared at Samsonov. “The Dragoons will remain under the independent command of Colonel Wolf.”

  Samsonov's gesticulations stopped, but his expression grew wilder as Takashi spoke. His color went from red to purple and his breathing became stentorious. “I respectfully remind the Coordinator of his duty to the Combine,” Samsonov said in a strangled voice.

  “I remind you, Tai-sho, of your duty to me.”

  Insulted by the use of his lesser title and shamed by the Coordinator's tone of voice, Samsonov snapped his mouth shut. His silence lasted but a moment.

  “I see. I shall return to my district and my duty, then.”

  The Warlord gave a stiff, formal bow and turned on his heel. Before the guards closed the doors to the audience chamber, Takashi and Wolf could hear the bellowing insults Samsonov heaped on the aides who came to attend him. A heavy thud and a metallic clatter were the last sounds heard as the heavy teak panels swung shut, cutting off the tumult in the lesser chamber.

  As he rose from his seat, the Coordinator spoke as though nothing extraordinary had happened. “I believe I need some fresh air, Colonel Wolf. Please join me on the balcony. The view of the city is superb.”

  Wolf followed Takashi through the open doorway, where the breeze was cold enough to cut through their clothes. Takashi swept out one arm, encompassing the view, which was breathtaking. Luthien's Imperial City was one of the most beautiful cities in the Inner Sphere.

  “This is the heart of the Dragon's realm. From here, I rule more than four hundred stars. It is not an easy task. There are always hard questions to be answered and difficult decisions to be made. Constant demands on my time leave little space for release, for finding the small pleasures of life.

  “When we met in Quentin, I sensed a kindred soul. A man who could see beyond the petty tasks of these latter days. A man of vision. Where is that man?”

  “If by that you mean me, I am here at the order of my employer. Now, as then, I simply command the Dragoons.”

  “There is nothing simple about it. The Dragoons are a formidable force. You are a formidable officer. I would like to retain the services of Wolf's Dragoons.”

  “It hasn't been indicated.”

  Takashi detected bitterness in Wolf's words. “Things can be better. Improved resources. More suitable liaisons. Richer assignments.”

  “I'll take your offer under advisement.”

  “Don't think too long, my friend. Some people believe a long delay is the same as a refusal.”

  “Does that mean you, Coordinator?”

  “I did not say that, Colonel. Your anger is misplaced.”

  Takashi turned to look out over the city. The glitter of lights soothed him a little, took the edge off his own irritation at the mercenary's stubborn wordplay.

  “We are men of the same stamp. We share a view above the heads of the mob. We should be friends, Jaime Wolf.”

  “Your words speak of friendship, yet you allow what has happened. Does not your philosophy teach that a man be judged by his actions as well as his words?”

  “Yes.”

  “So does mine.”

  Takashi was stung by the rebuke.

  “Think well on what has happened here today, Jaime Wolf. You are in dangerous space. There are hostile, misguided souls who might seek to wipe out what they consider a blot on the Combine's honor. In the worst event, such ... persons ... might claim to act on my behalf while taking violent action against your Dragoons.”

  Wolf said nothing and showed no reaction that Takashi could detect, but the Coordinator did not bother to probe Wolf's ki aura. He had learned from their bouts on Quentin that the mercenary could defy his probes. He let the silence continue for a full minute.

  “Enjoy a week here at the capital while you think about my offer. I will be available, should you wish to speak to me.

  “I'll keep it in mind.”

  Wolf turned and walked across the chamber to the doors, which did not open immediately. The mercenary stood stiffly until the panels had opened wide enough for a man to pass, then slipped through and was gone.

  Takashi waited on the balcony until he saw Wolf and his party exit the lower level of the palace. He studied the small group as they walked swiftly through the gardens. No need to hurry, Colonel Wolf, Takashi admonished silently.

  It was clear to Takashi that Wolf had been holding his thoughts under tight rein. All through the meeting, the mercenary had seemed elsewhere. Takashi knew that Wolf was wondering how much was show, how much was sincere, how much could be trusted. He had not taken the Coordinator's offer seriously. Takashi did not believe that Wolf would return to the palace.

  The return trip to An Ting would take the Dragoons longer than the one that brought them to Luthien. There would be no Command Circuit JumpShips waiting to ferry their DropShip quickly from one jump point to the next, where another JumpShip would be waiting. This time, they would have to wait while their JumpShip recharged its drives at each stop along the way.

  Takashi stepped back into the room long enough to look up at the ceiling and say, “Send the holofilm of the meeting to Director Indrahar.” Then he returned to his contemplation of Imperial City. This time, its glitter did not offer even the slight comfort of a few minutes before.

  The Coordinator's job was a hard one. Always he was faced with the age-old conflict: ninjo or giri. It was ever a choice between his feelings for others, which was the way his heart would lead him, and the inexorable call of obligation. As Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, Takashi knew which way he must choose. Indeed, when all was said and done, he had no choice.

  Giri. Duty always ruled the ruler. Hard decisions had to be made and personal feelings or desires always subordinated to the iron law of duty. He could allow nothing to endanger his realm if it were in his power to avert that danger. Fellowship had no place in a Coordinator's world, and people were only pawns in the game he played with history, pieces to be moved to improve the position of his ruling House.

  It was a lonely game.

  BOOK III

  Duty

  35

  Ryuken-ni Command Center, Outside Boras, Misery

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  22 December 3027

  Cold air blasted Michi Noketsuna's face as he stepped from the doorway of the mobile headquarters. He moved immediately to pull down his goggles and pull up the breath mask that would warm and humidify the chill, dry air of Misery. With hands made clumsy by overside thermal gloves, he fumbled the protective devices into place. Not a moment too soon, for the icy wind hit him with streamers of smoke and condensate steam from the engine stack as he stepped down from the vehicle. Even the heavy coldsuit could not keep Michi from shivering. Peering through the blowing snow, he could see no sign of the incoming Command Lance.

  Michi leaned into the wind and headed for the vehicle shed. Though the walk to the lee of the shed was short, the frigid blast made it seem like kilometers before he finally reached the building and ducked through the open door.

  Six months ago, he had been on An Ting during the cold season, but Cerant was nothing compared to this world, locked in an ice age. Why, he wondered, could not the Ryuken headquarters have been set up far to the south, in Laerdal, near the magma mines. It was true that the air there had an unpleasant, sulfurous tang, but at least it was warm.

  From the shelter of the shed, Michi looked back across the field. Through the swirl of the wind-driven snow, he could see Ryuken-ni's old but recently refurbished mobile headquarters vehicle. The MHQ's internal combustion engine was new, but it would always be a poor substitute for the original fusion engine, removed long ago to use in some BattleMech. The vehicle's electronic facilities were far from the stan
dard enjoyed by the Dragoons, but it belonged to the Ryuken. That made it superior. The MHQ bore the unit's proud symbol of a dragon coiling around a katana. It also carried the image Minobu had decreed for the regiment, a fierce feline head wearing an ancient Japanese kabuto helmet. Those two symbols made Michi proud, prouder than the serpentine dragon of the Combine did of late.

  At the heavy sound of clumping feet, Michi gazed beyond the field, knowing it had to be the tread of BattleMechs. Sure enough, three dark shapes loomed in the swirling snow, coming in from the plateau beyond the MHQ.

  Masked in part by the headquarters vehicle, the first machine was visible only from the waist up, and for a moment the swirl of white made it look like a snow dragon scenting for prey. The illusion was shattered as the silhouette moved completely into sight. Its blocky legs were where the snow dragon's neck should have been, the dream beast's snout resolved into the forward-jutting torso of a BattleMech, and its great ruff was transformed into the machine's humped shoulders. It was Tai-sa Tetsuhara's Dragon.

  Michi had not been the first to imagine the dragon pattern in the DRG-1N BattleMech. The elongated configuration of its main armament, a Telos DecaCluster missile launcher, dominated the central torso. The low dome of the cockpit contributed to the saurian imagery. Many Dragon 'Mechs were painted with white-fanged dragon mouths to accentuate the resemblance.

  The sixty-ton BattleMech trudged through the open arch of the vehicle shed and clomped onto the striped zone next to Michi's Ostroc. A second machine followed soon after. Ice crystals sparkled from the cylindrical body and projecting horns. Tong's JaegerMech paced into place behind the newly arrived Dragon and shuddered to a halt. Icicles, black with frozen lubricating fluid, clattered to the concrete from the paired weapons of the 'Mech's right arm.

  Last in was Willoughby's 'Mech. The Panther seemed slight next to the two heavies that had preceded it. Willoughby noticed Michi huddled by the doors and raised his 'Mech's right arm in salute. The Panther slipped into its designated berth and became motionless as Willoughby started the shutdown procedure.