A Bonfire of Worlds

by Steven Mohan Jr.

  The Wolf Hunter pilot froze, staring into the barrel of the massive weapon.

  Truly this one possesses a Wolf's spirit, Alaric thought. He felt regret. If this had been a different point in the battle, he might have claimed the Vulture pilot as isorla. But there was no time for the taking of bondsman now.

  Now there was only time to clear the enemy from the field.

  He pulled his trigger and the Vulture pilot died in green fire.

  Anastasia glanced right in time to see Alaric execute the Vulture pilot. Just like that she had lost the BattleMech anchoring her right flank. If the Wolves led a determined assault against the flank, the line would buckle and split. So she had to pull Alaric's attention away from her right side.

  And to his center.

  The Jupiter holding the center was a monster, a hundred tons of pure mean. The blocky assault 'Mech sported a pair of fifteen-missile box launchers over its shoulders and four Ultra-5 autocannons, two over each hand. But its real offensive power was the pair of Type XX extended range PPCs the machine held in its armpits.

  It outgunned Anastasia's Savage Wolf and outmassed her by a good twenty-five tons. But Anastasia did have one advantage.

  The Jupiterwas piloted by Verena Wolf.

  For the better part of an hour she had been working Verena back, launching fast, probing attacks, keeping her off-balance, bending the Wolf line.

  Now it was time to shatter it.

  "Command Star," she called out over her Command Trinary circuit, "to me."

  She stalked forward, leading out an SM1 and a pair of Condors. All vehicles fast enough to run if this went bad.

  Anastasia moved directly toward the Jupiter.

  She selected a common frequency. "It is time to end this, Verena. You have fought well, but it will soon be over. I offer you your life. Power down your weapons and I will take you as a bondsman."

  "What a kind offer," Verena sneered. "Here is my answer."

  The assault machine fired its PPCs. One missed clean right, but the other slagged armor across Anastasia's right leg

  Anastasia answered with her own particle projection cannons, but she was a better shot. Azure lightning wreathed the Jupiter's cockpit.

  She half-expected Verena to break right there. But she did not. Probably because she would give no quarter to her former commander.

  It was a mistake.

  Anastasia's Savage Wolf was a virtual twin of Alaric's except for the extended range PPCs she favored over the large lasers. It was no match for the Jupiter in a stand-up fight, but it was not exactly a pushover either. And the Ultra-20, two LB-Xs, and the two LRM fifteen-packs of the surviving members of her Star more than made up for the firepower she gave up to the Jupiter.

  If Verena had her own Condors, she could have thrown them at the Anastasia's hovertanks, drawing them off with glancing attacks before they reached her line.

  But Anastasia had burned the Wolf Condors into slag twenty minutes earlier.

  If Verena had Demon tanks she might have brought them up, using them to run interference while her Jupiter provided covering fire.

  But Anastasia's SM1 had torn the Demons into scrap a half- hour before.

  Verena Wolf was out of options.

  Anastasia's Star let loose.

  * * *

  Verena staggered backwards, her wireframe checked with reds and yellows. She launched a double flight of LRMs, sending missiles corkscrewing towards Anastasia's cockpit. But she was off-balance and one flight missed clean left, the other scattered shots across the Savage Wolf's right missile pod.

  She recycled her PPCs and traded lightning with the Wolf.

  The Destroyer pivoted on its cushion of air, reacquired, and walked a line of death from its brutal autocannon right up Verena's left side, scouring armor until reds and yellows flickered to reds and blacks.

  Verena realized she had been so focused on Anastasia Kerensky she had lost track of the hovercraft. She turned, laying into one of the Condors with parallel streams of au- tocannon fire while chasing the Destroyer with a flight of missiles.

  Her Ultra-5s tore apart the Condor's lift skirt, spilling air, and sending the fifty-ton tank into a terrible end-over-end tumble that scattered debris in a long line that cut right through the battlefield.

  But the damage had already been done.

  Her Jupiter was badly wounded and she no longer had the support units to guard her sides while she hammered the Savage Wolf.

  Verena's throat tightened painfully. Alaric had given her the center of the line, had given her the first shot at Anastasia. Verena had been confident she would be able to crush the woman's Wolf and split the mercenary line. Instead she had been defeated, confirming Anastasia's opinion of her, and undercutting Alaric's faith.

  She selected the all-unit frequency. "Shadow Wolves, this is Shadow Two. Left and right flanks shift in to reinforce the center."

  She had just condemned the Wolf right and left to a desperate fight to keep from being flanked. All because she could not hold.

  She took little consolation in the fact that the Wolves might still win the day. However the day ended, Verena had been defeated.

  The next words were tough to push out through her painfully constricted throat, but Verena was a warrior, so she said them anyway. "All Wolves. Reform at Grid Two Six Four One. And then: "Fighting Withdrawal."

  * * *

  Anastasia saw the Wolves falling back and a grim smile came to her face. She felt nothing either way for Verena Wolf, the woman who had once served beside her. It was enough that she understood Verena and knew how to use that understanding in battle.

  The Wolves were falling back through a ZetMet mining camp. The camp was filled with industrial obstacles that would break up the Wolf line, forcing them into unfavorable match-ups. By the time they withdrew from the camp, the Wolves would be severely battered and Anastasia could take them.

  But why wait even that long?

  Anastasia saw the disorder in the Wolf middle, Alaric's right and left pulling in to try and protect the center. So while Alaric's concentration was on his center, and he personally tried to hold his flank on Anastasia's right against her probing attacks, maybe it was time for a little surprise.

  She selected a very special frequency and said, "Task Force Zephyr. Sinister. Execute."

  As she stalked forward, Anastasia Kerensky allowed herself the luxury of glancing left where her line faced off against a vulnerable Wolf flank.

  Sinister was a word from ancient Latin.

  Meaning "on the left."

  * * *

  "Shadow One, moving right," Alaric shouted, ducking behind his line and throwing his Savage Wolf into what passed for a sprint. The Wolf center was falling apart faster than planned. If the day was to be saved, MechWarrior Timothy and his Cougar were going to have to hold the left side.

  Alaric had business on the right.

  He pushed through a broken landscape, feeling the uncertainty of crushed rock beneath his feet. The mining camp was dotted with tailing piles. There was equipment everywhere: abandoned MiningMechs, rock crushers, a processing plant, conveyor belts.

  And a settling pond filled with murky gray water.

  Alaric took careful aim at the pond, dialed down the power of his right laser, and fired. For a second the pond flashed emerald green as the light refracted through the water.

  Then he turned and stalked toward the center of his line, knowing his appearance would signal Anastasia to hit his left flank with everything she had and also knowing that his left could not take that kind of punishment.

  Alaric just hoped he had timed it right.

  * * *

  Task Force Zephyr Commander Candy shoved her Destroyer into a brutal turn, lifting the inside edge of the hovercraft up as she banked hard. Candy was not worried. She knew her vehicle could make the turn.

  Had to make the turn.

  The SM1 straightened, dropping to level, and then shot forward, running flat out for the gray
scar in the land that was the ZetMet mining facility. Candy was leading in two Condors and two Demons. Their job was to slip around Anastasia's left and smash into the rear of the Wolf right

  It was working, too, until Candy saw BattleMechs rising out of a pool of fetid, gray water.

  For a moment, only a moment, she was startled.

  The pilot of the Sun Cobra coming out of the water was not quite so slow. Candy saw the Cobra execute a half-turn, bringing the two Gauss rifles in its arms to bear.

  At her.

  Then she saw a flash of silver.

  * * *

  Alaric glanced right and saw his little surprise, a Star of light 'Mechs, slamming fire into a collection of gunmetal gray fast- movers.

  She tried to flank me on the right.

  At once, Alaric knew the battle was lost. His 'Mechs had stopped the flank, punishing the Hunters horribly for even trying, but his surprise was blown, too. Alaric would not be able to slip his Star behind Anastasia's lines to wreak havoc. And with her superior numbers and better position, there was no way to win.

  His jaw clenched, he reached forward to toggled his all-unit frequency.

  "All Wolves, this is Shadow One. Fighting Withdrawal, prepare to execute emergency extraction."

  He had lost. The Lyrans would have Hyde back.

  Courtesy of Anastasia Kerensky.

  Harwell Household, Genève

  Terra, Fortress Republic

  24 November 3141

  Tucker turned off the living room lights, sank into the leather armchair, buried his face in his hands. Bright, sharp pain radiated from his eyes, stabbing into the top of his skull. It throbbed in time with his pulse. It would not go away.

  But the pain was not the worst part.

  The worst part was not being able to do the things he used to do. Not being able to know the things he used to know.

  This should have been the happiest time of his life. During the day he worked on the most important problem in the field that had fascinated him since he was a child and at night he came home to the woman he loved.

  But the work was so much harder. He would reach for something he should know, a theory, an equation, sometimes just a word, and it would be gone. Absent. Like reaching for the peanut butter on a shelf, only to find it was suddenly missing.

  Oh, and being told you would never, never be allowed to buy any peanut butter to replace the missing jar.

  Tucker's team still was making progress. He still saw things others didn't, still had flashes of insight, but it was like a blind man working through a maze. He spent most of his day bumping into walls.

  When he found his way to freedom, it was an accident.

  There were days he wanted to quit, just give it all up. Tucker the bright young genius could have solved the problem. But not Tucker the brutalized prisoner.

  Partly he kept at it because he didn't know what else to do, but mostly he didn't quit because he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Alexi's eyes.

  Strong hands reached down and kneaded his shoulders, expertly working out the knots in his muscles. He felt her breath on the back of his neck. Smelled lavender—and vanilla. "Rough day?" she whispered huskily.

  "Some days it seems futile."

  "It isn't, Tucker. I know it isn't. I believe in you."

  "I just-"

  "Shhh. Just lean back. No, don't open your eyes."

  She laid something shockingly cold across his face.

  "The frozen wash cloth should help with the headache. Just lay there and rest for a minute. I'll get you a drink. And then later we'll have a nice dinner. Lasagna maybe? I picked up some fresh-baked bread at the market."

  She stood, he heard her stand. She touched his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "I know it's hard sometimes. But it'll be fine, Tucker. I promise."

  Then he heard her step out of the living room and pad across the kitchen floor.

  Tucker took a deep shuddery breath. It was so damn hard sometimes.

  Thank God for Alexi. What would he ever do without her?

  Outpost-class DropShip Coeur du Loup,

  In Transit to Planet

  Dar-es-Salaam, Bolan Military Province

  Lyran Commonwealth

  7 January 3142

  During space travel the human body often endured too little acceleration—or too much. Over time, zero-g weakened bones and muscles. Combat acceleration, on the other hand, could kill the careless spacer in an instant by snapping a neck or sending a weak heart into arrest.

  Anastasia had ordered Coeur du Loup's captain to maintain a steady one-gee burn. Her task was hard enough as it was.

  Two men had joined her in the DropShip's wardroom to discuss the defense of Bolan Province. Both were named Steiner. (By the founder, was there anyone in this region of space not named Steiner? And would they all start calling themselves Brewer now?) These men were her best commanders—but they also presented her biggest political problems.

  Landgrave Jasek Kelswa-Steiner leaned across the blue tablecloth draped over the wardroom table, body hunched over a noteputer, eyes scanning the intel summary she would present to the assembled commanders of Bolan province in three days.

  He looked up. "So the Wolves have retaken Hyde?"

  Anastasia nodded.

  "And we're not going to take it back?"

  She shook her head. "I hate to think what it cost to take that world the first time. Besides, keep reading."

  Colonel Roderick Steiner said nothing. He just stood at the wardroom's ferroglass bulkhead, looking out at the stars— Steiner, or Frost, as he was calling himself again—did not have Jasek's holostar good looks, but he was not a bad-looking man, shorter than she liked, with close-cropped blond hair, and green eyes that were unusual for a Steiner.

  Maybe it was the eyes that would allow him to survive.

  "Alaric's declaring victory." said Jasek. "He's saying he will remain on his side of a border that runs from Hyde through Arcadia and Loric to Bella I unless he's attacked. So the war is over? Is this— Do you think it s a trick?"

  Anastasia shook her head. "A/eg. The Wolves have just moved most of their population halfway across the Inner Sphere, fought three major wars, and conquered nearly sixty worlds which must now be integrated into Clan Wolf. A cessation of hostilities is the smart thing to do."

  "You sound doubtful," said Jasek.

  "Not doubtful, but I am ... surprised that the Wolves realized this was the wisest course of action."

  Surprised and unsettled, she admitted to herself. Alaric Wolf was showing more insight than she would have expected. And that could only be dangerous.

  "Vedet's being handed a de facto truce," said Jasek looking at Anastasia. "Will he take it?"

  "Of course, he will," snapped Roderick. "This way he can pretend he stopped the Wolves."

  "Vedet did stop the Wolves, quiaff?" said Anastasia gently.

  "No," snapped Roderick, "that was you. Alpha Kerensky. All he's done is play politics to steal Melissa's throne."

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. And here was the question Anastasia needed answered. She needed both these men to hold Bolan against the Wolves. Roderick was cousin to the former Archon and he understandably hated Vedet. Jasek was a former soldier of the Republic who Vedet had helped in his desperate attempt to save Skye from the Jade Falcons.

  Could these two men work together?

  Anastasia opened her mouth to say something, but Jasek beat her to it. "And do you believe the three of us here have the means to address that issue, Colonel Frost?" His voice was hard.

  Roderick wheeled on him, his hands balled into fists, his green eyes flashing. Then he dipped his head. "Nein, Landgrave," he said softly.

  "Then let it go," said Jasek firmly. He turned to look at Anastasia. "So what happens to Colonel Steiner here?"

  Roderick straightened, his chin thrust up defiantly.

  Anastasia studied him for a moment. "No one thinks the Wolves are done with us. The unit
once known as the First Steiner Strikers is to be folded into the Stormhammers. Colonel, as long as you continue to call yourself Frost and you renounce the throne, you can retain your command."

  It was the very example of a Spheroid deal. Everyone knew Colonel Roderick was a Steiner—but by merely calling himself Frost, he could get them to ignore this uncomfortable fact. Willful ignorance. She was not sure if it was madness or brilliant flexibility. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

  The two men looked at each other.

  "It's not a bad offer," said Jasek gently.

  "It's only because Vedet can't get Loki to kill me. But ... I never wanted the throne anyway. I would've been perfectly happy to be Roderick Frost if Trillian never—" He shook his head, drew a deep breath. Then he came around the table and shook Jasek's hand.

  Anastasia nodded. "Good. Take the noteputer. Read the strategic outline of our defensive plan. I want your opinions by tomorrow. I have a bad feeling round two is going to begin before any of us are ready."

  Both men nodded and stepped out of the room.

  Anastasia sighed. One problem solved. But another loomed. She turned to look back out at the stars.

  "Who are you, Alaric Wolf?" she whispered to the empty room. "And more importantly, what are you becoming?"

  Outside Califar

  Hyde, Wolf Empire

  Alaric Wolf followed Khan Ward as they walked across the battlefield. The sun was setting in the west, colored blood red by the coming dusk and scattering bronze light across the ocean. Above them, the bowl of the sky was starting to purple, the brighter of the stars coming out, managing to escape the sun's hegemony.

  The battle had been short, but violent. It had spilled over the plains and onto the white beach beyond. Khan Ward started inland, where the battle had begun, and followed its progress west to the water.

  Seth Ward said nothing, but his dark eyes marked the remnants of the savage fighting: the stink of burning diesel mixed with the smell of burning grass, strips of metal scorched black and twisted into unrecognizable shapes, pools of brass shell casings, the sweet taste of explosives on the wind.