Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  When the air had cleared enough, Chou saw the Dragoon Thunderbolt standing over the mangled remains of the lighter machine. The Thunderbolt raised both arms and slammed them down into the Stinger. Again and again, the fists smashed into the already destroyed Kurita 'Mech.

  The ‘MechWarrior's savagery shocked Chou to his senses. He ordered his men to leave the ambush site at top speed. No longer would they fight on the mercenaries' terms. Chou took rear guard to assure that none of his men became trapped into a prolonged duel with the Dragoons.

  Reserving his laser and missile fire for the part of Dragoon BattleMechs advancing toward him, Chou raked the infantry positions with a rolling volley of autocannon fire. At the moment, he was thankful for the Thunderbolt's preoccupation with the downed Stinger. The two 'Mechs he faced were both lights. Combined, they massed less than his Dragon, giving him the advantage. He was going to need it against these blood-crazed mercenaries.

  After the first exchange of fire, Chou noticed that the Dragoons were allowing him to increase the range by failing to make use of their superior speed. This action was so uncharacteristic of the last few days of combat that Chou wondered if they were waiting for something.

  The pinging of his radar unraveled the puzzle. He had been caught in a second phase of the trap. Dragoon 'Mechs were jetting down from the tops of nearby buildings.

  A dark blue Shadow Hawk landed to his right. Lurching out of the steam and dust of its landing, the Hawk came at him at high speed. Its Armstrong autocannon was pivoted back in transport position, both arms raised above the cockpit. The 'Mech's hands clasped a monstrous steel I-beam, which it must have torn from a nearby structure. For one absurd moment, Chou imagined the BattleMech to be an ancient samurai, sword raised above his head to deliver the pear-splitting stroke that would cleave through his enemy's helmet. The instant was frozen in time for Chou as he saw the stroke coming. In a moment of perfect clarity, he knew he could do nothing to avoid it.

  The I-beam came down on the Dragon's cockpit.

  47

  Government House, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  13 January 3028

  “What did I miss?” Jerry Akuma said to the air in his tower office of the Government House. The only answer was the faint susurrus of the air cooler.

  He shoved his chair back from the desk, threw himself to his feet, and began to pace the room. When Akuma passed the desk for the third time, he stopped with a jerk. His hand struck out, closing on the bronze dragonhead that decorated the desk. Then he whirled, hurling it at the wall. The paperweight smashed one of the video monitors, and shards of glass scattered over the floor. Circuits sparked and a thin plume of smoke crawled from the ruin, only to be sucked away by the room's circulation system.

  Frackencrack!

  Two days ago, Sho-sa Chou had died in a Dragoon ambush, and the Ryuken had begun to fall apart. Without Chou's leadership, the unit was no match for the numerically inferior Dragoon forces.

  Things had looked so good at first. The riots and the capture of the Hephaestus station had seriously distressed Wolf's Dragoons. Though Akuma had not been able to incite Wolf to attack the local populace, he had succeeded in deeply angering the hard-shelled mercenary. Angry men made mistakes. But if Wolf had done so, Akuma had not detected any.

  When a Dragoon BattleMech company had unexpectedly reached Cerant Square before Chou could begin the attack on Boupeig barracks, Akuma thought he had gotten his overreaction. The Dragoon 'Mechs had not attacked any Kurita assets, however. Instead, they had overseen the evacuation of Wolf and the other Dragoons at the Administration HQ. Taking this as a sign that the Wolf's nerve had failed, that the Dragoons were on the run, Akuma had believed that the principal thrust of his plan was still on target.

  Later, when word came that the same company of 'Mechs had disrupted the assault on Boupeig barracks and thereby warned the defenders, Akuma got his first taste of what commanders throughout history had learned—no plan survives contact with the enemy. He had not liked the flavor at all.

  Indeed, he learned to hate it as it became his main course. Boupeig barracks refused to fall. Day after day, the Dragoons failed to show the morale collapse he had predicted. Fighting with efficiency and tenacity, they had forced Ryuken-ichi to split its battalions to protect sensitive areas of Cerant.

  The Dragoon reaction did not make any sense to Akuma. Their mewling morality placed a foolishly high value on their civilians. The losses he had arranged among those civilians should have broken the ‘MechWarriors' will to fight. Instead they had resisted, each day more fiercely than before. Even attacks against the grounded DropShips loaded with those worthless laymen seemed only to fuel the martial fervor of the Dragoons.

  The Ryuken had been a disappointment. From the start, the pitiful line officers could not even handle the disorganized Dragoons. Each day brought new tales of disaster at the hands of the ravaging bands of mercenary 'Mechs and infantry. Malking infantry! In Akuma's day as a ‘MechWarrior, no Kurita soldier would have feared infantry. But these Ryuken officers cried every time they had to go near a building, afraid that some sweat-soaked groundpig was going to jump out and gut their 'Mechs with a vibroknife. Incompetents and cowards!

  There was nothing left to do on An Ting. While Chou had been in command, there had been some hope of reversing the military situation. That hope had died when the fool had gotten himself ambushed and killed two days ago. It was time to withdraw and revise the plans, to continue the destruction of the Dragoons from somewhere else.

  Once Akuma had set up a new headquarters, he would order the release of all the carefully gathered evidence of Dragoon disobedience, as well as the meticulously created “evidence” of their misdeeds. Once that material was in the hands of the public media of the Successor States, the Dragoons would be universally condemned. Everyone would consider them to be outlaws, which would validate any action the Combine might take against them. Should any mercenaries survive the Dragon's onslaught, they would never again find employ, destined to die broken men with evil reputations.

  Jerry Akuma considered the failure on An Ting as an annoyance, not a defeat. He would not give up. The destruction of Wolf and his Dragoons was no longer just a sideshow, a way to torture that sanctimonious bastard Tetsuhara. It was personal now. Only Wolf's death and the elimination of all that the gray-haired bastard held dear would satisfy Akuma.

  The sounds of distant explosions reached him through the room's outer transplex wall. Looking up, Akuma saw the flashes of energy weapons and the gray trails of missiles arcing over the battle site. The Dragoons had begun their assault. He held no illusions about the Ryuken-ichi's ability to hold them back, however. In an hour, the Dragoons would be storming Government House. It was time to leave.

  The door to his office opened to admit Quinn, returning from his last errand. Akuma turned his gaze back to the distant battle. “Is my 'Mech readied for the trip to the DropShip?” he asked, without turning around.

  It would be only a short run to the ship. There was some small element of danger involved in the trip up the gravity well, but the scheduled diversionary attack by Kuritan aerospace forces across the Dragoon-dominated- orbits would provide sufficient distraction for Akuma's ship to clear the planet. Once away, he could continue to arrange the Dragoons' downfall. A smile crept over his lips. Despite the recent setback, he would have his revenge. He was in no hurry.

  The thought of hurry made him remember that Quinn had not answered his question. When Akuma turned toward him, the words froze in his throat, for the bodyguard had him at the point of a blazer pistol.

  Akuma had always considered the blazer to be a sleek and finely designed weapon. At the moment, the double-barreled laser weapon looked remarkably ugly. It might have been less ugly if Akuma was not aware how expert was Quinn in its use.

  “You have exceeded your authority,” Quinn said, as though pronouncing sentence. “You have been allowed to do t
his in the past, but this time you have failed. The ISF does not tolerate failure.

  “You have manipulated Samsonov into giving you a free hand. Together, you and he have forced Lord Kurita into a corner. The Director has learned of Lord Kurita's response to Samsonov's constant prodding, and he is not pleased. He only wanted Wolf's Dragoons discredited so that they would be forced to work for the Combine when no other would employ them. He thought that you understood that. You have disturbed his plan so gravely that the Dragoons have turned on the Dragon and our Lord.

  “You must pay for that now.”

  Cold sweat beaded Akuma's upper lip. He had seen Quinn kill too many times to mistake the way the assassin held his body. This was no test or bluff, and nothing Akuma could say would sway him. The man's dedication to Indrahar was unshakable.

  There was also no way to take him out. Had Akuma been the one holding the gun, he could never have killed Quinn without taking some injury himself. The assassin was too good at his craft. What had made Quinn the best choice as an agent now rendered him the worst as an enemy.

  “Sayonara, Jerry,” Quinn's voice had taken on a hint of emotion. Could it be regret? Akuma wondered. “The Sons of the Dragon had hopes for you,” the assassin said.

  Quinn's finger was tightening on the trigger when the entire building shook. The shot went wide of its mark, but still seared off Akuma's right ear as the dual bolt sizzled across the room to vaporize a two-centimeter hole in the transplex. The bolt went little farther, though. The aligned-crystal steel armor of a BattleMech drank the energy and showed no effect.

  The room shook again as the BattleMech shifted its position to improve its grip on the skyscraper. Slabs fell from the ceiling as Akuma was dashed to the floor beside his desk. The desk's bulk saved his life as a chunk of the ceiling shattered against the marble top, spattering him with fist-sized particles.

  Quinn was not so lucky. A piece of masonry the size of a computer deck caught him in the back of the neck and sent him sprawling to the floor. Before more falling debris buried most of the assassin from sight, Akuma saw that Quinn's head lay at a sharp angle.

  Then the shaking stopped.

  Akuma looked up at his savior. The 'Mech clinging precariously to the outside of the building was a dark blue Shadow Hawk. The golden falcon on its chest glittered in the moming sunlight as the dust-smeared battlefist shattered the transplex and thrust into the room.

  * * *

  Dechan Fraser's Command Lance had paid heavily to get into Cerant Center ahead of the Dragons' main force. West's Griffin was sidelined, with its right leg blown away by a vibrabomb. When last Fraser had seen Ellings and Alcorn, they had also taken heavy damage while engaged with a pair of Kurita Panthers. His own Shadow Hawk had lost its head-mounted SRM launcher to a PPC hit from a Warhammer. That shot had cracked his cockpit armor and sent shrapnel tearing into his left arm. The pain was unimportant now, for Dechan had made it to Government House in time.

  He was looking in on Jerry Akuma, the Snake who had caused all their trouble. For years, Akuma had done nothing but try to hurt the Dragoons. Though Dechan would have preferred Samsonov on his viewscreen, the Warlord was too far away. Eliminating his tool would have to do.

  IR showed another man in the room. Though he was mostly buried under rubble, his still-visible hand gripped a pistol. No sane person would bother to draw a pistol against a 'Mech, but Dechan had no idea what had been going on. No matter, he was here for revenge and he would have it.

  He slammed the Hawk's fist through the transplex window wall. Fragments of the tough plastic rained across the debris-strewn carpet as the 'Mech's hand opened to reach for the cowering Draconian. The hand closed, fingers straining briefly against the massive desk sheltering Akuma.

  That delay was all the Snake needed. He squirmed free of the juggernaut fingers and staggered through the open doorway of the room.

  “Come back and die, you scum,” Dechan bellowed in frustration over the 'Mech's external speakers.

  Myomer pseudomuscles strained as the Shadow Hawk ripped its way through the building's outer wall. The 'Mech flopped on its belly, legs extended into space through the hole torn for its entry. Dechan rolled the 'Mech to one side to get an optical on the fleeing Kuritan. The heavy construction of Government House blocked his machine's sensors even more successfully than the heavy walls impeded his forward progress.

  Akuma threw himself into a waiting elevator car. Before Dechan could reorient his 'Mech to bring any weapons to bear, the doors slid shut. The car cleared the level as the Shadow Hawk's laser pulse slagged the outer doors and sizzled through the back wall of the shaft.

  Dechan cursed. Based on the trouble he'd had bulling into the executive office, he knew he couldn't plow the Hawk toward the elevator shaft before Akuma had finished his ride. He carefully noted which of the shafts the fleeing officer had taken, then began to back his 'Mech out of the hole. At one point, the Hawk would have toppled from the building except for Dechan's quick grab at the edge. An uncontrolled fall from that height could scramble even a BattleMech.

  Once steadied and oriented, he cut in his jump jets and released the 'Mech's grip on the skyscraper. The ground came up quickly, but the superheated steam cushioned the drop. Myomer pseudomuscles flexed to absorb the last of the inertia.

  Dechan pivoted the Hawk and piloted it around the corner of the building. Ahead of him stood the dark glass cylinders of the elevator shafts. Dechan marked the one in motion. His lips drew back in a snarl as a quick count assured him that it was Akuma's. He brought his sights to bear. As soon as the crosshairs of his heads-up display kissed the sinking car's center, he cut loose with his Martell laser.

  Pulse after pulse flashed into the shaft. Flames and smoke erupted through the holes each pulse burned through the shaft's walls. Sheared free from its cables, the flaming elevator car crashed ten stories into the building's basement.

  Dechan cut off the laser, satisfied that nothing Human could survive that inferno.

  “That's for Shadd and all the others,” he said. Magnified by the Hawk's external speakers, his words echoed off the surrounding buildings.

  Dechan had gotten his revenge, yet he didn't feel satisfied. He just felt empty.

  48

  Central Square, Cerant, An Ting

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  14 January 3028

  Dechan stood on the sloping surface of his Shadow Hawk's foot and leaned back against the 'Mech's leg. By draping his arm through a climbing rung, he was able to relax a bit, to the relief of his exhausted body. What he really wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a day or three, but that was a luxury he'd have to forego a while longer. After Wolf's announcement that he would address the Dragoons about their course of action, Dechan had decided to acquire a good view of the noisy square where the speech would take place. He was not about to sleep through it.

  The 'Mech's shadow covered him, protecting him from the hot sun. The other still-functional BattleMechs of his company were scattered around the south edge of the central square. Like Dechan, their pilots sheltered in the shade of the machines.

  Below him, Thom Dominguez stood in the shade between the Hawk's legs. Sergeant Dominguez's Wolverine was still in the repair shop, but the rest of his Recon Lance was present. Battered, but present.

  “I don't think we'll have any trouble from the Snakes today.”

  Dominguez's comment dragged Dechan back from his near slumber. “Huh,” he replied intelligently.

  “I mean, I ain't seen a Snake all day. City's been a ghost town since the Ryuken pulled out yesterday.”

  “Lucky for you, since you're naked,” Dechan responded, referring to Dominguez's temporary lack of a 'Mech.

  “Unity! A man don't need a 'Mech to chase these worthless worms. A toddler with a simulator could rout them. Some samurai,” Dominguez huffed, spitting on the pavement near the Shadow Hawk's left foot. “I thought we were going to have a fight of it. The Ryuken Jocks
were reasonably competent on Barlow's End.”

  “They still are. The guys we fought here were mostly greenies. Most of the Barlow Jocks went over to the Iron Man's regiment on Misery. Bet they couldn't stand that Akuma bastard.”

  “They must've really hated him to trade a bunk on a soft planet like this for a slot on that frozen hellhole.” Dominguez rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. “Poor trade.”

  “I think I might have considered it, too, if Akuma had been my CO.”

  Dominguez thought about that a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  Dechan looked around the square. The once-shining wood and marble facades of the public buildings were chipped and stained. The pavement was littered with debris from the street riots, overlaid by the more plentiful debris of the recent fighting. The biggest chunks of rubble had been bulldozed into heaps to clear space for the hundreds of Dragoons who would be coming to hear Wolf's address.

  Across the square stood more BattleMechs. They were from Lean's Company and were already waiting here when Dechan's troops arrived. Like Dechan's 'Mech unit, they had arrived ahead of the bulk of the Dragoons. That had been planned for safety's sake, for no one wanted the tired pilots of the giant machines to accidentally trample any of their own people.

  Lean had gotten to the square even earlier and grabbed the area in front of Government House, which annoyed Dechan because he'd wanted the spot for his own company. He knew that it was the only one in the square that was going to offer enough shade for several BattleMechs by the time Wolf began his address. Already the building's tattered bulk blocked the early afternoon sunlight.

  From his vantage point, Dechan could see the ‘Mech Warriors of Lean's command gathered at the feet of her Archer. They looked even more exhausted than his own crew. The long days of city fighting had taken their toll. No Dragoon had slept through a full night in over a week.