22 June 3027

 

As Captain Frank Woomack gazed out over the barren landscape, motion off to the left caught his eye. He watched as one of the local gyrulizards slithered from its sunny perch into the shadow of a rock outcropping as a hovercraft bearing the sun-and-sword roared by. The vehicle's engines were audible even through the plastiglass. The machine cut across Woomack's line-of-sight and accelerated toward the perimeter of the complex. A second, then a third, followed the first.

“The Feds are stirring out there,” the Dragoon announced to his companions.

“Think the Colonel has sent somebody after us, Captain?” Corporal Kathy Keegan's voice was full of hope. The internment at the Davion base had hit her the hardest of the three. Even though their captors had allowed them a fairly free run, she chafed at the confinement within the climate-controlled buildings of the Federated Suns outpost.

“If he has, Kathy, we'll be heading for orbit before nightfall,” said Steve Geiger confidently. The loss of his Stingerand his own wounds had done little to damp the private's ebullient spirits.

“Don't get her hopes up, Geiger,” Woomack warned. “We don't know what's going on. It could just be maneuvers.”

“But, Captain, we've been held here for over a month. If the Feds were going to ransom us, we would be gone by now. They must have refused,” Geiger concluded. “The Colonel won't leave us here to rot.”

“You're right on that, Steve. The Dragoons don't abandon anybody,” Woomack said, directing his reply to Keegan. “The Feds must be dragging the negotiations out for some political reason. If so, we sit and wait. It could be worse. They're treating us more like guests than prisoners.”

“I guess you're right, Captain,” Keegan conceded, hugging herself. “It's so hard sometimes. The walls. Not being able to go outside. It's really starting to get to me.”

Keegan had started to shiver as she spoke. Woomack moved to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “You've got to keep it together, Kathy. We'll be out of here soon.” Keegan stifled a sob. Woomack bit his lip. Sending people into battle had always come easy for him. Morale problems always disappeared in battle. Here, there was no battle for distraction. Feeling out of his element, he tried again. “Would it help if I could get them to authorize a trip outside?”

“It might,” Keegan answered in a small voice.

“Then that's what I'll do.” Woomack gave her a pat on the back and turned to Geiger. “Kid, see if you can get ahold of one of those Feddie officers.”

“No problem, boss,” Geiger said, tilting his head at the door.

Woomack turned his head to see a Federated Suns Leftenant standing in the open doorway, arms folded across his chest.

“Captain Woomack,” the Davion officer said. “Major Whitfield wants to see you again.”

“Does he? Well, I don't think I want to see him.” If the Feds were going to baby them, maybe he should act like a sulky kid to see how far he could push them.

“I don't believe you have that option, Dragoon.”

“You gonna carry me, Feddie?”

“Not personally. I can, however, have it arranged,” the Leftenant said with calm assurance. His voice left no doubt of the firmness of his intention to enforce the invitation.

“Tell you what, Feddie. You take my people for a walk outside and I'll go along peaceably.”

The Leftenant laughed at that. “Your peacefulness is unimportant, Woomack. If your people want to take a walk, they'll have the company of some of my troopers. It's no big deal. After all, where are they going to go?”

Woomack cast a glance at Keegan. Already her eyes were lit with anticipation of getting out into the open. Woomack may not have impressed the Feddie, but he had gotten what he wanted.

“All right, Feddie. Let's go see your Major.” Woomack pushed past the Leftenant and started down the corridor. The Davion Leftenant just shook his head and followed after.

Woomack did not wait for his escort. He knew the route. He ought to. The Major had been calling these talk sessions three times a week since the Seventh Crucis had pulled out three weeks ago. Two or three hours of boredom each time. Things had been more interesting when McKinnon's Raiders were in charge of the prisoners. It had been fun to bait Kate Nomura. She was gorgeous when she was mad.

The Dragoon waited once he reached the Major's office, but not for long. The Leftenant was only a few steps behind him. When the officer caught up, he keyed open the door. Woomack strode through.

Major Whitfield was seated at his desk. At his left, as usual, was his secretary, manning the recorder. A white-haired stranger was seated at the other side of the desk. The business suit he wore was a rare sight at this military installation. Woomack figured he was probably some kind of psych specialist here to analyze whatever the Dragoon said.

Whitfield indicated the empty seat to Woomack, and the Dragoon took it. Once his visitor was settled, Whitfield said, “Captain Woomack, I would like you to relate your part in the recent raid by Wolf's Dragoons against the Federated Suns planet Udibi.”

“Again?”

“Again, Captain.”

Woomack shrugged. He told the tale of the Dragoon raid and their successful escape with most of the material uncovered in the supply cache. This time, he made an effort to emphasize the Dragoon accomplishments and their strict adherence to the Ares Conventions of War. Woomack didn't know who the old guy was, but it wouldn't hurt to play to Dragoon strengths and might even improve the Dragoon reputation if the old geezer had any influence. Woomack finished his recitation with a politely phrased request for the formal ransom that was customary for captured mercenaries.

“I assure you, Captain Woomack, that you will be returned to your unit as soon as possible.” Whitfield was as earnest and sincere as he had been every other time he'd made the same assurances.

“I heard that one, Feddie,” Woomack came back. “I heard it from Ryder when he took my parole. I heard it from McKinnon before he left. I've heard it from you for three weeks. From where I sit, it seems to be a lot of hot air.”

“No need to get testy, Captain,” the white-haired man said. “I am the reason for the delay.”

Woomack gave the man a calculating look. The geezer didn't look like much. “So who are you, old man?”

“My name is Allard. I am a minister in the government of Prince Hanse Davion.” Allard gave the Dragoon a pleasant smile. “I am here to finalize the arrangements for your return to the Dragoons.”

“Not more bureaucratic nonsense.”

“Bureaucratic, perhaps,” Allard said with a chuckle. “But I certainly hope you do not find it nonsense. You and your companions, as well as what remains of your 'Mechs, will be conveyed to a rendezvous on Le Blanc. There will be no ransom.”

Woomack closed his mouth. “What do you mean no ransom?”

“You only have to perform a single task.”

“So that's it,” Woomack snapped. “I'll have you know Dragoon soldiers are no traitors.”

“No one mentioned treason, Captain. We merely wish you to perform the services of a courier. Prince Davion has a rather lucrative offer he wishes to convey to Colonel Wolf.”

34

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

29 June 3027

 

Warming sunlight drenched the central plaza of Cerant. The tall shape of Government House, seat of Kurita planetary authority, glowered at the former office complex that was now the Wolf's Dragoons' Administrative Headquarters. Unaware of, or at least unconcerned with, the tensions between the two parties, the civilians of An Ting went about their daily affairs. Food vendors and trinket hucksters vied for the attention of the noonday crowds. Here and there could be seen the bright red and white stripes of Civilian Guidance Corps men intimidating criminals and disruptive influences with their merc presence. Everywhere people bustled about, concerned for their own interests. A knot of Kurita soldiers moved through the throng, headed for the Dragoon building.