Текст книги "Wolf Pack"
Автор книги: Robert N. Charette
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35
Dechan tugged the formal jacket out of the closet and frowned. It hadn't looked so plain in the store when he bought it just yesterday. He slipped it on, settled the pads in the shoulders, and considered it again. It looked just severe enough and had enough hint of a martial cut. It would do.
When he had first heard about this thing the Dragoons were calling a Remembrance, he hadn't wanted to go. They hadn't bothered to let him in on such things when he'd worn their uniform, why should he care now? But Jenette had brought him around.
Dechan had known MacKenzie Wolf as Darnell Winningham during the years Wolf's son had spent learning the business. When MacKenzie's identity had been revealed, the official line was that the false identity was intended to prevent MacKenzie from receiving preferential treatment. From what Dechan had learned of the Dragoons recently, it seemed more likely that it was some sort of Clan thing, that MacKenzie had to earn the name or something. Or it might just have been more of Jaime Wolf's penchant for secrecy and duplicity.
Whatever, MacKenzie was dead now, and the Remembrance was being held in his honor. Jenette was right in insisting that MacKenzie was the issue, not the Dragoons' treatment of Dechan. Dechan had known Darnell as a good company commander. And Darnell was one of the few who had not died during the time Dechan spent in the Periphery and in the Combine. A memorial service might be just the thing, a way to bury the dead past.
Jenette came out of the bathroom vigorously toweling the last drops of water from her short hair. "You're looking nice, but I wish you'd wear your uniform."
"We've been through that."
She frowned, then shrugged it away. She tugged on her tight uniform pants and slipped into her shirt and jacket with her usual brisk efficiency. Her belt hangers stayed empty; even dress weapons were inappropriate for a Remembrance. He helped get the dress cloak centered and snapped the wolf's-head clasp shut. She quickly brushed her hair into moderate order before setting her beret at a jaunty angle. Jenette looked dashing in her uniform, but then that was an effect carefully calculated by the uniform's designers.
She was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip to the city center, and Dechan felt disinclined to start any conversations. What was there to say? They emerged from the tube near the main entrance of Wolf Hall. The Remembrance was to be held in the great assembly chamber of the headquarters complex. Dragoons dressed in billowing dress cloaks and intent on the same destination accompanied them on the way to the Hall. Others approached singly or in small groups from all directions. The gathering crowd was unusually quiet, distant city traffic the only sound.
The great hall was raked down to a stage. Normally there were seats fitted to the stepped tiers of the chamber, but they had been removed. The audience would stand tonight. In reverence for the honored dead, Jenette had said. He followed her to a row a third of the way down and she led him to a place in the center. He looked down at the stage. Save for a simple podium sheathed in black plastic, it was bare. It bore the black wolf's head on a red disk attached to its front. The podium was miked so that a speaker's voice could be easily heard in the upper gallery. Dechan couldn't see the pickups on the stand itself, but they were evident in the enlarged image projected on the wall behind the stage. The screen, like the front of the stage and the walls of the hall, was draped in black bunting.
The hall filled quickly and with what Dechan thought might be called military precision. Once inside, the Dragoons seemed to feel the solemnity lifted somewhat. The soft buzz of hundreds of conversations filled the air. The snatches he heard seemed to be concerned with events and people of which he had no knowledge. He gave up listening and stared glumly at the stage.
Two figures stepped out from the wings. One was Jaime Wolf, his gray-maned head held high. In place of the standard cloak, he wore a sleeveless red gown over his dress uniform. The wide lapels of the garment were studded with badges and ribbons. The other person was swathed from head to toe in loose-fitting black robes that concealed his or her sex as easily as the head-covering hood concealed the face. That person too wore a wide-lapeled gown and the decorations matched those Wolf wore.
Wolf stepped to the podium and waited while the room gradually fell silent.
"I am the Oathmaster." He scanned the room as if taking attendance. "You came at my call. Listen as honor commands. Speak as honor compels."
He executed a brisk about-face and retired to the back of the stage, where he stood at attention. The black-robed person took his place at the podium. The voice was deep, a man's.
"I am the Loremaster, keeper of the Remembrance."
He must have touched a control on the podium, for the speakers began to ring with the sound of a tolling bell. When the sound died away, the black-robed man spoke again.
"Death is the warrior's lot, and we are all warriors. Seeking the flame that holds back the dark of oblivion, we walk the honor road and in honor, we find the light that we seek. Honor is the light in our hearts.
"The warrior who thinks to shine above others flares and ends a cinder. The warrior who holds the good of the trothkin above his own burns with an eternal flame. Let him be remembered in the halls."
The bell tolled.
A procession marched down the central aisle from the back of the hall. At its head was Alpin Wolf. Behind him were his mother Katherine and Marisha Dandridge. MacKenzie's daughter Shauna came next, and Rachel and Joshua Wolf followed her. All save Alpin carried lighted candles. Alpin held a folded uniform. They halted at the edge of the stage and Alpin laid the uniform down.
"Who has fallen?" the Loremaster asked.
"MacKenzie Wolf," Alpin answered.
"By what right do you address this assemblage?"
"He was my blood father," Alpin and Shauna said together. Shauna puffed on the candle she held and the light flickered out.
"He was my husband," Katherine said and blew out her candle.
"He was my son by law," Marisha said and did the same.
"He was my sib by law," Rachel and Joshua said in ragged chorus. Rachel had to help Joshua extinguish his candle.
In unison they all said, "We ask that he be remembered."
The Loremaster nodded solemnly. "You are the family of MacKenzie Wolf. You have the right."
The silence of the hall was marred by rumbling murmurs. Dechan noted that the loudest noise was from sections where the Clan adoptees stood. "What's their problem?" he whispered to Jenette. "Clan brainwashing," she whispered back.
"Who will speak of this warrior? Who was witness to his end?"
The raised voice of the Loremaster brought renewed quiet. For a moment nothing happened, then a large man, an Elemental by his uniform, stepped out into the central aisle. "I am Edelstein, Captain. I was there when MacKenzie Wolf died. He died as a warrior should, his face toward those who sought his death. That is worthy."
As Edelstein returned to his place, the crowd replied with the ritual response, "Seyla!"
Dechan remembered when he had heard that word for the first time. It had been the beginning of the end for the Dragoons in the Draconis Combine. It had been the word uttered by the assembled Dragoons to signify their assent to the plan of escape from the Combine. Here, too, it meant assent. But though the circumstances were less dire, still he felt a chill.
"A death alone is not enough," the Loremaster said. "Who will speak of the life of MacKenzie Wolf?"
A Dragoon standing in the front row stepped out into the aisle and walked around to the stairs that led to the stage. He was met at the top by a woman carrying a white robe. The Dragoon slung off his cloak and put on the robe. The Loremaster surrendered the podium to him. The white-robed Dragoon stood before the microphones in silence for a moment.
"Hear the words we carry with us. This is the Remembrance,our past and our honor. Hear the part MacKenzie Wolf played in our clan."
The man began a chant. The phrases were archaic and the rhythm complex. Dechan was tempted to turn around and see if there was a prompter. When he noticed that the Dragoon's eyes were closed, the temptation vanished. The tale spun by the verses seemed to be telling of the origin and history of Wolf's Dragoons. The highlights were there, but it was disjointed, as if the speaker were leaving things out. Dechan supposed the chant to be an edited version of something longer; if every detail were told with the intricacy of some of the verses, they would be here for days.
The speaker's recounting contained more and more of the detailed verses as he covered significant events in the life and service record of MacKenzie Wolf. The slant of the phrases and the choice of words made it all sound very heroic. Dechan had nearly tuned it out by the time the speaker reached the battle of Misery; then he paid attention and soon regretted it. Dechan's contributions went unmentioned. Instead his old friend Thorn Dominguez was extolled as the one who had brought the Iron Man down.
"They had to keep it quiet, remember?" Jenette whispered in his ear. She had caught his arm and he realized that he was trembling.
"I thought the lie was over."
The speaker went on, telling of MacKenzie's heroics and the struggle to rebuild the Dragoons. There were verses about his service with the Black Widow Battalion and his ultimate leadership of it. Finally, the telling slowed to an end. The speaker stepped back and bowed to the Loremaster. The figure in black returned to the podium.
"MacKenzie Wolf has fallen. Shall his name be remembered in the halls?'
A silence descended on the chamber.
Hamilton Atwyl stepped into the aisle and shouted.
"Aff! Let his name—"
Cries of "Neg! Neg!" cut him off.
Contradictory shouts erupted as the solemn dignity of the proceedings dissolved in turmoil. Dechan watched Jaime Wolf and was surprised at the stiffness of the man. Even when the Loremaster turned to him and said something that the microphones didn't pick up, the Colonel stood still and said nothing. The Lore-master tolled the bell and kept it tolling until the tumult floundered and quiet returned.
"The rule is clear. He died a warrior, he shall be remembered as a warrior, one among many. This is the rede of the Loremaster."
There was a pause, then a wave of grumbling and a few exclamations of satisfaction. But there were no objections.
"Seyla," the Loremaster intoned.
"Seyla," the sloppy chorus of the assembly echoed.
The dispersing crowd was much noisier than it had been when arriving. Dragoon jostled Dragoon in the exodus, and Dechan was cut off from Jenette by a squat tanker who seemed in no hurry. Jenette didn't seem to notice and pushed on ahead. He was sure she would be waiting for him outside, so he resigned himself to the slower pace. Soon enough he'd be out and they could go elsewhere.
Outside the hall, a fistfight broke out and stalled the crowd. Dechan leaned against the doorway, at once amused and irritated. Dragoon unity on display. Waiting on Dragoons seemed to be his life's work.
"You seem to have been forgotten, Dechan Fraser."
Dechan turned to look at the speaker, a sandy-haired giant of a man. Neither the face nor the deep voice were familiar to him, but the dress uniform bore a nameplate that gave him the giant's name.
"What would you know about it, Major Elson?"
"I was an adoptee, too."
"But now you're just one of the big happy family."
"I talk with many of the others who are not part of the circle of old-timers and sycophants surrounding Wolf. Some of them have told me that you were once a rising star with the Dragoons. Some even said you had the makings of a colonel, and that you might one day have commanded the Dragoons. But that was before Wolf sent you away. Many people say he will not give an outsider due reward."
"Yeah, well, whatever prospects I had, they're gone now."
"Look around you, Fraser. Not everyone cares for the way some officers take rank and make it privilege. The Dragoons are changing."
That was obvious, but Dechan didn't understand what this man was making of it. Maybe he'd been away too long to know the currents within the Dragoons, but he'd lived the Kuritan life long enough to know better than to commit himself to a stranger. "What are you suggesting?"
"I suggest nothing. I merely point out the obvious."
"Obvious to you, maybe."
"I was told that you were a perceptive man. You know what the old Dragoons did to your life. Look around you, see where things stand, then remember what you heard tonight."
"And what does that mean?"
If the man was annoyed by Dechan's stupid act, he didn't show it. His tone remained calm, and his voice stayed pitched to carry no further than the two of them. He smiled a friendly, almost conspiratorial smile. "True Dragoons welcome, and honor, true warriors."
"Look, Major, I'm in no mood for platitudes."
"I am sorry to disturb you then," Elson said with a dip of his head. "I will be about my business and no longer impose upon you. I wish you well, Dechan Fraser."
The big man vanished surprisingly quickly into the crowd that was finally breaking up. Jenette called to Dechan and he headed in her direction. Clearly, she had seen the man.
"Who was that?"
Dechan found himself surprisingly reluctant to talk about what the big man had said. "Somebody who thought he knew me."
"I didn't know you knew any Elementals."
"I don't, but maybe I will someday."
Jenette wrinkled her brow at his obliqueness. She laughed in an attempt to change his mood. "But we don't need to play soldier tonight; that duty's done. I promised we'd have the night alone after the Remembrance and so I am at your command. What do you want to do?"
"I think I just want to go home."
36
Stanford Blake blew into Colonel Wolf's office like a whirlwind. I was glad to see him, and hoped he would shake the Colonel out of the strange lethargy into which he had fallen since learning of the death of his son. Blake was still in field uniform, which was worn and stained from the training maneuvers he had been conducting when I'd contacted him. I'd been worried that he would dress me down for not going through channels, but when he'd heard what I had to say, he had promised to come at once. He'd been as good as his word.
The Colonel looked surprised to see his intelligence chief burst through the door. Maybe it was because we were in the middle of an intel briefing that he took it in stride, but I had my doubts. Jaime Wolf had been been taking everything with a laconic indifference of late.
"You're a little early, aren't you, Stan?"
Blake started to say something and caught himself as he realized that the Colonel was not alone. Glancing at Captain Svados, Blake's intel second, he said, "Janey, you'd better go watch the store."
She nodded briskly. He stood slapping his bush hat against his thigh until she left. I started to follow, but Stan restrained me. "Just shut the door, Brian, then run a bugging check."
"But this is—"
"Just do it!"
I did. Stan appropriated a seat and waited silently until I was done. The Colonel humored him and waited as well. The scanners reported no active devices and I told him so. His response was, "Now, run a comprehensive check and match it against the last set in your personal commset."
Colonel Wolf lost interest as I followed Stan's orders. He called the morning's sitreps up on his screen and stared at them with more interest than he had shown when we were reviewing them. Still, I wondered if he was only feigning interest. Just as I started the tertiary checks, he spoke.
"Stan?"
"Soon enough, Jaime."
There was silence while I finished checking. When I reported that everything was normal, the Colonel said, "All right, Stan. Now maybe you'll tell me what this is all about."
"Maybe you'lltell me,"Stan shot back..
The Colonel frowned. "Not the way it works, Stan. Start with why you chased Captain Svados out of here. If this is business, your second's got a need to know. When did you start keeping secrets from her?"
"Since she started keeping secrets from me," Stan replied, confirming what I'd feared.
Colonel Wolf's frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"
"It's what I've been trying to tell you, Colonel," I blurted out. I almost lost my courage when he turned his eyes on me. "Someone's been falsifying communiques."
"That's a dangerous accusation, Brian."
"I know, Colonel. That's why I've been trying to lock things down, but I haven't been able to. I see logs that say messages and orders have been sent and others that report them as received, but I hear people saying they never got them or arguing over just what the content was. It's why I contacted Colonel Blake. I thought he might have an explanation."
Stan took up the argument. "Jaime, I didn't even know you were back on Outreach until Brian punched a call through on the emergency net. And don't put him on report for misuse of the net; I think he has good cause. If he hadn't done it, things might be a lot worse. Svados reported you still incommunicado in deep space."
"Incommunicado?" the Colonel echoed in a puzzled voice.
"As per your orders," Stan added.
Jaime Wolf cupped his chin in his left hand. "I never sent those orders."
"Damn!" Stan slammed his hat onto the floor. "It isworse than we thought. Jaime, you should never have gone chasing that feud."
Stan's outburst was cut off by a rap on the door. I don't know what I expected to see as Stan and I turned to see the door open, but it wasn't Colonel Carmody. The white-haired old man looked briefly surprised to see Stan, but he made no comment. He just said what he had come to say to the Wolf.
"It's time, Colonel."
"I'll be there in a minute, Jason."
Carmody nodded and closed the door.
"What's going on, Jaime?" Stan said, voicing my own question.
"A council meeting," the Colonel said quietly.
That was news to me, and I was supposed to know the Colonel's whereabouts at any given time. "It wasn't on your schedule," I said.
"Why wasn't I informed?" Stan asked at the same time.
The Colonel looked at each of us in turn. "I thought you were, Stan. I'm sorry, Brian, I forgot to tell you."
"You forgot!"
"Stan, back off. I'm tired and I don't need a lot of grief. I forgot. You'll just have to forgive me for being human."
Stan wasn't buying. "Unity, Jaime! What in Kerensky's name do you think you're doing? Why don't you just sell the 'Mechs for scrap and turn everybody out?"
"I'm trying to hold the Dragoons together."
"This meeting is about naming a second-in-command," Stan said. There was suspicion in his voice, and I began to see what was happening.
"That's right," the Colonel said. "I was planning to appoint Kelly Yukinov. He's done a good job with Alpha Regiment."
"Scuttlebutt says that Alpin is expecting to be named your second," I said.
The Colonel shook his head. His voice was heavy, freighted with what I took to be regret. "No. He's not ready now . . . if he'll ever be."
Stan sighed, then wet his lips. He was nervous and I didn't blame him. "Jaime, Alpin's been running with the Clanner faction. They've been touting him as your successor."
"Alpin? He's no leader of men."
"You've been a little out of touch. People change. He seems to have put together a coalition."
"You're blowing things out of proportion, Stan. The Clanners don't like the idea of a family succession. Alpin couldn't convince them otherwise."
"Then maybe you should put him in. The Clanners will have to shut up. Once he screws up, you'll have grounds to replace him, and in the meantime, there'll be time for some of the integration programs to do their work. We can't afford botch-ups like the cache mission."
Stan realized his slip when the Colonel stiffened. "I'm sorry, Jaime. I didn't mean that how it sounded. It's just that things haven't worked out the way we hoped. There's still too much friction within the Dragoons."
Jaime Wolf's flare of emotion faded as quickly as it had come. The energy had fled and he spoke like a tired, old man. "It's all right, Stan. It'll all work out. Yukinov is a good commander and he's done a good job with Alpha. Give it a year or so and then, well, who knows?" The Colonel stood. "The council is waiting."
We walked down the hall to the meeting room. The council was made up of the commanders of each of the Dragoons' active regiments and the heads of the various commands and operational areas. There were thirteen members, fourteen including the Colonel as the head of the council. Most were present and, except for the Colonel and Stan, all had brought their two permitted aides. By tradition one aide was allowed at the table with the council member, while the other sat or stood around the edges of the room. I took my place at the Colonel's side. Stan sat alone next to me. His mouth quirked up in irritation, and I looked across the table to see Alpin Wolf seated next to Neil Parella of Gamma Regiment.
Of the other field commanders, only Alicia Fancher of Beta Regiment was present. Hanson Brubaker of the Contract Command leaned across his aide, deep in conversation with Gerald Kearne, the Blackwell Corporation representative, who was a non-voting member of the council. Jason Carmody was sitting bolt upright in his seat. The Outreach commander looked as though he didn't want to be present. I sympathized, but at least he had known this was coming. Next around the table from him were Chan, Nikkitch, and Grazier: BattleMech, Infantry, and Armored Operations heads. The last council member present was Hamilton Atwyl, head of the Aerospace Command.
Stan whispered to me. "Maybe it's not as bad as I thought. Epsilon's on planet, and Nichole's a strong supporter. When she gets here, we'll have the numbers."
I wished that he had let me in on his suspicions. I knew where Alpin stood. Parella was an open Clan idolator, and Carmody and Atwyl were staunch supporters of the Colonel, but I didn't know the politics of the others. How could I help if I didn't know who was safe?
The chamber door opened and Major Elson walked in with a quartet of junior officers, mostly infantrymen.
"What are you doing here, Elson?" Stan demanded.
"I stand for Epsilon," Elson said, drawing himself to attention. "Colonel Nichole and most of the command are down with an intestinal bug. It seems to have been something in the officers' mess. As I am the senior officer unaffected, Dragoon policy requires that I stand in for the commanding officer to fulfill all duties and responsibilities."
Stan frowned, then gave the Colonel a sharp glance when Wolf invited Elson to take a place at the table. Elson motioned his allowed aide to the table, but he didn't sit. Instead, he walked around the circumference and held out a flimsy to the Colonel.
"Colonel Wolf, I was given this communique on the way in."
The Wolf read what Elson offered, then passed it to me. I announced the contents. "Colonel Yukinov's DropShip has developed a drive malfunction. He is still in orbit."
"We will have to begin without him," Fancher said.
"Now we are in trouble," Stan whispered to me.
Elson took his seat and the Colonel called the meeting to order.
"There's been a lot of pressure from certain quarters," he began. "I understand your concerns, and I share them. We really need to pull together and I'm hoping you will all stand behind my choice of second-in-command."
"Come on, Jaime. Let's get on with it. I've got to lift for a contract this evening," Parella said. "Name your choice so we can get on with the arguments."
Other voices around the table echoed the sentiment. It was a sign of the confusion into which the Dragoons had sunk that some of those voices belonged to aides rather than council members.
The Colonel held up a hand for silence. When he got it, he said, "I name Kelly Yukinov as second. Considering the current situation, I expect he will turn over command of Alpha to his second and assume a position on my immediate command staff."
After the earlier reaction, I'd been expecting an outburst. No one said anything for a few moments, then Fancher stood up.
"You deny Alpin?"
The Colonel looked down at the table. "I must."
Elson spoke. "You break your own rules just as you broke the Clan's."
Atwyl's head snapped around and his face contorted. "You shut up!"
"I cannot. I am too concerned. Though I am not a medtech, I have eyes. What I see tells me that I must speak, even though others fear to say what they must know in their hearts. Jaime Wolf acts the part of a senile man. He withdraws from his responsibilities, letting others carry his burden. He will not relinquish his control over the Dragoons, yet he will not let the younger generation have its due. He is dangerous to all of us."
I was shocked that the Colonel said nothing in his own defense.
"He's your commander, Elson," Nikkitch pointed out.
Elson ignored him. "The council can act. Censure is an option."
"Not going to happen, Clanner," Atwyl said. "You can't get Jaime voted out."
"Perhaps not," Elson said. His confidence suggested that he didn't necessarily believe that Atwyl was correct.
"But we can challenge," Alpin said, looking to Elson like a trained dog checking to see if he'd performed his trick correctly.
"You'll lose, Alpin," Carmody said warningly.
"But Iwon't." Elson stood and faced the Colonel. "Jaime Wolf, colonel and too long the leader of Wolf's Dragoons, I call you unfit. You are old and have held your position beyond your time. Acknowledge your failing abilities. Acknowledge the truth and step down."
Still, Jaime Wolf maintained his silent stare at the table.
"Jaime won't step down for you," Stan answered for the Colonel.
"Then before this council, I challenge Jaime Wolf to a Trial of Position." Elson stared at the Colonel. "I will defeat you."
"This isn't permitted," Atwyl shouted.
"It is," Parella yelled back. "The council can sanction anyone's challenge."
"Only if the majority agree," Atwyl shot back.
Fancher slammed her fist in the table. "I call the vote."
"The council head must call for all votes," Carmody objected. His voice was bleak, as if he expected to be overridden. Fancher obliged him.
"Personal interest disqualifies the council head," Fancher smiled coldly at Carmody. "As Outreach commander, you must call the role at any member's request. And I so request."
Carmody cast an imploring look at the Colonel, but he got no support. The Wolf seemed turned inward on himself, uncaring. Reluctantly, Carmody asked each of the council members whether they would allow the challenge. Even though both Jaime Wolf and Elson were ineligible to vote, their presence meant that the council had enough members to enforce the ruling. Challenge was a part of Clan life, and I suspected that several council members felt that they had to allow it even though they might prefer a less martial solution. Too many votes favored the challenge.
With no one left to poll, Carmody quietly said, "My vote means nothing to the count, but let the record show I find the challenge inappropriate. The council allows the challenge by a margin of six to four."
"It is settled," Elson said. "We shall fight, Jaime Wolf."
At last, the Colonel looked up. "That does seem to be the way of it."
Elson grinned. "It must be. If you refuse the Trial, you lose. Your position is forfeited."
"I've lost that already," Jaime Wolf said in a barely audible voice.
"But even if you win the fight, Elson, you can't take over the Dragoons," Stan said. "You should have studied better. If you win, the council cannot sanction you as the leader of the Dragoons. You don't have enough time in uniform."
"I am aware of that, Colonel Blake. But, have no fear, for I have studied well. The challenger need not take the position for which he challenges, if he has a sponsor. That is, I believe, one of the improvements your freeborn council has made to the Clan way." Elson swept the table with his eyes. "I perform this challenge in the name of Alpin Wolf. He is of the leader's bloodline and therefore qualified to replace him, by your rules. Alpin shall lead the Dragoons when I win."
"You're a fool," Colonel Wolf said quietly.
His grandson Alpin rewarded his comment with a glare of naked hatred. Elson shrugged off the remark.
"I am a survivor, Jaime Wolf. Soon your opinions will no longer matter. You have a decision to make which you cannot ignore: how the Trial shall be fought. You will of course choose to fight augmented."
"No, I think not."
"Jaime!" Those who had stood by Colonel Wolf were shocked and incredulous. Fighting Elson unaugmented would be suicide. I suddenly feared that death was exactly what the Colonel was seeking. Since he had learned of MacKenzie's death, the fire had left him. Among the Clans, old warriors gladly accepted any chance to die in combat. Did Jaime Wolf see this as his opportunity?
The Colonel slowly pushed his chair away from the table, then stood. "But I reserve the right to have a champion."
Elson smiled confidently. "Then name him, for mine is the right to choose the time and place of the Trial. I select now for the time, and this chamber for the place. Draw the Circle of Equals."
