Текст книги "Wolf Pack"

Elson had to admit that the Dragoons had not fallen prey to the profligate tendencies of the Inner Sphere. Even dead, these BattleMechs continued to serve. Training exercises were sometimes held here, with the fallen 'Mechs re-armed to serve as pillboxes. Knowing that, he had searched for any with active weapon systems, finding none. These machines were all impotent hulks. But even as hulks they provided excellent cover, and cover was life for an infantryman, even when he wore an Elemental battle armor suit.

An Elemental's battle suit might look like a 'Mech to a civilian, but only if the civ had no reference for scale. The suit had a bulky, humanoid shape, made bulkier still by the backpack missile launcher. The boxy launch ports thrust up above the dome of the helmet assembly gave the armor its hunched shoulders. The left arm, non-human in proportion, terminated in a three-fingered power claw, while the right hand, when not fitted into a weapon assembly chosen to suit the mission task, had a reinforced glove of more human arrangement. Though similar in appearance to a BattleMech, the three-meter-tall armor suits barely topped the knee of the smallest 'Mech. Elemental suits carried only a single reload for their short-range missile launchers and, once the SRMs were expended, they had only limited anti-'Mech armament. Though offering a trooper the best protection and movement capabilities short of a vehicle or 'Mech, a battle suit could not make him a one-on-one match for even the lightest of 'Mechs. But then, Elementals didn't operate one-on-one against 'Mechs.

When he was sure the spotter was out of range, Elson left his refuge and called his Point together. The other four troopers in the Point called the unit a "squad," but that was because they were spheroids and Dragoon kids. Their archaic nomenclature was only a minor annoyance.

"Think we were spotted?" Jelson asked. He was Point second, a position he held only because of the lack of challengers.

They'd have known.

"Neg," was all Elson said.

"I still think we should be laying for them in the pass with the rest of the platoon." That came from Killie. She was spheroid through and through, even though she had the build of an Elemental—a small one. Though she rarely complained about staying suited, she always questioned everything and was far too free in expressing her own ill-informed opinions.

"But that's where they'll expect us." This from Vomer, the over-eager Dragoon kid.

"So what?" Killie laughed. The sound was harsh over the suit comm. "It's the best defensive terrain around. No clear lines-of-sight beyond fifty meters. Perfect toad terrain."

Toad!If Elson had not been sealed into his suit, he would have spat. Some spheroid 'Mech jock had dubbed Clan Elemental infantry troops "toads" the first time he'd seen them come bounding toward him across a plain. The Clanners had been executing a rapid closing maneuver, using their jump packs for all they were worth. Those Elementals had been moving their suits with precision and grace, and all that free-birth jock could think of was hopping toads. The name had taken hold among the spheroids, even among their own battle-armored infantry. The unity-forsaken fools used the name for themselves. They had no pride.

His anger suddenly seemed pointless. He was among Wolf's Dragoons now. How could he expect better?

The spotter's presence meant the enemy would be arriving soon, too soon for Elson to allow his Point to engage in idle speculation and futile questioning of his commands. He cut off the discussion and dispersed his Point among the hulks, selecting their positions for maximum coverage of what he estimated to be the opposition's most likely route. He returned to the Thunderboltand climbed atop its torso. Scanning the horizon, he caught a flash of light. He keyed the magnification circuit up to ten-power. Sure enough, a slight dust cloud. He had sent the Point to ground just in time. The enemy was coming.

He slapped an optic-link sensor onto the Thunderbolt'shull and dropped down out of sight, letting the 'Mech's bulk shield him from the scans of the approaching BattleMechs, as it had from the spotter. He kept watch through the optic link.

The enemy was a single lance, all light 'Mechs. The heaviest was a model he had seen recently for the first time, a humanoid 'Mech body with an almost canine silhouette to its head assembly. It took Elson a moment to remember the designation . . . Wolfhound.The others were classic Star League designs, two stilt-legged Locustsand one more humanoid 'Mech, a Wasp.They moved in a diamond formation, with the Wolfhoundin the lead and a Locuston each wing. From the Wolfhound'sposition in the formation and its significantly superior mass, Elson guessed that it must be the lance commander's machine.

The 'Mechs slowed as they approached the old battlefield, cautious of the danger the broken terrain offered. That was wise. A misstep among shifting rubble could throw the machine off balance, perhaps overloading its gyros. A pilot in such a predicament would have to work hard to keep the mighty battle machine from crashing ignominiously to the ground. Such a fall rarely destroyed a 'Mech, but could severely injure a pilot, even if the damage was only to his pride.

Patient as a Nevtonian spiderlion, Elson waited. One by one the BattleMechs entered the old battlefield. They were moving slowly, cautiously. But their concern was only for the terrain—a mistake that would cost them. Elson let them reach what he judged to be the center of the 'Mech graveyard before rising from cover.

He painted the trailing Waspwith his laser, marking his Point's primary target. Triggering the short-range missiles in his suit's backpack, he gave the order to open fire.

The rockets roared from his launcher, rocking him for the microseconds it took the thrust of their engines to force them free of the launcher. Feeling the heat wash over his helmet as the missiles streaked toward their target, he was pleased to see twin smoke trails rising from four other locations almost simultaneously. His whole Point had launched on the target.

Booms followed flashes and smoke blossomed around the Wasp,but before it was obscured in the growing cloud, Elson saw one of his shots impact the head. Though he knew the shot would not penetrate, he relished the knowledge that the 'Mech jock would be hurt. But there was no time for exultation. He needed to be gone before the the Wasp'scompanions could react.

He concentrated on reaching his second position safely. Dodging to maximize cover from the alerted BattleMechs, he could not see the other members of his Point. The lack of return fire from the enemy 'Mechs encouraged him. The Point must have taken the 'Mech jocks by surprise.

Safe in cover, he risked a look around. His position only allowed him to see one of the other Elementals. Killie. She was flashing him the signal, pumping her arm up and down four times to indicate that all Point members were in position.

He checked on the 'Mechs. The Waspwas down. That was good. Very good. In fact, better than he had dared hope. It meant his Point had a chance at another. The other 'Mechs had halted. No doubt they were working their scanners overtime, trying to find whoever had struck down one of their number. Elson grinned savagely. They would find out soon enough.

The Wolfhoundremained stationary, apparently on overwatch, as the two Locustsspread out to search. They gave wide berths to the dead 'Mechs, almost as if they expected one to spring up and throttle them like some revenant from a grave. -

Caution in these circumstances was smart, but the lance commander was not as smart as he thought. Elson was ready for the jock's reaction. Recalling his Point members' assigned positions, he made a quick estimate of how far off they might be. He recorded his new orders, compressing them for transmission before he screeched out a burst to his Point. He had to keep it short to prevent the enemy 'Mech pilots from locating his position.

"All suits, vector on Wolfhound.Three minutes to firing position. Concentrate on right arm. Screech in two if unable to comply."

He waited ten seconds, then moved out.

Mark: one minute, twelve seconds.

He crouched and waited behind a dismembered BattleMech arm. From off to his left came the sizzle of a 'Mech-mounted laser. There was no explosion or further fire—the warrior must have been spooked, firing at shadows. No fire had come Elson's way, so he knew his passage through the rubble had not been spotted. The Wolfhoundwas still standing motionless, watching its lancemates.

Mark: two minutes.

The Point's frequency was silent. Still the Wolfhoundhad not moved. Things were progressing better than expected.

Mark: three minutes.

Elson popped from cover on a short burst of his jump jets, just enough to clear the debris. Launching his last salvo of SRMs as he landed, he bounced again, heading for new cover. The rest of the Point was attacking, too, bursting from cover, firing, then scrambling back. This volley was more ragged than the last.

The Wolfhoundreacted at last. It spun on its left leg, lifting the right and rocking forward into a step as it raised its laser arm. Elemental missiles impacted that arm, its shoulder, and the 'Mech's chest in thunderous cacophony. The Wolfhoundswung its right arm, the snout of its Setanta laser a hungry maw. Lambent energy leapt out to bathe Vomer's battle armor as he sprang for heavier cover, then beams from two of the 'Mech's chest-mounted lasers struck the ground to either side of him. The 'Mech jock had fired all his weapons, obviously wanting to eliminate the Elementals he had spotted. Too bad he wasn't a better shot.

Elson fired his own laser, a poor thing compared to the gigawatts of energy the Setanta heavy laser could kick out. But he was a better marksman than the 'Mech jock. He placed the beam directly on the shoulder housing already cratered by three of the SRMs. Two other thin beams speared out. One hit the chest, but the other also caught the shoulder.

The Wolfhoundemitted a high-pitched whine. Its laser dropped, the glow fading from the energy coils. The damage inflicted by the Elementals' attack had rendered the 'Mech's primary armament useless.

Elson grinned.

"Fade," he ordered his Point. They had done their job. All they needed do now was lie low and survive.

Elson felt a savage joy when he saw how accurately he had guessed the 'Mech jocks' reaction to the attack. Even though they knew that this particular Point of Elementals had spent all their missiles, the jocks couldn't know whether there might be more Points hidden among the destroyed hulks. Even if they wanted to fight, the 'Mech jocks still had their own mission, which was not to destroy annoying infantry.

The lance was almost down to half-strength and their lance commander obviously did not want to lose more.

The Wolfhoundpulled away, accelerating through the graveyard without regard for caution. The two Locustsfollowed. Speed would let them escape the Elementals. The 'Mechs raced away in the direction the lance had originally been moving.

Elson thought the rapid retreat was the lance commander's best decision in the entire encounter. As the 'Mechs reached the foothills, he wondered if they would have any better luck against the rest of Harold's Star.

Elson hauled himself up onto the half-buried Crusaderbehind which he had taken cover. Sitting on its chest, he let his legs dangle into the empty cavity that had once held a missile launcher. The fighting was over. For now.

Twenty meters away Vomer was kicking one of the shattered 'Mech hulks in frustration. He popped his lid, squirmed out of his battle armor, and promptly proceeded to transfer his aggression to the suit. His kicks had no effect on the Elemental armor.

Elson laughed. This trial was over, especially for Vomer. He had lost, tagged dead by the Wolfhound'slaser. Infantry didn't get second chances like the 'Mech jocks did. It might have been better for Vomer if the 'Mech's laser had been allowed to fire at full strength.

In the distance Elson could see the Wasprising to its feet, the umpires having released their electronic lock on its controls. Doubtless the 'Mech jock was even more upset than Vomer. 'Mechs were not supposed to lose to Elementals.

The crunch of gravel told Elson that someone was approaching from behind him. He did not bother to turn around.

"One Elemental for one 'Mech. A good bargain, quiaff?Well done, Candidate Elson."

Recognizing the voice, Elson hitched his legs over the side of the 'Mech and dropped to the ground to face Colonel Griffith Nikkitch. Elson stood to attention. Respect was due to the rank, even if the colonel lost points for not using Elson's last name.

Nikkitch was an ordinary infantryman and well into his fifties, but neither circumstance was necessarily a disgrace. He wore battle honors and still stood straight. Though large for the ordinary run of people, Nikkitch did not have Elemental blood. Even when not wearing his battle armor, Elson towered head and shoulders over the officer who stood before him. Waiting until the colonel was craning upward to stare into the suit's faceplate, Elson said stiffly, "My duty, Colonel."

Nikkitch did not seem fazed by Elson's manner even though it verged on disrespect. It was also to the old man's credit that he was not bothered by the faceless bulk offered by Elson in his battle armor. "I suppose you're wondering why you rate the Infantry Ops commander for your umpire."

"Not my concern, Colonel."

Nikkitch scowled. "It ought to be. Why'd you split your Point off from the Star."

"Cadet Captain Harold had failed to appreciate the battlefield, sir."

"Blunt." Nikkitch turned and surveyed the rest of the Point as they gathered. He half-turned back toward Elson. "And you saw something he didn't?"

"I was wearing battle armor while he was still learning to spell the word in his sibko, sir."

"Clan wisdom says the new generation is superior to the old."

"Clan wisdom says the young shall be guided by their elders, sir."

Nikkitch nodded, his lips pursed. "And Harold wouldn't listen to you. Said he'd worked this field before and knew the best ambush spots."

The accurate description made Elson wonder if the colonel had listened in on the Star's strategy session.

"I had scanned the field maps before the exercise, sir."

"I know," Nikkitch said, revealing that he had taken an interest in the Star's planning. "What are you trying to prove, Elson?"

"I am a warrior, Colonel."

"Bondsman."

Elson bowed his head. The motion would not be seen outside the suit, but it helped him control his anger. He reminded himself that his status as bondsman was only temporary. When he felt he was controlled enough to speak calmly, he said, "As you say."

"I've seen your codex, Elson. You're not trueborn. Why are you so hot about this? Speak candidly."

"I may have been freeborn, but my blood is warrior blood. I earned my rank in Clan Nova Cat. I proved that I was a warrior."

"So you resent having to do it again, quiaff?"

"Aff. Yet I am bondsman to Wolf's Dragoons, taken in fair combat. I will fulfill my obligation."

"But nothing's going to keep you from being a warrior again?"

"I must be true to my heritage."

Nikkitch harrumphed. With a gesture, he included the rest of the Point in the conversation. "Well, you'd all better hope the rest of the Star does well without you. It's the whole unit score that will count the most. Your Point's score may be high, but it won't cut it if the rest of the Star botches up. Or loses because they're under-strength. Infantry has to work together."

Elson did not care for the rebuke. He had made the right decision. "All arms must work together, sir. And all arms must take advantage of their strengths, applying them in the best way possible."

"True enough." Nikkitch slowly turned to face him. "Your codex shows high aptitude in strategy. I suppose you want to be an officer?"

"I will serve as my abilities warrant, sir."

"We shall see."

That ended the impromptu review.

It was almost a week before the scores were posted. Elson had achieved a high enough score to make warrior rank and, to Elson's surprise, so had Harold. Once Elson had led his Point away, Harold had reconsidered Elson's advice and spread his unit out, extending the gauntlet through which the BattleMechs had to run. The result had been the effective elimination of the lance through accumulated damage from Elemental harassment.

Elson was summoned before Colonel Nikkitch.

"Harold has acknowledged that it was your strategy that allowed the unit to succeed. Does that surprise you?"

It did, but Elson refused 'to admit it. "Harold is honest when he sees no advantage in being otherwise."

Nikkitch shook his head, somewhat confounded. "Are you always so blunt?"

"I beg the Colonel's pardon."

"Forget it." The colonel indicated that Elson should sit. Seeing that the chair before the desk was both large and sturdy enough, Elson did so. The colonel waited a moment, no doubt judging Elson's state of mind, before continuing. "I am very impressed with your performance, Elson. Far more than I expected to be, considering the Nova Cats' showing on Luthien."

Elson damped his anger. The colonel was obviously intending to make some kind of point. Why could he not do it without gratuitous insults?

"Elson, the Dragoons are building their own force of Elementals. You are well aware that we are short of experienced commanders who know how to handle such a force. We need experts. You have advanced faster than any of the other bondsmen we took on Luthien, proving that you are an expert." The colonel paused, obviously awaiting a reaction. Elson presented the same stone face to praise as he had to insult. Nikkitch's face flashed with a brief expression of annoyance. "Would you be willing to work with me on organizing Dragoons Elemental units?"

"Does this mean I will not be given a command?"

Nikkitch smiled slyly. "Afraid you won't see battle?"

Elson gave him the stock answer. "In battle there is honor."

"Dragoon commanders do not have a reputation for sitting in camp while the grunts do the fighting."

"Then there will be a command?"

"Yes. And more, if you want it. You have potential, Elson."

"Then I accept. Bargained and well done." He stood and offered his hand.

Nikkitch laughed as he took the hand. "Bargained and well done, then. The formal ceremonies will be at the end of the month, but let me be the first to welcome you to the ranks, Elson Wolfson."

Elson released his grip. Wolfsonindeed!

Nikkitch's eyes narrowed. "Now what?"

"I earned the name Novacat when I was inducted into the ranks of Clan Nova Cat's warriors. Though I have been accepted into your ranks, I will not surrender that honor."

Nikkitch sighed. "I'd hoped you would try to fit in. That name isn't going to make you any friends among the oldsters."

Elson replied with a contemptuous stare. What the "oldsters," the original Dragoons, thought of his name was of little consequence to him. They harped on Clan Wolf's feud with the Nova Cats, but that was waste heat. What did it really matter to them? They were all freeborns who had proven the trueborns' opinion of their kind. Had they not turned their backs on the heritage of the Clans? Had they not turned traitor to Nicholas Kerensky's dream?

Let Elson's name remind them of what they had spurned. It mattered little that he himself was free-born. He had earned his honor, won his name as a warrior. That had been his first step in proving the worth of his genes. He had shown these Dragoons that he was worthy of a warrior's name. Now he would show them that he was worthy of more.