A Call to Arms

by Loren L. Coleman

  And why was she here so damned early?

  “What happened?” he asked, knowing that Tassa had not volunteered for wake-up duty. “The Wolves?”

  “Round-about,” she said. “More like your Swordsworn. Erik Sandoval stirred up a hornet’s nest last night. Sir Powers is taking a formal call from Star Colonel Torrent in about fifteen, and he wants us there.”

  “They’re not my Swordsworn,” Raul reminded her, gathering up a fresh uniform and slipping into the small closet of a bathroom to change. He listened through the cracked-open door as Tassa filled him in on Erik’s ambush, the destructive tactics Sandoval had favored against support units, and Torrent’s likely violent response.

  “All right,” he finally said, emerging from the bathroom with a toothbrush clenched in one hand. “So Erik caught the star colonel’s forces in an ambush, using overmatched firepower. Sounds like sound military doctrine to me. Why would the Steel Wolves be insulted?” He scrubbed the first layer of paste from his teeth and tongue.

  “Clan warriors limit damage to civilian and support forces whenever possible. It is considered the epitome of skill to take their target with the fewest possible forces, concentrating on opposing leadership and important front-line units. Sandoval’s assault borders on treacherous—even cowardly—tactics. In Torrent’s eyes,” she added as an afterthought.

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  Leaning back against the standing locker, Tassa massaged her temples. “What would you do?” she asked. “You have suffered a large military set-back. Additionally, you feel that your personal honor has been smeared in the process. How do you regain your equilibrium?”

  Although part of Achernar’s older Latino population, Raul had never subscribed to the same level of machismo honor as so many of his counterparts. Still, he felt he could place himself into Torrent’s shadow enough to draw a few conclusions. “I would challenge Erik Sandoval to a duel. Hombre-en-hombre.” Except that that was thinking too much with emotion, and not a head for strategy as well. “No,” he decided. A chill shook him. Leadership and important front-line units. “I would challenge Sir Powers.”

  “Count on it,” Tassa agreed. “And we have about ten minutes to be there when it happens, if we want a chance to get in on it.”

  Raul spit into the kitchenette sink, rinsed his brush out with tap water. “You think that Powers will accept?”

  “Jousting is back in style, or have you not noticed?”

  He had. Raul used a handful of cold tap water to slick his dark curls back. Icy trickles bled down his neck, but he trusted to Achernar’s bright sun to dry him off before the two of them made the command center. Grabbing some dark glasses for himself, he nodded toward the door. “I still think it’s a risky proposition, even for a Sphere Knight.” He half blocked the doorway with his shoulder. “Unless there’s something more?”

  “There is always something more, Raul.” She shrugged. “Today, though, is about a challenge.”

  “And what will tomorrow be about?” he asked, pushing at her for more information.

  Tassa paused, exhaled her frustration, then elbowed her way past him, ducking into the bright, warm morning. “The Steel Wolves have landed assault forces on Ronel.”

  That was something more, all right.

  Tassa had picked up a military jeep somewhere, and left it idling in a parking space out front. Grinding the transmission into gear, she jumped it back out of the stall and then forward on a wild pace across the small military base. Speed limits meant little to her and stop signs even less, it seemed to Raul, and she finally slammed the vehicle into a spot near the central command building that was marked as officer’s parking only. From there it was two minutes and a short, painful jog down the last hallway before the two of them slipped in through a knot of junior officers and senior enlisted men to grab a patch of wall in Blaire’s command post.

  The large wallscreen was back in working order, and Torrent’s large visage already filled it in a portrait of barely-checked rage. Everyone stared at the face of their enemy. But where were Powers and Blaire? The station reserved for senior officers was abandoned and dark.

  “Our practices and traditions will be honored,” Star Colonel Torrent demanded, looking down from his position. “If they are not, I can only name you among the stravag treachers who raid out of the Confederation, and I should just as easily believe the Republic capable of hiring assassins and stabbing in the dark with a poisoned blade. This is unacceptable!”

  Raul had no idea what the term stravag meant, but it did not sound complimentary. He was still searching for Powers, to watch him give his reply, when Tassa elbowed him in the side and nodded toward a small auxiliary station not four meters past them along the same wall. Sir Kyle Powers stood, looking down into a camera pickup and a diminutive screen filled with Star Colonel Torrent. He wore his full military dress, no doubt anticipating the formal occasion. “Perhaps,” he offered, “you should direct your attention to Lord and Captain Erik Sandoval-Groell. I believe it was his force that threw you out of the Tanager pass.”

  “As I have seen no honor among your subordinates, Kyle Powers, I demand satisfaction at your expense instead.”

  The Knight Errant considered that for a moment, long enough for Raul to see his purpose behind using the auxiliary station. Facing away from the main wall, Kyle Powers could not be intimidated by Torrent’s looming presence. Instead, the Knight Errant kept his opponent carefully scaled down to manageable size. It might not mean much against the Steel Wolves’ grand scheme for Achernar, but not even a small detail escaped Powers’ attention.

  “What if I should refuse you?” Powers finally asked.

  “Do you seek total war? An assault on civilian transportation lines and the local industrial base? Aerial bombardment of the HPG station? I can bring that to Achernar if it is your wish.” The thought sent cold chills walking up Raul’s spine. “The Steel Wolves will not be denied.”

  “But they would, Star Colonel. You would see to it with such tactics. A population may be held only by popular support or overwhelming force. Such terrorist tactics would ensure that you could never earn the first, and I believe that the Steel Wolves do not have enough manpower for the second. Not”—he held up a hand—“without abandoning all other military considerations.”

  Torrent calmed, but in a glance at the wallscreen Raul could tell it was by sheer force of will over emotion. The Star Colonel’s brown eyes looked deadened and flat as he asked, “You are willing to gamble on that?” Raul thought that the entire room might be holding its breath.

  “Of course I am not.” Powers spoke in a sad, formal voice. “My first charge is the safety of Republic citizens and residents on Achernar, as it should be with you, Star Colonel. I had not realized that you had so completely foresworn your own oath of service.”

  Tassa actually leaned back, as if expecting Torrent to leap through the airwaves with hands ready to grab for Powers’ neck. “And you stain my honor again! I will have justice. A Trial of Grievance, Sir Powers. I will require you to accept personal responsibility for all Swordsworn actions.”

  Which Raul believed was only proper, no matter Sandoval’s directions. The Swordsworn were Republic troops. Kyle Powers, however, had the larger picture still in mind.

  “I accept your challenge,” the Sphere Knight said with formal grace and a half bow. “In return, I call on you to answer for the Steel Wolves, and swear on your personal honor that there will be no escalation of manpower on Achernar.”

  Powers would pull the teeth from any Steel Wolf threat to bring larger forces to bear against the world, limiting the fighting to forces at hand. Of course, if the Steel Wolves were also hitting Ronel, they likely did not have the strength to bring a secondary assault against Achernar anyway.

  Still, Torrent balked. “What you are asking is beyond the scope of a personal Trial, Sir Powers.”

  “Then we shall expand on our Trial. A small, combined arms force each. A tes
t of your command against my own.” He nodded to one side, and Blaire fed a crystal into a data slot. “I am already transmitting my force composition. I expect you to match them with equal strength.”

  Caught out by the Knight Errant’s preparations, Star Colonel Torrent paused for only a brief second. Then, “Bargained well and done! I will meet you on the River’s Run Flatlands in two days time.”

  And then his transmission cut out to a field of gray static.

  The attending soldiers cheered as Powers also stepped back from the comms station, secure in their belief for the Sphere Knight. Already a daring oddsmaker was calling out wagers, but of course there were no takers in this room. Even at long odds, no one would put money on the Steel Wolves. Except perhaps for Tassa, Raul amended, but even she was apparently politic enough not to answer the wag’s challenge.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t politics, he noticed, following her gaze to the data crystal that Colonel Blaire retrieved from the station and then handed back to Kyle Powers. Her pointed gaze betrayed her hunger to be involved in this challenge. Raul figured she had as good a chance as any. Powers might go with heavier armor assets and battlesuit infantry alone, of course, but the junior MechWarrior was willing to guess that Powers had rounded out his combined-arms force with a second BattleMech. Would the Knight Errant publish the list beforehand? Or summon a briefing among command-level officers first?

  Then Powers turned, and saw Raul through a gap in the crowd. “Captain Ortega,” he called, interrupting Raul’s thoughts. He gestured Raul forward, then turned for a word with Blaire as Raul and Tassa elbowed their way up through the charged crowd of soldiers.

  “Sir,” Raul answered, presenting himself to the Sphere Knight.

  Powers handed him the data crystal, pressing it securely into the MechWarrior’s hands. “Pull the duty records for every man on that list. Bring them to Colonel Blaire’s office in one hour. We’ll go over them together.”

  “You want my input?” Raul asked, feeling a small swell of pride for at least being invited in on the review session.

  Powers looked a great deal graver, though. “I think I should have it,” he told Raul. “Your name is on the list, after all.”

  His warm surge of pride gave way quickly to a sharp, two-edged thrill as hands slapped him on the back and a new cheer went up for the ‘defender of Achernar.’ He had been chosen. Not Tassa and not Clarke Diago despite Diago’s seniority. Then the immensity of the task before them reared up and washed over him like the final deluge sweeping over a drowning man. “S-sir! Captain Diago—”

  “Is a fine officer and MechWarrior,” Powers agreed. “And he helped me create the list to begin with, so let’s concentrate on more important details.”

  Raul’s head swam with important details, not the least of which was his quick rise in importance among the Achernar militia. If only his father had lived to see this. If only Jessica understood. He shook his head lightly, trying to clear the wayward thoughts. “Such as?” he asked, looking for guidance.

  “Such as preparing ourselves against the best Star Colonel Torrent can throw at us.” Powers leaned in closer, dropping his voice for Raul alone. “Make no mistake, Raul, this is one battle that Torrent is going to take very personally.” He pulled back, and gave Raul a heartening smile. “Now how about those files?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, forcing some cheer into his voice for the sake of those soldiers around him. Raul knew that he didn’t fool Powers for a moment. The Knight’s sharp eyes cut through any cloak of pretense. What was more disconcerting, however, was the fact that Powers was obviously quite busy maintaining his own pretenses with Raul.

  And that was a sobering thought for Raul to take with him as he fought his way free of the room.

  14

  The Show

  Sonora Plateau

  Achernar

  4 March 3133

  Achernar’s sun hid behind a thick gray shroud. Sharp, westerly gusts pushed around a few heavier, lower thunderheads, swirled dust up off the Sonora Plateau, and tugged at Raul’s dark curls as the MechWarrior jogged a short distance from the mobile command vehicle to The Republic’s ad-hoc staging grounds.

  Kyle Powers stood in conference with Tassa Kay and Colonel Blaire at the foot of his Jupiter. He wore the same stripped-down uniform as Raul—combat boots and shorts, a cooling vest worn over a light T-shirt—ready for the heat of a BattleMech cockpit. As in the briefing rooms and command centers, the Sphere Knight drew the eye, focusing himself at the center of all around him. It was the confident set of his shoulders, and his encouraging gaze. It was the way he seemed simply to exude a stronger physical presence.

  Powers glanced over, as if feeling Raul’s gaze on him, then nodded once, decisively, and continued his conversation.

  Swinging a wide berth around the assembled news reporters, Raul also veered away from the other officers, looking for a moment alone. He couldn’t help being pulled toward the impressive Jupiter, though. Thirteen meters tall and weighing one hundred tons, the titan easily overshadowed his nearby Legionnaire. Raul saw the ’Mech’s origins as a Clan design in the narrow, turret-style waist and the modular-looking weapon ports. Heavy LRM racks at each shoulder, two PPCs riding low on either side of the slender cockpit canopy and a quad of fifty millimeter autocannons mounted in pairs on the lower arm, the Jupiter could deliver ’Mech-shredding damage at long or short ranges. For some reason, Kyle Powers had not painted the BattleMech in standard camouflage, instead opting for bands of tans, yellows and faded reds with one great red spot swirling in a storm over the Jupiter’s left chest. Unconventional, but not wholly inappropriate for the plateau’s high-desert terrain.

  It possessed a commanding presence, much like its master.

  “So what do you think of Jove?” Powers asked, stepping over to Raul’s side.

  “Magnificent,” was all that Raul could think to say at first. “I’m surprised that Star Colonel Torrent didn’t balk at facing you in his Tundra Wolf.” He gazed across the plateau, toward the Steel Wolves who readied themselves for the challenge. At four kilometers, only the bulky outline of Torrent’s Tundra Wolf was clearly distinguished. The other silhouettes belonged to a pair of converted IndustrialMechs, Raul knew, and a low-profile Marksman.

  Powers followed Raul’s gaze across the plateau. “That’s one of several reasons why we are fighting in combined-arms lance strength. The star colonel made up the difference in armor and infantry. Make no mistake, Raul, Torrent is out for blood. This battle is everything he wants.”

  “If he wants it, then why should we give it to him?”

  “First and foremost, it’s something the people of Achernar can see.” Powers nodded toward a line of journalists and camera-toting news hounds, held back behind a rope barricade and by several sentries in Purifier battle armor. During the actual challenge, a select few would be allowed to board noncombatant VTOLs for shooting live footage.

  “Until now, Legate Stempres has allowed them to get by on rumor and second-hand reports. Now we’re getting news from Ronel, and the Steel Wolf forces landing there. They need to know that we are doing all that we can. They need hope, and we can provide it.”

  “Unless we lose,” Raul said, only half in jest. It fell very flat.

  Fortunately, Tassa was there to pick it up and dust it back off. “You won’t,” she said, joining the pair. “You can’t. This is what it is all about, Raul.” She surveyed the open plateau, a hint of excitement shining in emerald eyes. “A call to arms. Trial by combat.”

  “That’s the Steel Wolf position. Now we need to convince them that they didn’t bring enough to do the job right.” Kyle Powers nodded to both of them and traded grips with Raul, each of them clasping the other’s wrist. “Strength and honor,” he offered a Knight’s salute. Turning for his Jupiter, Powers eschewed a nearby hoist and used the roll-down chain link ladder to ascend to his cockpit.

  “You know,” Raul said, watching the Knight climb and then salute the camera
s before ducking through an access hatch, “you really don’t appreciate the weight behind the term ‘civic obligation’ until it comes rolling over you like a Behemoth.”

  “Why let it worry you? Today is about battle and victory. What else matters to a MechWarrior?”

  A very good question, and one Raul had been attempting to answer for himself for two days. At first, being chosen over Captain Diago and Tassa to fight alongside Kyle Powers in the challenge, what Star Colonel Torrent called a Trial of Grievance, had felt like an award of validation to Raul. He had arrived. Then the young Mech Warrior had recognized the false sense of superiority for exactly what it was—no different than being chosen first for dodge ball in the third grade or making varsity on the swim team in college. His ego out of the way, Raul was left shouldering only the obligation for holding up his end of the coming battle. What else mattered?

  “Responsibility?” he finally offered. “Why else do we fight, except for the hope of not fighting in the future?”

  Tassa shrugged. “Some people might say that the glory of battle is its own reason for being.”

  He stared at her, shook his head. “Torrent might. And maybe you would, Tassa. But that’s not me.” He laughed, at himself more than her. “Sometimes I wonder if we have anything in common.”

  Tassa grinned, reached out to grab Raul under his chin. “And again I ask, why let it worry you?” Then she pulled him in, planting a firm and lasting kiss on Raul’s mouth.