Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  3 January 3028

  Dechan chewed at his thumbnail. In the long hours since the Hegira vote, the tension of waiting had soured his stomach. Enforced idleness had never sat well with him. He longed to do something ... anything. What he really wanted was to be in the cockpit of his Shadow Hawk chasing Snakes, but the Colonel's order was to stay put. Besides, his 'Mech was at Boupeig barracks halfway across Cerant, and the mob still roamed the streets.

  He could see Wolf across the planning room. The Colonel's shoulders were slumped with fatigue as he took a break from the almost continuous negotiations with the terrorists. Negotiations! A strange word to use for political speeches. The criminals holding the Hephaestus didn't seem interested in listening at all. They wanted to talk, condemning the Dragoons and exclaiming the virtues of the Dragon. It seemed to Dechan that they would rather discuss the games on Solaris than actually work out terms.

  He didn't envy Wolf. The Colonel's nerves must be stretched tighter than any Dragoon's in the headquarters. After all, he was in the decision-making slot.

  Two hours ago, a Dragoon DropShip's orbit had brought it near the station. After conducting a visual scan, the crew had confirmed Major Quo's assertion that members of Seventh Kommando were on the hull of the Hephaestus. That is, they'd been able to confirm that spacesuited figures were working their way toward the command section. When the ship had tried to radio the figures, the terrorists had murdered one of the hostages and threatened more deaths if any more transmissions were beamed at the station. Wolf had forbidden further attempts to communicate with the men on the surface of the station.

  Dragoon hopes had risen with the sighting of those figures. It meant that at least some of what Major Quo had tried to tell them was true. If the spacesuited figures really were members of the Seventh, things might not be as bad as they seemed.

  Operation Recovery was put on hold when Wolf decided that the commandos—if commandos they were—had a better chance of rescuing the hostages than would a full-scale assault. If a Dragoon DropShip moved into position to attack the station, it would be in direct defiance of the Kurita Command System and might provoke a military reaction. Wolf still had hopes of limiting the incident. How could he be blamed for actions of any commandos already on the station?

  Wolf's orders meant that there was little to do at the command center, except to wait, updating plans as bits of new information arrived. That was even more true for Dechan, who was only a ‘MechJock, not a planner.

  When the word had first come in from Shadd at the ComStar facility, there had been a flurry of activity. The cheers at his success died quickly, however, when he announced the Kurita assault. Everyone knew there was no way the commandos could survive it.

  Shadd and his commandos were gone now. Dechan thought about the gruff man who had insisted on calling him “kid.” He had not known the man very well, but no one outside the Seventh ever really got to know the Sevens. Within the tightly knit Dragoon clan, they were a separate family. Shadd had seemed to be a good man in a fight, even if a little too quick to start one. He would not have made it easy for the Snakes.

  In the name of protecting ComStar, the Kuritans had done the raiding team, and the Dragoons could do nothing about it at the moment. If they tried to seek compensation, it would mean having to claim the commandos as Dragoons, drawing down the wrath of ComStar and much of the Inner Sphere against the unit for violating ComStar neutrality. Yet that was exactly what the Dracs had done by going after the commandos.

  Dechan wanted to avenge the unit's loss by smashing the Snakes the way they had wiped out the Dragoon commandos. Shadd would approve, he thought. Shadd wouldn't stay cooped up at the command center. Shadd hadn't let the mob stop him from getting to Boupeig barracks.

  “Colonel Wolf!”

  Dechan looked up at Cameron's shout. The man's unflappability was a byword in the 'Mech regiments. If he was excited, it meant that something was up.

  “Colonel, the terrorists are broadcasting on the wide band again!”

  “Put it on the main screen, William,” Wolf ordered.

  The wide band meant that the terrorists were cutting into the public-broadcast frequencies so that the whole planet would hear. The face that appeared on the monitor was drawn and haggard, with dark smudges under the glittering, fanatical eyes. The terrorist's head bobbed once in acknowledgement of something, then his attention centered on the camera. His face became animated as he spoke, his eyes boring into the viewer.

  “In a foul blasphemy, the outlaw Dragoons have attacked the ComStar compound in An Ting. They have slaughtered hundreds of innocents and destroyed the compound. This is an unconscionable act. It is beyond the bounds of civilized behavior.

  “By this outrageous deed, Wolf's Dragoons have proven that we did not lie about them. They show it now to the entire Inner Sphere. Wantonly. Without regret or denial.

  “We are vindicated!

  “They are the enemy!

  “Such enemies of mankind must be exterminated. Ground into the dust. We must make an example of them so that no others will dare the same abominable acts. They will not be allowed to leave the sacred space of the Draconis Combine unpunished.

  “We are but insignificant patriots, armed only with our dedication to the Dragon and House Kurita. There is little we can do to hurt the murderers who call themselves Wolf's Dragoons. We cannot stand against their BattleMechs. We cannot fight their spaceships. But we will do what we can. Look to the sky. See the star of dawning truth. Heed the call to justice! Glory to Warlord Samsonov!” screamed the terrorist, shaking his fist at the camera. Then the screen suddenly went dead.

  “What happened to the signal?” Wolf asked anxiously. “William, get it back.”

  Cameron made no move toward the control board. His jaw quivered and a tear rolled down his cheek. His voice faltered.

  “There's a strong electromagnetic pulse from the Hephaestus's orbit. The station's gone, Colonel.”

  45

  Government House, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  3 January 3028

  Akuma laughed.

  As always, Sho-sa Andrew Subato Chou found the sound unnerving. It made him wonder if Akuma was quite sane.

  Chou flicked a glance across the richly appointed office at Quinn. The bodyguard stood by the transplex window that dominated the room. In his black uniform and backlit by the Dragoon arclights from across the square, the figure seemed more a shadow than a man. Chou would find no consolation there.

  Quinn was usually paired with the shorter Panati, but Chou had not seen the squat Japanese all day. Not that his presence would have made any difference. Likely, the second of Akuma's guards would have been as cold and detached as the first. Chou detested being the only military officer with Akuma. Gazig at the swirls and arabesques in the design of the room's carpet, he fidgeted, wishing he were somewhere else.

  Seeing his second-in-command fight to hide his agitation only fueled Akuma's humor.

  “Look at them, Chou,” he commanded, indicating the one active viewscreen among the bank on one wall. “They are confounded, demoralized.”

  Chou obediently turned his eyes to the screen, which showed a slightly fuzzy view of the planning room of the Dragoon administrative headquarters. In the center, Jaime Wolf stood stock still, hands clenched at his sides. Dragoons milled around him, as a young Captain in the background slipped from the room. The audio was dominated by shouting, a babble of many voices.

  “The destruction of their orbital station has left them in disarray. Listen to them bawl. They scurry like ants from a mound that's been kicked,” Akuma gloated.

  “Chu-sa Akuma,” Chou said, having finally heard a single word clearly through the noise. “It sounds to me as though most of the Dragoon officers are calling for revenge.”

  Chou knew he was contradicting his superior, but it had to be said. He was pleased that his voice remained steady.

  “Does it?” A
kuma ran his right index finger along his upper lip, then rolled his hand over and straightened his fingers in sequence. The gesture was nonchalant. “It does not matter. They have no target. Their anger and frustration will only ripen them for the blows to come.”

  While Akuma spoke, the volume of noise coming from the speakers diminished. The abrupt change drew the attention of both Kurita officers to the monitor.

  What they saw was Wolf calling for order. As calm fell over the Dragoon planning room, those present began a controlled discussion. Most of them wanted immediate revenge, and many wanted to start by razing the city. Wolf adamantly opposed military action by the Dragoons until the civilians were safe. To accomplish that, he had ordered DropShips down to begin loading.

  One officer violently objected to Wolf's plan and berated the Colonel as a senile old man. A heated argument followed. Vanquished but still full of emotion, the officer vented his frustration by hurling a portable comm unit at the wall.

  For an instant, the device seemed headed straight for the spying camera's lens, for the image wobbled as the missile struck. When the image stabilized, it was clearer than before and showed the amazed expression of the Dragoons staring directly at the camera. Someone at the back of the crowd fired a pistol, and the viewscreen went dark.

  Chou ducked when the shot was fired. He straightened, grinning foolishly, to find Akuma tapping his fingers on the marble-topped desk, an annoyed pout on his face. Chou was startled when Quinn spoke.

  “We cannot place another monitor at this point.”

  “It does not matter.” Akuma dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. “We no longer need one. The Dragoons are demoralized, distracted by their concern over worthless civilians. Their commanders are divided. Half of them are ready to overthrow Wolf.” He laughed strangely. “This will be almost too easy.

  “If we dispose of the mercenaries here on An Ting, we cut off the head of Wolf's Dragoons. They may have gotten their message off, but what good will it do them? Their words will never reach the ears for which they were intended. Other hands will see to that. The rest of Wolf's Dragoons will remain ignorant of An Ting until it's too late. The remaining mercenaries will be easy prey to be hunted down at our leisure. Perhaps Ryuken-ni can be assigned to lead the chase.” Akuma's face lit with pleasure at the thought.

  Chou waited a moment before clearing his throat to remind the Chu-sa of his presence.

  “I have not forgotten you, Sho-sa Chou.”

  Something in Akuma's voice suddenly made Chou wish that he had.

  “This is your moment of glory,” Akuma continued. “Send out the attack orders. You may personally lead the assault on Boupeig barracks.”

  46

  Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  11 January 3028

  Sho-sa Chou brought his Dragon's nose back into line with his course through the northeast quarter of Cerant. As his 'Mech pounded past apartment buildings battered by eight days of combat, bricks cascaded in a dusty roar as one wall crumbled from the vibrations created by the sixty-ton BattleMech's passage. Gray dust billowed up.

  The predicted outflanking maneuver by the Dragoons had failed to materialize. Like so many reports of their movements in the last eight days, it was false. The Dragoons were phantoms, striking and disappearing. They seemed to roam the city almost at will.

  It was a sorry state of affairs. An Ting was a Combine planet, and Cerant a Kurita city. Vagabond outsiders should not have so easy a time, nor should they be able to lead loyal Draconians on such a chase. Time and again, the mercenaries had drawn Ryuken 'Mechs into costly ambushes or made lightning raids against supposedly secure rear areas.

  Combat in a city did not usually lend itself to such bandit tactics. It was almost as though the Dragoons could see everything that moved in Cerant, though Chou knew that was impossible. The orbital space above the city was a hotly contested no-man's-land. DropShips and fighters became instant targets, and so were unable to make surveys of the planet below. The mercenaries had to be relying on ground reconnaissance, as were the Ryuken.

  If the Ryuken's reconnaissance was poor, its combat performance was worse. Chou had marshaled his 'Mechs for the assault on Boupeig barracks in textbook-perfect order, but the offensive had gone wrong from the start. Though the Kurita 'Mechs reached their jump-off points without incident, with no indication from the Dragoon commnet that they were expecting an attack, a company of BattleMechs had suddenly blasted through his lines.

  The lead machine was a dark blue Shadow Hawk whose chest was painted with a falcon. Its pilot fought with a fierce courage, outshining his fellows. The Dragoon machines swarmed through the assembling Kurita 'Mechs, catching them totally by surprise. They surprised the Ryuken pilots even more when they continued forward without stopping.

  The Dragoons had created havoc in the brief fight. Two Ryuken 'Mechs were out of commission and several more damaged before the Kurita assault even got underway. If the Dragoons had sustained more than light damage, Chou did not know of it.

  Though the blow to Ryuken morale was bad, the greatest harm was that the Dragoon company had alerted the barracks compound to the presence of the Kurita 'Mechs. By the time the assault forces went at them, most of the defending BattleMechs were already powered up and ready for it.

  The mercenaries managed to put up strong resistance, and the Ryuken failed to achieve many of their early objectives. When the fighting became prolonged, the timetable slipped further and further. The attack finally shuddered to a halt when two mercenary 'Mech lances hit the Ryuken flank. Chou later learned that those had been simulator 'Mechs, piloted by green trainees. At the time, it hadn't mattered, for the mere appearance of fresh forces was enough to crumble his flank.

  A nearby explosion brought Chou back to the present. A black cloud mushroomed ahead of him, flames licking at it. He brought up the Dragon's speed, heedless of the low traction on the paved city streets. Chou was afraid he knew what had happened.

  Two minutes later, those fears were confirmed as he skidded the Dragon to a halt and gazed dejectedly on the scene of devastation. While he and the Ryuken had been distracted, the Dragoons had slipped in a force to hit the Ryuken field command. The command camp was a shambles, and the two little guard 'Mechs were scrap heaps. The explosion had come from an ammunition supply carrier and destroyed Chou's comm tent and Ryuken-ichi's last coolant vehicle. The fire raged out of control, spreading eagerly to the nearby buildings. There was nothing Chou could do here.

  Second Battalion had been holding the city south of First Battalion's position, but he'd received no word from them since noon. Third Battalion was engaged with Lean's Company on the far side of Cerant. To get there, First would have to cross Dragoon-held portions of the city. Considering the First's depleted force, that would be a fool's errand.

  The high and mighty commander of Ryuken-ichi had been absent from the commnet all morning, attending some kind of planning session. A strategy session without the Ryuken field commander? It made no sense. Damn Akuma to all the seven hells. His machinations had inflamed the Dragoons to raw hatred and brutal savagery. How could Akuma have gotten Warlord Samsonov's approval for such wrong-headed plans? Didn't the Tai-sho understand what he was dealing with? Did he believe that Akuma could manipulate these people at will?

  The Ryuken were now in the trap Akuma had intended for the Dragoons, but Chou was not going to allow the regiment to be destroyed. What was left must be saved to fight again in service to House Kurita. With Chou unable to contact Akuma, he was in charge. For the first time, he considered Akuma's absentee generalship as a benefit.

  Before Chou could save Ryuken-ichi, however, he had to save First Battalion. There had to be a way out. Calling up a tactical map to look for a way south to join with Second Battalion, he found several paths clear of Dragoon positions. That is, they had been when the map was last updated. Chou chose to believe that it was accurate, for otherwise all hope was
lost.

  The Sho-sa summoned the remnants of First Battalion to rally on him. Once consolidated with Second, they could fight their way to Third and retreat from the city, leaving Cerant to the mercenaries. The Dragoons were acting as though they owned it already. To contest it would be death for the regiment.

  Two lances joined him almost at once. Chou sent a Panther ahead to scout and ordered the rest to spread out and advance along parallel streets. For fifteen tense minutes, they proceeded through empty streets. Chou was sure every man was expecting to meet a Dragoon ambush at every intersection. He certainly did. It was a fear they had all lived with for days now, a fear that killed morale. The real deaths of the soldiers would follow unless Chou could get them out.

  As Chou's radar pinged out warning of incoming aircraft above the city, a red blip appeared on his screen. A second later, the IFF system flashed the bogey to green. Checking the identification panel, Chou learned that it was the Kurita DropShip Alabaster. He halted the Dragon and tried to pick up a visual. The 'Mechs nearest him stopped as well.

  When he finally caught sight of the ship, Chou wished he hadn't bothered. The DropShip was flying erratically, foundering and bucking as it plowed through the atmosphere. As the craft suddenly veered sharply to port, viscous black smoke began to pour from a gap that had once been covered by a cargo bay door. The DropShip disappeared from sight behind the buildings. Though it was kilometers away when it crashed, the tremor swayed Chou's BattleMech.

  The Sho-sa scanned the skies. He knew his eyes could not see anything that the Dragon's senses would miss. Perhaps, he eluded himself, he was looking for salvation. The crash of the Alabaster did not bode well for a Kurita victory in the orbital battle.

  Had the Dragoons planned the DropShip's fall, they could not have halted the Ryuken 'Mechs in a better position for the ambush. Rockets roared out of the surrounding buildings, and hidden emplacements opened fire with the eye-searing pulses of laser and charged particle beams. A heavy Dragoon 'Mech bulled through the front of an apartment building and slammed into a Kurita Stinger. Both 'Mechs vanished in the dust and falling masonry.