Natural Selection

by Michael A. Stackpole

  "I agree, sir." Galen glanced at some numbers on a console in front of him. "Unfortunately, this is the most probable outcome of the Red Corsair feinting toward the Zouave position at Rupert, then hitting Shasta. Zimmer could bring in the Zouaves to lift the siege and try to defend the city, but it would be folly. The long march will leave his troops open to ambush, especially here in the Livingstone jungle reserve."

  "The key question is this: Can they hold out until the Wolves arrive?"

  Victor's aide shrugged. "Assuming Zimmer can put together a defensive position that will take the raiders a while to crack, yes, I think they can. The Thirty-first Wolf Solahma were reported burning fast to the planet."

  The Prince shook his head almost absentmindedly. "Coming in at 1.25 gravities is not fast. "

  "Not fast enough for you, you mean, sir." Galen brushed a lock of blond hair back from his forehead. "To be prepared for combat, we never go in at better than 1.5 gravities."

  "But the Clans are supposed to be such bloody hotshot warriors." Victor slammed his right fist into his left palm. "Dammit, they could hurry so our people can live."

  Galen's head came up. "I thought you told me you had disparaged the Zouaves in front of the Kell Hounds back on Arc-Royal."

  Victor waved the comment away. "I was young and stupid then." He looked at the time being displayed in the corner of the battlefield. "Where is that ComStar Precentor? He says he has a Priority Alpha message for me, then takes his own sweet time about getting here. No wonder the Clans decided they wanted to take Terra."

  His comment prompted a momentary guffaw from Galen, and after a moment Victor joined in, bleeding off some of the tension. "The bitch of all this, Galen, is that even going as fast as we could, the Revenants couldn't make it to Deia in near enough time to save Zimmer. It would take us a month to get out there. ..."

  "But only with you commandeering every JumpShip in sight."

  "That's why it's called a command circuit, Galen. If you're in command, you make the circuit." Victor started the simulation moving again. "We can't get there to stop them this time, but we can be there for the next time."

  A gentle knock at the door of the briefing room made Victor stop the simulation again. "Enter."

  An older man wearing the simple white robes of a ComStar Precentor slipped through the crack between the door and jamb. "ComStar Precentor Marcellin at your service, Highness." The grave look on the man's face told Victor the news was woeful.

  "Let's have it, Precentor. How bad is it on Deia?"

  "Highness?"

  "You have news of Deia, don't you? Tell me, tell me this instant." Victor nodded at Galen and his aide readied himself to translate the Precentor's news into numbers the simulation could use. "Come on, man. I don't have all day!"

  "Y-yes, Highness." Marcellin blinked a couple of times, then composed himself. "The Zouaves took up defensive positions in Sector 3342."

  "Burton's Redoubt. The Speke River gives it a moat. High ground, no easy approaches. Taking it will be trouble." Galen spoke haltingly as he typed information into the computer. The simulation redrew itself, the blue force being bolstered with green troops and rising above the red forces. A light blue river separated the combatants. "Approximate strengths?"

  The Precentor started to tremble. "I don't know, sir. I am not a military man. Zimmer is supposed to have had a battalion, but that was the remains of the militia and his people. He lost a whole company in the jungle."

  Galen hit some keys and the number of defenders dropped, but not so much as to make Victor lose all heart. "Galen, Zimmer's done it. Because the raiders are not working with missiles, taking this little fortification will be hell to pay. He can hold out here for days." The Prince looked up at the Precentor. "Have the Wolves arrived?"

  "Yes, Highness."

  Victor clapped his hands together. "Now we have them! They must have grounded behind the bandits to trap them. Where did they come down?"

  "Sector 3342."

  Victor's eyes narrowed. "The same sector? Was Zimmer that close to collapse? Did they come in to bolster it?"

  The Precentor shook his head. "No, Highness, to conquer it."

  "What!"

  The ComStar man opened his hands helplessly. "I do not know any more, Highness. Please, believe me. The last message we had said the Wolves were fighting with Zimmer's forces at the river. The raiders have taken that opportunity to pull back, and they may be leaving the world. But, believe me, I know nothing more."

  Victor hammered the table with a fist. "Those sons of bitches! What the hell is going on here? The Wolves were supposed to be helping Zimmer, not finishing him off!" His hands tightened down into fists and he raised them up beside his head. "Who the hell do those Clanners think they are? What do they think this is? If we'd been there, Galen, this whole situation would have been different."

  The Prince jabbed a finger toward the Precentor. "I want you to send a Priority Alpha message over my signature to the ilKhan of the Clans. It is to read as follows: On 19 June 3055 your Thirty-first Wolf Solahma landed on Deia and destroyed the one unit defending that world against the bandits the Thirty-first was sent to hunt. Though it would require an error of a sort yet unparalleled in all of human history to explain, I will not order the immediate hunting down of the Thirty-first Wolf Solahma. That order will await your explanation of their action and your determination on how they will conduct operations in the future.

  "Effective this date, the Tenth Lyran Guards will be the primary military force engaged in hunting the raiders. The Thirty-first Wolf Solahma should understand that it is a subordinate force and subject to my command. If it interferes in any way with operations, I will order it destroyed."

  The Precentor nodded uneasily. "Y-yes, Highness."

  "Galen, draw up the necessary orders to get everyone moving. Cancel all leaves, and mobilize the local reserve units to help with loading. We can commandeer merchant DropShips if we need them." The Prince closed his eyes. "We'll need basic supplies for a month in transit. We can pick up more along the way. We'll also load refit kits so we can bring everyone up current. Also, contact the base auxiliary and tell them to gear up their counseling network. Also General Order 4492 concerning mortgage and loan interest rate rollbacks is now in effect."

  "Yes, sir."

  Victor opened his eyes again and saw the ComStar official still standing at the other end of the table. "Why are you still here, man? I gave you a message to send."

  The man swallowed hard. "Yes, Highness. I know."

  "Then what is it?" Victor opened his hands. "I am busy here. You can see that."

  "Yes, Highness, I know that." The man nervously clutched his hands together, wringing them spasmodically. "It is just that I came with a message and have not yet been able to deliver it."

  Victor shook his head and leaned forward on the table. "Then tell me."

  "Your mother, Highness." The man stopped for a moment, then continued. "It was a bomb. I am very sorry."

  Victor felt as though his knees had been shot out from under him. He sat down, catching only the edge of his chair, and ended up on the floor. His toppled chair clattered down beside him and he angrily batted it aside with his left arm. "Mein Gott!" He began to shake.

  "There is no doubt?" He heard himself speak, but felt utterly detached from the sound.

  "The alert went out immediately, Highness. There were no details, but there was no h-hedging." The Precentor's voice became softer. "A bomb exploded in front of her as she spoke. ..."

  "He doesn't need to know that, ghoul!"

  "No, Galen. ..." Victor looked up as his friend dropped to one knee beside him. "Precentor, please continue."

  "It was at the library dedication banquet. Dozens of people died in the blast, and many more were severely wounded. Your mother could have felt no pain."

  Victor reached up and locked his left hand on the edge of the table. Galen helped him up and he leaned against the table. He clenched his jaw and tried
to keep back the tears welling in his eyes. He failed and the tears rolled down his cheeks as he hammered his right fist into the table. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

  The ComStar Precentor bowed. "You wish to be alone, Highness."

  Victor shook his head and pushed away the throbbing pain in his hand. "No, wait. Galen, gather up all the information we've worked up on the bandits. Include the Geist file. Get it ready so the Precentor here can ship it out. Precentor, I will require you to send another message for me. Is my sister on Tharkad?"

  "Katrina? Yes, Highness."

  Victor used his left hand to wipe away his tears. "Tell Katherine that I am inbound. She is to conduct services as she deems appropriate. It is not likely that my mother's body"—his stomach clenched as the meaning behind his words slammed into him—"is in any condition for her to lie in state as our father did. If she thinks it best, she need not wait the funeral for my arrival. I want my mother remembered as she was when alive."

  The Prince looked up toward the ceiling and squeezed tears out of tightly shut eyes. "I also want to be kept abreast of the investigation with Priority Alpha messages as I come in. And can you tell the Primus and the Precentor Martial that I would like ComStar's cooperation in locating any messages that might pertain to the assassination?" Victor opened his eyes and wiped away more tears.

  The ComStar Precentor nodded solemnly. "It shall be communicated as you wish." The man raised a hand. "And concerning the message to the ilKhan? Do you still wish to send it?"

  Galen shook his head. "Victor, there is no way we can go after the bandits with you on Tharkad."

  "You're right, Galen." The Prince looked over at the Precentor. "Send it anyway, but we'll change the name of the unit."

  "Highness?"

  "Zimmer's people were my people, so the bandits will be hunted down." Victor cradled his right hand in his left. "Zimmer's people were also Kell Hounds' people. Fate has dealt me a bad hand here, but having the Kell Hounds angry and sent after them won't deal the bandits one that's any better."

  22

  Tamar

  Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

  21 June 3055

  Phelan Ward saluted as he entered the ilKhan's quarters. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

  The slender, white-haired man returned the salute, then offered Phelan his hand. "Beta Galaxy seems to be coming along well under your leadership, Phelan," Ulric Kerensky said, sitting down in a camp chair and gesturing to Phelan to have a seat in the one opposite it. "Their scores were good before your return, and in the last month they have gotten even better. You are to be commended."

  The younger man smiled. "I shall pass word of your praise on to the others. Star Colonel Athen Kederk has worked miracles since he came over from the 328th Assault Cluster. I thank you for letting him come. I also thank you for leaving us the Thirteenth Wolf Guards when Natasha took command of Alpha Galaxy. They, as always, know how to confront an opponent with all kinds of unusual tactical challenges."

  Ulric laughed lightly. "The other units who trained against the Wolf Spiders tended to phrase their opinions in less flattering ways."

  "I can imagine." Phelan sat back in the steel and canvas chair. Looking around the sparsely decorated room, it struck him that Ulric Kerensky had not much changed since the first time he had seen him. On the JumpShip Dire Wolf he had been invited to Khan Kerensky's quarters, where everything was either utilitarian or aesthetically simple. It occurred to him that many of the furnishings in the room here on Tamar were exactly the same ones that had occupied Ulric's cabin during the Clan invasion of the Inner Sphere.

  Ulric stroked his white goatee a moment before speaking. "I asked you here because I have some disturbing news."

  The tone of the ilKhan's voice surprised Phelan. It carried regret, but also sounded as if Ulric were uncertain how much information he should reveal. "What is it?"

  "Two days ago, an assassin killed Archon Melissa Steiner on Tharkad. He did so by exploding a bomb at a banquet she was attending."

  "Oh my God!" Phelan's jaw dropped open. "Who did it?"

  Ulric shook his head. "I do not know, nor did the ComStar Precentor who communicated the information. He did say, however, that your parents were in attendance at the dinner. Your father introduced Melissa Steiner, and both your parents were seated on the dais." The ilKhan took a deep breath. "Your mother was killed by the blast. Your father was gravely wounded and is undergoing treatment."

  The curious tone of Ulric's voice undercut the gravity of his news. Phelan wanted to deny what he had heard, and focused on the fact that because Clan warriors never knew their true parents, Ulric could not know how much the news hurt him. Ulric could not inject the right amount of sorrow and sympathy into his words because he could not understand sentiments he had never felt.

  "Oh, God." Phelan slumped in the chair. "My mother . . . dead? It can't be, it can't. I just saw her a month ago." He looked up at Ulric and let a little laugh escape his throat. "With my father retiring, the two of them were traveling to Tharkad to get away from the unit and fighting and death for a while. She cheated death so often on the battlefield . . . how could it get her at a banquet?"

  The ilKhan simply shook his head. "I cannot begin to understand what you are feeling, Phelan, yet I dearly wish I could."

  "Forgive me, ilKhan, but you do not want to share these feelings."

  "I do, and it comes not from wondering how this will affect your performance in my command. You are a friend and I can see that this hurts you . . . deeply." Ulric looked down at his hands. "I have other unsettling news."

  Phelan head bobbed with a snort. "In for a cent, in for a C-bill."

  "At roughly the same time the bomb exploded, the Thirty-first Wolf Solahma made a combat drop on Deia. They dropped onto what was left of Zimmer's Zouaves and the Deia Militia. They ripped them apart, but in doing so allowed the bandits to escape. Because Conal bid away his air wing to win this assignment, he had nothing with which to pursue the bandits as they left the world."

  "Conal dropped on a unit he was supposed to be helping?" Phelan sat bolt upright in his chair. "What in the name of hell possessed him to do that?"

  Ulric exhaled slowly. "Conal claims that he told the mercenary commander to remove his troops from a defensive position that Conal wanted to occupy. That commander refused, and accepted Conal's challenge to fight for the place."

  The younger man's nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. He had no doubt that the actions of Conal—as slimy a weasel and a bastard as ever saw a sunrise—were exactly what any Clansman would have thought appropriate. He was just as certain that Conal had landed hard on the Zouaves for two main reasons. First, they were mercenaries, and the Clans generally considered mercenaries to be lower than the bandits Conal was meant to be chasing.

  Second, the Zouaves were connected to the Kell Hounds, and that meant they were connected to him, Phelan. "You know why Conal did that, quiaff?"

  "I think there is no question," Ulric said with a nod. "You know, of course, what I must do in return."

  "I will have my Command Trinary ready to go in a week. We will take care of the bandits in short order. After I attend my mother's funeral, I will rendezvous with the Silver Keshik in Federated Commonwealth space."

  "No."

  "No?"

  Ulric stood and stroked his goatee as he started to pace.

  "I cannot send the Silver Keshik or any other part of your Galaxy. You forget one thing in suggesting that I send them. Not your fault, actually."

  "What is it?"

  "In the Inner Sphere it is possible, even probable, that an elite unit could be sent out to deal with a bandit problem." Ulric's blue eyes nicked up at Phelan. "As I recall, we captured you while the Kell Hounds were serving in just such a function."

  Phelan nodded. "That is true."

  "Within the Clans, though, bandit-hunting is not a task for true warriors. It is reserved for units made up of old or disgraced warriors who want to die with hono
r—"

  "Or over-ambitious fools who make big mistakes."

  "Exactly, but to think of Conal as a fool is to sink to his level. He is cunning and doubtless did go after the Zouaves because of their connection to your family unit." Ulric folded his arms across his chest. "Conal also knew it would force both me and the Federated Commonwealth into action."

  "The FedCom cannot rely on us to hunt down the bandits. They will have to send someone after them." Phelan focused on the chair where Ulric had been sitting. "Ryan Steiner is already demanding that a Skye or Tamar unit be given the honor. Victor would want the assignment for the Tenth Lyran Guards. The Archon would likely have given the job to Ryan's choice and prayed Conal would deny Ryan the political boost. With the Archon dead, though, Victor now rules. He will not send the Tenth Lyran Guards, but he will not let Ryan fight, either."

  Ulric smiled slightly. "I have received a message from this Victor. He said he would not order the destruction of the Thirty-first Wolf Solahma, pending an explanation of their actions. He also said that the Solahma would have to be subordinate to whatever unit he chose to put in charge of hunting the bandits down."

  "That is Victor." Phelan frowned. "Conal will never agree to that. He will not follow orders given by someone from the Inner Sphere."

  "That is precisely why you will serve as the liaison officer between the Thirty-first Solahma and the Inner Sphere unit." The ilKhan stopped behind his chair and leaned against the back of it. "Victor chose the Kell Hounds to destroy the bandits."

  Phelan's surprise melted into a sense of dread. "Conal will not listen to me and he will not like orders coming from a mercenary unit. He especially will not like orders coming from that mercenary unit." Phelan gave it a moment more of thought, and his feelings shifted to a cold sense of satisfaction. "But then, Conal has to obey me because I am a Khan. And he will have to perform well or else be embarrassed because a mercenary unit did what he could not. This might not be so bad after all."