Masters of War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The trick is to avoid making the same error twice. He smiled. Predictability will kill you faster than mistakes.

  Before he attempted to restart his ’Mech, he glanced out the cockpit. His troops had downed the other odd Falcon ’Mech and were mopping up the remains of the Falcon force. Then they would move on to Ogstrenburg and raze it.

  To punish the Falcons.

  Alaric nodded once, then began the ignition sequence. He would beat them to the city and lay waste to it. And the stories they will tell of this battle will be grand.

  3

  Castor

  Former Prefecture VII, Republic of the Sphere

  15 November 3136

  Anastasia Kerensky smiled as the man waiting in the briefing room fidgeted. She’d studied him as he came into the hotel and as Ian Murchison escorted him to the room. Small and bookish, the man radiated irritation. The look he gave her as she entered the room conveyed his belief that time was money, and that her tardiness would cost her.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Baron Saville. I hope Dr. Murchison has made you feel at home.”

  Saville raked his thinning hair into place. “I am not accustomed to being kept waiting, Colonel Kerensky. I’ve come with a serious offer. If you don’t want your Wolf Hunters employed . . .”

  She raised a hand and kept the smile on her face. Slipping past Ian, she moved to the head of the table, forcing Saville to turn in her direction. “If you insist on giving vent to petty feelings, I can assure you that the Wolf Hunters have no interest in working for you or those you represent.” She kept her voice even, but full of the edge that had cowed warriors far tougher than Saville ever dreamed of being.

  The words had an effect, though not the wholly desired one. “You’ll find me to be as professional as you are, Colonel.” The man nodded once, sharply. “And I do appreciate your coming here to Castor to meet with me.”

  “How is it that you came to negotiate with us?”

  The man’s brown eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  She let her smile fade into a bemused grin. “I’ve had time to research you and your situation. You hail from La Blon and have a rather successful global communications and entertainment business there. You make a great deal of money, but you have not nearly enough to pay us what we’ll demand. In fact, in the last four months you’ve made inquiries with a number of other mercenary units, small ones, to protect La Blon. More specifically, to protect your holdings on La Blon. Your offer to us suggested a wider mission. This would require liaisons on other worlds, and a greater pool of money than you possess.”

  Anastasia had expected her comment to spark ire or to intimidate, but she got neither result. Instead Saville seemed to relax. Perhaps there is even more here than I expect.

  “Very good, Colonel. You’ve done your recon. Others have learned some of what you have, but no one as completely. This is why I think you are exactly what we need.” Saville leaned back in his chair and scraped a hand over his clean-shaven jaw.

  If he’d had more in the way of a chin, Anastasia might have thought more of him. “Your backers?”

  “Their identities will be revealed in due time, Colonel. You’ll likely puzzle them out yourself.” He glanced around the room. “Your subordinates may even be listening to us and researching what was Prefecture Nine as we speak.”

  Ian’s brows arched upward. “Goodness, you think we’re spying on you!”

  Saville laughed. “Hardly, Doctor. I’m just supposing you would do what I would do in your position. Let’s not kid each other, shall we? The Wolf Hunters are good, but hardly what the Steel Wolves were. You’re in a process of transition and reformation, which can be difficult. We have resources and needs that are compatible with you achieving your goal.”

  Anastasia shook her head. “You presume a great deal if you believe you know our goal.”

  “Hardly, Colonel. You know that I am a communications mogul. Knowledge is power. Information is more valuable than gold.”

  Ian straightened. “There’s not a fact in the world that’s ever stopped a laser.”

  “True, but bad information will kill someone just as easily as a laser.” The small man shrugged. “There is a need for an elite fighting unit. You may see heavy duty. You may see no duty at all. I don’t know which, but I have to assume the former. This is why I’ve asked to meet with you.”

  “Go on.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll come right to the point. The Jade Falcons have made incursions into our prefecture. We’ve heard rumors that they’re involved in a civil war. It has not yet slopped over into the prefecture, but we expect it could. Your primary mission would be defensive. You would be tasked with making certain they take no more worlds. As The Republic has retreated into its shell, we will get no help from them.”

  “Nor do you think you require it.” Anastasia nodded slowly. “You said our primary mission is defensive. And our secondary mission?”

  “That would depend on how bold you are, Colonel.” The small man smiled easily. “It may come as no surprise to you that those of us in the Ninth have a growing sense of unity. We would not be averse to having the worlds now in Falcon possession returned to us. Many very wealthy people fled those worlds, and have almost limitless resources available for the effort of liberating them again.”

  “Defending a world, Baron Saville, is much easier than conquering one.” Anastasia tapped a finger against the tabletop. “The Clans will bargain, so we can set terms to be in our favor for the battle. If we go on the attack, we surrender that advantage to them. That means we would have to come in hotter and harder than they could ever imagine.”

  “I’m heartened, Colonel, that you didn’t say taking worlds would be impossible.”

  “It is for us, right now.”

  “But we can make it easier.”

  The man’s comment caught her off guard, but she covered her reaction. “Do you really think you can?”

  He nodded confidently. “I, too, have done my research. You scattered the Steel Wolves. You jettisoned the warriors who were not up to your standards. I’ll confess that you sent away many who, in data files, seemed quite competent. Even so, the elite core remains. My belief would be that you intend to hone their skills until, as you suggested, they can hit hotter and harder than imagined. Do I understand your situation correctly?”

  Anastasia gave him a reluctant nod. Saville understood her situation to the limitations of his ability to understand the whole Clan culture. Anastasia had been raised as a Wolf. She had been trained and tested over and over again to become the best warrior it was possible to be. Some of her compatriots believed that meant doing everything according to regulations, precepts and wisdom laid down for ages.

  Anastasia knew it required something more. A study of the history of warfare showed its constant evolution. At one time, masses of warriors hidden behind huge shields and wielding long spears had been the dominant force. They were replaced by more mobile infantry, and they were supplanted by the power of cavalry. Centuries later, warriors with rifles and bayonets reigned supreme. As weapons became more deadly, tactics evolved, and what once might have been accepted wisdom was shown to be folly in a new age.

  The evolution always occurred after a period of stagnation. Anastasia felt warfare was moving into such a period, which provided an opportunity. She could guide the next stage of the evolution. She could become the master of warfare, leaving no enemy to stand against her.

  And leaving no goal unattainable.

  Saville knitted his fingers together. “I’m glad to see we have the same sense of things, Colonel. My associates and I have made offers to other units, but we’ve also been recruiting mercenaries and militiamen. Our intent is to cull from them the very best warriors, under the guise of forming our own corporate units—not unlike the model of Bannson’s Raiders. We would hope for a different level of success, however, and that success would be your success. It would be simple for us to fold our units in with y
ours, or for you to cherry-pick our best warriors.”

  “That’s an interesting proposition, Baron.”

  “It can be made more so.” He spread his hands apart. “As I said before, knowledge is power, and lack thereof can leave some powerless. We have at our disposal the means of obfuscating the identities and records of those we make available to you. As I understand the bidding process, your enemies would be privy to records in order to make their bids. These troops would appear only to be as good as you wish them to be on paper, with no duplicity on your part.”

  “What an interesting idea.” Anastasia caught the look on Ian’s face, but didn’t change her expression. “You’ll find us to be very expensive, even if we never move from our defensive posture.”

  “That goes without saying. We’d like you and your people on La Blon within the month. We can begin the process of negotiating a contract as you head into the system. You’ll find us realistic in what we offer. The price may be lower than you would like, but we won’t charge you for the things we can supply freely. We have no desire to cripple you through a company-store mentality.”

  “La Blon is doable, yes.” Anastasia folded her arms across her chest. “I look forward to seeing you again, Baron, on La Blon.”

  If it surprised the man to be dismissed so quickly, he gave no sign. “Very good, Colonel. A fruitful result of our business shall be to our mutual benefit. I anticipate nothing less.” He stood, then bowed his head to Ian. “Farewell to you, too, Doctor.”

  Anastasia nodded, then glanced at Ian. “A moment, Ian.”

  Murchison nodded, then walked Saville to the door. He shook the man’s hand, then closed the door behind him. Before he said anything, he checked the table and chair for listening devices, then smiled sheepishly at Anastasia.

  “Sorry. I thought he protested too much about spying.”

  “I will, of course, have our quarters swept just in case.” Anastasia stared after the baron. “Your assessment of his character?”

  Murchison frowned. “Something about him I don’t like. He comes in sounding like a patriot, but there is something more there. Your impressions?”

  “He’s a merchant. You can smell it on him. He thinks in terms of profit and loss. He’s as bad as a commander who sees troops as numbers.” She pulled the chair out and sat at the head of the table. “His offer is quite lucrative.”

  “Now who’s sounding like a merchant?”

  Anastasia laughed. “I’m a realist, Ian. You know what is at stake here.”

  The man appropriated Saville’s seat. “Your goal is to make us Wolf. You want us to be the pinnacle of what it is to be a warrior, and, not coincidentally, give me all the work I can handle. I’m not sure I see how the baron’s offer will bring you closer to the first goal, but my hands will be full.”

  “Ever the optimist, Ian. Merchant though he is, Baron Saville did see some things clearly.” She leaned forward and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. “It’s probably because he’s a merchant that he sees some things others do not. An organization is made up of people. They have to be melded into a team, and in what we do, there is a terrible penalty paid for failure.

  “Nearly a century ago, when the Clans invaded the Inner Sphere, they assumed that they had the best equipment and the best people available. Initially it seemed as if this was true, but the people of the Inner Sphere learned and adapted. What had been an overwhelming advantage quickly faded. Moreover, people from the Inner Sphere proved themselves capable of competing with Clansmen on their own terms.”

  “Phelan Kell.”

  “Among others.” Anastasia’s expression sharpened. “I know we can train warriors, and that we will have to train them, but I need the best of the best. I will make them better.”

  “I know you can, but that will require combat. You’re accepting a position where we will be watchdogs.”

  “That will never happen, Ian. Saville or his masters will find a way to put us into battle.” She smiled. “How much have you studied evolution?”

  Murchison blinked. “I know it, believe in it. What, in particular, are you referring to?”

  She laughed lightly. “In the evolutionary sciences the prevailing view is a theory called punctuated equilibrium . It states that a species might evolve quickly in isolation, and then spread out to achieve dominance when conditions outside its haven were ripe for doing so. If you look at the history of warfare, this is certainly true. The phalanx arose in Greece. The French learned how to wield cannon to their greatest effect, and the Germans mastered the same lesson for the machine gun.”

  Murchison nodded. “And the Clans developed in isolation from the Inner Sphere.”

  “Precisely. La Blon will give us a chance to adapt and evolve in peace. We will gather the most elite warriors available, meld them into a unit that fights cohesively, and be prepared for whatever we face.”

  “But will you be able to make outsiders into Wolves?”

  His question gave her pause. So far, she had operated under the assumption that any warriors she took in would subordinate themselves to her and her ways. She would make them Wolf Hunters. Whether or not that would make them Wolves was something she’d not considered.

  And that’s because I think of the Wolf Hunters as being more than Wolves.

  She considered whether she was being naive, then rejected that idea.

  “It’s an interesting question.”

  Murchison rested his elbows on the table. “It’s one thing to bring people into a unit. Another to train them, but yet another to create the sense of belonging that is part of being Wolf. You’re not recruiting them—you’re converting them. Being Wolf is like a religion.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Religions, for all the comfort they offer people, ask them to look beyond themselves. They offer their lives to a deity. They take direction from a deity. They ask a deity for boons, all of which is fine provided you agree to a central supposition.”

  “And that is?”

  “That God exists.”

  Murchison blinked. “But . . .”

  “Just consider that He doesn’t, or that He does, but doesn’t interfere with human affairs.” She sat back and pressed her hands together, fingertip to fingertip. “All those prayers asking for the strength to do something a person doesn’t feel he can do by himself go unanswered. The deeds done as a result of those prayers still happen, which means the person always had that power within himself. Looking outside, when all you need is inside, is the critical element. More importantly, I can’t have people praying for salvation when I need them thinking about their jobs.”

  “So you will convert them to being Wolf?”

  “You may have hit upon a process, yes.”

  Murchison smiled. “And you’re the goddess of the Wolf Hunters?”

  “I may not grant salvation, Doctor, but I’ll consign plenty of people to perdition.” Anastasia smiled carefully. “I don’t require being worshipped, just obeyed. The Hunters will believe in themselves, their training and me. That will be enough to win against all we face.”

  4

  Domain, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone

  30 November 3136

  Had it been possible, Alaric would have delayed the meeting with his mother yet further. It was a game they’d played through the years. Alaric had gotten only slightly better at it, coming up with excuses for why he could not meet with her immediately. This time he had delayed by citing the exhaustion he felt from his return to Domain.

  She accepted his excuse initially, graciously even, then set to work. Within a day he’d been given medical leave and assigned to a recovery facility that just happened to be the clinic where she spent a great deal of time and even more money. A helicopter had ferried him from his base to the mountain chateau.

  As much as he wanted to be elsewhere, Alaric admired the towering mountains—some soaring nearly eight kilometers. Knife-edged, they stabbed into the skies. Winds whipped snow from the peaks, as if some
invisible grindstone were sharpening them and snow was stone dust. The jagged mountains shredded clouds, and sunlight reflected blindingly from the snowfields.

  The first time he’d seen the mountains, nearly ten years earlier, he’d resolved to climb them. He’d made the mistake of mentioning this to his mother, and she forbade it. Alaric considered defying her, but she had a Star of elementals enforce her order. He had no doubt more elementals lurked below, for just as he would never lose his desire to conquer those heights, she would never forget his desire and defiance.

  Katrina Steiner. He’d first heard of her before he ever knew she was his mother. She had been the stuff of legend then, the woman who had defied Victor Davion—her brother and the conqueror of the Clans. She’d stolen his realm from him, but only temporarily. And when he’d defeated her and bound her over for trial, Vlad Ward of the Wolves traded peace for her.

  Back then, when he was little, he had admired Vlad and secretly wondered what power this woman had over him. One day, quite by accident, he’d caught a glimpse of her. Tall and slender, with white-blond hair and icy blue eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d been too young to realize her flawless beauty was as much due to Clan medical technology as it was genetics; but it was also more than physical. The way she moved and the air of confidence she wore drew him. She burned with life and ambition.

  The whine of the helicopter’s rotors shifted pitch as the aircraft struggled up through the thinner air. For just a moment Alaric wished it would crash. He knew he’d not die in such an accident—that was not possible. The snowpack would cushion the craft’s impact. While he had no desire to have to walk to the chateau, the crash would give his mother pause, and that he wanted.

  She might realize, for a heartbeat, that the universe did not have her at its center.

  Very soon after his first glimpse of her, Katrina began to take an interest in him. It was nothing special at first. She needed members of a sibko for a presentation, or he was included in a group sent to work on her estate as part of their training. She found ways to reward these small services. He became a frequent visitor—not so frequent that it impeded his studies—but often enough that he occasionally missed a critical exercise. Her interest in his life delayed his progress, and this rankled.