Текст книги "Wolf Pack"
Автор книги: Robert N. Charette
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19
When Colonel Wolf announced his decision, the arguments stopped, at least where he could hear them. New arguments erupted, but they too were reserved for times and places where the Colonel could not overhear. Many people seemed to think the Wolf had made the wrong decision, but I was coming to understand that the decision would have met opposition, no matter how he'd decided. I thought about telling the Colonel all I was hearing, but in the bustle of imminent departure, the grousing came to seem relatively unimportant.
Lydia stopped by Wolf Hall. She'd been away on a contract and I hadn't seen her for several weeks. The last time, we'd spent the night in each other's arms, consoling each another for the loss of Carson. A mercenary's life is not without hazard and, as good as the Dragoons are, we do take losses; Carson was the first of our sibkin to die in battle. That night had made me see Lydia—who had formerly seemed so standoffish– in a different light. I should have been happy to see her again, but her first words set my emotions on a different path.
"Is it true about the Wolf?"
I frowned. My sibs had often tried to squeeze me for information or used me as a rumor-buster, but never before had one come to me while I was on duty. That kind of harassment usually came from others.
"I'm on duty."
She wouldn't let me concentrate on my work. Tugging my head around, Lydia stared into my eyes. "Brian, this is important."
"So is my duty," I said, removing her hand.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If you'd only answer me, you'd be back to your duty by now."
She was right, of course. Thinking that she would leave Once I'd confirmed the rumor, I said, "It's true."
Taking in my words, her expression became dreamy. She sighed. "An honor duel. Just like in The Remembrance,"
Not exactly. The tales of honor that made up so much of the half-history, half-epic poem that was The Remembrancewere simple, clear-cut stories. Real life wasn't like that, especially life in the business end of the Dragoons. But then, I couldn't expect Lydia to know the complexities of the situation; she was posted to a combat unit. "No cares beyond a good soldier's cares," she'd said on that night we'd cried over Carson. She'd said that was enough for her.
"He'll win, of course," she said confidently.
"Takashi Kurita is accounted one of the greatest MechWarriors of the Inner Sphere."
"He's an old man now," she said with a shrug.
"So's Jaime Wolf," I pointed out.
She laughed, dismissing the issue. "But he's the Wolf. You'll be going with him, won't you? What an honor. I wish I could be there to see the Wolf kill the old Snake."
I found myself wishing I could share her confidence. She was living in a child's world, surrounded by dreams of glory and honor, in which the great hero always slays the villain and right always triumphs. I had dreamed those same dreams. Much as I wished them to be true, I had grown to doubt them. Seeing them in her eyes made me uncomfortable.
"You'll be leaving soon, won't you?"
I nodded.
"I'm off duty for the next thirty-six," she said with a smile. "Maybe tonight we could ..."
She left the invitation hanging, unwilling as ever to actually voice it. I forced a regretful smile and said, "I've got a lot to do."
Patting my arm, she said, "Ever faithful Brian. You do your duty." She started to leave, but turned suddenly. "James is in town, too," she said. "You find the time, look us up. Sibs always got to be there for sibs, quiaff?"
I nodded agreement, but wondered if that were so. Certainly I missed my sibs; we had seen so little of each other since my posting to the Colonel's staff. Things just weren't the same. Each time we gathered, my former sibmates seemed different, less—I don't know what. Maybe less informed. Had being Jaime Wolf's comm officer changed me, or had it only opened my eyes? As much as I missed my sibs and others of my ageframe, I had come to know that their narrow, comradely view of the world was not the only one. James would have said I'd been corrupted, blaming the spheroids.
I thrust those thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the report I was writing. But the words wouldn't come.
Soon I would be leaving Outreach again, but this time was different. It wasn't just because I had never been to the Draconis Combine. This was not a combat ticket or an inspection tour or a commercial-relations junket. We were responding to a challenge from a blood enemy. And if Colonel Carmody was right, we were walking into a trap.
The Wolf didn't seem to believe it was a trap, though. Or if he did, he didn't care. He had refused to allow a major force aboard the Chieftain.There would be only a single lance of BattleMechs: his Archer,my Loki,Hans Vordel's refitted Victor,and Franchette's new Gallowglas.We had a skeleton staff, mostly Kurita specialists that Stanford Blake had insisted upon, but we were not equipped for battle. Luthien, the Kuritan capital world, was garrisoned by at least five BattleMech regiments. If it came to a fight, we would be overwhelmed.
I could not help but wonder whether the Wolf was planning to return to Outreach.
Two days later, my fears were only enhanced as I watched the emotional farewell between Colonel Wolf and his family. They all came to see us off. Even Alpin showed up, though he stood to one side with a band of bondsmen with whom he'd been keeping company. James and Lydia were there to bid me goodbye, and I discovered I was not as ready to part with their company as I had thought. Difficult as the leave-taking was, we did not make a public display of it. We had said our real goodbyes the night before. For all his public show, I thought Jaime Wolf must have done the same with Marisha Dandridge last night.
I envied Jaime Wolf's blood family. Theirs was a closeness different from the family of the sibko. It might not be better, but I thought it must be, if only because it was the form of affection and closeness that the Wolf chose. I found myself scanning the assembled crowd for a face that could not possibly be there. The adopted Clanners would deride me for it, but I searched for one warrior in particular, a short, raven-haired Mech Warrior named Maeve.
How often had Jaime Wolf felt the pain of separation?
I watched the small man who had led the Dragoons for so long give his wife a last kiss, then stride away up the ramp. He was an old man, older perhaps than any other living Dragoon, but though the gray had conquered his once-jet black hair and beard, he was unbowed by the years. He had seen it all and done it all. Freeborn, he had won his way into the Wolf Clan's warrior caste and been given a greater command than any ever entrusted to a freeborn warrior. Years later, he had abandoned his mission in the belief that the way of the Clans was flawed, possibly wrong. He was a man of unyielding principle. Now he was on his way to a duel with the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. Whatever the outcome, it would be sung in a new verse of the Dragoon Remembrance,another chapter in the legend of Jaime Wolf.
The boarding klaxon sounded and I hurried up the ramp.
20
"Fire two levels down. Second and Fifth Points down the core lift shaft. Third Point hold in engineering. Fourth with me," Edelstein ordered. As the Elemental Points deployed, Elson followed their movements by their tactical chatter. Occasional sounds of combat interrupted, but he was pleased. His Elementals were performing with precision to clear the Alexanderefficiently. From the echoes of fire occasionally overlaying the communications, he judged that his troopers were showing proper restraint and using minimum force. It would not do to destroy what they had come after.
But something about what he was hearing began to nag at him until he realized what it was: Edelstein was dispersing his team wider than was either necessary or prudent. The boarding party from Orion's Sword,except for the group with MacKenzie Wolf, was gradually moving further away from the core sweep team of the Hammer'sElementals. Elson had thought Edelstein a better tactical commander than that.
Returning to the shuttle, he recalled his Point. Battle armor cleared and ready for duty, Trooper Hanson welcomed him aboard. Elson ordered the man back into his restraint harness, then pulled himself up to the cockpit. After scanning the datascreens, he spoke to the pilot.
"Estimated time to Alexander.Direct course."
"It'll take me a minute to calculate."
"In that case, launch." Elson turned to head back for the passenger bay. "You can figure it out on the way."
He ignored the mumbled acknowledgement. The Point was strapping in when he climbed back into the bay. He took his own seat as the pilot cut power to the grapples and fired thrusters to adjust the shuttle's attitude. The main engines fired and the shuttle began its trip to the Alexander.
As they made their final approach, the tac channel between Edelstein and the Hammererupted in bursts of static and the sound of small-arms fire. Elson urged the pilot to make the landing quickly. As he started to undo his harness, the pilot complied. Jolted by the hard contact, Elson was thrown free from his seat and slammed into a bulkhead. Only the protection of his battle suit prevented him from being harmed in all but dignity. Grabbing a grip iron near the hatch, he reoriented himself. As soon as the docking confirmation light lit, he slammed his suit's fist into the airlock hatch release. The panel arched up and he slid through, leaving the rest of the Point to follow as they would.
He had been aboard ships of the Alexander'sclass before and had a good idea where Edelstein was. He launched himself across the deck, bounced off the far wall, and darted down a supply shaft toward the lower levels. Unfamiliar with the ship design, his Point was slower. He left them behind.
Edelstein's channel was silent.
Elson found Fourth Point exactly where he expected them to be. There had been a battle and the Point had obviously come out on top. Bodies and spheres of spattered blood were floating everywhere in the zero-gee environment. Most of the bodies wore Dragoon uniforms. Elementals were dragging looter bodies out of the path of the corridor and securing them against convenient surfaces. Edelstein was bent over another corpse, and it wasn't until the Elemental captain straightened up that Elson saw that the man had been bending over the lifeless body of MacKenzie Wolf. "What happened?"
Edelstein's suit went rigid. "The looters ambushed us, sir. I warned Colonel Wolf that we shouldn't advance too quickly through this stretch, but he insisted. I asked to lead, figuring the battle armor would provide cover for the troops behind us. The looters figured it out, too. They let us pass, then opened fire. We scoured them out, but it was too late. They killed MacKenzie Wolf and his men in their crossfire."
Edelstein made his speech so quickly and smoothly that it almost sounded rehearsed. Elson would have liked to look the man in the eye, but Edelstein was sealed in his battle suit, his face invisible behind the dark, vee-shaped viewport. Elson looked around the corridor, assessing the damage. It might have been as Edelstein said; it might not.
Nova Cats had no love for Wolves, trueborn or free-born. He wouldn't mourn Wolf; mourning was reserved for the death of true warriors. MacKenzie was merely a true Dragoon, a traitor to the heritage of the Clans. If the looters had shot him down, it seemed like cosmic justice that an attempt to profit from the Clans' heritage had been the death of the man.
But if MacKenzie's death had been contrived, it could not have been the act of a single man. Elson found that fact significant. These Elementals might be more loyal to him than he had suspected. The possibility was important because one must always adapt to the circumstances that battle brings.
"Hammer,this is Elson. Medical teams to this location." He switched frequencies. "Talbot,Elson for Colonel Atwyl."
"Atwyl here. What's going on, Major Elson? We've been getting a lot of breakup in transmissions."
"Nothing good, Colonel. I believe we need to call a meeting of the officer's council. Colonel Wolf has been killed."
After a moment Atwyl said, "Acknowledged," and no more.
No orders, just an acknowledgement. Elson unclenched his teeth. Someone had to take control. "I suggest we meet aboard the Talbotone hour after the Alexanderis declared secure. I also suggest that we keep the deaths quiet at least until then."
"Acknowledged."
Elson cut the channel. He was irked by Atwyl's ineffective response, but satisfied in other ways. There were opportunities here. And there was work to be done before the meeting on the Talbotif he was to take advantage of those opportunities. Meanwhile, other matters were even more pressing.
"Are there any wounded?"
"Not a one," Edelstein reported.
"Your troopers are the only survivors of the ambush?"
"Correct, sir."
As he had suspected. "Finish securing the ship."
"Yes, sir. We'll have it all cleaned up before you take command, sir." Edelstein saluted and led his men away.
Elson didn't think it would take very long.
Searching the chamber, Elson deliberately looked for any sign that MacKenzie Wolf and his men had not been killed by the looters. Everything he saw fit perfectly with Edelstein's account of the event. The only thing out of place was the excessive force used on the last looters, but that could be ascribed to the rage of men who had just seen their commanding officer gunned down.
Considering his conversation with Edelstein before the boarding, Elson noted that he would have to be very careful around the man. Edelstein was most efficient. He would be a useful, if dangerous, tool, but with such dedicated men, Elson knew he could accomplish much.
21
The stars watched from their places high in Luthien's night sky. They, and the ghosts drifting along the streets, were the only ones to note the passage of the dark-clad man. He moved with a fluidity that would have surprised those who knew him as Taizo Homitsu. That MechWarrior never ran. He even walked with a slight limp.
Homitsu entered the storage facility and emerged moments later. The black duffel bag slung over his shoulder looked no fuller than before, but the ghosts knew it carried his long-hidden tool.
Hurrying down the street, Homitsu fretted. This was not the time he would have chosen, but his hand had been forced. Jaime Wolf was coming to Luthien. There was still work to do, things to be prepared.
Two blocks outside the compound he stopped. His breathing had become unsteady, which annoyed him. This was no time for mortal failings. Taking cover in an alley, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. The calm was slow in coming, but come it did. At this point, haste could undo him, and he was determined to fulfill his vow, whatever the cost.
Composed, he leaned away from the wall. Ready again, he moved on. He was silent, one with the night. His passage went unremarked. The stars above watched, but they told no one. The ghosts were quiet.
Who could stop the man who did not fear death?
* * *
Dechan Fraser was familiar with ghosts, for so many haunted his dreams, but their visits were no less disturbing for that. The ghosts of Misery were the worst, and they were the ones who came to him tonight.
He slipped from the bed, surprised that Jenette hadn't been wakened by his thrashing. Or had his thrashing also been part of the dream? He crossed the hardwood of the bedroom floor, the polished boards cool and firm under his feet. Sliding open the screen, he looked out across the garden.
Luthien's stars twinkled in the predawn sky, a last hurrah before morning. Many of those stars had their own planets. For the worlds of those systems, each star was a sun whose burning light made day, while, here, each of those stars was no more than a single twinkling among the many lamps of the night.
Once Dechan himself had been called a rising star among Wolf's Dragoons, but now, other than the ghosts, how many Dragoons remembered him?
In the distance he could see the dark patch among the city lights that was the imperial palace. Takashi Kurita slept there tonight, satisfied. Ambassador Inochi had returned with word mat Jaime Wolf had accepted the duel, and the late-night newscast had made much of the story. But Dechan Fraser had received no advance warning from Theodore or any of the Kuritans he knew. No warning had come from Dragoon agents, either. Once again, Jaime Wolf was coming to Luthien and Dechan was in the dark. He wondered if Michi knew about the duel. If he did, would he be pleased or annoyed?
Dechan didn't know his own mind; how could he predict the reaction of his old friend?
If, indeed, Michi had been his friend and not just another manipulator. It seemed that everyone used Dechan when it was convenient and forgot him when other matters demanded their attention. Everyone except Jenette. She had been as loyal to him as he to her. Yet she slept on, undisturbed by his doubt and anger. It was a burden he didn't wish to lay upon her.
He was still staring out the window when she awoke and crept up behind him to give him a sleepy hug.
"Up early," she said, kissing the back of his neck.
"I thought I'd see the sunrise."
She slid around him and draped his arm around her waist. "It's a beautiful one," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "You should have awakened me."
"I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so peaceful." He kissed her hair. "There'll be other mornings."
"But never another today." She nestled closer. "We could start it off right."
He felt her hand caress his belly and move downward. His body responded before his mind, but when he kissed her, he let himself fall into her love. For a while at least, the rest of the world went away.
22
The Talbot'sconference room was crowded with every off-duty officer who could squeeze in. There were a fair number of ratings as well, all anxious to hear the Council of Officers. Their presence would prompt caution and even keep some arguments from entering the discussion, but, by Dragoon custom, this could not be a closed session. Elson could see that the presence of observers bothered some of the older Dragoon officers, especially Colonel Atwyl. Their nervousness reassured Elson that encouraging the lower-ranking Dragoons to attend had been a good strategy.
Elson also saw many of his Elementals scattered about the periphery of the chamber, their presence easy to spot because they stood head and shoulders above the crowd. He had not ordered them to come, but they had, spacing themselves judiciously around the conference room. He did not think it a coincidence that one stood near each of the other council officers. The precaution was probably unnecessary, but he was pleased that his men showed such initiative.
Content to listen through the preliminary debates, he sat back. The air was warm, and the laboring climate-control unit chugged faintly as it tried to compensate for heat generated by bodies in a quantity far exceeding the room's rating. He let the heat soak through him, loosening flesh and easing the passage of blood. He was calm, content to smile at Hamilton Atwyl as the rest of the council argued.
The first step involved adding a seventh officer to the council. Gilson's nomination of Edelstein was well-timed. The 'Mech jock presented her arguments well, just as Elson had rehearsed her. His seconding of the nomination brought rousing approval from the crowd. Atwyl pushed another two names onto the list before Brandon spoke from the crowd and demanded the roll call. When the balloting was over, Edelstein was confirmed by a final vote of four to two.
Returned to full strength, the council moved to its other business, the election of a new first among the officers. When Elson's name was the first put forth, Atwyl seemed ready to do battle. Then, after Captain Brandon confirmed Gilson's spirited account of the first minutes of the encounter with the looters, someone in the crowd began to chant Elson's name. Gradually more and more of the spectators took up the shout.
Amid the din Atwyl called for order and slowly got it, but his spirit seemed to have diminished in the heat of the general response. He spoke about the deep-space nature of the mission and the importance of having a commander who was trained in and understood the intricacies of such missions. But his argument was flawed and easily seen to be so; the mission's first commander, MacKenzie Wolf, had been a MechWarrior, not even an aerojock, let alone a deep-space commander. The increasingly restive crowd was quieted when Jessica Sedano, captain of the DropShip Havelock,stood and nominated Atwyl. Gilson, at a nod from Elson, seconded and immediately called for a decision. Only Sedano and Shankar, the aerospace flight leader, stood by Atwyl. Elson was named first officer of the council.
The news was broadcast throughout the JumpShip and her attached DropShips, as well as to the prize crews aboard the cache ships. Before the crowd in the conference room dispersed, Commtech Ishora entered the chamber and bulled his way through the crowd to the open space around the council table. He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to recollect the new order. Addressing Elson, he said, "A message from Dragoon command, Major."
"Colonel," Edelstein corrected. The first among officers was always a colonel, if only by courtesy.
"I'm sorry, Colonel Elson," Ishora stammered.
"It's all right. I'm not used to it myself." Elson took the flimsy and held it before him. He didn't need to read it; he had done that when Ishora had first brought it to him yesterday. Fortunately, the commtech was one of Elson's backers; the contents of the message might have tipped some of the wavering officers in the wrong direction. But now the message was his to announce, and his to interpret as necessary.
"Dragon command announces that Colonel Jaime Wolf has taken ship for Luthien. He is responding to a challenge from Takashi Kurita." He let the murmuring die down before adding, "The Coordinator has proposed a duel to the death."
There were shouts of disbelief and delighted cheers. Elson stood like a rock as the crowd washed around him, babbling excitedly. Some speakers expressed the opinion that Wolf had made a mistake, but they were in the minority. Most of the mission crew seemed glad to hear the news, although it was clear to Elson that their reasons for cheer were varied. The largest group, mostly younger Dragoons, were elated that the old Snake was going to get his, but some were simply relieved that the end of the feud with Kurita was at hand. Most of the latter were older Dragoons and their blood kin. They were the ones Elson needed to address.
He raised his hand and waited until the crowd noticed him. Hushing noises from those– nearest him damped the sound, eventually quieting the gathering.
"Do you think this will end it?" he asked, pitching his voice to carry to those in the corridor outside the room. Some of his listeners nodded, but most only looked at him curiously. "I may not be native to the Inner Sphere, but I have studied its people. Those observations have taught me that, among all the peoples of the Successor States, the Kuritans are most like the Clans, especially in matters of honor. Even if Colonel Wolf kills Takashi Kurita, this feud will not end."
"If they are honorable, they will let it end," Atwyl said.
"You have not been attentive to the details, Colonel. The message from headquarters contains no indication that this duel is a surrogate for the feud. By all appearances, it is a matter of personal honor, one man settling matters with another—a Trial of Grievance. Therefore, the Kurita clan will not be bound by its outcome."
"I disagree," Atwyl stated. "With Takashi dead, Theodore will rule. He understands how destructive this feud has been and can be. He's no fool."
"Theodore Kurita is accounted a fine commander," Elson conceded. "But he is a member of the Kurita clan. Does not their honor code insist that a man may not live under the same heavens as the slayer of his father?" Atwyl reared his head back. He seemed about to say something, but Elson gave him no opportunity. "You know it is so. If Wolf wins, Theodore Kurita will be obliged to kill him. If Wolf dies, Takashi will be rid of the one man he believes has kept him from eliminating the Dragoons entirely. Win or lose, Wolf has put his personal honor before that of the Dragoons. Among the Clans, that is cause for dismissal."
There were objections from the crowd that the way the Clans was not the Dragoon way, but along with the protests were murmurs supporting Elson. Not enough to sway things, but enough ta satisfy him that he had increased his base of influence. For now, that would serve. It was a long voyage back to Outreach.
"We can stand and talk or we can do our jobs. There are ships to reclaim for the Dragoons," he said. "That is a job we need to do, no matter what is happening elsewhere. Idle talk will only waste time."
He gave specific orders, careful not to exclude those who had supported Atwyl. Elson assigned his defeated rival duties suitable to his position as JumpShip commander, but left Atwyl nothing of real importance. Mission command was transferred to the Alexander.
Elson's personal kit had already gone aboard.
