Wolves on the Border

by Robert N. Charrette

  The relief was too late for Michi's 'Mech. Sparking and smoking, the Ostroc began to topple.

  Through the billowing dark cloud, a glittering package rocketed. Michi had waited a second too long to trigger the ejection system, and the chair flashed out at a dangerously low angle. The chute deployed but barely managed to slow the chair's furious speed before it plowed into the ground.

  Dragoon rockets burned toward the Dragon, but the big 'Mech moved with surprising speed and grace. The missiles exploded harmlessly behind him as Minobu moved toward Michi's crash site.

  A heavy laser pulse caught the Dragon in the back of his left leg. Dysfunction lights flashed red in the cockpit as the actuators froze and locked the leg in a slightly bent position. The Dragon lurched on, slowed by his wound. More and more of the Dragon lasers found enough purchase on his armor to burn through.

  The interior of the Dragon's cockpit was suffused in the bloody glow of failure lights, while sensors flashed warning of an approaching mass. Minobu pivoted and twisted aside. He brought his battlefist down on the Shadow Hawk as the Dragoon 'Mech stumbled past. Tubing and framework crumpled as the fist tore across the backpack. Only the resistance provided by the Armstrong autocannon as it crumpled into uselessness saved the Shadow Hawk's cockpit from being split open. The Dragoon 'Mech crashed to the ground. It twitched once and was still.

  The Dragon returned to his course.

  In the twisted wreckage of the ejection seat, he could see motion. There was movement in his three-sixty screen as well. Lost in concern over the fallen Michi, the Dragon was slow to react.

  A 'Mech crashed into his left side, but the attacker was too light to topple the Dragon's sixty tons of mass, even had it struck cleanly. Though Minobu's reaction was slow, he sidestepped enough to reduce considerably the effect of the Dragoon's charge. The light machine clung to the Dragon's side, punching with its fist in an effort to destroy the domed cockpit.

  The Dragon's autocannon arm swung around, shoving its muzzle into the side of the enemy 'Mech. Minobu's last shell cassette emptied into the unfamiliar machine. The pounding thunder beat against his ears as the backblast of the explosions sent shrapnel ripping into the Dragon's side. The damage was negligible compared to what the explosions did to the Dragoon 'Mech. It fell away from the Dragon and lay on its back in the snow like a crushed insect.

  The desperate maneuver had ruined the Dragon's Imperator-A autocannon. No matter. There was no more ammunition for it.

  The Dragoons abandoned their physical attacks and returned to showering the Dragon with energy beams and short-range missiles. With only one 5cm laser left in its offensive armament, the wounded Dragon staggered forward to bring the fight to his tormentors. Close combat would be the most effective way for him to continue the fight now.

  The Griffin announced its return to the battle with fire from its PPC. Electrostatic discharge ionized the air around the Dragon's crippled leg as blue lightning tore through the weakened armor. Frayed myomer pseudomuscles ripped loose from the structural system, no longer able to bear the 'Mech's weight. The leg failed. The Dragon swayed on his good leg for a moment, listed to the left, then crashed down.

  Minobu hung dazed in the restraining straps. Shaken loose from mushin, he was once again a man piloting a machine.

  Sensor warnings pinged at the approach of the Dragoon 'Mechs. He focused his ki to block the pain that shot through his body. Detached, he watched the Dragon's left arm rise. A ruby pulse lanced out to strike one of the advancing Dragoons.

  The Dragoons responded with concentrated laser bombardment.

  More failure lights flashed red, telling of the accelerating weakness of the Dragon. The weapon board beeped malfunction in the laser. One by one, the tights went out as the Dragon died around him. Finally, the sensors failed, isolating Minobu in the smoky murk of the cockpit lit only by the fitful flickering of electrical fires.

  The Dragon shuddered from some outside impact, throwing Minobu violently about. His head struck the side wall of the cockpit. Even through the neurohelmet, the shock doubled his vision. Blood trickled down across the bridge of his nose and over his upper lip until he could taste its sharp tang. Through the ozone-laden air, he thought he detected the scent of cherry blossoms. Before he could puzzle out that mystery, darkness claimed him.

  55

  Dragoon Base, Farsund, Misery

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  26 May 3028

  “Seppuku?” Wolf repeated incredulously.

  Minobu looked up with weary eyes at the man who stood over his bed. “I have no other choice, I have failed my lord.”

  “Failed? You've crippled our fighting force. It'll be months before the Dragoons are ready for a major operation. Far too many of our best pilots—men and women who have been with me since we came to the Inner Sphere—are buried out there in the snow. If you call that failure ...”

  Minobu turned his gaze to the ceiling. In his peripheral vision, he could see Michi Noketsuna seated at the foot of the bed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Minobu could tell that the discomfort came not from Michi's bandaged head or the arm that hung across his chest in a sling. It was not even the raw red skin, a legacy of his exposure to the harshness of Misery after his 'Mech was destroyed. Like Minobu, he was distressed at Wolf's words. Partial success was no balm to a samurai. The warrior who did not accomplish the task set for him had failed in his duty. It was nothing more or less than that.

  “I'm not going to go away because you ignore me,” Wolf said when Minobu did not respond. “Your lord can't hold you responsible for failing.”

  “Can he not?”

  “It wasn't your fault,” Wolf insisted. “You played by the rules and were beaten. There's no dishonor in that.”

  Minobu continued to stare at the ceiling. What could he say? In Wolf's world, the attempt was enough, and partial success was often acceptable. Wolf did not understand that a samurai either succeeded or failed. There were no half-measures.

  Frustrated at the lack of response, Wolf sighed, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Look,” he said. “You didn't have a chance. You played by the rules, but we didn't. You fell for our gambit with the duels and charged right on cue when we played that Panther Jock dirty. Even that trick wasn't good enough to stop you.

  “While you were following our apparent lead in not using aerospace forces, we were setting you up. We didn't want any interference with our recon satellites in orbit. They were our secret advantage. While you groped like a blind man, we knew where your troops were every minute. And you still damn near beat us.”

  Minobu listened to Wolf's confession without interruption, disturbed by Wolf's unrelenting presentation of Minobu's difficulties and near triumph over them. Wolf had fought according to his own rules of war and maintained his own honor. His confession of not fighting by Minobu's rules changed nothing. The fact was that Minobu had not succeeded at his lord's task. And if he had succeeded, he would have brought to ruin both his friend and that friend's cherished, and almost certainly wrongly accused, Dragoons. Such a success would have been too much for Minobu.

  To make things worse, many brave ‘MechWarriors on both sides had died uselessly, for neither side had achieved its avowed goal. The Kuritans had failed to destroy Wolf's Dragoons, and the mercenaries were still a functional entity.

  The Dragoons had exacted a high price in blood and had scattered the Draconians, but had not been able to completely destroy the forces arrayed against them. It was true that the Twenty-first Galedon had been mauled and the Seventeenth Galedon Regulars had probably been shattered beyond recovery. The Eighth Sword of Light had survived well, however, and almost half the Ryuken ‘MechWarriors would fight again. All the survivors were now hardened veterans, forged into tempered steel by those who had fought to destroy them.

  The Dragoons themselves had been mauled. Though losses varied according to the intensity of combat each regiment and independent unit had seen, some casualti
es ran as high as 60 percent. Despite their losses, the mercenaries managed to retain cohesion and had been able to hold the battlefield. Material losses could be replaced, but trained veterans could not. Wolf's Dragoons would no longer be able to maintain their exclusive recruitment policies if they wished to field their full forces. Still, they had won their battle for survival. Several JumpShips had already left the system, taking Dragoons to join their dependents.

  When Wolf lapsed into silence, Minobu heaved himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the protest of his muscles. The sudden shift narrowed his vision into a dark-edged tunnel and made him light-headed, but his voice was steady. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I'm trying to make you see that your lord should be proud of you. You've done more than any man could be expected to do.”

  “Yet I failed.”

  Wolf huffed. “Unity, you're a stubborn man!”

  “Tenacious is a better word,” Minobu corrected mildly. “I have lived my life trying to be a virtuous man. The Dragon admires tenacity, and the code of the samurai upholds it as well. Therefore, I have tried to cultivate it. I am loyal to the code.”

  Wolf started to shake his head, then stopped. A crafty look appeared on his face. “The code values loyalty above all, doesn't it?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Don't you know your lord betrayed you before you had a chance to fail him?”

  Michi's indrawn breath did not distract Minobu, who looked directly into Wolf's gray eyes. Reaching out with his ki for the truth in the mercenary's words, he felt the glow of conviction around the tough core of Wolf's deeper being.

  “It wasn't the Dragoons who held up Torisobo and his Sworders,” Wolf said, pausing to let that sink in. “They were under orders from Samsonov to hold back and let the Ryuken get mauled. After we had kicked each other to pieces, they were supposed to step in and clean up the mess. Any inconvenient survivors, of either side, would have found themselves on the business end of a PPC.” Wolf shook his head sadly.

  “It sounds crazy, but it's true. That old bastard is insane.”

  Minobu knew that Samsonov was doing foolish things, but he had never thought of the Warlord as insane.

  “We overran the Sword of Light headquarters before they scampered offplanet with tails between their legs,” Wolf said. “Among the captured documents were Samsonov's orders. I can show them to you.”

  Minobu shook his head.

  “So, you see Samsonov never meant to have a force waiting to ambush us from space. He was out there in the dark all right, but not in this system. He and his troops had other business—they were chasing our families. The big, brave Warlord wanted to kill our civilians. Not exactly the actions of an honorable man, are they? Like Akuma before him, he seems to have believed that attacking our non-combatants would distract us and weaken our resolve. He's a fool as well as cowardly betrayer.

  “Samsonov is the dishonored one,” Wolf concluded. “Your lord betrayed you, failed you. He broke the bonds of loyalty.”

  Wolf's plea was plain in his face. He was fighting to change Minobu's mind and desperately wanted to sway him from his chosen path.

  Minobu could not see how he could give Wolf what he wanted and still maintain his own honor. Nothing that any other man had done could lessen his own responsibility.

  Minobu stood shakily, and Michi leaped to his feet to steady him. As soon as he felt stable, Minobu removed Michi's hand from his arm. Drawing himself up, he said, “Samsonov is not the lord whom I failed.”

  Wolf's disappointment was clear, but so was his determination. “He was following Takashi Kurita's orders to betray you.”

  Wolf's accusation was a serious one. If the ultimate lord of all Kurita samurai had ordered dishonorable behavior, if he had himself broken the bond of loyalty, the situation would be changed. Under certain circumstances a lord who ordered his samurai to improper behavior justified rebellion against himself. Minobu drew a deep breath, ribs paining him as he did so. He let half of it out before speaking.

  “Do you have proof?”

  “I don't need it.” Wolf's response was quick, full of certainty.

  “I do.”

  The slim hopes that Wolf had raised were dashed. Even the true belief of an honored and honorable friend was not enough on which to base rebellion. Minobu stepped to the wall and leaned against it, far more tired than his brief physical exertion could justify.

  Wolf hung his head and rubbed his exhaustion-smudged eyes. “Look. You don't have to do this. Give up your allegiance to House Kurita. Join us. I'll make you a place in the Dragoons.”

  The offer did not surprise Minobu. Rather, it confirmed the goodness he knew dwelt in his friend's heart. Much as he wanted to accept, Minobu could not. “I understand and appreciate your offer. You must try to understand why I cannot accept it.

  “From the day I saved your life on Quentin, I was responsible for you. What you did, I was accountable for. Whatever karma you earned became part of my karmic debt.

  “Thus, I am responsible for all the Kurita forces your Dragoons have destroyed.”

  Wolf opened his mouth to object, but Minobu shook his head.

  “The Dragoons were the heart of the Combine forces in the Galedon District. Now you will be taking them away. That alone would weaken our border defense,” Minobu continued. “Our battles here on Misery have gutted the Regular troops that defend the Galedon border, leaving it nearly unguarded and open to our enemies. I am responsible for this terrible blow to House Kurita.

  “Because of this failure of judgment and ability, I have no choice but seppuku. There is no other way to restore my honor. In all the time I have known you, friend Wolf, you have understood the demands of honor.”

  Minobu searched Wolf's face, but found bleak despair instead of comprehension. There was nothing more to be said. It was nearly sunset, a moment Minobu did not wish to miss on this day.

  He leaned away from the wall, bringing his weight back onto his feet. An ache began in his flesh leg as he stepped through the door. The guards started to block his path, but Wolf waved them away. Minobu continued down the corridor unmolested.

  At the end of the hallway, there was a small lounge normally used by the soldiers assigned to the barracks in their off-duty hours. It was empty of people. Minobu limped to the transplex pane that looked onto the landing fields where Dragoon 'Mechs were boarding DropShips in the last light of day. He lowered himself into the lotus position and gazed out. The brilliant refractions of light through the layers of ice crystals in the atmosphere was soothing. Reflecting on the transient beauty of nature, he dropped into a light, meditative state.

  Back in the small room, Wolf turned his attention to Michi.

  “And what about you? Are you going to slit your belly, too?”

  “No.”

  Wolf seemed surprised at the answer. Michi had not intended to explain anything to the mercenary, but the compelling pressure of Wolf's scrutiny brought words to his lips.

  “I will not follow my lord Tetsuhara at this time, for I have work to do. I will avenge my lord on those who trapped him into this dead end.”

  Wolf nodded understanding. He thought for a moment before speaking. “If we leave you here, your Kurita masters will have your head. That won't give you what you're looking for. In honor of your lord, I extend my offer to you as well.

  Michi bowed. Like Minobu before him, he was tempted. Also like Minobu, he was bound to the path his honor demanded.

  “It is not right that I join you while this obligation remains unfulfilled.”

  “Who said we'd keep you from fulfilling it? We aren't letting it stop here, you now. We are going to continue to fight Kurita. Samsonov caught some of our people before we could warn them of the change in the rendezvous star system. We want our own revenge.”

  “I don't know whether I am pleased to hear you say that,” Michi said. He was still a Kuritan. His quarrel was not with the people of the Combine or the ‘Mec
hWarriors who defended them. They would be the ones facing the Dragoon guns. “Even though you fight my enemies, my place is not at your side.”

  Putting his words into action, Michi stepped into the corridor and gazed at the seated figure in the lounge. After a moment, Wolf came to stand beside him.

  “What can we do for you then? You can't stay here.”

  Michi thought for a few minutes, weighing his few options. No matter which path he chose, he would be outcast. Wolf was right about one thing, though. Any attempt to remain in the Combine was tantamount to suicide. “Let me travel with you to some place where I can begin my quest.”

  “That's all you want?” asked Wolf incredulously.

  “I cannot ask more.”

  “You mean, will not?”

  Michi shrugged.

  “You're a crazy samurai, Noketsuna, but you've got guts.”

  56

  Dragoon Base, Farsund, Misery

  Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

  27 May 3028

  Michi was leaving Minobu's room when Wolf arrived in full-dress uniform, its resplendence a sharp contrast to the mercenary's haggard face. Michi was exhausted as well, but his own uniform, though clean and freshly pressed, did little to disguise the fact. The House Kurita badges had been removed, and he wore a red armband with a black wolf's head to mark his release from captivity. Even though his right arm was still in the sling, a holstered laser pistol rode on his right hip. He bowed to the mercenary Colonel.

  “Ohayo, Colonel.”

  “Good morning, Michi.”

  “I wish to thank you for my parole, Colonel. You are generous to a former enemy.”

  “Former is the operative word, Michi.” Wolf nodded his head at the closed door. “Is he in there?”

  “Yes, Colonel. He is waiting for you.”

  Michi stepped aside and bowed again. Wolf opened the door and entered the room. Michi closed the door behind him.

  Seated in lotus position on the bed was Minobu. From somewhere in the nearby city, Michi had acquired the shimmering white silk kimono that he now wore. It shone against his dark skin. His eyes were closed, his face calm, relaxed.