Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  Nitta stiffened as though about to hurl himself at Wolf, then a thin trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth. He toppled forward at the mercenary Colonel in a disjointed sprawl.

  Wolf got one arm around Nitta before he could hit the ground. The man was heavy, dead weight. Nitta's body slipped from Wolf's grip, its mass and the slick blood covering the man's back making it impossible to hold. Wolf's right hand and arm were covered with Nitta's blood.

  With a howl of rage, the mob surged forward. Bodies crashed into Wolf. Hands struck and pawed at him. He smashed out with his elbows. He kicked and bit. The tide of humanity was too strong for his efforts, and the mob overwhelming.

  Blake was attacked as well, but his greater mass and lesser age let him strike back more effectively. Several Kuritans whirled away, screaming their pain, before the weight of multiple attackers caught and pinned the Major's arms. A few seconds later, Blake, too, went down under a snarling mass.

  The screeching of a stunner rifle cut the air as the Dragoon guards on the steps opened fire. Draconians fell in windrows on either side of the melee around the fallen Wolf. The Dragoons dared not fire too close, however. If one of their burst caught the Colonel, Wolf would have no chance against his attackers.

  Lieutenant Riker was about to order his men to form a wedge to charge through the mob when the Dragoons from the second car began to force their way toward the Colonel. They were considerably closer. The Lieutenant redirected some of his men to fire on the portion of the throng between the struggling Dragoons and the scuffle where Wolf had disappeared under a pile of Kuritan bodies. Riker's decision proved to be a wise one.

  Struggling to come to the Colonel's aid, Anton Shadd didn't know why the pressure against his advance had eased, but he took advantage of it. A few well-placed punches at the Dracs in front of him opened a relatively clear path through the mob. Only sprawled bodies and a few stumbling, half-aware Kuritans were between him and the knot around the Colonel. Galvanized at seeing flashes of the Dragoons uniform, the commando bolted forward. Behind him, his companions broke through as well. He heard Fraser's whoop as the kid pounded after. Shadd didn't have time to look back, so he missed Cameron's tumble over a fallen Draco. Lean stopped to help her comrade, leaving only Shadd and Fraser in the first assault against the snarling mob around the Colonel.

  Without thought of backup, the commando threw himself into the knot of Snakes pounding on Wolf. Bodies flew as eighty-two kilos of hardened muscle and bone struck. Shadd went down with them, but he was prepared. He struck out with hands and feet, knees and elbows. Rough and tumble was the way he liked it. Five seconds later, he was on his feet again, but those he had bowled over were not.

  Fraser arrived in time to lay low a street punk who was using a brick against Blake's head, then the young Dragoon immediately engaged with two of the Draco's friends. Or so they seemed, dressed in the same gang colors as the fallen punk.

  Wolf was on his hands and knees, battered, bloodied, but still alive. He was moving slowly and seemed unaware of the screaming harridan who rose up beside him with a knife. Fraser and Blake were occupied with their own problems. Cameron and Lean had just resumed their progress toward the melee. They were too far away to be any help.

  It was Shadd who launched himself into a flying kick. His kiai shout carried above the bedlam, momentarily stilling it. The crack as the woman's neck snapped was audible over most of the square. Even before her body hit the ground, Shadd was up and had recovered the knife. “Come on, Colonel. We've got to get you out of here.” Shadd had to help Wolf stand. The Colonel was shaky, disoriented, and covered with blood, some of it his own. Shadd could not tell how serious the injuries were. The Colonel was too old for this kind of ill-use.

  Cameron and Lean arrived in time to help Fraser and Blake finish off the last of their immediate opponents. For the moment, the mob held back, unsure what to do about the new furies in their midst. Shadd did not want to give them time to recover. Hit them and vanish was the rule in Seventh Kommando. Vanishing with this crowd around them was going to be a little tricky.

  “Major!” Shadd shouted. “We've got to get the Colonel inside. He's hurt.”

  “Right.” Blood streamed down the side of Blake's face from a gash on his scalp. He looked worse than Wolf but was considerably steadier on his feet. “Everybody else functional?”

  A quick chorus of ayes replied.

  “Shadd, on point. Fraser, rear guard. Lean, right flank,” Blake ordered. He himself took up the left side. He didn't need to give Cameron an order, for the comm officer was already supporting the Colonel. Somebody had to do it, and Cameron was the least effective fighter of the group. “Let's move it!”

  The rescue of Wolf, and the speed with which the Dragoons had organized, caught their tormentors off-guard. Shadd's sudden plunge into the midst of the press had gained the fugitives a fair bit of ground, as much from surprise as from his liberal use of the knife he still held.

  They had made it only a quarter of the way to the steps when Shadd went up against an armored figure. He almost struck the trooper down in a reflexive move before he recognized the Dragoon's equipment.

  After making it possible for Shadd and his group to reach Wolf in time, Lieutenant Riker had organized a sally by the cordon guards. Once the beleaguered Dragoons were safely inside a ring of armored bodies, the guards opened up freely with their Crowdbusters. Only fallen bodies opposed the Dragoon retreat to the steps.

  The mob, cheated of its prey, stormed up behind them in an attempt to reclaim the victims they had let slip from their grip. A volley of concentrated stunner fire took out the leaders, and the crowd recoiled. Belligerent Kuritans hurled rocks and bottles. Bits of rotten food rained down on the steps of the barricade.

  Safe behind that shelter, Blake turned. In a voice loud enough to carry over the abusive shouting of the mob, he shouted, “Clear the steps! Go home!” The crowd only jeered him.

  “All right,” he said more quietly. “Lieutenant, sweep the steps with the stunners. I don't want any Draco standing on our property.”

  “Yessir!”

  Blake didn't need to see the face behind the helmet visor to know it wore a pleased smile. Riker passed the order to his men. Blake watched as they opened up, the keening wail of massed Crowdbusters drowning out the roar of the crowd. With no protection and nowhere to run, people began to fall. The mob's nerve broke. They routed.

  Though the stunners were not aimed at him, Blake's head ached from more than the head wound he had taken. Without the sound baffles of a helmet, the close-range buzz from the weapons affected him. That ache would be with him for hours, but he did not care. He felt a savage satisfaction. Some of the Kuritans had taken multiple stunner hits. Such abuse heaped on a living system often had serious results. Blake hoped some would die.

  In minutes, the square was empty of rioters. The bodies lay where they had fallen. A few semi-conscious Kuritans wandered about. In their dazed state, they were more a threat to themselves than to anyone else. Broken festival wagons littered the pavement. The square looked like the aftermath of a battle.

  39

  Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  2 January 3028

  The two Kurita staff cars stood silently in the square, reefs in a sea of debris and bodies. They were scratched and dented and their surfaces were marred by smears of food, but they were otherwise unharmed.

  The rear door of the first limousine opened and Akuma stepped out, ever pristine in his uniform. Picking his way toward the Dragoon HQ, he carefully avoided the fallen bodies and clutter left behind by the fighting. The hulking blond mass of his bodyguard trooped behind him.

  No Dragoon made a move to stop the approaching Kuritans, but Blake could tell from the way trigger fingers twitched that several thought about it. When Akuma shifted his path to pass by Blake, the intel officer stepped into the Draconian's way.

  �
��I believe that I should see Colonel Wolf,” Akuma announced, undaunted.

  “I believe the Colonel will want a few minutes before he talks to you.”

  Akuma inclined his head. “A reasonable request. Shall we wait inside?”

  Malking Snake, Blake thought. As though nothing had happened. I can be unreasonably reasonable, too. “If the Chu-sa would accompany me to the waiting area.”

  “Certainly,” Akuma replied.

  After sending a runner to inform Wolf of their presence, Blake silently escorted the Draconian. Accepting the Dragoon's silent treatment, Akuma sat and waited. After a few minutes, Lean came back with the runner.

  “Colonel wants to see you now,” she said. When Akuma started to rise, she said, “Not you, Colonel Snake. Wolf wants to talk to Major Blake first.”

  “As he wishes, Captain. I do suggest that your Colonel not delay over long.”

  “I think Colonel Wolf knows what he's doing,” she snapped back.

  “So long as the wait is his doing and not yours.” Akuma knew it was petty to agitate Lean this way, but he enjoyed seeing the angry color flush her face. After all, soon there would be no Dragoons to bait.

  “Five minutes,” she ground out.

  “I can certainly wait that long. I will see you then, Captain.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  Lean came back exactly on time to escort the Kuritans to the planning room. With her were two security troopers. Unlike the men stationed outside, these carried Ryonex subguns. Akuma decided that this was a warning that any trouble inside the headquarters would be met with deadly force. How pathetically juvenile, he thought.

  The Dragoons had removed the teak conference table from the center of the planning room and replaced it with a holotank from one of their DropShips. Technicians were busy with it, calling up a map of Cerant. Even the brief glance he allowed himself showed Akuma that the city was reproduced in intricate detail. That surprised him, for his own maps were not as good. What his maps did do, however, was indicate the exact positions of all Kuritan forces as well as the carefully plotted locations of all Dragoon assets. The Dragoons had misplaced several key Ryuken units.

  Knowing that it was not wise to show too much interest, he looked around for Wolf. The mercenary Colonel was in conference with Blake on the far side of the room. Though the man looked much the worse for his tumble in the square, he did, unfortunately, seem fully functional. Now, while Wolf was still rattled, would be the time to press matters. Akuma strode up and interrupted the conversation.

  “That was quite a demonstration you set off, Colonel Wolf.”

  Wolf's eyes glittered. “I suppose you didn't know things were this bad.”

  “I knew that your Dragoons had disturbed the local populace. I had no inkling that they had brought things to the brink of riot.”

  “So we are to blame.”

  “How can it be otherwise? You were dissatisfied with your contract and were looking for an excuse to break it, while still preserving your highly overrated sense of honor. But this! I had no idea that you would stoop to murdering innocents to further your ends. That you would slaughter civilians merely exercising their lawful right to protest your criminal behavior. Now you will no doubt claim that the riot was deliberately incited and that you are free from the obligations of your contract. Will you produce evidence that I or my officers organized this threat to you? What is your next move, butcher?”

  Wolf said nothing into the stillness that had fallen on the room.

  “Have I struck too close to the truth?” Akuma swept his right arm to encompass the Dragoons in the room. “Some of your officers look surprised. Have you not shared this grand plan of yours with them? Are you, in your megalomania, seeking to drag down the good reputations of honest soldiers along with your own? Are you afraid that they would not believe your lies about Kurita treachery? Did you have to manufacture a cause to get them to follow you down your brigand's path?”

  “Shut up!” Blake shouted.

  “You need lackeys to speak for you?” Akuma threw a contemptuous look in Blake's direction. “Will you silence me as you silenced Nitta? What will you get from that?”

  “Nothing,” Wolf said at last. “I didn't do him and I won't do you. Loud-mouthed troublemakers aren't worth it. It only dignifies their lies. Silenced or not, I get trouble I don't want. All of our posts on planet are under siege by the mob.”

  “That is hardly unexpected. You have unleashed the many-headed beast. See what your violence has wrought. You will bring death to your own people.”

  “Where's the vaunted Civilian Guidance Corps? Your civilians certainly need some guidance.” Wolf's voice was cool, but his hands were clenched at his sides. Akuma noticed and was pleased.

  “The Corps was hardly expecting this and was probably overwhelmed by this beast you have loosed. But that was in your plan, wasn't it? Now yours is the only force-in-being in Cerant. Do you expect a commission empowering you to restore the peace? Will you then continue your bloody work and suppress the mob? I am sure your 'Mechs will be able to restore order. Kurita casualties will, no doubt, be light.”

  “So that you can claim we fired on civilians, that we took the law into our own hands?” Wolf shook his head in refusal. “No. You won't get that. Bring your Ryuken into the city.”

  “So you can claim we march on you? I will not give you an opening to start the battle you so clearly want. The Ryuken will stay clear of the city at this time. I will not provide the threats you seek. Find some other way to convince those who do not believe your lies that House Kurita wishes the Dragoons dead. Find some other way to win back the loyalty of your troops. Your actions shall be on your own head.”

  Wolf turned from Akuma to Cameron.

  “Call all the posts, William. Everyone stays put. No provocations.” Wolf looked over his shoulder at Akuma. “Satisfied?”

  Akuma was most definitely not satisfied. He had hoped to provoke the Dragoons into rash action. The gambit had failed, but all was not lost. There were a few more turns left on the wheel of the rack. “Your performance has hardly been satisfactory. I assure you that Kurita troops will not strike the first blow.”

  “Then you had better get ready for a quiet night in the barracks with your boys.”

  Akuma felt the sting of Wolf's implication. Anger was not something he could afford here in the nest of his enemies. He turned and stalked off. Quinn gave Wolf a tight smile before following.

  When the Kuritans were gone, Shadd approached Wolf. “You took a lot of cop from that Snake, Colonel,” he said in a low voice.

  Wolf was slow to look up, for he had been lost in thought. “I wanted to get a handle on where he stood in this mess.”

  “Think he's behind it?”

  “Hard to tell. He's certainly taking advantage of it.”

  “You want he should have an accident?” Shadd fingered the knife he had acquired.

  “That's their style, not ours,” Wolf admonished him.

  Shadd shrugged. “Your call, Colonel.”

  “I've got something more important for you, Captain. I want to get a message out over the ComStar net, and I need somebody I can trust to get through in one piece. Things are pretty dicey outside right now. One man is less conspicuous than a squad, and you're the only member of the Seventh here.”

  “I understand, Colonel. Is this the word?”

  “No. Not yet. I just want to warn the other garrison planets to watch for trouble. This may be the start of what we've feared. It may not. But we can't afford to take the chance.”

  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 thou
gh 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?”