The oldest of the four in attendance on the Wolf was Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Chan. I knew from the archives that he had earned even more decorations than Parella, but Chan did not wear them on his uniform. Like Blake, he wore a Mech Warrior's simple undress blues bearing only his rank insignia and the wolf's-head shoulder patch of the Dragoons. He no longer held an active field command, serving instead as Colonel Carmody's second-in-command and head of the BattleMech Operations Command.
It is not rare for Dragoons to wear patches signifying former affiliations, but I was surprised to see an infantryman's patch on the uniform of Major Hanson Brubaker. He was even shorter than the Wolf, a slim ferret of a man, hardly the sort one would expect to be a groundpounder. Then I noticed the Special Recon Group patch and understood. In his current post, Brubaker had moved on to reconnaissance operations of another sort; he was head of the Contract Command, the branch of Wolf's Dragoons that handled negotiations, recruitment, and public relations.
Introductions over, the officers fell back into conversation. The topic was not a tactical operation, as I had thought, but seemed to concern the details of a contract. I had never been very attentive in civil affairs classes, a failing not uncommon among Mech-Warriors. Only now did I feel the lack. Colonel Blake must have noticed my confusion. He leaned over and smiled. A trifle indulgently, I thought, but amicably.
"Kantov's Battalion of Gamma Regiment is up before the Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission for violation of contract."
"Ain't true," Parella objected from the depths of his sullen slump.
"House Marik alleges otherwise," Blake continued. "They have a substantial amount of evidence. The commission's judgement will likely be in favor of House Marik."
"It can't be! They're Dragoons," I blurted out, drawing the attention of the other officers to myself.
"Can and is, tinspawn," Chan said harshly. "Kantov's goons are guilty, and a blind ComStar acolyte could see it. You're out of the sibko now, boy. You'll be seeing a lot of things that can't be, but are. I've always said the metal womb freezes brain cells. You tinspawn are all alike. Why, I remember ..."
"Ease off, Pat." Blake's voice held a note of tiredness, as if Chan's complaints were an old and worn-out story. "The boy's ours. He hasn't had Clan ed-com."
Chan shook his head. "Real world's the only real education."
"Give the kid a break, Pat. You were young once, too." Blake's smile was easy. "He'll learn."
"He'd better learn fast."
I tried to make my voice firm. "I will."
Chan only stared at me, his face expressionless. Long ago his troops had dubbed him Old Stone Face. I wondered if it was age that had made his features so craggy and foreboding or if they had always had such an austere cast.
Brubaker punched my shoulder, rocking me from my rigid stance. "Don't let the old goat get to you, Cameron. He is a fine example of ed-com himself. A line example of its failure, quiaff?"
To my surprise, Chan ignored Brubaker's remarks and turned to Colonel Wolf. "I still say showing up for the trial will be bad for public relations. Let Kantov rot. We don't need to have Jaime pulled into this."
Brubaker snorted. "So you say. You haven't dealt with the public since you took over 'Mech ops. I leave those problems to you, so why not leave the relations problems to me? It is vitally important that Jaime stand before the commission. As leader of the Dragoons, the Colonel is the ultimate commander of the unit in question, a personage required by the commission to attend. This is the first time the Dragoons have been called before the commission for a violation and if the Colonel does not appear, he will give credence to all the rumors that the Dragoons backed the new commission for our own convenience. Our detractors will have ground for their claim that the Dragoons helped set up the commission to protect themselves. Or our commanders."
Chan waved his hand in dismissal. "I've already heard your arguments."
"But you obviously did not listen."
"That's enough, gentlemen. The Dragoons have enough enemies; we don't need to fight among ourselves." The Wolf's voice quieted his subordinates the way a sudden peal of thunder overrides the drumming of a storm's rain. "I would appreciate concrete suggestions on how to deal with this Marik problem. If you haven't anything useful to contribute, you're dismissed."
There were no more outbursts after that. The discussion of the problems inherent in the commission review proceeded in orderly fashion. But the more I heard, the more distressed I became. I had dreamed of following in Founder William's footsteps and serving the Wolf personally. Now it seemed that my first service would come as he and the Dragoons stood trial.
3
The hulks of the shattered BattleMechs lay strewn across the terrain like giant corpses. Foamed titanium-alloy bones glinted from within dark, gaping wounds in their armored shells, and shreds of myomer pseudomuscle hung gray and limp like strands of decaying flesh. Bits of exposed metal stained the 'Mech surfaces with streaks of rust resembling old crusted blood. Wheeling overhead, a raven shape cruised the old carnage.
From his position in the belly of a gutted Thunderbolt,Elson Novacat watched the aerial visitor and grinned. He could have brought it down easily with a shot from his laser, but there was no point. The aircraft's sensors wouldn't be able to detect him among the hulks of the destroyed 'Mechs, and firing on the spotter craft would only give his position away.
The destroyed 'Mechs had belonged to a house Liao strike team that had hit Outreach in some kind of vengeance raid while the combat regiments of Wolf's Dragoons were off defending Luthien during the Clan siege. The Capellans must have thought they would have an easy time against the old men and children the Dragoons left behind, but they had
Elson had to admit that the Dragoons had not fallen prey to the profligate tendencies of the Inner Sphere. Even dead, these BattleMechs continued to serve. Training exercises were sometimes held here, with the fallen 'Mechs re-armed to serve as pillboxes. Knowing that, he had searched for any with active weapon systems, finding none. These machines were all impotent hulks. But even as hulks they provided excellent cover, and cover was life for an infantryman, even when he wore an Elemental battle armor suit.
An Elemental's battle suit might look like a 'Mech to a civilian, but only if the civ had no reference for scale. The suit had a bulky, humanoid shape, made bulkier still by the backpack missile launcher. The boxy launch ports thrust up above the dome of the helmet assembly gave the armor its hunched shoulders. The left arm, non-human in proportion, terminated in a three-fingered power claw, while the right hand, when not fitted into a weapon assembly chosen to suit the mission task, had a reinforced glove of more human arrangement. Though similar in appearance to a BattleMech, the three-meter-tall armor suits barely topped the knee of the smallest 'Mech. Elemental suits carried only a single reload for their short-range missile launchers and, once the SRMs were expended, they had only limited anti-'Mech armament. Though offering a trooper the best protection and movement capabilities short of a vehicle or 'Mech, a battle suit could not make him a one-on-one match for even the lightest of 'Mechs. But then, Elementals didn't operate one-on-one against 'Mechs.