Текст книги "Wolf Pack"

2

Once, so I am told, the Inner Sphere believed Wolf's Dragoons to be simple mercenaries. The spheroids knew that the Dragoons had sources of supplies and materiel beyond those of ordinary mercenaries, but most pundits ascribed the Dragoons' bounty to control of a secret cache left behind after the fall of the Star League some two and a half centuries ago. A secret Star League cache. Many merc companies had found just such treasure; it was assumed by most that the Dragoons had been even luckier and uncovered a major find. Of course, everyone now knows that there was no cache.

The Dragoons had never been simple mercenaries. When they made their entrance into the annals of Inner Sphere history nearly five decades ago, they were on a mission of reconnaissance and evaluation for their masters among the far-distant Clans. Their Clan fellows would probably have considered the Dragoons' vintage equipment merely second-rate, inferior cast-offs good only for barely acceptable warriors, those of insufficiently pure genetic heritage or too wild for their fellows of the ruling caste. To the militaries of the Inner Sphere, however, the Dragoon supplies and equipment were pearls of technical treasure the like of which had not been seen since the golden age of the Star League.

Jaime Wolf and his Clan brother Joshua were the leaders of that mission, having been promised legitimacy as a reward for success. Their assignment was to learn the strengths and weaknesses of each of the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere, signing on to serve them, one by one, as the mercenary regiment Wolf's Dragoons. The Great Houses, or the Successor States, as they had become known after the collapse of the Star League, were the mighty star empires that ruled over human-occupied space.

At first, the Dragoons met with success, both as warriors in the Inner Sphere's battles and as spies for the Clans from which they had come. Somewhere along the line, loyalties and sentiments began to change. Dragoon records are not specific on the point, but I believe that the change directly resulted from Joshua Wolf's death at the hands of a rival faction within the House of Marik, rulers of the Free Worlds League. From that time on, Jaime Wolf served as sole leader of the Dragoons, contrary to the dual command structure the Dragoons had inherited from Clan Wolf. Though still hiding their origins, the Dragoons continued to operate in the Inner Sphere, earning a fearsome reputation as the best, most honorable warriors since the time of the Star League.

That reputation took a blow when Jaime Wolf himself revealed that the Dragoons had originally arrived as spies for Clan Wolf, and by extension, for the whole body of the Clans, who were at that moment invading the Inner Sphere. The Dragoon name became a curse in mouths of desperate and frightened people everywhere. Who could blame them? Jaime Wolf admitted that he had been a member of Clan Wolf, the same Clan that had raced ahead of its fellows, gobbling up Inner Sphere worlds like the legendary Norse wolf-beast Fenris. As the Clan hordes drove implacably toward Terra, even the protestations of friendship with the Dragoons by the leaders of the Inner Sphere could not ease the hostility of the common people.

It was not until the siege of Luthien, capital of the Draconis Combine, that spheroid opinion began to shift back to a favorable view of the Dragoons. Hanse Davion, lord of House Davion and de facto ruler of the still new Federated Commonwealth, a marriage-spawned amalgamation of his own Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth, ordered the Dragoons and other mercenaries to assist the besieged Combine. The move shocked many people, especially those who believed that centuries of mutual hatred would prevent cooperation between the Federated Commonwealth and the Draconis Combine, even in the face of so grave a common threat as the Clan invasion. After the Dragoons played a key role in checking the Clanner flood at Luthien, the ordinary spheroid began to believe that we had truly split from our past and joined our fate to that of the Inner Sphere. Once again, the Dragoons and Jaime Wolf had become heroes.

In the old days, Jaime Wolf used to play a game with those he had never met before. When the Wolf's face was not well-known, a visitor would be ushered into the presence of a number of Dragoon colonels. Jaime Wolf would be among them, but no sign would be given, no names exchanged, until the visitor had reacted. I am told that people usually mistook one of the other colonels to be the leader of the Dragoons. A comment, I think, on the inferiority of the average spheroid. But the faces of galactic heroes eventually become seen and remembered by grateful people everywhere and so the Wolf's game is no longer played.

I thought about that test as I entered the Wolf's DropShip. I knew that I would not have failed as so many others had; but then, I am a Dragoon. We are trained to look beneath the surface and sense a person's strength. I would have no need to recognize the chiseled features and the iron gray hair and beard. I would not need to know of his short stature and lean physique. Jaime Wolf would be unmistakable, his inner strength easily sensed by a true warrior, even if his appearance were not familiar.

But the days of games were long over. The Dragoons had fought hard, grinding campaigns, not the least of which was the siege of Luthien. Though the ruling lords of the Great Houses expressed their belief that we were wholly a part of the Inner Sphere, we knew where we stood. We had turned our backs on the warped traditions of the Clans, but we had still not become assimilated into the ways of the Inner Sphere. We were our own breed, standing alone in a hostile sea of stars. Only the planet Outreach was ours, and we would hold it by any means in our power. Sibkos such as my own were proof of our resolve. As we say in our ceremonies, the Dragoons will stand until we allfall.

The guard who met me at the head of the ramp checked my orders before summoning an ensign of the ship's complement. She led me through the maze of corridors to a small cabin, where I dropped off my duffle. There were three other bunks; I was too junior to rate a private cabin. A short ride on a personnel lift brought us to the main deck. Standing amid their transport cocoons were the ship's complement of BattleMechs, their giant shapes casting fantastic shadows. Flickering among the shadows were the lights of the techs working to refit or repair the huge battle machines.

I had hoped to be ushered onto the upper decks, the Wolf's den. Sibko rumor reported the off-limits portions of the Chieftainas a place where instruments of various decadent pleasures existed side by side with the most advanced combat-command technology. My disappointment at being unable to confirm those legends was drowned in a rush of excitement. I would soon come face to face with the Wolf himself.

Grouped around a table in the central open space, Dragoon officers huddled over a tactical briefing table.

In the reflected light of the holotank, the washed-out tone of their flesh lent them an eerie resemblance to ghosts. Jaime Wolf was seated at one end of the table, listening to his commanders talk over some problem.

The ensign nudged me and I was suddenly aware that she was holding out to me the packet containing my orders. I took it from her and she left without a word. With no reason to delay, I approached the table and handed the packet to the Wolf.

He looked up at me, taking the bundle and tossing it onto the table without a glance. His face was familiar, but that made it no less terrifying. This was the man who had held the Dragoons together through nearly fifty years of travail. His strategic sense and tactical genius were legend. Who could stand in his presence and not feel awe?

"Welcome aboard, Brian," Jaime Wolf said. His gray eyes were penetrating, clear and deep as glacial ice. I imagined that he could see into my soul and read it as easily as a datascreen. Not daring to speak, lest I embarrass myself by stammering, I only nodded and shook the offered hand. As I did, something moved in the depths of those clear gray eyes and the Wolf's expression shifted slightly for the briefest moment. Disappointment? Had I failed already? "You'll need to know everyone here if you're on my staff."

He introduced the other officers. They were all heroes, each a veteran of at least twenty years with the Dragoons. At the time, I barely noted them. But to tell the tale fairly, you must know who was there.

Colonel Neil Parella was the only combat commander present. My first impression of him was colored by his somewhat slovenly manner of posture, speech, and dress, but I had heard that life in the field is somewhat more relaxed than in the training cadres. Who was I to criticize? The battle ribbons and the patches of units defeated by his regiment that decorated his combat jacket told the tale of a successful warrior. I had heard rumors he'd had a drinking problem as a junior officer, a flaw that would have been unforgivable in a senior officer. But he had obviously overcome that; he was commander of Gamma Regiment, after all.

Colonel Stanford Blake, a dapper man of advanced middle age, was the head of the so-called Wolfnet, the Dragoons' intelligence operation. He had served in Wolf's Command Lance as intelligence officer until moving up to his current post. Of all of them, Blake alone actually seemed pleased to see me.

The oldest of the four in attendance on the Wolf was Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Chan. I knew from the archives that he had earned even more decorations than Parella, but Chan did not wear them on his uniform. Like Blake, he wore a Mech Warrior's simple undress blues bearing only his rank insignia and the wolf's-head shoulder patch of the Dragoons. He no longer held an active field command, serving instead as Colonel Carmody's second-in-command and head of the BattleMech Operations Command.

It is not rare for Dragoons to wear patches signifying former affiliations, but I was surprised to see an infantryman's patch on the uniform of Major Hanson Brubaker. He was even shorter than the Wolf, a slim ferret of a man, hardly the sort one would expect to be a groundpounder. Then I noticed the Special Recon Group patch and understood. In his current post, Brubaker had moved on to reconnaissance operations of another sort; he was head of the Contract Command, the branch of Wolf's Dragoons that handled negotiations, recruitment, and public relations.

Introductions over, the officers fell back into conversation. The topic was not a tactical operation, as I had thought, but seemed to concern the details of a contract. I had never been very attentive in civil affairs classes, a failing not uncommon among Mech-Warriors. Only now did I feel the lack. Colonel Blake must have noticed my confusion. He leaned over and smiled. A trifle indulgently, I thought, but amicably.

"Kantov's Battalion of Gamma Regiment is up before the Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission for violation of contract."

"Ain't true," Parella objected from the depths of his sullen slump.

"House Marik alleges otherwise," Blake continued. "They have a substantial amount of evidence. The commission's judgement will likely be in favor of House Marik."

"It can't be! They're Dragoons," I blurted out, drawing the attention of the other officers to myself.

"Can and is, tinspawn," Chan said harshly. "Kantov's goons are guilty, and a blind ComStar acolyte could see it. You're out of the sibko now, boy. You'll be seeing a lot of things that can't be, but are. I've always said the metal womb freezes brain cells. You tinspawn are all alike. Why, I remember ..."

"Ease off, Pat." Blake's voice held a note of tiredness, as if Chan's complaints were an old and worn-out story. "The boy's ours. He hasn't had Clan ed-com."

Chan shook his head. "Real world's the only real education."

"Give the kid a break, Pat. You were young once, too." Blake's smile was easy. "He'll learn."

"He'd better learn fast."

I tried to make my voice firm. "I will."

Chan only stared at me, his face expressionless. Long ago his troops had dubbed him Old Stone Face. I wondered if it was age that had made his features so craggy and foreboding or if they had always had such an austere cast.

Brubaker punched my shoulder, rocking me from my rigid stance. "Don't let the old goat get to you, Cameron. He is a fine example of ed-com himself. A line example of its failure, quiaff?"

To my surprise, Chan ignored Brubaker's remarks and turned to Colonel Wolf. "I still say showing up for the trial will be bad for public relations. Let Kantov rot. We don't need to have Jaime pulled into this."

Brubaker snorted. "So you say. You haven't dealt with the public since you took over 'Mech ops. I leave those problems to you, so why not leave the relations problems to me? It is vitally important that Jaime stand before the commission. As leader of the Dragoons, the Colonel is the ultimate commander of the unit in question, a personage required by the commission to attend. This is the first time the Dragoons have been called before the commission for a violation and if the Colonel does not appear, he will give credence to all the rumors that the Dragoons backed the new commission for our own convenience. Our detractors will have ground for their claim that the Dragoons helped set up the commission to protect themselves. Or our commanders."

Chan waved his hand in dismissal. "I've already heard your arguments."

"But you obviously did not listen."

"That's enough, gentlemen. The Dragoons have enough enemies; we don't need to fight among ourselves." The Wolf's voice quieted his subordinates the way a sudden peal of thunder overrides the drumming of a storm's rain. "I would appreciate concrete suggestions on how to deal with this Marik problem. If you haven't anything useful to contribute, you're dismissed."

There were no more outbursts after that. The discussion of the problems inherent in the commission review proceeded in orderly fashion. But the more I heard, the more distressed I became. I had dreamed of following in Founder William's footsteps and serving the Wolf personally. Now it seemed that my first service would come as he and the Dragoons stood trial.