Текст книги "Wolf Pack"
Автор книги: Robert N. Charette
Жанры:
Боевая фантастика
,сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
7
As Subhash Indrahar listened to the conversation between the Coordinator and the Dragoon spy, his brows drew together with worry. Once Takashi had nearly destroyed the Combine with his obsession to destroy the Dragoons. Now with the Clan invaders encroaching, the Combine could no longer afford to humor Takashi's samurai honor. Once his old friend would have seen that as clearly as Subhash did, but as the years passed Takashi seemed to grow weaker in mind as Subhash grew weaker in body.
Touching the controls on the arm of his powered support unit, he sent the chair wheeling across the room. The door slid open just in time for his chair to continue on without stopping. As he entered the command center, Internal Security Force agents snapped to attention all around the perimeter of the chamber. The technicians and special agents at their consoles barely glanced up, however; they had work to do. All was as it should be.
Despite his concern, Subhash almost smiled. The cogs in the great machine that was the Draconis Combine whirred on. Nothing must interfere with the functioning of this great machine of state. If someone, even a Coordinator, were to become sand in the gears, the sand must be removed and the gears re-greased.
Subhash cut smartly around a corner and slowed to a stop at the station of a red-haired man wearing the black uniform of an operations agent. The man's uniform was clean, but so rumpled it looked as if he had recently returned from action. The agent looked up from his console as the powered chair rolled to a halt with a soft sigh of brakes and a whiff of volatilized rubber. He straightened, coming to as much of a formal stance as he ever did.
"Ohayo,Subhash -sama," said Ninyu Kerai-Indrahar.
"Attend me," Subhash said, spinning the chair.
They entered a transpex-walled conference chamber. As Subhash rode to the central console, Ninyu engaged the anti-listening devices. The room now secure, Subhash began to speak.
"What were you working on?"
"The last batch of dispatches from Dieron. Gregor reports things are shaping up there as you expected."
Feared would have been a better word. For all the ancient rivalry between House Kurita and House Davion, it had been House Steiner and their Lyran Commonwealth that had most hurt the Combine in the last generation. The Commonwealth's successes, even before joining with the Federated Suns to become the Federated Commonwealth, had bred a new generation of hatreds. Those animosities now smoldered on the Dieron-Skye border.
The appointment of the new warlord of Dieron was one of Subhash's rare failures. Takashi, having learned of his son Theodore's machinations in the Dieron Military District, had insisted on personally choosing the new warlord. His choice of Isoroku was most regrettable. The young fool had Kurita blood, all right—all the bad parts. He saw military glory as the road to rulership of the Combine and dreamed of supplanting both Takashi and Theodore.
Even so, the situation might have been managed had not the Federated Commonwealth appointed Richard Steiner to command in the Ryde Theater. Richard was the son of Nondi Steiner, one of the Commonwealth's great military heroes of the last generation. Steiner had made little secret of his desire for revenge against House Kurita, no doubt believing this would make him more popular among the masses. He was most certainly going to need a heavy dose of popularity should he ever attempt to achieve his more secret goal of wresting the rulership of the Federated Commonwealth away from the Davion line and gaining it for his own House.
For all the intensity of Inner Sphere rivalries, they were not the greatest threat to the Draconis Combine in these latter days. Despite the ComStar Treaty of Tukkayid, which forbade the Clans to advance rim-ward toward Terra, the Clans still threatened Combine star systems spinward and anti-spinward. Even the most cursory study of that treaty revealed that its terms did not prevent the invaders from expanding their grasp within the Inner Sphere, so long as they approached no nearer to Terra. Such a solution might be satisfactory to ComStar, but it left much of the Combine, including the capital, at risk.
The Combine was not the only state at risk. Much of the former Lyran Commonwealth was beyond the treaty's boundary and also wide open to predation by the Clans. The Federated Commonwealth could not ignore such a threat to what was now its economic heartland. Any clear-sighted ruler could see that this was no time for military adventurism. Subhash hoped that young Victor Davion realized the foolishness of continuing to prosecute the old Davion-Kurita rivalry while the two Houses currently faced a greater common enemy. Indeed, the director fully expected Davion to follow his father's recent policy of demilitarization along the Combine's border with the Federated Commonwealth. But the Prince was young and not securely in control of his state. Already there had been incidents.
"The combination of the aggressive Isoroku Kurita and the equally belligerent Richard Steiner is volatile," Ninyu concluded.
"Correct. However, we may have a more dangerous situation developing."
"This is new, then?"
"No." Subhash rapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Unfortunately, it is old."
"Takashi."
Subhash was pleased that his protege' was so astute. If only the son of his now-withered loins were so competent . " Your reasons?"
"I saw that he had called for the former Dragoon." Ninyu consulted his watch. "An appointment that might be over by now. Barely. Now I speak to you and find you agitated."
Subhash smiled. Yes, far better than his bumbling son. "The Coordinator is dwelling on the past."
Screwing his face into a frown, Ninyu said, "I thought you said that letting him build that Archerwould settle it."
Subhash sighed. "The infallibility of the Director of the ISF is only credible to those who do not live in reality. Those of us involved in the great game know infallibility does not exist, only skill and fortune."
"And the first often produces the second," Ninyu finished for him. He shook his head and frowned. "If the Coordinator is focusing his attention on those damned mercenaries again, it will be trouble. His obsession almost cost us the Combine during the Fourth Succession War. Had it not been for Theodore's brilliant strategies on the Lyran front and the limited Davion presence on the Federated Suns front, we would have been crushed. But the Coordinator had his priorities. As it was, we lost too many star systems. We should have been able to halt the Lyrans and take systems from Davion."
"The past only lives in the mind."
"And the heart, adopted father. I sometimes think you forget emotions."
"I never forget them, adopted son." Subhash chuckled. "I merely control them and put them to use. A skill you must practice, if you wish to succeed me as director."
"I shall," Ninyu said, laying his hand on the back of the powered chair. "I have the strength."
Subhash frowned. "The director rules by his wits, not his arms or his legs."
"I'm sorry, adopted father. I did not mean to . . ."
"It is forgotten," Subhash said, amused by his protegees honest embarrassment. "You are not at fault for the weakness of my body." He wheeled the chair out from under Ninyu's hand. "I am still director. No one will take that away from me."
"Not as long as I live, adopted father."
"Is your commitment to the Combine as strong, adopted son?"
"Stronger."
Subhash sensed his heir's sincerity and was pleased. There would be a sure hand to guide the Combine after he was gone. Takashi had already agreed to the papers of appointment. It was only a matter of time before Theodore did. How could he refuse to accept his old battle comrade, one of his shitenno?
But the directorship of the ISF meant nothing if there was no Combine to guide and to perfect. And should the Combine fall, the strongest force for order in the universe would disappear, a result totally abhorrent to him. And so Subhash would continue to do what needed to be done, as he had all his life. As long as he still breathed, he would fight to see the Combine endure against all enemies, internal and external.
"Your concern is obviously for Takashi," Ninyu said. "Is the Coordinator's instability increasing?"
"That is still unclear. His lapses become ever more difficult to cover up."
"We will do what must be done."
"Yes, we will. The Combine must be strong and unified in this time of trial." Subhash felt Ninyu's resolution. That was good. Strong and implacable resolve would be imperative. But a journey could only be made one step at a time. "How is the Coordinator's new kendopartner doing?"
Ninyu seemed hesitant to speak, reluctant after the earlier reference to Subhash's failing body. Subhash had once been Takashi's kendopartner. Their sessions had offered the director many opportunities to influence the Coordinator, but now Subhash had to discover other such opportunities, making his influence on Takashi less than it had once been. Still, the kendowas good for Takashi and Subhash made a point of arranging only the best partners. Before they were coordinator and director, they had been friends. They were still friends, when being coordinator and director did not get in the way.
"The Coordinator says he enjoys his matches with Homitsu -san," Ninyu said. "He also says that he thinks Homitsu is holding back, but he is confident that Homitsu will prove challenging once he understands that the Coordinator does not wish to be coddled."
"Very good." Subhash smiled. He truly hoped Takashi was enjoying the matches; there was so little joy in being a leader. "That is most satisfactory."
8
Each of the Hiring Hall's towers stood twenty stories tall and the domed central area was itself ten stories. Its architecture was bold and open, the better to serve the image of Outreach as a planet where anyone could come to hire mercenaries. The Hiring Hall is, deliberately, the most prominent building in Harlech, the capital and principal city of Outreach. It was a public relations decision to make it tower over Wolf Hall, the multiacre complex that served as command headquarters for the Dragoons. We might be the best, but Jaime Wolf's program required us to demonstrate, rather than lord, our superiority over the others in our trade. And proof was saved for where it counted, on the battlefield.
I spent a lot of time at the Hall.
As the months wore on I became accustomed to my place at the Wolf's side. He must also have become more accustomed to me for he called me William less and less frequently. I was pleased, feeling that I was carving out my own place. But I knew I had yet to face the real test. Combat is only the briefest part of a soldier's life, but it was where I would truly prove my worth.
The Command Lance was busy even though we were not in action, which, I suppose, made the Wolf's suspension from combat less of a trial than it might have been. It was harder for Hans Vordel and his Bodyguard
Lance. In the old Dragoons, Hans had been the Wolf's bodyguard, a member of the Command Lance. Though an excellent warrior, he showed little aptitude for anything beyond BattleMech combat.
When the Dragoons first came to Outreach in 3030, we were in bad shape after the Fourth Succession War. Many feared that Takashi Kurita would take advantage of our weakened condition to mount a strike that would destroy the Dragoons completely. Meeting in council, the Dragoon colonels had demanded that Jaime Wolf form a Bodyguard Lance. The Wolf had insisted that such a move was unnecessary, but the colonels had overridden him in the vote. Hans had been detailed to select the best warriors, and he selected them from among several ageframes, on advice from Stanford Blake. I suppose the idea was to create a continuity of experience, balancing the faster reflexes of the younger generations with the battle experience of the older. Whatever the reasoning, the team consistently garnered superlative scores in testing. Hans worked hard to maintain his lance's edge.
I believed that the combination of different age-frames had an additional benefit, but I'm afraid it was a personal rather than a professional one. For the newest member was of my ageframe and, like me, the product of a sibko.
Her name was Maeve.
If I tell you of her alluring beauty, her midnight hair, her slender, feline grace, you will think me besotted, thrall to a young man's hormones. No one, you will say, could be so fair. Perhaps you would come to distrust anything I tell you. So instead, I will speak only of her prowess as a MechWarrior. That can be verified by the records; though her selection for the Bodyguard Lance should be proof enough of her skill. There is also documentation of her accomplishments as a commander later in life. Additionally, I can also attest to her sharp tongue and quick wit, and also be found honest. There are recordings. Any one of those areas would make her stand out, so accept my evaluation that she was exceptional. She was my first love.
To her, however, I was simply the comm officer, a mere fixture in her military life, only taking on importance when messages were to be given or received. My tongue betrayed all my efforts at casual conversation, so our exchanges were strictly business. Somehow, I was able to speak to her when she was just another Dragoon, but beyond that I was hopeless. I hadn't been so backward with my sibs. That was how I knew I was in love.
I remember clearly her first day on duty. She had drawn late shift along with Sergeant Anton Benjamin and so had joined the Command Lance near the end of our standard duty rounds. The Wolf was completing some business at the Hiring Hall, a subcontract for the Black Brigade. When he was finished, we met our new lancemate outside the conference room, where Maeve and Anton waited to relieve Hans and Shelly Gordon. I know I heard Maeve's name, but after that not another word of the introduction registered in my brain.
I was too busy trying to think of some way to talk to her as soon as I went off duty, but my thoughts didn't want to work. We all left the building together, Stan placing himself between her and me. I thought about how near the command lounge was to the Wolf's office. The bodyguards often relaxed there when Jaime Wolf was busy in residence. This slowly forming plan suddenly slipped from my grasp at a shouted call.
"Colonel Wolf!"
Much to my annoyance, the Wolf stopped and turned at the sound of his name.
The man approaching us was short, but not so short as the Wolf, or even Maeve, for that matter. Despite the coolness of the weather, he wore only a Mech-Warrior's cooling vest and shorts. Perhaps he wished to show off his muscular build. I wondered what Maeve thought of him. Spheroids were often impressed by such macho posturing, but I hoped that a Dragoon would have higher standards. The Mech Warrior thrust out his hand as he stepped up to Jaime Wolf.
"Colonel, I wanted to say thanks. I just found out that it was your word that cinched it with the St. Ives contractor."
"Captain Miller, isn't it?" Wolf said as he shook the man's hand.
"That's right. Call me Jason."
"Glad we could help. I always like to see a reliable unit get a contract. Too many defaults give all mercenaries a bad name."
"Don't they just." Miller grinned. "We all have to stick together or the Houses will eat us alive."
Grinning back, the Wolf said, "I'll count on you the next time Takashi's on my tail."
Miller looked startled for a moment. Apparently deciding the Wolf was joking, he laughed and said, "You got it! The Twelve Pack and the Dragoons against the Snakes. Done deal!" There was an awkward moment while everyone stood looking at one another. "Well, I just wanted to say thanks."
"You have, Captain. I wish you success on your contract."
They shook hands again and we proceeded on, leaving Miller on the steps of the Hall. The Wolf dropped his jovial manner as soon as Miller turned his back. I watched Maeve's brow furrow. When we were far enough away that her voice wouldn't carry, she said, "I don't see why you do it, Colonel Wolf. I mean; helping other mercs get contracts. These other guys cut into our business." She tossed her head back, sweeping an errant lock out of her eyes. "They'll never be Dragoons."
"Some might," Jaime Wolf smiled indulgently. "Some have. There was a time when we needed warriors and we took in Inner Sphere mercs. We couldn't get soldiers fast enough any other way."
"But we took only the best," she said defensively.
"We tried."
She was clearly still unsatisfied. "But this business with the Hiring Hall and all these other mercs. The Dragoons are at full operational strength." The Wolf's eyes narrowed slightly at that comment and I knew he didn't agree. I had thought we were up to strength as well. Maeve didn't notice. "We don't need anybody to take up the slack."
"Not every contract is a Dragoon's contract."
"Agreed. But I checked the board today. There were at least three suitable openings and we weren't bidding on any of them."
The Wolf looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "There were other outfits that needed the work more."
"Are we a charity?"
Stan answered for the Wolf. "Don't forget, we get a cut of any contract made through the Hall."
"We're not merchants!" Maeve shouted, real passion in her voice. She must have come from one of the more protected sibkos.
Yelling at Stan was as bad as yelling at the Wolf. It was no way to start a tour of duty. I didn't want to see her transferred out just when I'd met her, so I was relieved to see that the Wolf was feeling indulgent.
"Aren't we?" he asked. "We sell our services, and fighting isn't the only thing we do. We'll take our money where we can find it."
Maeve screwed up her face and looked away.
"Listen, Maeve. You're too young to have been there and the teachers don't always give the sibkos the hard facts. So listen up; I don't want this kind of display in front of the customers."
Her voice was small. "I understand, Colonel."
"No you don't. But I want you to." He waited until she looked at him again. "The Dragoons started helping other mercs find contracts just after the Fourth Succession War, when we were in too bad a shape to accept any contracts of our own. Besides, the Dragoons had always done some subcontracting, hiring other mercs when we didn't have available forces. I don't think there was anyone in the Inner Sphere who didn't know that we had been mauled in the fighting. We didn't have the military resources to guarantee anything. All we had was our rep for knowing who was good. The Dragoons needed to rebuild, and rebuilding costs money. We had Davion's promises to make good our losses while under contract to him, but that wouldn't have brought us up to strength, even if he had come through with all the money he promised."
"The text says we lost over fifty percent effectiveness on Misery."
The Wolf nodded somberly. "A cold evaluation, but true. Money could replace the machines, but the warriors were gone forever."
"We were hard up," Stan added. "We played on what rep we had. By brokering good contracts, we made a lot of friends among the Inner Sphere mercs."
"Why not just take in the best mercs we could find and patch together a provisional regiment to be hired out?" Maeve asked.
"A patchwork regiment wouldn't have been able to keep up the rep," Wolf said, shaking his head. "And we didn't have the strength to put together a pure Dragoon regiment. We were all too tired. Even if we had gone out selling our services, who would have protected Outreach and the families?"
"But we had Davion to protect Outreach," Maeve protested.
"The political situation was still in turmoil. We couldn't rely on Davion, only ourselves. As soon as things settled down a bit and we had a chance to catch our metaphorical breaths, Natasha Kerensky took the Black Widow Battalion into the field."
Benjamin spat. "Bloodnamed bitch!"
"I will have none of that kind of talk, Mister," the Wolf snapped. Benjamin mumbled an apology, which the Wolf ignored. "Natasha followed her conscience when she left us to return to Clan Wolf. We had chosen our own way long before. We're on our own."
"Is it true that they put Natasha on trial and found the Dragoons innocent of treason to the Clans?" Maeve asked. "If they did, we could go back."
Stan snorted. "There's more to life in the Clans than legal verdicts. We made our choice when we ignored the ilKhan's last summons."
The Wolf nodded agreement. "We've seen other ways besides Clan ways now. We can't go back. It just wouldn't work. At best, we'd all end up dead in trials or be declared bandits. We're better than that."
Maeve wouldn't let it go. "What's to keep us from ending up as somebody's lap dogs like the Horsemen?"
"Only ourselves. As long as I have any say in it, the Dragoons will never be anyone's bought dogs," the Wolf said with steady conviction. "We will make our ownway here in the Inner Sphere. Even if it means submitting to questioning from junior officers."
Maeve had the good grace—and the good sense—to keep her mouth shut after that. We proceeded to Wolf Hall and, unfortunately, the Wolf had a full night's work for me. Hans and Shelly were back on duty by the time I stumbled bleary-eyed from Jaime Wolf's office. I went to my bed and dreamed of Maeve.
