From somewhere in the crowd, a voice shouted a question to the Colonel.

“When are we going Snake hunting, Colonel?”

Somehow Wolf spotted the speaker and fixed him with a hard look. “Your answer's coming, Rodrigues. Sit tight.” Both the question and answer were transmitted through the repeater system. When the thronging Dragoons heard Wolf's words, they roared their approval, anticipating vengeance.

Through the binox, Dechan could see the Colonel close his eyes at the crowd's response. For an instant, the strength that Wolf projected faltered and his exhaustion was there for Dechan to see. Then the shields slid back into place and Wolf was the quintessential commander again. He positioned himself squarely behind the microphones.

“Blood has brought us here today,” he said. “Blood shed by our comrades. Blood shed by our enemies. But most of all, blood shed by the men, women, and children of our kin. That blood calls us. It calls for vengeance.”

The Dragoons roared their approval.

“We stand where we are today because of the actions of others. We have been forced to this crucial point through no choice of our own. We gave fair service, but self-seeking men have betrayed us. They have cost us dearly, and we have only begun to make them pay.

“We have choices,” Wolf said over the cheers.

“We can take the torch to Luthien and burn out the cancer at the heart of the Draconis Combine. We can avenge ourselves as we did at New Delos. Is that what you want?”

Hundreds of voices screamed, “Yes!”

Dechan did not feel the same way, though. He had not been a part of the Dragoons at New Delos, yet he had felt the pain of the losses here on An Ting. He had wanted revenge, too, but what he had done to Jerry Akuma did not bring a single Dragoon back to life. It had not made anything better. It had not let him sleep easier. He looked to where Wolf stood, hoping that his commander would say something to help resolve the contradiction.

Wolf stood impassively while the crowd took up the chant of “Blood! Blood!” When he held up his hands to quiet the crowd, they gradually complied.

“We would indeed see blood on that course. Our blood as well as Kurita blood. It is a long, hard road to Luthien. It is a road that would be under constant attack by Kuritan forces. The Draconians would not take kindly to our march through the Combine, and they would send strong forces to intercept us. Stronger forces would defend Luthien. It is, after all, their capital planet, a focal point to their own sense of unity. That is something we did not face at New Delos. On Luthien, we would face a unified people, not one split by civil war. The might of the Draconis Combine cannot be dismissed.

“We are the Dragoons. No unit, House-sponsored or mercenary, can match us. But even we are not invincible. If enough pressure were brought to bear, we might crack, crumble. The road to Luthien would be our path to oblivion.”

A low grumbling began in the crowd. The mob animal growled, sensing it was about to be driven from its prey.

“I cannot ask you to forgo your revenge. I, too, swore that there would never be another New Delos. What I do ask is that you think about where we are, what we want to achieve. Think about those we have to protect.

“Here on An Ting, we had to fight. We will have to fight again. Nothing we do can prevent that. The Kurita High Command knows that they have lost us and that we will leave the Combine. You have all heard what the terrorists said aboard the Hephaestus.Surely you can see that Kurita means to target our kin, to hold them hostage against our actions? We must protect our people.”

Wolf's appeal to the real concerns of the individuals who made up the crowd struck home. Having won them again, he pressed on.

“We could simply go with them. That would lead the Dragon right to them. The Draconians are alerted now; they will follow the regiments to the rendezvous point. We cannot allow that to happen. We must distract Kurita from our people.

“To do this, we will call the Draconis Combine to the field of battle. We will present a challenge to their honor. They will not be able to refuse. Even if they call us outlaws, they will not resist the chance to crush us completely.

“When they accept, they will come to a place of our choosing, and we will fight. The troops of House Kurita pride themselves on being warriors. We will show them what being a warrior really means.

“As I speak to you, our challenge is on its way via the ComStar network from the facility here on An Ting. As insurance, couriers are en route to other planets, to use their stations. The Inner Sphere will hear our side of the story. Once that word is out, House Kurita cannot deny us what we want... a chance to make them pay. And I promise you that we willmake them pay.”

The roar of the crowd was pure approval.

“That is why I am now ordering all the regiments to Misery.”

Excited, curious babbling interrupted. The Colonel waited patiently for a few moments, then raised his hand for silence. When he had the crowd's attention once more, he continued.

“You want to know why I have chosen Misery. There are several reasons.

“Misery is well-suited to the operations we have planned. The system is within short-term transport range of our fighting units. At this time, we can expect to land and consolidate onworld without facing significant opposition. Once we are down, the resources for fortification are plentiful. These are all valid reasons, military reasons.

“The planet's name is appropriate, too. House Kurita will learn that betraying the Dragoons has brought them Misery.

“The most important of Misery's qualifications is that it is far from the rendezvous star, and so our people will be able to assemble out of harm's way. They can safely begin the trek out of Combine space. When we have finished with the Kuritans, we will join them.

“You have all proved yourselves true Dragoons. I will be honored to have you with me on Misery. Together, we will meet whatever Lord Kurita sends against us, and we will kick the Dragon's tail out through its teeth.”

49

DCMS Headquarters, Laerdal, Misery

Galedon Military District,

Draconis Combine 1 February 3028

 

Minobu stood rigidly at attention, waiting for Warlord Samsonov to acknowledge his presence. The Warlord had ignored Minobu for the past twenty minutes, busying himself with requisition authorizations. It was nothing new. Samsonov had been ignoring him ever since he had arrived and commandeered the office two days ago. No explanation had been given. Even the Warlord's subordinates had nothing to say to Minobu's officers.

Shuffling the papers aside, Samsonov looked up, his face flinty. “You have, of course, heard the ridiculous challenge that Wolf's Dragoons has flung at the Combine.”

“I have seen the text.”

“And what do you make of it?”

Minobu scented a trap. The Warlord would be looking for a scapegoat after the calamity on An Ting. Any officer showing sympathy for the Dragoons might be singled out. Minobu knew he had made an enemy of Samsonov years ago when he had taken Wolf's side during the Warlord's attempt to gain control of the Dragoons. Every time he had spoken out against Samsonov's plans, the Warlord's hatred of him had deepened. Samsonov would probably be glad to find evidence implicating Minobu in the recent disastrous events. Minobu's previous service as PSL Officer to the Dragoons and his known friendship with Jaime Wolf would prejudice many staunch Kurita officers against him. As much caution as honor would permit was in order.

“As the Warlord must know, I left An Ting on the morning after the rioting started. At that time, Chu-saAkuma seemed to believe that he was in control of the situation.