Текст книги "Wolves On The Border"

Автор книги: Robert N. Charette

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

40

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

2 January 3028

 

“Any word from Shadd?”

“No, Colonel,” Cameron replied. “We're still getting jamming from the Kurita ships in orbit. It's blanketing all comm frequencies.”

Wolf took a seat near the holotank. He rubbed his face with both hands as though trying to massage away the weariness. It didn't work. He ran his hands up through his close-cropped hair, wincing at each bruise and cut he touched. It had been a long day.

“What about the barracks?”

“We still have hard lines through to them and to the landing field. All report quiet for the past two hours.”

“Looks like you can stand down for a while. William, get somebody to take over for you. You could use some rest. Tell your relief that I want to know as soon as we hear from Shadd or get through to the Hephaestus.”

“Yes, Colonel.” Cameron beckoned to another officer to take over the console he was using to monitor the few lines of communications the Dragoons had open. After briefing the woman, he walked over to where Wolf sat. “Perhaps the Colonel should get some rest while it is quiet.”

“You're a little young to be my mother, William.”

“Just trying to do my job, Colonel. Communications are my responsibility. You're nearly dead on your feet, or would be if you were standing. You can't communicate effectively if you're asleep on the deck.”

“How can I argue against such an expert opinion?”

A sudden shouting and commotion came from the corridor. Wolf was up from his seat in an instant, all trace of tiredness gone. He and Cameron ran to the corridor to find it filled with Dragoons. The main doors were open and through them, they could see the shapes of agitated people, silhouetted by the harsh glare of spotlights illuminating the steps.

Wolf grabbed a trooper who was forcing his way toward the planning room.

“What's going on, soldier?”

The trooper almost shrugged off the hand that held him by the shoulder. The look of annoyance vanished when he realized that the man who held him was the one he had been sent to seek. “Armed Dracs, sir. They have a body.”

“A Dragoon?”

“I don't think so. Couldn't see for sure. They want to come in. Lieutenant Riker won't let them, per your orders, sir.”

“I'm sure they want to see me, too.”

“Yessir,” the trooper said, surprised that Wolf already knew.

“Well, I'm not in the mood. If the body's not one of ours, tell them to come back tomorrow. If it is one of ours, put the Kuritans on ice and don't worry about being gentle.”

Wolf dismissed the soldier and started back to the planning room when the disturbance at the entrance increased. Above the deep tones of the men, Wolf heard a feminine voice.

“Jaime! Jaime, tell them to let us through!” It was Marisha Dandridge.

Wolf was down the corridor as though it were empty. On the steps, he found Marisha standing in front of about a dozen Kuritans. Wolf brushed past the Dragoon guards and embraced her.

“I thought you were safe on the Hephaestus.”

“Marisha was at the mansion when the riots started,” a new voice stated.

Wolf pulled back from his lady to look at the tall, dark Kuritan he had passed without a second thought. He had not expected to see Minobu here. In the stark shadows, he had been just another Draconian to a man who only had eyes for his loved one.

“It was my duty to see her safely into your custody,” Minobu continued. “I apologize for the delay, but I waited until I thought it was safe. As it was, we had a little trouble getting here. I hope you were not unduly worried.”

“If I had known she was in your care, my friend, I would have had no worries at all,” Wolf said, relaxing his grip in Marisha. Still encircled by her arms, he turned toward Minobu. “I didn't know you were on An Ting. We have a lot to talk about.”

“We do, indeed. I also brought this,” Minobu said, indicating the body one of his men had slung over his shoulders. “I'm afraid it is in no shape to answer any questions, though it poses several.”

The Kurita trooper dumped the body at Wolf's feet. The pale skin of its face reflected the light, revealing a visage fixed in a final expression of surprise. The body wore a Kurita uniform with the insignia of the Ryuken– ni'. It stank of blood and excrement.

“It is not one of mine, despite the clothing. The man had been working at the mansion for several weeks. He was only a servant hired in my absence when the household became shorthanded. He came with excellent references.”

“Forged, no doubt,” said Stanford Blake, appearing at the edge of the group around the corpse.

The glance Minobu gave the Dragoon suggested that he found him slow-witted and a bit boorish. “A man may be good at more than one thing. Does it matter whether he was a real servant?”

“No, I suppose not,” Blake conceded.

Wolf suddenly became aware of all the people standing around. “Let's go inside,” he said. “Riker, haul this garbage out of here.”

Minobu's men were left in the waiting area, having submitted without a word to being relieved of their weapons.

After detailing a pair of Dragoons to clear away the corpse, Riker returned to his protective vigil. Minobu, Marisha, Wolf, and the Dragoon officers withdrew to the planning room.

Minobu told them of the discovery of the gunman on the tower and of the events that followed. “We were unable to recover his weapon, but we found this on the body,” Minobu said as he came to the end of his narrative. “There was nothing else.”

Minobu tossed an object onto the table in front of Wolf. It was a package of cigarettes.

Wolf picked it up. Its weight alone betrayed that it was not what it seemed. After poking at it a bit, Wolf triggered a catch. The bottom of the package fell back and a flat black panel with tiny, lozenge-shaped buttons slid out. A second panel popped open and an antenna extended from the package.

“What do you make of it, Blake?” Wolf asked as he handed the device to the intel officer.

Blake looked it over, licking his lips in thought as he considered the object from every angel. “It's a communicator. Short-range. Its pattern fits one used by the Lyran Commonwealth's Bondians.”

“Bondians?” Marisha interjected incredulously. “What in Unity's name is a Steiner secret agent doing shooting up Kurita insurrectionists? I would think the Lyrans would be happy to see trouble on a Combine planet.”

“Their people certainly like to stir it up,” Blake confirmed. “Dropping that loud-mouthed rabble-rouser was a sure way to set the mob off.”

“We don't know who the gunman really worked for,” Wolf reminded him.

“Just as we do not know his intended target,” Minobu added.

At that, Wolf looked sharply at Minobu. The Kuritan's face was impassive, unreadable. Wolf was about to question him when Cameron interrupted. The Captain was back at his comm console, having gone back to work as soon as the group had entered the room.

“Message from Captain Shadd, Colonel. The interference is still there. This came in uncoded on a hard line from a public utility. Here's a playback.”

Cameron touched a stud on his unit and Shadd's voice came from the speaker.

“... Shadd here. Tell the Colonel that I can't get his message out. The ComStar facility is crawling with armed Robes and Snakes. Locked tight. The Snakes are all in civilian clothing, but most are toting military hardware. The Adept says the HPG is forbidden to the—get this—'outlaw' Dragoons. He says to remind the Colonel of ComStar sanctity and that he'll blow the generator if he sees any 'Mechs. Tell the Colonel I'm headed for the barracks. It's closer and my ... friends ... are there. Will call on arrival.”

“How long ago did that come in?”

“Just a couple of minutes. He won't have reached the barracks yet.”

“Keep a line open to them. Tell the commander that he's on the way and to keep an eye out. A sally is authorized, if necessary, to get him inside. I want to speak to Shadd as soon as he gets there.”

“Yessir.”

“Blake, I want you to have a talk with ComStar. Find out what this outlaw business is all about.” The intel officer was halfway to the comm console by the time Wolf finished speaking.

“This is an unfortunate turn of events, Jaime-saw,” Minobu observed.

“Yes, and it's going to be even more unfortunate for whoever started it,” Wolf pledged.

41

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

2 January 3028

 

Minobu could see from the set of Wolf's jaw that the mercenary had not taken Shadd's report of the situation at the ComStar facility well at all. Wolf's attitude promised that violence would come from this latest obstacle, violence that would make the riots in the streets pale in comparison.

Minobu listened while Wolf queried his officers for their views of the situation. Some held it was only exaggerated rhetoric that made the ComStar official call the Dragoons outlaw, but the rest believed that the Adept's statement reflected ComStar's official position on the Dragoons. If ComStar branded the Dragoons as outlaws, no one would hire them. They would become targets, hunted fugitives. Even the full force of the largest mercenary group in the Inner Sphere could not stand up to the hosts that the Sphere would bring against them. Every man's hand would be raised against them and no place in the Sphere would be safe.

First to attack them would be House Kurita.

Minobu hung his head. The clouds had gathered even faster than expected, and the dark shadow of those thunder-heads now fell between him and his friend. His hope that the ComStar Adept had been merely speaking for effect was slim, but had to be nurtured. Minobu resolved to have the comm officer patch him through to the facility. Despite Samsonov's warning against aiding the Dragoons should they go rogue, Minobu would do what he could for his friend.

Minobu turned to find Cameron listening intently to some communication. The Captain looked up, his face ashen. His blue eyes met Minobu's brown, and the Kuritan read the naked fear in the younger man's eyes.

“The interference has stopped, Colonel.” Cameron's voice was as soft and carrying as usual, but it held a quavering note. To anyone who knew him, it was a warning that something was seriously wrong. “We're getting a broadcast from the Hephaestus.”

Cameron switched on the speaker.

“... Kurita patriots. We are not terrorists. In the name of the Dragon, we hold these criminals and their orbital facility to ransom. We demand that they answer for their crimes. We demand that all the forces of Wolf's Dragoons on An Ting and on any other planet they defile by their presence lay down their arms. We demand that they surrender to the justice of the Draconis Combine.

“Loyal as we are to the Dragon, we are but ordinary men. We could not hope to stand before the might of trained ‘Mech Warriors. We freely admit it so that all will understand why we have acted as we have.

“We are here to see that justice is done. It is not our wish to harm those guilty only by association with the foul curs who lead Wolf's Dragoons. We hold the people of this station hostage to force their villainous superiors to hear our pleas. We call upon whatever shreds of honor remain in the hearts of the Dragoon leadership. Surrender yourselves.

“We wish no harm to innocents. We have taken control of this station without a single death. To prove this, we shall allow the commander of the station to speak.” The voice paused for a moment. “State your name and position.”

“I am Major James Quo, station master of Hephaestus.Our command section is held by this band of ... Kurita patriots. They have killed no one as yet. From the master console, they have control of all life-support functions. They have it in their power to kill all personnel currently aboard the Hephaestus.No one remaining aboard has the ability to threaten the ... boarders. No one has been killed. I have been given this chance to speak because I promised I would advise all Dragoon officers to listen to the demands of these ... patriots ... and to act accordingly. I gave my promise freely. I advise all Dragoon officers who can hear my voice to stand up for themselves. If you cannot convince your officers, take matters into your own hands. Scrag the Snakes!”

Sounds of a shuffle came from the speaker.

Quo's voice came again. He spoke rapidly, a man who knew he had little time. “Aft's free, Colonel. Seventh on hull. Hold out! We can—”

A gunshot cut off the Major's words.

The first voice returned. The speaker was out of breath, as though he had been violently exercising. “Quo is a fool and a liar, like all the Dragoon commanders. This station is totally under our control. He sought to engender more of the violence he worshipped. If you follow his advice, you will meet death.

“We are resolute. Any attempts at violence or retaliation will force us to make examples of the populace aboard the station. Their blood will not be on our heads. The responsibility belongs to the Dragoon High Command. We await your reply. Honor to the Dragon!”

The frequency went dead.

“Link up all units, William.” Wolf waited impatiently while Cameron began the process. “Conference on a secure line, all commanders. Nobody moves without orders.”

Wolf turned to Minobu to find the Kuritan shaking his head. “What is it?”

“I have seen how the populace reviles the name of Wolf's Dragoons in the streets. I have heard how ComStar labels the Dragoons. Now there is this word. You cannot avoid what is happening. Whether you wish it or not, trouble has come.”

“You can help us,” Wolf said. “Together we can make them listen. Stop the fires before they get out of hand.”

“Not this time. Matters have gone too far.” Minobu knew he was too small an obstacle to divert the gathering forces. He felt tired. What had he done to deserve such karma? He clenched and unclenched his good hand in frustration. “The earthquake may be far offshore, but the tsunamirumbles in, unstoppable. At best, one has warning and can flee for the safety of the mountains.”

“Are you fleeing then?” Wolf asked.

“I wish I were. I cannot. I am bound to my duty.” Minobu paused. Wolf had mistaken Minobu's advice for a statement of his own intent. Minobu refused to take offense at the lack of faith in their bond that Wolf's question implied. Wolf could not think that Minobu would abandon him simply to save himself. He had to be distraught, overtaxed by his concerns for his Dragoons. Minobu tried again to make his advice clearer. “Consider your own course.”

“I have my own duties,” Wolf said, waving a stiffened arm to encompass the Dragoons working throughout the chamber.

“I understand.” Minobu understood that there could have been no other response. Sadness filled his heart. He and his friend were locked on their respective courses. The fate that loomed was inescapable. Minobu could feel its weight descending. “It seems that each must face his own karma.”

Minobu walked to where Marisha sat.

“I must leave for Misery in the morning.” He did not need to say that he considered this a final goodbye. “Thank you for all you have done.”

Marisha, careful not to offend the dignity of a Kuritan samurai, stood and bowed when she would rather have embraced Minobu. “Give my love to Tomiko and the children.”

“I do not need to give them what they already have and hold dearly.”

Wolf stepped up. In his eyes, Minobu could read understanding and regret that this was to be a parting of ways. The mercenary seemed to be searching for words.

“It has been a long time since I had a brother. May you always defeat your enemies, warrior,” Wolf said at last.

Minobu was taken aback, disturbed by Wolf's words. Wolf meant well and was surely giving what he thought was a proper goodbye to a samurai. Perhaps he did not see as clearly as Minobu did what must follow soon.

“An old cautionary proverb warns one to be careful of what one wishes because the wish might be granted.”

Minobu turned and left the room.

“What do you mean?” Marisha asked as he retreated. She turned to her lover. “What did he mean?”

Wolf made no reply. He simply stared at the departing figure.

“You know, don't you?” Frustrated by his silence, Marisha turned to Major Blake, who had been watching the exchange.

“I think he meant it as a warning,” Blake said, when she insisted again. “House of Kurita's Dictum Honoriumstates that anyone not committed to the Draconis Combine is an enemy. I think the Iron Man is letting us know that if we face off, he won't be holding back.”

“All unit commanders on line, Colonel,” Cameron announced.

42

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

3 January 3028

 

Dechan Fraser blinked and tried to focus on the face of the person shaking his arm. The pale skin and oval shape might have been those of Jenette Rand. Strands of hair brushed against his nose, making him want to sneeze. How could that be? Jenette's hair was cropped close and she didn't have a pony tail that hung over her shoulder to hit him in the face as she bent over him. Susan Lean did, though. She was almost as pretty as Jenette. She was ... Lean!

“Yeah, Lean. I'm not your dream girl, so you can let go.” Lean straightened up as he loosened his grip on her arms. “Come on, Fraser. Wake up. The Colonel wants all company commanders in conference.”

Lean stood in the doorway while Dechan slipped into his duty uniform. She tapped her foot impatiently.

“What are you waiting around for?” he asked. He wasn't used to being watched while dressing At least, not by a pretty woman with a scowl on her face. They usually smiled.

“Well, it's not for the show. The Colonel sent me after you. He's in a mood, so I'm not going back there without you.”

Dechan caught a note of worry in her voice, something deeper than anxiety about a potential chewing out. “It's serious?”

“You could say that.”

“If it's serious, this is no time to be coy.”

“You're right. Sorry.” She told him about the capture of the Hephaestus.“I think it's Hegira,” she concluded.

“Hegira? What's that?”

She smote her forehead with her hand. “That's right ... I forgot you're adopted!” She cocked her head and looked at him with mock severity. “What's the matter, foster? Did you fall asleep during the intro session when you made company commander?”

“No, I didn't,” Dechan snapped defensively. Foster! Who did she thing she was! The slang term was used for new ‘Mech Warriors until they had been accepted as full-fledged Dragoons. No one had called him that for five years. “I never had one. I got my star just before we left for Udibi. Things have been too hot since then.”

“Unity save us from too-busy Majors,” Lean exclaimed. “As a foster who made company commander, you should have been briefed. Hegira is the escape plan. Ever since New Delos, the Dragoons have been ready to run with the civilians if some dim-witted Successor Lord tries the hostage trick again. When the word goes out, we move.”

“That's what's going on?”

“Not yet. But I think that's why the Colonel has called the meeting. In case of a disaster, he calls together all officers on-site. Everybody from company CO on up has a say.”

“And if the vote is to go?”

“Then all Dragoons not under specific orders to the contrary will assemble at a previously determined, uninhabited star system. Once assembled, we will convoy somewhere safe.”

“But that would go against the contract,” Dechan objected. The notion of the contract as something sacred had been drilled into him during his early indoctrination to Dragoon discipline and procedure.

“Are you still asleep?” Lean queried, shaking her head in disbelief. “If we go with Hegira, the contract will already have been vaporized—by somebody else.”

The implications began to sink in. Dechan buckled on his sidearm. “Let's not keep him waiting, then.”

The two Captains moved at a trot through the administration building. When Dechan tried to turn down the corridor that led to the conference room, Lean grabbed his arm and tugged him on.

“Wrong way, foster.”

The Dragoon officers had convened in the communications center. Its facilities were being used to reach all Dragoon locations on An Ting. Wolf and the dozen other officers present were seated in a circle on the broadcast floor of the studio. Bright lights illuminated their worried faces. Lean and Dechan joined them.

Once seated, Dechan could barely see the banks of monitors that had been set up to face the seated officers. The rest of the Dragoon officer corps on-planet were attending via two-way video link. Each monitor carried a strip identifying the unit or location of the transmission's source. One row of screens was dark except for the white letters that read “Hephaestus.”A last monitor came to life, revealing the face of Colonel Jeremy Ellman of the Training Command.

“Now that you're on-line, Jeremy, we can begin,” Wolf said. The Colonel's voice cut through the hushed babble of conversation and drove it down into silence.

“I realize this is irregular, but we are unable at this time to contact the rest of the Dragoons. I require the advice of all command-level officers.”

Wolf paused, and the whispered comments of the officers resumed. Most of them already had a good idea of what the call meant. Wolf's words were merely a confirmation.

Lean elbowed Dechan's side in an “I told you so” gesture just as Wolf began to speak again.

“Gentlemen and ladies, we are in a difficult position. You all know about the problems we've had over the last two years. Our employer has been pushing us hard, but we haven't pushed back. But now they're trying to force us into actions that could be branded outlaw. They've been very careful, too. Everything they've done can be disavowed or explained away as the actions of independent parties. And we can prove nothing.

“For those of you who have not heard, Captain Shadd reports that the ComStar facility is barred to us. The Adept in charge is already referring to us as outlaws. We don't know if this is ComStar's official position or if the man has simply become the dupe of our local enemies. It doesn't really matter. Without access to the hyperpulse communications, we must rely on courier service to contact the rest of the regiments.

“We are hamstrung there as well. An Ting System Command is refusing all our requests to change orbit or depart for the jump point. They are referring all requests to the PSL office, which has suddenly become too busy to deal with the problem. All they've had time for is a warning that any repositioning of Dragoon aerospace or deep-space assets will be construed as hostile. Obviously, they do not want us talking to the rest of the regiments.

“I think you can all guess what they're using as an excuse.

“The Hephaestus,or at least some part of it, has been captured by parties claiming to be Kurita patriots. Major Blake's intel operation suggests that the hostiles were introduced as part of a batch of local technical talent taken aboard the station to supplement our strained repair force. They are terrorists. I believe that they are also agents of House Kurita. Again, the truth doesn't matter. The situation does.

“It's New Delos all over again. This time, it's on a bigger scale—better-organized and more ruthless. Twelve years ago, we failed in our oaths to protect our civilians, some of whom were taken hostage and killed. We failed our oath, but swore to prevent it ever happening again.” Wolf paused, giving dramatic emphasis to his next words. “Will we let it happen again?” he called out.

The outraged roar was a clear answer.

“Hegira?” Wolf shouted his question.

The room went silent, a silence louder than any voice.

Jeremy Ellman was the first to break the stillness. His face was grim and his movements slow, weighted by decades of a soldier's hard life. He stood and repeated the single word, “Hegira.” One by one, each Dragoon officer stood and spoke the same word.

Dechan, as a junior officer, was among the last. He didn't understand all that was happening, but he believed in the Dragoons. He had faith in his fellow officers. Trusting their judgment, he stammered out, “Hegira.”

Finally, after all had spoken, it was Jamie Wolf's turn to stand. He spoke with a strange, almost old-fashioned accent that Dechan had never heard any other Dragoon use before. From the faces of the other commanders, both those in the room and those on the screens, he could tell they understood the Colonel perfectly. Lean had been right, he was still a foster. Only Tech Chief Scott, who, like Dechan, had joined the Dragoons in Steiner space, looked puzzled as he strained to make sense of Wolf's words.

“In conclave we have deliberated, trothkin. Sealed and bonded, I stand as Oathmaster. The rede you have spoken is my will. Thus shall it stand until we shall fall.”

A chorus of voices answered, “Seyla!”

The Dragoons sat down. Dechan and Scott, taken off guard by the sudden move, awkwardly followed suit. For a full minute, there was silence.

“Then the word must go out,” Wolf said. He turned to face a monitor bearing the label of Boupeig barracks and spoke to one of the officers assembled there. “Captain Shadd, execute Contingency Plan Mohammed.”

“The Seventh is on its way, Colonel. The Robes will never know what hit them,” Shadd said with a savage grin.

Blake nodded his approval. “That's the way it has to be, Shadd. No evidence,” he cautioned. “Nothing to link the Dragoons to the raid.”

“We're ghosts, Major. We won't let the people down.” Shadd saluted and moved out of the camera's range.

Wolf turned to another screen. This one showed the face of a single Dragoon, Colonel Jason Carmody, head of aerospace operations. Carmody's dark face tensed as Wolf addressed him.

“Jason, barring word to the contrary from me or from the Hephaestus,you will begin Operation Recovery on Captain Shadd's transmission. In the meantime, we negotiate with the brigands holding our people and pretend we'll do business with them.

“We are committed, ladies and gentlemen,” Wolf announced to his assembled audience. “Ready your 'Mechs.”