Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  With the Command Lance safely inside, the great bay doors began to rumble shut. Michi strolled across the floor to the Dragon. Five meters above his head, Minobu was starting down the chain ladder hanging from the bottom of the 'Mech's snout. Bulky in his coldsuit, Minobu descended from his 'Mech in movements made doubly awkward by the icy climbing surfaces.

  When he reached the last rung of the ladder, he dropped the final meter to the floor and landed smoothly, with flexed knees. No one would have guessed that only one of those legs was real. Before greeting Michi, the Tai-sa spoke with the Techs who had come up to service the BattleMechs. Satisfied that his chief Tech understood the problems that had cropped up during the recent outing, Minobu turned to his aide.

  “What urgent news brings you out into the cold, Michigan?”

  “I wished to speak to you.”

  Minobu nodded his understanding that this was to be a private talk and waved at the approaching Tong and Willoughby. “Go on in to the ready room and get something hot,” he called. “We will join you in a few minutes. I will want your preliminary evaluations of the exercise then.”

  The ‘Mech Warriors sketched salutes and veered off. Michi watched them until they disappeared through the door, then turned back to find Minobu gazing at him expectantly from behind the tinted perspex of his goggles. The noise of the Techs' work would prevent their conversation from being overheard.

  “Is it wise for you to leave now?” Michi asked, his tone leaving no doubt about what he thought was the wise course.

  “Now. Later. There is little difference.”

  “Now is not a good time. There's been another fight in Bharryspost. Three Ryuken and two of Major Jarrett's Battalion. Nothing serious this time, at least not physically. But this will not be the last incident.”

  “If there is to be an explosion, there will be one. Shigata ga nai.”

  Michi ground his teeth together. Minobu had used the phrase to dismiss Michi's concerns with frustrating regularity. Ever since the accident, the Tai-sa seemed resigned to whatever happened around him. Michi would not let it drop this time. “If you go now, you will be responsible for the trouble.”

  “Nonsense. You are here to keep things steady. You have grown into your own responsibilities over these last months and can easily keep Major Jarrett clear of the pitfalls of rash action. Besides, Colonel Arbuthnot will be traveling to An Ting as well. His officers will do nothing drastic while he is gone.”

  “Then you still intend to go to An Ting?”

  “Of course. I must see my family,” Minobu said matter-of-factly.

  Michi was not fooled. Minobu had not had much to do with his family since his recovery. “That is not your real motive. You could delegate someone to that task.”

  “And what is my real motive? Have you determined that, as well as what I should and should not do?” Minobu spoke without heat.

  “You are going to talk to Colonel Wolf,” Michi answered accusingly. “He is due back on An Ting soon, isn't he? That is why Colonel Arbuthnot is going there.”

  “Whether it is my true motive or not, my inquisitive friend, I will not say. I do intend to speak to Jaime Wolf. At least to learn how went his trip to Luthien.”

  “Do you think Lord Kurita will have straightened things out? Surely he has seen past the lies of Samsonov and Akuma.”

  “Perhaps.” Minobu looked out the window at the sky. Heavy, snow-bearing clouds were moving in from the northeast. “There is a storm coming,” he said. “We have no way to avoid it, and so we must prepare for it as best we can.”

  36

  An Ting Orbital Station

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  2 January 3028

  “DropShip Wolf Pack One has docked at Bay Twenty-Seven,” the voice repeated for those who might not have understood the first announcement in Japanese. The words of the announcer were clipped as though it annoyed the speaker to repeat the obvious.

  “See. I told you that was about the Colonel's ship.” Susan Lean looked like her name, and seemed far too youthful to be wearing a Captain's star. She was pleased at the small intelligence victory over her three fellow Captains. Lean was especially pleased that she had caught something that Anton Shadd had missed. She considered the hot shots in the Seventh Kommando entirely too cocky.

  “But when we boarded, they said it would be Bay Twenty-Two,” Dechan Fraser complained.

  “Whether they lied or just made a mistake don't matter, kid,” drawled Shadd, a compact, muscular commando. His large hands, marked with an astonishing number of scars, fidgeted with an unlit cigarette. He wore a dress uniform that looked too new for someone who had served so long in the Dragoons, and his twitches and shrugs showed that he was uncomfortable in the uniform's restrictive tailoring. The announcement of Wolf's imminent arrival had awakened Shadd from the mood of sullen preoccupation that had dominated him ever since shuttling over from the Hephaestus. “What matters is that we meet the Colonel when he comes aboard.”

  With that, the commando tossed his cigarette away and headed for the corridor. The fourth member of their group was a step ahead. William Cameron's long legs put him in the lead and kept him there as the Dragoons trotted along the curve of the wheel. Passengers awaiting transport and gray-and-tan uniformed station crew all dodged out of the way of the purposeful quartet. They passed occasional station monitors, whose pendant chestplates distinguished them from regular crew, but none questioned their haste.

  Cameron turned the corner into the waiting area for Bay 27 and pulled up to a sudden halt. Dechan and Lean piled into him, almost knocking him down. Stepping to one side of the tangled Dragoons, Shadd reached for his sidearm. He stopped when he saw why Cameron had stalled.

  Lounging at his ease in the reception area was Chu-sa Jerry Akuma. Dressed in his Ryuken duty uniform, the man was immaculate, as always. The chain that proclaimed his position as PSL officer glinted coldly on his chest. Akuma removed his polished boots from where he'd propped them on a table, and rose to his feet, adopting a nonchalant pose. He seemed not at all surprised by the Dragoons' sudden appearance.

  Shadd assessed Akuma's half-smile and the look in his eyes as amusement over something that had turned out exactly as expected. It was a petty victory that would cost the Dragoons nothing, and so the commando relaxed. Akuma wasn't the kind of threat he could deal with using a laser pistol. Not yet, at least. Shadd let his contempt of Akuma's petty maneuvering show in his face.

  This fellow is a small surprise, Akuma thought. He does not wear the designation of a ‘MechWarrior. Yet he carries himself as one, not like some half-trained support trooper or out-of-tone staffer. His reactions are quick, attuned to the world in a way that a ‘MechWarrior is not.- He is almost as sharp as Quinn, standing quietly in the corner. This Dragoon has none of the cocky air of invulnerability that is such a pitiably common flaw in 'Mech pilots. He is a man who relies on himself and what he can hold in his hands. An interesting find among the Dragoons. Is he an anomaly, Akuma wondered, or do the Dragoons have assets not listed on their personnel rosters?

  When Akuma saw Shadd relax, lowering his guard before noticing Quinn, he decided that perhaps the man was not so dangerous after all. Even an entire battalion of Dragoons like this Captain could do little to halt the inevitable. Those who slackened their attention in the presence of potential danger were no threat.

  “Come in, officers,” Akuma invited. “I expect you are here to meet Colonel Wolf. The boarding locks are completing their cycle now, so you won't have long to wait.”

  The Dragoon officers stepped cautiously into the chamber, spreading out around the padded benches of the waiting area. Akuma noticed the sharp turn of the head when Shadd became aware of the tall, blond man in the comer. Though Akuma knew the black-clad Quinn was acutely aware of his surroundings, the man moved not a muscle in reaction to the Dragoons. Shadd pretended the Kuritan was not there, a detente that amused Akuma.

  The sound of the inner air
lock door cycling preempted any further interactions. Pneumatic cylinders whined as they released the locks that sealed the waiting area from the passageway to the docked DropShip. The heavy metal door slid back into the wall, revealing seven figures moving down the jointed tunnel. They were backlit shadows, unrecognizable until they reached the light spill from the waiting room. Shadows became people as Wolf and his five officers stepped onto An Ting orbital station. The seventh person was a Kurita officer who bowed stiffly to Akuma and then to Wolf before striding from the chamber without a word.

  Wolf's face was grim, and it did not need a ki master to see that he was upset. Akuma knew that it was probably because of Kurita Space Command's refusal to allow the DropShip to proceed from the JumpShip to the Hephaestus station until they had placed an escort officer aboard. These were, he decided, more well-placed irritants.

  Wolf took in Akuma and his man in the corner, then deliberately snubbed them by turning his back. “What's going on here?” he said to his own officers.

  Cameron cleared his throat to focus Wolf's attention on himself. He threw a glance at Akuma. “Ah ... Colonel,” he began.

  Wolf held up a hand to stop him, then turned with a frown toward Akuma, the hand still elevated. The Kuritan stood his ground even when Wolf jerked his head in the direction of the corridor.

  Akuma pretended to take Wolf's gesture as an invitation to speak. “I do not understand the reluctance of your officers to speak. They seemed anxious to see you when they arrived.” Then he feigned a look of sudden revelation. “Ah, perhaps, they have unkind things to say about the Combine. Let them be frank. I am your Professional Soldiery Liaison, after all. If there are complaints, you should be able to air them in my presence. There might be something I could do.”

  “Doesn't matter whether he stays or not, Colonel. I expect there isn't anyplace on this station where we won't be overheard,” Major Stanford Blake said as he stepped up. His hostility was evident in his scornful tone.

  Wolf nodded.

  “All right, William. Let's have it.”

  Cameron began almost reluctantly “Well, Colonel, it's like this. There's been a lot of friction with the Draconians since you left. Our reputation among the civilians is being undermined by constant misrepresentation in the Kuritan media. And we're getting the same raw treatment on all the garrison worlds. The result has been demonstrations, protests, brawls, and strikes, but nothing we haven't been able to handle. So far. The troops are getting itchy, Colonel. I think we have trouble brewing.”

  “Brewing!” burst in Dechan Fraser. He had been impatient throughout Cameron's speech. “Boiled over, more like! Quit dancing around it, Cameron.”

  “At ease, Captain Fraser,” Blake cautioned.

  “What are you talking about, son?” Wolf asked quietly, his eyes showing deep concern.”

  “There was a fight last night. Some Dracs got themselves hurt.”

  “How bad?”

  Dechan's eyes were on the floor. “They got themselves hurt dead.”

  Wolf's tone was calm, but it was now a glacial calm. “Exactly what happened?”

  Dechan hesitated and Shadd stepped in. “Five members of Fraser's company, three of Lean's, and two of my ... er ... friends, were taking their off-duty in a bar called Munnen's. It's an O.K. hole. Ever since our people started to frequent it, the crowd has become all Dragoons or friends. The locals knew it. The bar was crowded last night, some kind of festival, I guess. Lotsa out-of-towners, some Ryuken Jocks and a few of the former regulars, but mostly strangers. Things got a bit noisy, and some of the strangers had some things to say about the Dragoons. Our people took it unkindly and answered with their fists. When the smoke cleared, we had five of ours for medevac, one critical. There were three Dracs for the bag. All wearing civvies.”

  “This is most disturbing, Colonel Wolf,” Akuma said indignantly. “I am appalled at your Dragoons' lack of restraint.”

  “Those troublemakers only got what they asked for,” Dechan insisted.

  Shadd put a hand on Dechan's shoulder as he cut him off. The pressure calmed Dechan in a way that the commando's words couldn't. “Take it easy, kid.”

  The commando addressed his next words to Wolf. “The fight was fair enough. Those Dracs were playing with fire and got burned.”

  “There will be repercussions,” Blake pointed out. “I'm sure we'll be hearing from eyewitnesses who'll say that the Dragoons provoked the confrontation.”

  Akuma ignored the intel officer's stare. He shifted his own eyes to Wolf's face, trying to gauge how the mercenary Colonel was taking the situation. Wolf's expression gave no hint.

  “Perhaps,” Akuma prodded, “that was the case. Perhaps your troopers thought that they could use the opportunity of the New Year Festival to hide their criminal actions. Perhaps they provoked innocent citizens to create violence that would soothe their own savage souls. Deliberate provocation by a trained warrior against an untrained civilian might be considered murder.”

  “Murder! Those malking Snakes weren't civilian or untrained! They put five good soldiers into hospital. We're being set up!”

  “Fraser!” Wolf snapped. “Damp it!”

  Akuma's tone was ominous. “This incident could lead to worse things.”

  Wolf glared indignantly at Akuma. “Such as the DCMS stepping in?”

  “Military intervention would be a most drastic course, Colonel. It is certainly not one I would recommend in this matter. Your own officers report that the troops were off-duty. By the terms of contract, they fall under civilian legal jurisdiction if they leave designated military enclaves while off-duty. It would seem, therefore, to be a civil matter—one suited to the Civilian Guidance Corps and under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Justice. If an investigation shows guilt, your soldiers will most assuredly pay for their crimes. Until that time, I expect that the troopers in question and any others involved in the case, as witnesses or peripheral participants, will remain on planet.”

  Several of the Dragoons grumbled at that, which pleased Akuma, though he hid it well. His face was smooth and his voice bland. “I assure you, Colonel Wolf, that there will be no military involvement in civil problems.”

  “You're not going to make it easy, are you?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Colonel?” Akuma asked, pretending puzzlement he did not feel.

  “All right. We'll play it your way for now.”

  Wolf turned to Cameron. “William, set up your shuttle to take Kormenski and her crew back to Hephaestus.”

  “What about us, Colonel?” Shadd spoke for the assembled captains.

  “I want the four of you to go planetside with Blake and me on Pack-One. Let's move it.” As the Dragoons moved to follow orders, Wolf turned back to Akuma as though struck by sudden thought.

  “As our liaison, will you answer some questions concerning our interaction with your Draconis Combine?”

  “Of course, Colonel. That is my job.”

  “Why didn't I hear anything about these problems on the way from Luthien?”

  Akuma spread his hands to indicate helplessness. “I have no knowledge of this lack of information. My office forwarded regular reports to the systems on your route. They should have been waiting for you. Did you not receive them?”

  A frown was Wolf's only reply.

  “I am a simple soldier, Colonel Wolf, not a ComStar Adept. Perhaps you should speak with them, for it is they who handle all interstellar communications. Perhaps you should question your officers as well. If you have received no reports from them, it may be because they fear to report their own negligence and incompetence.”

  Wolf raised his head at the last allegation. Akuma knew it was false, but was once again gratified to have raised the Dragoon's hackles. Wolf would not believe it, but once voiced, the hint that he could not trust his own would always rankle. It would be a worm to gnaw at the mercenary's belief in his subordinates, a seed to be nurtured.

  “Why have Dragoon communications been
jammed insystem?” Wolf asked, ignoring Akuma's thrust.

  “Do not be paranoid, Colonel. The jamming is part of a duly scheduled exercise by my Ryuken-ichi, whose maneuvers should be concluded in a few hours. Until then, you are not the only ones affected. You will soon be able to do all the talking you wish.” In a performance calculated to further agitate Wolf, Akuma added patronizingly, “I look forward to seeing how you handle this.”

  Akuma started for the tunnel to the DropShip, Quinn falling in behind. Wolf was left standing. “Shall we go downstairs?” Akuma called back.

  Wolf answered him with a cold stare, but then set his jaw and followed along.

  37

  Hoshon Mansion, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  2 January 3028

  Minobu roamed through the house, having finished packing his ceramics. All that remained was to prepare his kyudo equipment for shipment. Except for the disruption inherent in the packing for a move, things were normal. Yet a vague unease nagged at him. Something was wrong, out of place.

  The Hoshon Mansion had been his home for almost five years, and those years had been full ones. His eldest son Ito had applied to the Sun Zhang Academy and been accepted, bringing pride, and secret relief, to the father. His daughter Tomoe had grown from a rowdy gawk into a beautifully mannered young lady. Little Kiyomasa, no longer so little, had become a sturdy youth who promised to outstrip his father's own two-meter height in a few years. That boy was going to find any 'Mech cockpit a tight fit.

  They had been good years, and the mansion had been lit with warmth and happiness. There had been shadows, too, for business had intruded here far too often. The darkest memory that this house held for Minobu was the near-estrangement of Tomiko after his injuries on Barlow's End. At first, she had been unable to accept it, refusing to look at him unless he was clothed. Even then, her eyes would avoid the black plastic hand that protruded from his sleeve. Yet even that had eventually passed, as do all things in this universe.