A Call to Arms

22

Stage Directions

Achernar Militia Command

Achernar

16 March 3133

Erik Sandoval saw signs of the militia’s strain in the little things. A lack of casual traffic on the base. Tired guards in bedraggled uniforms, both at the central post and standing a weary honor guard in front of Colonel Blaire’s office. The corridor floor not buffed to a military shine. And Colonel Isaac Blaire, holding himself upright with elbows on the desk, eyes red-rimmed from drink or lack of sleep. The militia commander looked such a state, in fact, that Erik missed the office’s second occupant for several heartbeats. Then—

“What is he doing here?” Erik demanded, staring with venomous fury at Raul Ortega.

Ortega had pushed his chair to the inside wall, as far back from the desk as he could conceivably get. He sat extremely still, with arms laid out carefully along both sides and hands gripping the end curve of the armrests. The MechWarrior said nothing in reply. He broke his stony repose only long enough to glance over at Erik, and then cautiously at his commanding officer.

Gesturing Erik to the chair across from his desk, Blaire did not bother to look over at his officer. “He is here because Ah ordered him to be here, should you have any questions.”

The colonel’s tone, Raul’s silence; the two did not appear to be on the best terms. Erik might find a way to use that. “Questions? How about a request for his immediate dismissal?” The young noble turned his chair just enough to be able to watch Ortega out of the corner of one eye. “He abandoned the field, Colonel. Pusillanimous conduct in the face of the enemy.”

Now Raul leaned forward. “Said the commander who parked himself a good kilometer behind the fighting.”

“That is enough, Captain!” Blaire’s bark still had some of its old power.

Erik measured the way Raul stiffened up again, as if turned to stone by the Colonel’s basilisk stare. It gave him a moment to compose himself; Raul’s contemptuous charge had struck a nerve. Since Tassa Kay’s cutting remarks and his recent reversals on the battlefield, Erik found his temper fraying at the least provocation.

“My position that day had nothing to do with cowardice,” Erik said softly, slowly, “and everything to do with setting a strong second line to protect River’s End. When the DropShips arrived, my plans shifted and I ordered an immediate counter-thrust, which would have prevented the Steel Wolves from lodging a foothold so close to the capital. You!” he said, stabbing a finger toward Raul. “You gave it to them.”

Raul folded his arms across his chest. “Now it’s the Swordsworn facing the brunt of any Steel Wolf attack. And you need us—the militia. I like being on this side of the arrangement. No wonder you hid in Hahnsak for so long.”

“Dammit, Ortega.” Blaire’s outburst cut off Erik’s heated response. “You’re acting like a peace-spoiled kay–det and you’re not making this any easier.” With a strained peace imposed between the other two men, the colonel shifted focus and asked, “What about yesterday’s raid? Did you suffer anything in the way of major casualties?”

“Two damaged JES carriers and a limping MinerMech Mod.” Reminded of the short but brutal engagement forced on his people the day before, Erik felt a second flush of anger work up and outward from the nape of his neck. His voice remained civil, barely, as he outlined what had happened.

“The Steel Wolves weren’t making a serious push at River’s End. They struck in a pincer movement but with hardly enough forces to penetrate the industrial sector. It was a probe. We made it cost them a Demon, which we captured with no help from the militia I may remind you.”

“Ah can try to provide you with anything you might need in the way of parts and supplies.” Another hard glance at his captain. “We’ve had our own troubles since the spaceport battle.”

“I’ve seen the casualty report,” Erik admitted. “What concerns me more is the number of outright defections.” Erik searched his memory, drawing up numbers provided to him by Michael Eus. “Eight infantrymen, six of them with battlesuits. Also a trio of hoverbikes, two APCs, and a pair of conventional VTOLs, all with crews. And a Destroyer, Colonel? How do you let an SM1 slip through your fingers?”

Blaire sat up straighter, as if his pride had been wounded. “How did you hear about those?”

“More to the point,” Erik leaned forward, “where have they gone?”

Raul whipped at him with an exasperated laugh. “If they did not go over to you, and you have just basically told us they haven’t, then they fled into hiding or went over to Star Colonel Torrent.”

Erik’s assumption as well, and one that had him sleeping less well every night. “If the Steel Wolves have grown so much in strength, then I expect them to attack soon. One final, all-out push for River’s End.” He wrapped himself tight in his noble demeanor, remembering that he now had the full weight of Brion Stempres and the planetary governor behind him. “I must now insist, Colonel, that you stand ready to answer my summons, instantly, once Star Colonel Torrent masses for that advance. I believe Legate Stempres has communicated this to you on more than one occasion in the last few days.”

“Ah’ve talked to Lay–gate Stempres,” Blaire admitted. He tried to sound unconcerned. Failed. “When we’re needed, the militia will be there.”

“Not good enough, Colonel. Instant response. I’ll have your word on that now, if you don’t mind.”

The colonel struggled with it. Erik gave the man that much; he was still enough of a Republic man to not go easily into the Swordsworn embrace. But because of that, as well, he would honor his word. “If you call for us, we’ll come,” he finally granted Erik.

“And I want Raul Ortega dismissed from duty. Now.”

That made the upstart MechWarrior sit up and pay attention, mouth gaping open like a landed fish. Dismissed. In effect, dispossessed. MechWarriors dreaded losing their BattleMechs. It was like telling a hawk that it could no longer fly and hunt. Erik knew first-hand, having lost a ’Mech before, how much it hurt. After the half-dozen slights, insults and setbacks he had faced at Raul Ortega’s hands since first meeting him as a Customs Officer, Erik reveled in imposing the sentence, slapping the man back into place.

Blaire hedged. “Now that may be a bit hasty, Lord Sandoval. To remove one of our only MechWarriors from the order of battle—seems to me that we’re handicapping ourselves.” He searched for an argument. “Neither of us wants the Hyperpulse Generator to fall into Steel Wolf hands, after all.”

“That no longer concerns me, Colonel Blaire. The Steel Wolves will never be allowed possession of the HPG. After consulting with Governor Haider, my forces have been hard at work rigging spoilsport charges on the ante

Or back to the militia, Erik did not have to say.

For once, Raul Ortega looked speechless. The MechWarrior glanced rapidly between Blaire and Erik, trying to guess which way the colonel would eventually lean. As if the man had any choice.

Blaire slumped in defeat. “Raul, you’re sidelined.” He saw the expected outburst coming, and headed it off with a stronger argument. “Ah should have done it days ago, and you know it. Tassa Kay can take over the Legio