Book One: Prince
Chapter 1
Hi-5 Corridor, 15km east of Romul
Chateau, Tamar Pact, Federated Commonwealth
13 March 3050Kommandant Victor Steiner-Davion planted his Mech’s feet firmly in the waterlogged grass that covered the highway’s median. Around him to either side flowed a constant stream of vehicles, military and civilian alike, all lanes flowing west towards the city and its illusion of safety - or perhaps the true safety of its DropPort for those lucky enough to find a berth.
Though I imagine they’ll have an easy time of it, he thought to himself grimly, considering the losses that the Tenth had taken. Auntie Sarah -
Marshal Steiner, he corrected himself - had met the mysterious invaders on the plains 25 kilometers east of Romul. Rumor had it that the enemy had announced their numbers and allowed the FedCom forces to choose the site of the battle.
Sarah Steiner had chosen the broad, flat plain, the better to concentrate the firepower afforded by her superior numbers: a regiment of ‘Mechs, three of armor, and a few companies of infantry used for spotting and scouting, not to mention the two battalions of old but serviceable tanks provided by the Chateau militia weighed against a battalion of Mechs and a company of infantry. Despite her birth, the Marshal was no social general, but when you outnumber the enemy ten-to-one, there is little better than a wall of Lyran steel.
Or so they had all thought.
Instead, the enemy had used the plains to demonstrate their unbelievable speed and range, goading the defenders into breaking lines to rush forward to try and get off some reply, only for each foray to be defeated in detail. Still, the line had mostly held, the men and women of the Tenth Donegal demonstrating admirable discipline while those with LRMs and light autocannons provided what response they might without abandoning formation.
It had been working, too. Of the 30 ‘Mechs they’d started with, these “Wolves” had been down to 21, the weight of numbers slowly telling the tale.
And then the militia had broken.
The Marshal had placed the militia near but not at the left end of her line, presumably to keep them far from the fighting while still anchoring the flank itself with reliable forces; in this case, the Second Battalion of BattleMechs and the 437th Regiment of Armor. Neither Second Battalion nor the 437th were her heaviest formations, but they were the steadiest.
Once more, Victor silently cursed the political considerations he presumed had prevented her from simply setting the militia to garrison the city.
After several rounds of cat-and-mouse, the enemy forces had picked up on the militia’s poor equipment and inexperience, and had begun to hammer that part of the line. Still, the militia had remained surprisingly composed until they had appeared.
Victor had no words for the strange combatants, close in size to infantry but more similar in form to a miniature BattleMech. They certainly wielded weapons appropriate to a ‘Mech, firing what appeared to be ‘Mech-sized small lasers, and launching fusillades of short-range missiles. Even worse, they scrambled over tanks and up BattleMechs’ legs like elite infantry, thrusting wicked claws into joints, viewports, gun barrels, and any other vulnerable spot. They seemed to work in teams of five, and he had seen one such team scramble up the legs of a
Rifleman and bring it to its knees in seconds.
Once the
Rifleman was on the ground, a laser blast to the cockpit had ended things.
Pounded from the front and beset from within, the militia had broken and the enemy had quickly taken advantage. The left flank was isolated and its efficient destruction begun even as the other half of the enemy force began to roll up the main line.
Marshal Steiner had attempted an organized fighting retreat, but by the time she’d given the order to withdraw, things had been most of the way to a rout.
Victor had, of course, been ordered to retreat his royal self to safety, but an accident of location and his company being the heaviest in the regiment had led them to become the rear guard by default.
I bet they regret sticking me with an unofficial bodyguard now, he thought, a wry smile on his face.
What remained of Third Battalion had kept the enemy engaged, even as the Wolves had largely ignored the vehicles retreating from them like frightened cattle.
He was down to himself and 5 other ‘Mechs now, of the 36 that Third Battalion had begun with that morning. He could only hope that some of them had retreated successfully, but comms were such a mess he had no way of knowing.
Ammo stores running dangerously low, he had picked a likely-seeming spot to make his stand, where the highway was cut through a steep ridge with a slight bend in the road limiting sightlines and cliffs to either side protecting his flanks. The ridge itself made it difficult for the enemy to simply go around him. The lance that remained of his battalion were arrayed behind him.
It did not take long for the enemy to arrive. Painted in colors of blood and rust, 8 ‘Mechs came into view around the curve of the canyon wall. They were a mixture of the
Marauders with
Catapult missile pods and the hellishly fast ones that seemed far too large for their speed. One of the MAD-CATs was in the lead, and he noticed two stars painted by the cockpit. He fired his medium lasers, though they both knew it was an useless display at this range.
Suddenly, a light came on, indicating that the enemy was broadcasting on comms. He keyed the channel open.
“-aptain Katya Kerensky of Trinary First of the 279th Battle Cluster. You fight a hopeless battle, but you have fought it well, and you fight with some honor. Pilot of the
Victor, I would meet you in combat to resolve this with honor and dignity.” It was a woman’s voice, low and pleasant. She spoke with perfect calm, in a hauntingly familiar accent that Victor couldn’t quite place.
He licked his lips as he pondered the situation. Had this woman, this Captain Katya Kerensky, just challenged him to a duel? At the edges of his thoughts, he wondered if she was related to the Black Widow somehow before dismissing the idea. After all, Kerensky might well be a common name some places for all he knew.
He needed information, and he needed to delay. He keyed his comm.
“This is Victor”, he said, intentionally omitting his last name and his rank. “I would like to clarify the situation. Are you challenging me to a duel?”
“
Aff,” she said, “Honorable combat. If you win, my trinary ceases pursuit along this road. I cannot speak for Supernova Command, and I will not make promises should your main force turn once more to fighting, but this engagement will be over.” If she’d noticed the omission, she said nothing.
“And if I lose?”
“You and your forces surrender, and we shall sweep up this road unopposed.”
Victor licked his lips again, a nervous habit he had never noticed before. Perhaps it was a new one.
This was a good opportunity. Just this talking was delaying things, allowing more people to make it to safety. While he had no illusions about winning the duel, every moment of it would be another troop transport, another private car, that many more soldiers and civilians that much more safe. But could he sacrifice what remained of his command?
“If I lose,” he said, “I stay. We cease opposition, but the rest of my forces withdraw too, as quickly as they can.”
“
Neg,” Captain Kerensky replied, and her meaning was obvious even if the word was not familiar. “You all surrender.”
Victor thought fast. He was happy to sacrifice himself, but his soldiers? Men and women who he had promised to lead, but also to keep safe. He would send them to their deaths if needed, but he was no Drac and these were no samurai. Glory was not its own end.
But neither was it the end here. What were six lives, in death or in captivity, when weighed against the throng of humanity that was passing by him? Every one of them had signed up to spend their lives in the defense of the Lyran people. And now the Lyran people needed defending. But he still would do what he could.
“I accept,” he said simply.
“Bargained well and done.”
The other Wolves moved back, creating an arc just this side of the bend, wide enough to stretch across the entire highway.
Victor keyed his comms to the battalion channel. The conversation had been on an open channel, and he was sure that they’d all been listening.
“Rothkopf, if I fall - ”
When I fall “ - you have command.”
He saw the woman in his mind, the fiery red hair that they’d all teased her about matching her name.
“While I’m dueling, see how far you can back away without them noticing. If I fall, see if you can book it. If you can’t, delay them as much as you can. Every second we’re here is another person safe.”
“
Ja,” she replied. After a pause, she added, “It’s been an honor, Your Highness.
Viel Erfolg!” Victor was thankful she had not tried to talk him out of it, or perhaps to offer herself in his place.
Victor fought to win, but the duel proceeded as he’d known it would; as they’d both known. Victor tried to close with the enemy to bring his terrible autocannon to bear, and she tried to avoid him. Her Mech was faster than a Marauder or a Catapult, and she seemed to be able to backpedal almost as quickly as he could run forward. Still, constrained as they were by the canyon walls, he was able to make the odd hit count, the Pontiac 100 cannon tearing viciously into the MAD-CAT’s armor. Once, a hit on her right arm was followed by a miraculous fusillade of short-range missiles in the same spot that managed to tear the limb off just below the shoulder.
“Well done!” said Kerensky across the comm channel, her voice sounding sincere.
Victor considered his reply, but said nothing in the end.
In time, her superior range began to tell. As a barrage of missiles made its way towards him, he activated his jump jets, shooting up the canyon walls. Once there, he realized the folly of his action: from this location, she could hit him from anywhere along the stretch of highway, and he would not be able to close as quickly. He considered fleeing along the ridge, forcing her to backtrack along the highway to circle around to find him, buying whole minutes of extra time, but decided he could not risk her considering that a violation of their agreement. He feathered the jets as he jumped down, striking out with his lasers just for the sake of something to do.
And then it was over. A pair of lasers lanced into his already-damaged leg, and Victor noticed he was in freefall. He never remembered hitting the ground.
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Hey! Welcome to The Wolf Prince, a bit of BT fanfiction which started as an exercise to improve my writing. I realized that I kept getting bogged down in characters, in settings, even in the precise details of planning a plot, and decided that I should just wholesale steal all of those things for practice. Thus, The Wolf Prince, a story where Victor Steiner-Davion gets captured by Clan Wolf instead of Phelan Kell. This entire story is major spoilers for
Lethal Heritage, which it obviously follows pretty closely. Obviously things develop similarly, but Victor is not Phelan, and I decided to tap Katya Kerensky as a secondary character, since I always thought she was done dirty. The
Wolf Clan sourcebook builds her up as Ulric's protégé, but then Stackpole's focus on Phelan and Ranna relegates the second-youngest Warrior ever to get a Bloodname to being some sort of bizarre loyal opposition after the Refusal War. Go figure.
I've actually written the entire thing (though I'll be doing constant edits and rewrites, as I have been for months even as I wrote new material), so the release schedule should be pretty consist, probably 1-2 a week.
At the risk of opening a can of worms I won't be able to close, the point of this was to be a writing exercise, so please let me know if you have comments about the structure, word choice, etc.
