A Bonfire of Worlds

by Steven Mohan Jr.

So as Alaric Wolf sat in one of the twenty-three seats that ringed the rotunda, he heard the distant sound of dripping water, the wind's moan as it played through smashed halls, the sudden crack of lightning as the storm outside lashed the crippled building.

  It was here that Clan Wolf met to decide the fate of the Inner Sphere.

  Someday these decisions would be taken in the Court of the Great Father, the future capital of the Wolf Empire, to be built on the very spot where the weltrat stood today. The Court would be majestic, a sprawling building of steel and green marble and silvered ferroglass, a living monumentto Nicholas Kerensky, the father of the Clans.

  Alaric had used every trick he knew to delay its construction.

  As part of his surkai, he had been given the task of approving all major construction projects throughout the Wolf Empire. Clan Wolf had prosecuted three costly wars. Much isorla had been taken—but much equipment had been destroyed and many stores consumed.

  To make matters worse, the Wolves had lost nearly a half-million civilian workers when they attacked the Lyrans—and the populations of the conquered worlds were not yet acclimated to the Clan way.

  All of which was to say the Wolves desperately needed war material and their factories were ill-equipped to provide it. So resources that might have gone to civilian building projects were funneled instead into the Wolf war machine.

  Alaric was certain that the Great Father, if forced to choose, would have preferred a savage monument built of myomer and ferroglass and blood to a monument of cold stone.

  "And so we turn to the matter of Malvina Hazen," intoned Liam Ward. The Wolf Loremaster wore black clan leathers, with a short cape of wolf fur over his shoulders. His face was hidden by a black wolf mask inlaid with gold.

  SaKhan Garner Kerensky, whose responsibilities included the oversight of Clan Wolf's intelligence service, leaned forward and said, "The Watch reports Malvina Hazen does not reserve her Mongol doctrine for Spheroids. She has used her war of terror to force the Hell's Horses to her side."

  An angry murmur rustled through the circle of Wolves.

  Alaric noticed that neither Khan Seth Ward nor Loremaster Liam Ward spoke. Katrina Steiner sat next to Liam, her face hidden by her own Wolf mask. What do you see, mother? Alaric wondered. More than me?

  Or less?

  Alaric held his tongue. He allowed those who might be allies to press forward, fanning out before him like a striker trinary, so he might assess the strength of the enemy line before he struck.

  "The stravag Malvina Hazen shreds the Lyran Commonwealth with her talons," said Galaxy Commander Elise Ward, her voice rising in anger. "She flies toward Tharkad and only the valiant stand of the Exiles keeps her from swallowing the coreward half of the Commonwealth whole."

  "Let her swallow it then," said Khan Seth Ward mildly. "Let her choke on it. It is no concern of ours."

  Behind his own mask, Alaric smiled. An early declaration by the enemy.

  The angry murmur in the room dropped away to nothing as the assembled Wolves weighed their Khan's words.

  Alaric let the words hang in the silence for a moment and then he leaned forward. "Is it not our concern, my Khan? Malvina is Clan. Her brutality reflects on us."

  "Malvina is Jade Falcon and we are Wolf," said Liam Ward, his face hidden behind his mask. And then smoothly: "One would think you would not need to be reminded of the difference, Galaxy Commander Alaric."

  "Oh, I understand the difference, Loremaster. Do you?"

  Liam Ward leapt to his feet and slammed the bottom of his staff against the marble floor with a sharp crack. "I hold true the traditions of Clan Wolf. None may challenge me."

  Across the room Katrina Steiner turned her gray wolf mask slightly so that its ruby eyes settled on Alaric. It was doubtful anyone else caught that small flicker of motion, but Alaric read her meaning clearly: careful.

  But instead of taking his mother's advice, he slumped back in his chair, his left arm draped around the chair next to his, his posture relaxed. Insouciant. He removed his own mask, so all might read his face.

  The Loremaster was the one person in the room whose position was unassailable except by a vote of the Wolf Council. He was subject to neither a Trial of Refusal or a Trial of Position.

  But that did not mean he could not be attacked. "If I have given personal offense, Liam Ward," said Alaric, making it clear his contempt was for the man, not the position, "I stand ready to meet you in a Trial of Grievance."

  Alaric could not call a trial against the Loremaster, but he could invite the Loremaster to call one against him. If Liam did not, he looked weak.

  Liam dropped his own mask to reveal the expression of cold rage that tightened his features. Liam opened his mouth and Alaric cut him off. "Or if you fear to fight me personally, I will fight any champion you care to name."

  Deadly silence fell over the chamber. Liam Ward's face was chalk white, his eyes livid with hatred. Despite the man's superior position, Alaric had backed the Loremaster into a corner. If he did not fight Alaric or if he had another warrior fight for him, he would look cowardly. If he did fight, Alaric would certainly kill him.

  "You are out of order, Galaxy Commander Alaric," snapped Khan Ward. "A Loremaster may not be challenged to a trial."

  "I did not challenge him to a trial," said Alaric, "I believe he challenged me." It was not quite true, but it felt true, a distinction that fully a quarter of the warriors sitting around the circle would miss.

  Katrina lowered her own mask. She watched Alaric quite closely, her mouth a tight, thin line.

  "By tradition, Loremasters do not fight trials," said Khan Ward. "I forbid this entire discussion on that basis."

  "Excuse me, my Khan, but I do not believe you can forbid it. Did not our Loremaster not just say:'/ hold true the traditions of Clan Wolf. None may challenge me.' If he wishes a trial, by his own word, none may interfere."

  He looked from Seth to Liam and back to Seth.

  The Khan dropped his own mask, his features so hard they might have been carved from stone. "Do you wish to fight me in a Trial of Grievance, quineg?" Seth Ward's voice was low and deadly, a clear warning that Alaric had pushed his point much further than was wise.

  Seth was a slim man, but he was strong and dangerous. And clever. He hadn't risen to the Khanship by accident. Alaric gave himself sixty-forty odds.

  "My intention, Khan Ward, was to discuss the threat to Clan Wolf posed by Malvina Hazen." Alaric leaned forward, offering a smile full of teeth to match the cold rage washing across Seth's face. "But if my Khan wishes to fight a Trial of

  Grievance ..." Alaric's voice rang out: "I stand ready to meet him in a Circle of Equals."

  Contrasting his strength and courage with Liam's fear.

  Khan Ward waved his words away. "Then have your say and let us move on to matters of true importance."

  Thus Seth Ward was forced to ask Alaric to make the case that he had been using Liam Ward to suppress.

  Liam sank back into his chair, roses blooming on his pale cheeks, his dark eyes never leaving Alaric's face.

  Katrina wrapped her right fist in her left hand and put it to her mouth, leaning forward to listen.

  "Malvina Hazen sullies us all," said Alaric.

  "She is a monster," said Khan Ward, "we all know this."

  Alaric shook his head. "She is worse than a monster, my Khan. She is bloodfoul."

  The term bloodfoul referred to a story about an inherited bloodborne virus that could degrade an individual's very genetic code. In a culture where an individual's worth was measured by the value of his or her genes, there was no greater obscenity.

  "Nicholas Kerensky's wisdom was great, my brothers and sisters. His father had seen the fall of the Star League and the beginning of the Succession Wars. Nicholas himself lived through the Pentagon Wars. He engineered Clan society to prevent such bloody conflicts. When warriors—or Clans—fight trials to settle their differences, the lives of civilians are spared, the infras
tructure of civilization protected."

  "We know this, quiaff?" said Seth Ward coldly.

  "Aff," said Alaric, "you do, but Malvina Hazen does not. She perverts Kerensky's vision, turning the idea of limited war into an instrument of terror, a scalpel that cuts at the very fabric of human civilization."

  There was silence in the rotunda except forthe distant sound of rain.

  "We are not engaged in a public relations battle with Malvina Hazen," said Katrina Steiner dryly.

  "We are not," agreed Alaric. "The threat is much more dire. Malvina Hazen builds a base from which she will attack Terra. When she holds humankind's first world in hertalons, she will be HKhan, the Jade Falcons HCIan. We noble Wolves will be forced to swallow her madness, and the Great Founder's vision will have been finally destroyed by his own children."

  "Terra lies safe behind Exarch Levin's wall," said Khan Ward softly.

  "Has any wall ever stopped a Clanner, quineg?" asked Alaric. "We must thrust deep into the Lyran Commonwealth to be in a position to stop Malvina's madness."

  Khan Ward stared long at Alaric, his dark eyes marking the Galaxy Commander's face. There were two reasons Seth Ward could not allow the renewed invasion of the Lyran Commonwealth.

  Only one of which he could say aloud.

  "I believe Fortress Republic will withstand Malvina's assaults for a good time," said Khan Ward, "and we needthattime. Our own military forces have been devastated by war. It would be foolish for us to rush forward only to throw ourselves into the Falcon's talons. For the past months, Alaric, you have busied yourself with the construction of our Wolf Empire. Can you say this is not true, quineg?"

  And there it was. The argument Seth Ward could publicly speak. And the real reason he had assigned Alaric the surkai of reconstruction, so Alaric would be forced to kill his own request for a renewed invasion.

  Alaric smiled. "Aff, my Khan. I can say it is not true."

  And it was untrue. For Alaric had plundered every possible resource (if he were a Spheroid, the word would be embezzled) buying supplies from the Free Worlds League, converting IndustrialMechs, robbing sibkos of young warriors with which to garrison worlds, so he could send older soldiers to the front- lines.

  Alaric rose from his seat, held a noteputer above his head. "I can provide three additional Galaxies."

  A gasp arose from the assembled Wolves.

  He tossed the noteputer at Seth Ward who caught it with a sharp slap.

  Alaric stalked into the center of the circle, turned to face each man and woman, in turn. "My Wolves, the time is now." He settled finally on the rigid face of Seth Ward. "My Khan," said Alaric softly.

  Khan Ward was strong enough that he did not look down at the noteputer, did not break eye contact with Alaric. But neither did he say that he could not afford to let Alaric lead yet another invasion, because the young ristar had already grown too powerful.

  "I will bid to lead this invasion personally," said Seth Ward.

  A slow, feral smile stretched across Alaric's face. It was the answer he expected. The only answer Seth Ward could give. Alaric knew he would lose the bid. Khan Ward would lead the renewed invasion of the Lyran Commonwealth.

  But Alaric would win his own invasion corridor. And perhaps there were greater prizes to be had than the world of Tharkad.

  He returned to his seat and as he sat down he caught a glimpse of his mother. For a second, Katrina Steiner's careful control of her emotions slipped and Alaric saw what lay beneath. Their eyes met and he saw she was impressed.

  And maybe ... just a little frightened.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Smolnik Defense Bunker

  Beneath Ojciec Mountain

  Smolnik, Buena Military Province

  Lyran Commonwealth

  16 February 3143

  The heart of the Smolnik Defense Bunker was a space no bigger than a couple hundred square meters, militia techs crowded along the walls, studying tactical displays that had been outdated when Exarch Levin had erected his fortress. An entire wall had been given over to a viewscreen.

  Right then the screen showed Alaric Wolf. He wore a simple gray jumpsuit, arms folded across his chest, literally larger than life.

  "It appears that we are to meet in combat once more," said the Wolf officer. His intense blue eyes were the size of Anastasia's fist.

  "That is exactly right," said Anastasia, "just once more."

  "I thought you were willing to meet me as many times as it took."

  Anastasia flashed him a cold, hard smile. "I am. I have simply determined that one more time is all it will take."

  Alaric snorted, the hint of an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Very well, one more time."

  "My forces will wait for you here." Anastasia leaned forward and touched a button, transmitting a map. "The Marinov Plains. Nice open grounds." She smiled. "No room for tricks."

  Ian shifted from one foot to the other. It took all of Anastasia's self-control not to knock him down right there with a fist to the throat. The Smolnik Militia's commanding officer was more circumspect. He stood watching the screen as if he were made of stone.

  Alaric apparently had missed lan's fidgeting. He looked to the side, studying his own maps, thinking. His blue eyes snapped back to front. "This location is near the city of Nowy Gdansk. Your intention is to make the city off-limits to fighting, quiaff."

  "Aff." Anastasia nodded.

  "Bargained well and done." The giant image of Alaric disappeared, replaced by a black screen.

  Ian barely held his temper even that long. "What are you thinking? By choosing to fight on the Marinov Plains you give up all hope of tactical deception."

  "Are you a military expert now, Doctor?" Anastasia asked coldly.

  "This is not Hyde, Anastasia. This time the Wolves outnumber us. If we are going to win we need—" He suddenly stopped talking, his mouth a round "oh," his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

  Because Anastasia had reached down and bent back the middle finger of his left hand, breaking it cleanly.

  "You are mistaken," she said in a voice that did not deviate one millimeter from perfect calm. Then she let go of his hand and turned to face the militia commander, Colonel Michael Devane. He was a stocky man, square face, iron gray hair tamed by a regulation buzz cut. Stolid. "We have preparations to make, Colonel."

  The militia officer glanced around the room at the technicians hunched over their consoles. "I believe you are correct, Alpha Kerensky."

  He and Anastasia stepped out of the command center, Ian following behind, cradling his left hand in his right.

  * * *

  They stepped into a small, empty office, just the three of them.

  "Ian. Your never-ending need to express yourself risks shattering morale and alerting the Wolves of our plan."

  "You could have just told me to be quiet," said Ian angrily.

  "I did," said Anastasia coolly. "You were not listening." She shut the door. "And speaking of not listening, has this room been swept?"

  The Colonel nodded. "Twenty minutes ago. We're sweeping the entire facility every one to two hours on a random schedule."

  "Very good," said Anastasia. What of the people of Nowy Gdansk? An operation of this size—"

  "We can keep the secret," he said gruffly. "At least for a week or two. Should be more than we need. The planetary government has persuaded several theme parks to open their gates for free. That'll draw the children. Word-of-mouth evac will start at tee minus fifteen mikes along designated routes."

  "That will get a lot of people clear," said Anastasia, "but not everyone."

  The colonel said nothing.

  She nodded. "Plans?"

  He handed her a noteputer. "It's all there." Then he turned to leave.

  Anastasia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Colonel. If we cannot maintain operational security, this will not work."

  He rounded on her, hands clenched into fists. "Smolnik is not a pawn on a board
to me, Alpha. Smolnik is my home." He jerked his head at the noteputer he'd given her. "You'll find my sister's name on that list." His face twisted into that something that was part horrified and part proud. "No one is going to talk."

  Anastasia studied that face for a long moment, and then she finally nodded.

  The Colonel stepped out of the office, closing the door gently behind him.

  Ian watched him go, then turned on her. "What the hell is going on?"

  Anastasia picked up a piece of paper from the table and turned it over. She quickly sketched a map. "Nowy Gdansk," she said pointing at the city. "The plains south of the city. The drop port north of the city." Her finger traced a line between them. "The autobahn joining the two."

  Ian stared at the makeshift map for a long moment. "You ... plan to fall back through the city, quiaff?"

  "Aff."

  "But you told Alaric..." His voice trailed off. He glanced down, absorbing the map and what it meant. He looked up. "What have you done?" he whispered fiercely.

  "We will defeat Alaric Wolf here on Smolnik and this time there will be no fighting withdrawal. His death will blunt the Wolf invasion. We will then siphon off troops and send them coreward to take out Malvina Hazen. Neither invasion can survive without its leader."

  "But the city—" said Ian, his voice filled with horror.

  "You just heard our plans for evacuation. But many civilian volunteers will remain behind."

  "Not just volunteers, it sounds like."

  Anastasia continued as if he had not spoken. "They will hide in the buildings, armed with lasers and SRMs. There are mines beneath the street. Paint bombs and thermal flares to obscure the Wolves' vision. Napalm. When the Wolves enter the city, I will order the guerillas to strike. For a moment, the Wolves will be pinned."

  "And then?" Ian whispered.

  "My artillery and aerospace forces will finish them."

  "Not just the Wolves," Ian snarled. "The city, too. The people."

  "Yes," said Anastasia. "The people, too."

  "T-that's monstrous."

  She nodded. "Aff."

  Ian stared at the back wall for a long moment. Anastasia knew he was trying to marshal an argument that would force herto change her mind. "What if—" He shook his head. "What if you pay this terrible price and it doesn't matter? What if Alaric sees through your little trick." He turned to look at her, his eyes burning into hers.