Текст книги "Wolf Pack"
Автор книги: Robert N. Charette
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43
Elson stalked into the command center, already angry. He had not cared for the peremptory tone of the summons from Alpin. He cared even less for the fact that the boy seemed to think he was really in command.
All of the command council loyal to the Dragoon organization was there. Neil Parella and Alicia Fancher were sitting on opposite sides of the table, eyeing each other with ill-concealed hostility. Their rivalry made it easy to play them off against each other. Elizabeth Nichole, the other combat regiment commander, was working at a console near the door to one of the offices lining the ops center. For all his initial fears about her, Nichole had turned out to be a supporter of the new regime. Sean Kevin of Seventh Kommando sat in one corner. He was a quiet and competent officer who had no interest in the strategic positioning of the Dragoons; he only wanted someone to point him in the right direction so that he could use his skills. Elson found him very valuable. Rebecca Ardevauer of the Fire Support Group was less tractable, but she was valuable, too. She was well-liked and vocal about the necessity of avoiding conflict and holding with the outcome of the Trial of Position. Douglas Piper of the Support Battalion was more of an enigma. He said little except to voice his votes, and those had always been what Elson wanted.
Though not of the council, Noketsuna was there, too, talking quietly with Svados. The Kuritan was proving valuable for his insights concerning the reaction of the local populace, gleaned through the exercise of his somewhat dubious investigative skills. He was working well with Svados, recently promoted to head Wolfnet in the absence of Stanford Blake.
Of course, Alpin Wolf was also present. He stood leaning against the main table, intent on the images flickering through the holotank. His Mech Warrior's jacket, with its motley collection of unit-recognition patches, was tossed over a chair.
Elson ignored him and stepped up to Nichole. "Things quiet enough at Epsilon, Nichole?"
Alpin looked up when he heard Elson's voice. His face was pinched into a frown that deepened when he saw who Elson addressed. He slapped his hand on the table.
"My grandfather is gathering troops in the Outback. I am convinced that he means to make a strike against the capital. He will assume that he can unseat me and retake command."
Parella snorted. "He can't best three regiments of BattleMechs with full support, when the best he can field is a bunch of old men and kids."
"There's no proof he's actually doing anything," Nichole pointed out.
Alpin stabbed a finger at the holotank. "Then explain the drop by the Spider's Web Battalion. There was no fighting when they landed.".
"That's the report, but we don't have positive confirmation," Svados said.
"There doesn't have to be," Alpin snapped. "The Spider's Web flushed out anyone who supported the legitimate succession before they left Wing. Of course they came to support my grandfather's rebellion."
"Chandra says Captain Maeve is in command of the battalion," Svados said.
"Maeve? She's a good jock, but she's just a pup."
Fancher chuckled. "She's not ready for command. If that's the best Wolf can rally, we've nothing to worry about."
"She is in my ageframe," Alpin said. He tried to make his tone a warning, but it came off as more of a whine.
Fancher looked disgusted and about to say something, so Elson spoke up. "There are many battalion commanders of her age among the Clans. In the current circumstances, her age is not the issue, but her politics are. The lack of fighting between Wolf's loyalists and the battalion is a strong sign that the Spider's Web will side with Jaime Wolf."
"If he has a side," Nichole said. She might have accepted Alpin as leader of the Dragoons, but she was still struggling with the concept of having to send troops against Jaime Wolf.
Parella shook his head. "Liz, if Wolf were simply going to give it up, he would have left the system."
Folding her arms across her chest, Elizabeth Nichole chewed her lip. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Jaime Wolf has demonstrated his rebellion by running," Alpin said loudly. "I propose a first strike, before we lose any more sympathizers."
Surprised, Elson turned to him. "What do you mean any more?"
Alpin smiled, apparently pleased that he was ahead of Elson on something. "Graham took the Special Recon Group out last night. They left Camp Dorrety just after midnight."
Elson turned to Svados. "Is that true?"
She nodded and Noketsuna reported. "All contact with them has been lost. Some vehicles were noted moving toward the strait at Jormenai, suggesting they're headed for the other side of the mountain. However, that could be a feint. Some or all of the group might remain on this continent to form a harassing force. In either case, I think it is clear that their sympathies lie with Jaime Wolf."
"Like your damned Kurita friends," Alpin snapped.
"Then they've gone over, too?" Nichole looked unhappy.
Shoving her chair back so that it screeched across the floor, Fancher stood. "Once Elson called off the attack, they loaded their people onto the DropShips and lifted. They never even made a pretense of going anywhere else. They lifted and made straight for the Outback. They only touched down long enough to unload their 'Mechs, then their DropShips lifted again and took up a geosynchronous orbit over Green Sector, becoming high cover for the training ops complex."
Elson ignored Fancher's venomous stare. "It is a negligible shift in the dynamic."
"And we can make it less," Alpin said, tapping on the holotank's control board. The imaged globe shrank and orbital paths burned into neon existence around it. A formation of four DropShips over the Outback blinked on and off. Vector arrows leapt out from various orbital assets, showing how the position could be approached. "Only the 'Mechs got off, which means that the families of the MechWarriors stayed on the DropShips. There are no port facilities to worry about in orbit. If we blast the ships out of the sky, we will teach those Snakes a lesson they well deserve. We can make their families pay for the MechWarriors' foolishness."
Elson walked around the table and backhanded Alpin without a word. The boy flew across the room to land sprawling over a desk. Alpin stared up at Elson with sheer hatred. All Elson felt was his own contempt.
"I gave you position, I can take it away!" Alpin snarled.
Icily calm, Elson responded, "Not by the laws of the Khanship."
"I can make the council do it!"
"Go ahead."
Alpin stood, smearing blood from his cut lip across his cheek as he rubbed the jaw that was already angrily red. He looked around the assembled group. The only unreadable face was that of Noketsuna. The Dragoons looked stern, offering no sympathy. That was as Elson had expected. The families, blood or sibkin, were sacred; they were not objects of war. Only the debased warriors of the Inner Sphere made war on civilians.
Alpin screamed, "You are all dismissed!"
When no one moved, he stared at them a moment longer, then stalked into his office. The door slammed.
Elson turned at once to the holotank's console, returning the image to a depiction of the Outback. "Do we have any information about where the Kuritans will be deployed?"
"None, sir," Svados said.
"They are not a coherent unit," Noketsuna said. "They have no specialties or organization."
"Are you saying that they will not fight well?"
"They will fight. They have given their loyalty and will die for Wolf. Do not discount them, but do not expect to divine how they will be used either."
"Sounds like they're about as stable as Little Al," Parella put in.
"Yeah," Fancher agreed. "When are you going to dump that collection of bad genes?"
Elson looked through the holotank and met her gaze. "When the time comes."
"We need a real commander if we're going after Wolf."
"Jaime Wolf is exactly the issue, Colonel Fancher." Elson stepped around the tank to Fancher's side. "How strong do you think your claim to legitimate leadership would be while he is still alive?"
"Stronger than yours," she replied. "I could challenge Little Al to a Trial of Position."
"The Dragoons can't take another Trial right now," Nichole said.
"She is right, Fancher. There is talk in some quarters that Jaime Wolf is challenging the results of the Trial."
Fancher snorted. "He'll lose the challenge like he lost the Trial. We're better equipped and there are a lot more of us. Even the Spider's Web and the Kuritans won't shift the balance in his favor. There'll just be more blood. It won't matter in the end."
Elson had known that Fancher lacked the foresight for command and now she was damning herself with her own words. "If you think that the amount of Dragoon blood shed will not matter in the end, I would not care to serve under you as Khan."
He noted with satisfaction that Piper, Ardevauer, and Nichole nodded in open agreement. He was not surprised when Parella said, "Nor I." Elson had hinted to Fancher that she might be the best person to replace Alpin once things had settled. He had done the same with Parella. They could not both have the top slot. From observing Parella, Elson guessed that the Mech Warrior had divined that Elson had been offering the same carrot to Fancher. Parella was working to undermine his rival colonel before she could become a threat. The man was clearly a more subtle player than Fancher and would have to be watched. Elson had no intention of backing either of them. Jaime Wolf had proved that one of his innovations had merit: a single Khan was a powerful Khan. Elson intended to be a powerful Khan.
"For the moment Alpin is necessary to the elimination of Jaime Wolf," he said. "A problem to which we must put our minds, warriors."
44
At first Dechan thought that the struggle for control of the Dragoons would erupt in open warfare immediately, but days passed and there were no large-scale confrontations. Beta, Gamma, and Epsilon Regiments remained in their quarters on the public continent. If it was a public relations ploy designed to convince outsiders that nothing was happening, it met with only limited success. The news of Wolf's departure and rumors of impending conflict circulated widely in Harlech.
Dechan was questioned about the brewing trouble by every interviewer with whom he talked. Telling them all the same thing—nothing—wasn't a difficult feat: he knew little more than that. When Jenette packed up and headed for Camp Dorrety the night the Special Recon Group slipped away, his inside line to the Dragoons went with her. He didn't miss the information, but he missed her. His refusal to join her and her refusal to stay might have been their final disagreement. A conflict was coming and it was very possible she would not survive to return from it.
Dechan knew the lull was coming to an end when Elson started visiting the Hiring Hall. Alpin had put out a call for Dragoon auxiliaries, promising that good performance would mean a permanent slot with the Dragoons. A lot of the mercs thought they were being offered a free ride down easy street. Dechan watched the boards in the Hall and noted the names of those who signed on. Some of them he'd never heard of, but others he recognized by reputation. They weren't the sort of troops the old Dragoons would have hired. The big-name freelancers were conspicuous by their absence, and so were less well-known but effective units like the Black Brigade. Scuttlebutt said it was price, but Dechan suspected other, more important reasons.
Dechan was heading up the steps to the Hall when Elson and a covey of mercs came through the door. The big Elemental noticed him almost at once and said a few words to his companions. With a flurry of nods and jovial remarks, Elson left the mercs and headed directly toward Dechan.
"Good day to you, Dechan Fraser."
The smile on the man's face looked sincere, but something about Elson's attitude seemed forced, making Dechan uncomfortable. Reluctantly, he said, "Hello."
"I have heard that the Federated Commonwealth has made a substantial offer for your services."
"I turned them down; they just want to pump me for intelligence on the DCMs. In the old Dragoons, we didn't betray a former employer to a new one."
Elson didn't react at all to Dechan's implication that the Dragoons were not what they had once been. Continuing to smile, he said, "Then you are still in need of work."
"I'm not one of them," Dechan said, canting his head in the direction of the mercs standing nearby.
"I know you are not," Elson said earnestly. "That is why I left them to speak to you."
"Looks to me like you've got more than enough mercs in your bag today."
"When did a mercenary care how many others there were, as long as the paymaster had enough C-bills?"
"When he was smart enough to worry about what he was getting into," Dechan replied.
"You are an astute man, Dechan Fraser. I believe you can see what is happening. The more forces arrayed on our side, the less chance of armed conflict with the Wolf loyalists. You know Jaime Wolf for a practical man. Do you not think he will realize he has no hope of winning?"
Dechan shrugged. The Jaime Wolf who had forgotten him was not the one with whom he had hired on. Or maybe he was, and a snot-nosed kid just hadn't known any better. Who could say what such a man would think of long odds? "And if he fights anyway?"
"He will lose, and the cost to the victors will be less than it might have been if the odds were more even."
"A cost borne mostly by the mercs," And maybe by Jenette.
"As I said, you are perceptive, Dechan Fraser. I doexpect Wolf to fight because he is foremost a warrior, and no true warrior surrenders without a real fight."
"Like he did in the Trial?"
"His champion fought." A shadow passed across Elson's face. "Perhaps Wolf wished to lose the Trial. Perhaps, at the time, he saw a strategic advantage in appearing to lose, expecting to use the power shift to some hidden advantage. But his next loss will be very real, whatever his devious plans. When this is over there will be real openings in the Dragoons, and more than just a few. Men who have proven themselves could become well-positioned."
The bait was obvious, but Dechan found it tempting all the same. He had trained and led the Ryuken, but they hadn't been his.Logic pointed out the problem. "Dragoons won't follow me."
"Your troops wouldn't have to be Dragoons, to begin with. Raise your own unit of warriors. You are a good judge of men, select good ones. I feel confident that any you choose would be worthy of the new Dragoons."
From his experience with the Ryuken in the Combine, Dechan thought Elson was right. He was confident that he could create a good unit and that the MechWarriors he chose would be worthy of the Dragoons. Or at least the Dragoons as Dechan remembered them to be. But there was a major problem that made Elson's offer easy to ignore. "I don't have the cash to start a unit."
Elson waved away that argument. "The money is available."
Still wary, Dechan tried to provoke him. "Money you won't have to pay when such worthy men prove their worth by dying for you."
Elson's smile vanished. "I do not waste valuable resources. It is not the way of the Clans."
Dechan was favorably impressed by the vehemence of Elson's last remark. He might not actually waste good troops. Did that apply to the other side? Would Elson spare Dragoons, like Jenette, who sided with Wolf? Did they deserve to be spared? She'd left him, after all. Confused by his feelings and worried by the trend of his thoughts, Dechan found himself nodding to Elson and mumbling, "I don't suppose it is. Will you let me think about it?"
"A while only, as you can surely appreciate." The smile returned. "Leave word at Wolf Hall. Until then, Dechan Fraser."
"Yeah." Dechan watched as the Elemental strode away. The mercs reformed around him and the group headed across the square toward the entertainment district, no doubt for the traditional contract closing. As he stood bemused on the stairs, a tall man with a salt-and-pepper beard approached him. Dechan recognized the face and the uniform as he turned to face the man, but needed to check the name flash to put a name to him: Major Norm Carter of Carter's Chevaliers. "Elson trying to recruit you?" Carter asked bluntly. "Yeah."
He looked disappointed. "I expect I won't be able to match his offer. With Wolf out of the picture, I guess you'll take the uniform back."
"Would you?"
"I've never been a Dragoon so the question doesn't exactly apply. But my people have been taking Dragoon subcontracts for decades, ever since my dad hooked up with Wolf. It's always been a square deal. Not always easy, but fair." He frowned in thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I might, if they offered. But I'd have to make sure my people were taken care of first."
"Lots of opportunities on the Clan frontier."
"I would've agreed with you yesterday but the market's gone cold. This new Dragoon regime's dropped the A list of recommended mercs—where, I might add, the Chevaliers had a good place—and the House recruiters are putting a lot more emphasis on individual contracts. Then there's all this open recruiting the Dragoons are doing, almost in direct competition to the Houses. It's shifting the way the market works, and I haven't decided if that's good or bad. I suppose it depends on how this mess comes out."
"What mess?"
Carter gave him a look of mock annoyance. "Don't be coy, Dechan. Everybody knows Wolf's holding out on the other side." He shook his head sadly. "Never thought I'd see a Dragoon civil war. You guys were always so close-knit."
Dechan had never thought he'd see one, either, but his view of the Dragoons, as well as of individual members, had gone, and was going, through some changes. "Things changed."
"Don't they always."
"Wolf won't start anything."
"He won't have to. How long do you think it'll be before Alpin and Elson send their bought boys out to play? Time may not favor Wolf, but it doesn't favor the new regime, either. If they don't prove they're in complete control, they won't have any control at all."
Dechan looked at him and wondered. "Would you do something to affect the outcome in your favor if you could?"
"I might."
"Then I think we should talk."
"I think we should talk."
It took all the nerve I could muster to say that to Maeve when I waylaid her outside the barracks. She looked up at me, her expression guarded. I thought I saw a shadow in her normally clear gray eyes.
"About what?"
"About what?" I echoed. "Us!"
My shout turned heads among the people passing by or simply idling time in the area. Maeve flashed an uncomfortable glance around, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me around the side of the building. She shoved me against the wall and I was too numbly embarrassed to object.
"Look, we got to know each other pretty well, but it was fast, intense. It was—" She broke off her breathy rush and turned away. She tossed her head back and shook it to straighten out her hair. She sighed and I ached at the pain I heard in the sound. "Look, I'd never say this in front of the troops and I'll call anyone who repeats it a liar, but . . . but you're the reason why I'm here."
My hopes soared. I hadn't dared believe that she still cared about me, but here she was about to say so. If I hadn't felt the harsh surface of the foamed 'crete against my back, I would have been sure I was dreaming.
I knew it was hard for her; it was hard for me. Love, real love, wasn't one of the emotions commonly experienced by someone raised in a sibko. At least not love for people outside the sib group. We were both wandering in strange territory. She took a deep breath and seemed to consider what she was about to say. Her eyes fluttered to me, then away again. She shuddered, clearly wracked by the intensity of her emotions. Her back stiffened as she gathered her control before speaking.
"You're loyal, Brian, but you know what the Dragoons mean, what the forms mean. I knew that if you were still with the Wolf, Alpin's claim to the succession couldn't be right. Your being out here told me immediately that either the Wolf had been tricked or this whole thing was a trick of his own. Either way, I knew where I'd have to stand."
I saw at once what an idiot I was. She hadn't meant her comments personally. She'd left, hadn't she? Without a word. I'd been a fool to think I might have stayed in her thoughts as she had stayed in mine. She'd sent no communiques—but then, neither had I. She had never considered us to be more than warriors sharing what warriors shared. I gathered together the shards of my ego and tried to put on a good face. Too bitterly, I said, "So you came back for the Wolf."
"Of course. Did you think I'd have done anything else?"
There was a strange tone in her voice. She seemed to need reassurance that she had made the right decision. What did I know? She was a warrior and I was a lovesick boy too addled by hormones to know a convenient affair from something else. The ClannerS were right, I decided, with sudden conviction. Emotions had no place in a warrior. When I made no answer, she said, "I'm back now."
"But you left."
Her eyes clouded and she swallowed hard. "I had to."
What kind of an answer was that? Of course she did, orders were orders. "I thought that I—" She hushed me with a quick touch to my lips.
"It wasn't you, Brian. It was me." Her words didn't make sense to me and I must have looked as stupid as I felt. She laughed nervously, then said, "I was afraid, Brian."
I couldn't imagine her frightened of anything. "Of what?"
"I thought you were sympat, like a sib. But you weren't like my sibs and I didn't understand what that meant. When I was with you, I felt different. Strange. It scared me and I didn't know what to do. I thought at first it was because you were the first outside my sibko and that I was just confused by the outside world. I thought that once I'd seen more and done more, I'd be able to handle it. But I don't know, Brian." She stared away into the sky. "Look, meeting you in the field told me one thing. When we're just Dragoon officers, I can deal with it. I can let the uniforms take the strain. Here in person, it's different."
I hung my head. I wasn't going to let my fantasies gain control again. "I understand."
"No, you don't." Her strong fingers touched me under the chin. Yielding to their pressure, I raised my head until I met her gaze. "Brian, I'm still scared."
I didn't know what to say and I knew I looked like an idiot.
"What are we going to do?"
We?My resolve was blasted and my mind was a whirlwind. Fortunately, my body had an answer. I put my arms around her. She was soft and warm and she melted into my embrace.
"I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard," I babbled.
She laughed. The sound was strained, strangled, and muffled against my chest, but delightful. "You know, for a bright boy you can be really slow."
"Do I get a second chance?"
"How many do you want?"
"I don't expect to need more than one."
"Look, it's yours if you want it."
"I do."
She pulled back just a little. "Maybe it's a bit premature to get to that line."
I flushed when I figured out what she meant. I hadn't thought about the vows that were sealed with that expression, and I was appalled and thrilled to realize that she had. "I guess we should talk about it for at least five minutes," I said teasingly.
"At least." She laughed. Then, her expression went suddenly serious. "This may not be the best time to talk about this kind of thing. There'll be fighting soon."
There didn't have to be. Despite the tension that came with the absence of combat, I found the lack encouraging. It might mean that we wouldn't have to fight our former friends. I knew the Colonel held similar hopes because we had been working out evacuation plans, along with the contingency plans for combat. "The Colonel won't start anything."
"He already has. The challenge started when he didn't lie down and die before the usurpers' assassins. They can't let him live."
I knew she was right and I held her tighter. For the first time in my life, I wasn't sure that I wanted to be a warrior.
