Текст книги "Wolf Pack"
Автор книги: Robert N. Charette
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53
Colonel Wolf spent the first night and day after the battle making sure that all fighting ceased and all casualties were picked up. He got no sleep that night. Neither did I, but I was able to do my own job with an easier heart when Maeve arrived with the remnants of her Command Lance. Once we got confirmation that hyperpulse messages had gone out to Alpha and Delta telling them that everything was settled, the Colonel ordered me to get some sleep. I disobeyed him, of course; my reunion with Maeve did more to refresh me than mere sleep.
When the evening shift changed, Schlomo came to the command center. Though primarily a research specialist, he had been using his medical skills to assist the overworked regimental surgeons. Like the rest of us, he was tired almost beyond exhaustion.
"Colonel Wolf?"
"Yes, Schlomo."
"He's awake."
"His condition?"
"Bad, but stable. His kind are tough. He might re-. cover."
Schlomo was referring to Elson. The Elemental had been found in dysfunctional armor and brought in nearly dead. The Colonel had left orders to be informed when and if Elson regained consciousness. The fact that the man had rallied at all made it seem that the Elemental must have battled death even harder than he had fought the Wolf.
The Colonel nodded to his staff. There was no need for words; all the words had been said in the heated conference with which we had brought up the sun. Commanders from both sides were there. The challenge was over, and the results of the Trial overturned. Now was the time for healing the wounds. Chandra, Jamison, Nichole, Atwyl, Grazier, Maeve, young Tetsuhara, and Graham of Special Recon Group fell in behind us as we headed for the recovery ward.
The officers trailing us were serving as an emergency council for the Dragoons, serving as extensions of the Wolf in the grueling business of picking up the pieces. It was an unusual procedure, and only partly defensible by Dragoon custom. Though the Colonel could make decrees as commander and expect them to be obeyed, orders went down smoother with a council of officers backing him, especially when those backers included some who had recently opposed him. The emergency council was a makeshift arrangement, but a lot of what the Dragoons would do for some time would be makeshift.
The formal Dragoon council was, of course, in shambles. Several members had died, and the Colonel had not yet approved replacements. Fancher was among the dead, leaving Beta Regiment without representation. Gamma Regiment was in a similar position, although Parella was classified as missing, not dead. The offworld members would be coming to Outreach as soon as their contracts permitted. Until they did and the formal council was reformed, the Colonel would operate with the counsel and approval of the emergency team.
The main complex of the Tetsuhara Proving Ground was a hive of activity. I had thought it busy before the battle, but now it was more so. Cratered and battered BattleMechs and tanks were parked in haphazard arrangements, while techs scurried about dragging or driving repair equipment from one repair job to another. Damaged battle suits were stretched out on repair racks, being fussed over by the armorers.
But machines weren't the only casualties of the fighting, and they were certainly not the most important. The gigantic FortressClass DropShip that had arrived to end the fighting now pumped power to the hospital and operating chambers to ease the drain on the complex's facilities. The warship's shadow shaded the operating wards where the doctors fought to save the injured. To deal with the influx of wounded, the field hospital that had been serving our forces had quadrupled in size. Buildings that were normally barracks had been pressed into service as convalescent and recovery wards. Schlomo led us toward the one where Elson had been taken.
I glanced around as we went, seeing the color blue everywhere I looked. No one had given the order to do so, yet everyone seemed to be wearing the blue Dragoon coveralls, even the civilians. Many of the Kuritans had acquired coveralls, too. I wasn't going to object; they had proved themselves.
I know that for some, wearing the normal Dragoon undress uniform was a physical relief. I certainly was glad enough to be free of my cooling vest and the sticky biosensors of its feedback system. Others, I believe, wore the coveralls as a sign of solidarity, a statement that we were all Dragoons again and not loyalists or rebels or whatever fast-talk slang one faction had favored to designate the other. Some, especially those who had fought for Elson and Alpin, were probably grateful for the anonymity the ubiquitous blues provided.
When our little cavalcade reached the entrance to the former barracks, Maeve stepped up to open the door. The handle pulled away from her hand as someone inside tugged on the door. Dechan Fraser nearly knocked her from her feet as he rushed out. Catching her arm to keep her from falling, he apologized in Japanese. At least I assume it was an apology; it sounded like one.
Colonel Wolf stepped up to Fraser and said, "I was hoping to see you soon, Dechan. We have much to talk about."
"I'm not here to see you. They told me this is where I could find Jenette."
"Ward Three," Schlomo said. "This is Ward Two."
"We can talk later," the Colonel said.
"Yeah, sure." As Fraser looked around the people in our group, he forced what was obviously an uncomfortable smile. "Looks like a lot of changes, Colonel. I suppose I can at least stick around for introductions. I've been away for a long time and if I'm going to stay, I'll need to know these people. You might even introduce me to your daughter."
Rachel wasn't with us, and I was momentarily confused. When I realized that Fraser was looking at Maeve, I suddenly saw what he did. The Colonel and Maeve were of a height. Both were compactly framed. He was wider across the shoulders, but not by much. They had the same gray eyes, the same dark complexion, and her hair was as raven black as his had once been. I remembered that Maeve was of a mixed-line sibko and did not know her parentage. But everyone knew that the Wolf had always refused to donate to the sperm banks, maintaining that his blood family was all he needed. It felt like I'd taken a PPC shot to the brain.
While I stood there stunned, Maeve was introducing herself. "Colonel Wolf's daughter is working at the hospital with her mother. My name's Maeve. I'm acting commander of the Spider's Web," she said.
Fraser looked confused. "The Thunderbolt!"
"Mine."
Schlomo broke in with, "Captain Rand is in Ward
Three. I can take you there if you wish." Fraser shook his head like a man starting awake from an unwanted sleep. "This way," Schlomo said, giving him a tug on the arm.
I watched Schlomo hustle Fraser away while the rest of us entered the ward. I'd never seen the old man so pushy, and I wondered if he knew something he wasn't telling.
I was the last to reach Elson's bed and his appearance startled me. The Elemental looked shrunken; his brush with death had exhausted his body. He lay limp in his wrappings of bandages and burn dressings. Bruises and lacerations covered much of his exposed skin and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Despite the punishment he had taken, his spirit was unbroken, as I learned when he addressed the Colonel.
"I thought I'd be hearing from you, Wolf. Is this your council of execution?"
"Hardly," said Jaime Wolf.
Elson managed a mangled chuckle. "Is the prognosis that bad?"
Shaking his head, the Colonel replied, "The doctors say you're a fighter, and they give you a fair chance. I want to do the same."
Elson said something under his breath, but I didn't catch the words. I doubt anyone else did either. The Colonel looked at him silently for a moment, then cleared his throat.
"We fought over the Dragoons because they weren't what either one of us wanted them to be. I gave up on them for a while because I was tired. I let my personal feelings get in the way of my judgement, my duty."
"I am not your counselor, Wolf."
"You're wrong, Elson." The Colonel walked from the foot of the bed to the head and sat down on a stool Atwyl handed him. "The Dragoons are going to be different now. We've both been part of making sure of that.
"Once I thought I was keeping the Dragoons alive by changing them as they needed to be changed, but I didn't have it quite right. I'm a strategist, not a sociologist. I was operating in a field I didn't know, and I botched it. I didn't really understand some of what had happened to us, some of the changes we had already been through. We had come a long way from our Clan heritage, but I forgot that some of us didn't have the same history, might not even want to have that history. You opened my eyes."
"I would have opened your throat," Elson said weakly.
"And that was only what you considered to be right. I know that in your eyes I had failed as a leader. In some ways, you were right. Some of my policies were wrong. I can see that now. I didn't take enough account of how we had changed or how little we were doing to make our newcomers at home. Poor treatment of those who were not born of the elite is a standard complaint the freeborn have about the Clans, but we made the same mistakes. Nobody wants to live as a second-class citizen. I thought we'd get past it, though. I thought that with enough time things would smooth out, but there wasn't enough time. There's never enough time."
"I will not absolve you."
"I'm not asking you to. Things can't be what they were, but then I don't suppose anything ever stays the same. Life means change, and if you don't change, you aren't alive, quiafflI think you understand what it means to try to make things right and fail."
Elson rolled his head so that he faced away from the Colonel. "I am prepared to accept the fate of those who fail," he said softly.
"Are you still prepared to fight? I want to change what went before, I want everyone who wears the Dragoon patch to be a part of the Dragoons, and I want to see that everyone earns his or her place and that no one gets a place unearned. Isn't that a lot of what you were fighting for? Do you still have the strength to fight for it?"
Facing the Colonel again, Elson asked, "What do you mean?"
"It was distrust and misunderstanding that brought us to this point."
"And not a little ambition," Atwyl interrupted.
"No one's denying that, Ham," the Colonel said without looking at him. "Ambition is not necessarily bad. Sometimes it's exactly what's needed. I have ambitions, too. I intend to make what we went through a crucible from which a better organization will emerge. It's clear now that we can't be what we were. We're not Clan any more than we are Inner Sphere; we're a blend of the two. More than that, we're what our lives and battles have made us. We won't find our future by clinging to the past; we've got to chart a new course."
Elson squinted his good eye at Wolf. "You cannot be suggesting that we abandon the honor road."
"The path of honor is a concept older than the Clans' honor road. It's meant a lot of different things to people over time, but I think there are certain basics. I'd never ask you, or anyone, to abandon those. If you've got to have an honor road, we need to find one that will also be the Dragoons' honor road. We're not a Clan, and we're not the resurrected Star League Army, either. We hire our warriors out, but we're not justa mercenary company. We're something different, something new. Are you willing to help me find a new road, Elson?"
"I cannot be part of this."
"Why not? Scared?" Maeve taunted.
"I am born of the Clans," Elson said, frowning in his pride. "Their heritage is in my blood. Though I was freeborn, I knew I was part of something when I was with the Nova Cats. I must bepart of something. I cannot be a mercenary."
"You are part of something," the Colonel insisted. "Us."
"Wolf Pack," Maeve said with a grin. "That's not a name I approve," Jaime Wolf said. "Too late." She grinned wider. "It's gonna stick."
"We're the Dragoons," he insisted. "Yeah, WolfsDragoons. We're the Wolf Pack, too."
"I am neither," Elson said.
"You were rebellious, but you are a warrior," the Colonel told him. "Warriors of the Clans sometimes fail a challenge. That does not make them outlaw. The testing that you provided has strengthened the Dragoons. Though it was a testing harder than I would have liked, I think we will be the better for it. Especially if you will see that we can make it better together. "
"I no longer understand you."
"The Colonel is offering you a restoration to the ranks," Nichole said.
"You're being honored, lout," Atwyl said.
Elson's good eye flashed anger at Atwyl, but it was a momentary flare. He looked calmly at the Colonel. "You have mastered me, Jaime Wolf. I can accept you as my Khan."
Shaking his head, the Colonel said, "No Khans. That's the Clan way. But I do think I will need a position other than colonel. This first-among-officers arrangement will not bear the weight of planetary administration. I'll be taking the title of Commander."
"I do not care what you call yourself. The arrangement is the same."
"Then you accept?" Nichole asked anxiously.
Again Elson said, "I will loyally serve the man who has proved my master."
Epilogue
Secrets are curious things. You never know when they really are secrets, although you usually know when they are not. How can you be sure that your buddy doesn't know the secret and isn't telling you because he's promised somebody else that he'll keep his mouth shut? It has also been said that three can keep a secret when two are dead, but that old saw doesn't take into account the value of the secret to those who hold it. If you benefit from something staying secret, or if you'll be harmed if word gets out, you're much more likely to stay quiet.
Being a member of Commander Wolf's staff makes a person privy to many secrets. Most are military secrets, usually fleeting information on positioning and available forces. But some involve other matters, more personal matters. Some of the secrets are kept on what is called a "need-to-know" basis; you're only told if you "need to know." Being a member of the Commander's staff, however, sometimes means that you can find out more than you "need to know."
I had been puzzled by Schlomo's behavior outside the recovery wards and had promised myself to look him up as soon as things calmed down around the general headquarters. The move back to Wolf Hall was chaotic, and the business of reuniting the Dragoons was time-consuming. New officers had to be assigned, old officers checked for loyalty. Surprisingly, Elson was useful in pinpointing those of his former faction who were unable to accept the changes and the new order. The Dragoons lost a lot of personnel even after the fighting was over. When I finally had some time to myself, I couldn't find Schlomo, so I decided to use my rank to do some of my own digging. He found me as I sat fussing over the med center computer.
"You won't find anything about her in there."
I looked up, startled by his silent approach. The old man was haggard, his face showing the deep tiredness of a long-carried burden.
In a brilliant response, I asked, "What are you talking about?"
He sat down beside me and gave me a weary smile. "The others didn't catch on. They only saw what they expected. But I saw your face when Fraser called Maeve Jaime Wolf's daughter, and I knew you'd come looking sooner or later. Does she mean something special to you?"
"She means everything to me," I said. "That's something you ought to understand. Even though you're an old-timer, you know what love is."
"Yes. I'm an old-timer, but I never was a warrior. The other castes didn't abandon love for honor. We weren't so foolish." He sighed. "At least not that way. She means everything, you say. Is that why you want to ruin her life and destroy the Dragoons?"
"How can knowing who Maeve's parents were destroy the Dragoons?"
"Don't pretend to be stupid, Brian. You know what would happen if she had the parentage you suspect."
I did, and the thought sent a slight shudder through me. To placate certain factions, Wolf had sworn that all officers of the Dragoons would be tested and evaluated for their positions. There would be no favoritism, he had promised. As a gesture of good faith, he stipulated that none of his children or grandchildren could hold a major command within the Dragoons. Maeve hadn't tried out for the command of the battalion in which she served; she hadn't wanted to take that away from Gentleman Johnny Clavell now that he had recovered. Instead she had entered the competition for the new Dragoon rank of general. Some said she was too young, but a lot of old-timers pointed out that she was the same age as Jaime and Joshua Wolf when they had first led the Dragoons into the Inner Sphere. Commander Wolf had supported her, saying that a young leader was what the fighting forces needed. The Clan-ners didn't object, but, then, they were used to young commanders, as long as they tested well enough. And test well enough she had. Once the scores were adjusted for ageframe and experience bias, she held the highest rating and became the first general of Wolf's Dragoons.
But who would support General Maeve if it became known that she was Jaime Wolf's sibko daughter? Who would believe that Wolf hadn't lied or that the tests had not been rigged? The factionalism, quiescent now, would flare, and we would be plunged again into civil war. The Dragoons could not survive another.
"Then she is Jaime Wolf's sibkid," I said, throat dry.
"No."
"What?"
"But the danger you fear is there nonetheless. The warriors would find the truth less palatable and less believable even than assuming her to be Wolf's true-born child."
Dreading the answer, I asked, "And what is that truth?"
"Aren't you afraid it will change your feelings for her?"
"No."
"You should be."
His calm sparked the worry that he had expected to find. "Tell me. You obviously want to."
"I wantto?" He chuckled at some private amusement. "Yes, maybe it is a question of desire. You probably already think that I only do what I want to do. Well, that's not quite the situation. I'm talking to you because I think it necessary, because I believe it's the right thing to do, the necessary thing. I think you should know the truth, but not for my sake. For yours. And hers."
"So tell me already."
"All right. You know about the genetic sampling of the heirs of the leaders of the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere. That was not Jaime Wolf's first attempt to add Inner Sphere genes to our gene pool. For years he had us collecting samples from captured soldiers, civilians who were treated in our medical units, and every single one of the nobles and politicos who sought us out for our so-called advanced medical knowledge. He had us create a sibko using the best specimens of the Inner Sphere and the best of the Dragoons seed. It was his belief that such a sibko could produce multi-talented children, a new generation to face the threat of the Clan invasion.
"The scientists considered the move unethical and ill-advised, or most of them did. Officially, the plan was rejected, but there were a few of us who saw the plan as a chance to do what we thought was necessary to achieve the same goal. We went to Wolf and offered to secretly replace the seed for an already planned sibko with the parental contributions he desired. He was frustrated by the science council's refusal and took us up on the offer, helping us bury the records. The secrecy he helped us create allowed us to perform the experiment we deemed necessary. However, Jaime Wolf contributed more to Maeve's sibko than he knew."
I could hardly speak for a moment. "So you used his genes without him knowing. I thought you said she wasn't his sibdaughter."
"She isn't, in the strict sense. But in the broadest, she might be considered so:"
"You're confusing me, Schlomo."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. You see, Jaime would never contribute to the Dragoon gene pool. He was freeborn and believed that the old ways were the best in that regard. For him anyway. It was hard enough for him to order the creation of any sibkos at all, but he had to bow to the necessity of filling Dragoon ranks with soldiers of quality genetic heritage. He knew the Clans were coming.
"All the children of Wolf's first marriage except MacKenzie had been killed and MacKenzie had yet to reproduce—or even to prove his genetic heritage enough for his seed to be entered into the sibko program. Our group of scientists believed that the Dragoons needed Jaime Wolf's heritage to survive, and MacKenzie was too slender a thread. Don't you agree that subsequent events have proven us correct on that last point?"
I didn't want to even begin trying to respond to that last question. Maybe Schlomo didn't really want an answer either. When I shrugged, he went on as though his thread had never been broken.
"Well, we believed that the Dragoons needed more than just his heritage; we needed Jaime Wolf personally, but he was getting older every year like the rest of us. When his blood offspring didn't show enough of the right aptitudes, we conceived, if you'll pardon the expression, a plan.
"A direct reiteration would have been too obvious, even to the uninitiated. Though it took us to the edge of our capabilities, we were able to manipulate some of his cells, deleting the sex determinate from the Y chromosome. The resulting genetic blueprint was superimposed on an egg from which the nucleus had been removed. Mitochondrial matter from the donor was introduced to the egg as well. Most of the recombinants failed to multiply. Only one thrived."
"Maeve."
He nodded slowly. "For all practical purposes, she is a female Jaime Wolf. Genetically speaking, of course. Her upbringing and education are substantially different."
"Why?"
"Because the raw material was there. The Dragoons needed another Jaime to get them through the change that was coming."
"So you madeher." She was almost what the sibs called a retread, what a layman might call a clone. I was terrified. We had all been taught that the reuse of a genetic blueprint was not moral. But it had been done.
"She is no less human than any womb-born individual."
He was right. She was a person. My terror abated when I remembered just how human she was, and suddenly his revelation really didn't make any difference to me. She was Maeve. My Maeve. "Oh, I know how human she is."
Schlomo smiled indulgently. "I know you do. I've seen you two together. That's why I am trusting you. I believe you have the strength to carry the knowledge and keep it to yourself. The other scientists of my group are dead, and I won't live forever."
"Then the Wolf really doesn't know? He didn't set up the rank trial to favor her?"
"I don't believe so. He knew the preliminary scores and he saw her in battle. He would have known she was a prime candidate. I do not believe that he would have let her compete if he had known her origin."
"Should I tell her?"
"That I will leave to you."
"Schlomo, you can't put this on me."
But he did.
* * *
In many ways I was thankful that the next weeks continued to be full of duty for both Maeve and me. I had to handle an enormous volume of communications traffic, and I saw more of the ComStar Precentor than I did of Maeve. She was overseeing the restructuring of the fighting units, putting us in shape to hire out more than just Alpha and Delta, who had missed the fighting on Outreach. The Dragoons needed the income.
I saw a lot of Jaime Wolf, but I never dared bring up the subject of Maeve.
In late September, the council forced a resolution on the Commander. Over his objections, the name Wolf was added to the Honornames of the Dragoons. He and his surviving offspring would of course retain the name, but the council wanted competitions to be held in MacKenzie's and Alpin's ageframes now and in all succeeding ageframes to come. The council believed that the institutionalization of the name Wolf would help heal the wounds. Jaime protested, but to no avail. The call went out announcing the competition.
When the day of the competition came, I stood outside Wolf Hall and watched the crowd assemble for the final naming of the competitors. As was my place, I stood beside Commander Wolf. The rest of his staff stood with us. Ranked several steps before us were the Honornamed. The Loremaster stood on a podium and faced the crowd as he read the proclamation establishing the new Honorname.
As he finished, Maeve stepped out from the front row of the crowd and shouted, "I call to challenge! The name Wolf shall be mine!"
A stir swept through the crowd as Elson shouldered his way forward. He was at the upper limit of the eligible ageframe. What he said surprised me. I even saw the Wolf raise an eyebrow.
"I support the challenge of Maeve. I withdraw."
Voices roared in agreement.
Tolling his bell for silence, the Loremaster called for other competitors. MechWarrior Jovell stepped forward and shouted, "I withdraw from the challenge." Lydia came forward and said the same, then Harold, his broad Elemental shoulders square, withdrew as well. One by one all the contestants advanced up the steps, announced their withdrawal and retreated back to the crowd.
For a long minute, the Loremaster waited. The word spread through the amazed crowd. Never had an Hon-orname gone uncontested.
"You must finish the ritual," the Loremaster said to Maeve.
"I call to challenge!" she shouted. Her expression was in turmoil. I knew how much she wanted the name, and I knew she was prepared to fight for it. She wantedto fight for it.
But no voice rose in challenge.
Maeve shouted for a third time. "I call to challenge!"
And again no one spoke.
"Let it be known that none stand to contest Maeve," the Loremaster said. He called her to the podium. Once she was at his side, he addressed her, "Maeve, you are the sole contender in the ageframe of Alpin Wolf. None are willing to oppose you for the name. You are Wolf."
The cheers and chants of "Wolf! Wolf!" boomed and echoed across Harlech. Maeve stood stunned by the roar of approval. I stood silent as well. Only I and one other knew how truly she had been named.
* * *
Under Commander Jaime Wolf and General Maeve Wolf, the Dragoons have been reorganized in both lifestyle and military force, taking full advantage of what we learned from the infighting that almost destroyed us. Our units are well under-strength for our new table of organization because we lost many who could not accept the new order. Their departure weakened us, but the effect is only temporary. We have new recruits in training and new sibkos on the way up. All will be carefully, and fully, made to understand that we are something new. The Dragoons are not just mercenaries, not just warriors, we are a family. The Wolf Pack nickname has become popular with astonishing rapidity, sticking even as Maeve had predicted it would.
Until we reach full complement, we'll make do. And why not? We're all veterans now. The Dragoons are tougher and stronger than ever. We started as the best the Inner Sphere had ever seen, and we have become better. To my thinking, we're hardier and more skilful than any of the Clans. What can we do now except keep on getting better?
The Hiring Hall is open again, friends.
The Wolf Pack is on the prowl.
