No matter who was leading Wolf's forces, they were effective. Their tricks and traps were taking a toll, and not just on the front-line troops of Iota Battalion and Beta Regiment. The morale of the rest of the forces was hit hard as well. What was supposed to have been a lightning campaign had been bogged down for too long. Wolf, for all he was on the defensive, had stolen the initiative. The so-called hunters were dancing to his tune.

Hunters.

The nickname had come into use when we'd learned that the rebels had taken to calling themselves the Wolf Pack. Dechan supposed they'd adopted the name as a show of loyalty to Jaime Wolf. Dechan didn't think it coincidental that the name simultaneously flouted their rejection of Alpin. Referring to the forces under Alpin as hunters had started in Beta Regiment. The Khan legitimized it when he put a bounty on his grandfather's head.

That bounty excited a lot of the mercs. They talked about hunting Wolf themselves, but their talk was as disjointed as their tactics. They couldn't agree on anything, each one trying to outdo the others. Elson had really scraped up the dregs.

Dechan had heard similar talk among some of his own Kappa Battalion. He cut it off whenever it started, going so far as to prohibit the topic from staff conferences. But he knew he couldn't keep a lid on it forever. Now that word was out that Wolf himself was leading the forces of our opposition, even relatively disciplined mercs like the Chevaliers were feeling the lure of a lucrative bounty.

Dechan doubted that Wolf was present in Green Sector. It wasn't that his troops weren't well-led; they were. It was just that he was sure Alpin would never have left to spearhead Parella's force in Red Sector if he'd believed that Jaime Wolf was here in Green. Then again, Elson hadn't left, even when Gamma Regiment moved to relieve Beta and started pushing past the ground Beta had gained. When it came down to it, you never knew who was in the BattleMech till you checked the cockpit.

Carter tossed aside the flap of Dechan's tent.

"We've got orders."

"Elson or Alpin?"

"Elson."

"A briefing in ten."

Carter nodded. Reaching up, he tugged the flap and let it drop closed. Dechan listened to him crunch across the gravel, passing among the other tents and rousing the officers as he went.

So far, Kappa Battalion had been held back from the fighting. Dechan had taken it as a sign that Elson had something special in mind for them. If Elson was abandoning the facade of working through Alpin, the decision point was coming soon.

* * *

Michi knew he was being followed, but he had no time to do anything about it. He walked down Lafayette Avenue among the midday crowds. There were too many eyes here for his pursuers to pose a threat, but that was a temporary condition. Soon he would have to leave the avenue. They might try to take him then, if they knew; or they might wait, if they only suspected. He could not tell their numbers. If there were too many, and they didknow, they might take him.

He turned off the avenue.

Once around the corner, he began to run.

He had covered two blocks by the time he heard the curses telling him that the pursuers had turned the corner. They would run now, too.

He was fortunate that he did not have far to go. They were younger, more fit for running. He heard their footfalls growing ever closer.

The ComStar acolyte was startled when Michi burst through the door—too startled to stop him, which was good. He heard the woman shouting for guards as he ran down the corridor to the inner court. The guards arrived in time to stumble into Michi's pursuers; he heard the scuffle start as the door closed behind him.

He was the only disturbance in the peace of the garden as he raced across it. But only for a moment. Shouts shattered the tranquillity; the ComStar guards had only been able to delay the pursuers. It was to be expected; the guards were not prepared and the pursuers were professionals.

Michi ran along the row of small cottages. He reached the one he sought and, without pause, he turned his last stride into a kick. The door flew open, bouncing off the wall and returning to strike him as he moved through the opening.

The air inside was warmer than that of the garden, the only light streaming in from the open doorway. The only furnishings were a chair, a bed, and a night-stand that held a computer work station. The bed was occupied.

The man grabbed a gun from behind the computer monitor, rolled off the bed, and took aim at Michi. In sync with the flash of recognition in the man's eyes, Michi tossed him the silver cylinder.

"GO!" he ordered.

Stanford Blake caught the cylinder with his free hand, then shouted, "Look out!"

Michi wheeled, drawing his sword and striking all in one smooth motion. The keen blade sliced the pursuer in half at the waist. Major Sean Eric Kevin looked surprised as he died.

Blake fired through Kevin's fountaining blood, dropping the second man.

There were more running across the garden.

"Go," Michi said again as he closed the door. "Now!"

Blake nodded curtly. He stuffed the cylinder into his waistband and pulled open the back door. "Thanks," he said as he bolted through. Michi watched him run across the garden. The house would shield him from the pursuers' sight once he left the direct line between the front and back doors. Michi swung the front door closed, then stooped and took the pistol from Kevin's holster. He stepped against the wall beside the door, well away from the frame.

He waited.

They were cautious, perhaps believing him trapped. He hoped that they would stay cautious; every second they wasted was useful. He knew they would not wait long, however. If they had suspected before, he had confirmed their fears.

A fusillade of shots splintered holes in the door and the wall on either side of it. Michi was moving forward as the door slammed open, this time dropping free from its abused hinges. He cut at the first commando as the man came through, the sword biting deep into his arm. Screaming, the man twisted away, ripping the sword grip from Michi's hand. Two shots dropped the second commando, but another one came crashing through the front window as her companion died. Forced back by fire from the two still outside, Michi was unable to halt the woman as she rolled to her feet and sprang through the open back door.

He could not know if he had delayed them long enough. He started to run after the woman, but his move was not enough of a surprise. Her companions fired on him as he cleared the edge of the house. Feeling a shock to his arm, he spun under the impact of the shot, then fell to the ground. He rolled aside and fired as one of the commandos came around the building after him. The man took the first slug and two more before he collapsed.

Michi knew that he had succeeded in his mission when he heard the mighty hyperpulse generator thrum with the sound of an outgoing pulse.

His relief almost cost him his life. The last commando had circled around the other side of the building, and only a scrape of gravel betrayed his presence. Michi was rolling before the man fired the weapon, and the slug slammed into the ground instead of into Michi. His answering shot went wide, but the man ducked back. Unfortunately for him, he moved into the path of Michi's last, unaimed shot.

Karma.

A gunshot boomed from the direction of the generator building. Michi forced himself to his feet. The gun in his hand was empty. Dropping it, he stooped to take another from one of the commandos. He nearly fainted as he straightened up. Too much blood loss and not enough concentration. He fought down the pain, banishing it beneath clarity of purpose.