Epilogue:

  Most people in the time of the 31st century no longer believed in ghosts. It was just unfathomable that spirits could possibly exist in an age where faster than light travel and the marvels of science enabled mankind to colonize the most distant stars. But man still had many unanswered questions as far as fate and destiny; if gods did exist, did they play a hand in people's lives? Most importantly, did the dead ever influence the living?

  Dusk was beginning to settle and the old wolf tried to finish some remaining paperwork in the office before retiring to his quarters. A sudden chill seized him and he quickly thought it was another heart attack whereupon a few minutes of heavy breathing occurred as he concentrated to get his body back in line. As the intense pain swept over him, his past life began to cascade from his memory palace onto his senses. The room whirled as legions of the dead filed past him until they all formed a wall around the walls of his office and stared down at him with silent, sullen expressions. As the pain in his chest stopped, so did the visions and the gray-haired old man was at last able to rest easy once more.

  Jaime Wolf placed his right hand over his chest and gently rubbed it. Every time the pain would return, it got worse and the agony would lengthen as well. As his senses came back to the real world, Wolf smiled. He would at least live to see another sunrise, the pain never seemed to come when he finally rested his head back and slept in his room, rather, it would only come when he was conscious and under stress.

  The supreme leader of the most celebrated mercenary unit, Wolf was a man of contrasts; quiet and deliberate, some people wondered how this short, compactly built and unassuming man was able to lead Wolf's Dragoons into a power unto itself. It was a testament not only of his battlefield prowess but to his leadership skills as well that the Dragoons had nearly been destroyed several times yet were not only able to survive every withering onslaught from their enemies, but also became stronger as a result.

  Just before the invasion of the Inner-Sphere was about to begin, the Clans proposed that the Wolves organize a scout unit that would pose as mercenaries in order to learn the strengths and weaknesses of the Successor States. Over sixty years ago, Wolf's Dragoons was born. Led by two freebirth brothers named Jaime and Joshua Wolf, the Dragoons expertly hid their Clan origins as they became the most celebrated mercenary unit in all of the Inner-Sphere. Alas, tragedy struck; Joshua was imprisoned and executed by the mad Anton Marik as the rebellion against his brother Janos began to falter. No one had ever saw Jaime grieve for his lost brother, he could not allow anyone to know his feelings.

  With the formation of a special unit called the Black Widows that were led by a young trueborn Clan warrior named Natasha Kerensky, Anton was finally killed and his rebellion ended. Jaime had later found out that Natasha and Joshua were more than just close friends; they had become lovers. Joshua's death shredded any remaining vestiges of mercy and humanity within the Black Widow and she became nothing more than a killing machine then.

  As the wars continued, the Dragoons were nearly destroyed by a unit that was modeled after them, the Ryuken regiments of House Kurita. The commander of that regiment, Minobu Tetsuhara, was a close friend of Jaime Wolf and he took the loss of Tetsuhara deeply. In a sense, Tetsuhara had become Jaime's surrogate brother, a sort of replacement for the loss of Joshua. When the Clans at last attempted to invade the Inner-Sphere, Jaime and his Dragoons fought on the side of the Successor States and were able to stop the Clans from succeeding. By then the Dragoons had become a power unto themselves; they had training and manufacturing facilities in their own independent world of Outreach.

  Jaime Wolf sat back on his padded chair, just a few minutes before he almost felt Joshua's hand on his shoulder. It was almost as if he would at last join his brother and they would once again sit back and talk about their many adventures when they were boys back in those halcyon days in Strana Mechty.

  But with the ghost of Joshua before him, he also thought of Natasha Kerensky. She was a feisty young warrior back then, extremely talented and dangerous. Would she have approved as to the way he was leading the Dragoons? He could nearly sense her presence in the room as well.

  The old wolf's hands trembled as he fought to restrain his tears. His age had finally caught up to him. He had survived where the others had died. Oh God, he needed them back, he was so alone now, an old man surrounded by his ghosts.

  A knock on his door brought Wolf's senses back to the real world.

  "Come in." Jaime's voice was but barely a whisper.

  A short, compact and raven-haired woman came through the door carrying a steaming cup of coffee. It was General Maeve Wolf. "I sensed that you were going to have a long night, Colonel. I brought some coffee to help push you through."

  "Thank you, General." Jaime smiled. "I am surprised to see you still here at this late hour. Did something come up?"

  As soon as Maeve placed the coffee cup on Jaime's mahogany table, she sat down on the guest chair and produced a noteputer. When Jaime's grandson Alpin staged a rebellion to overthrow the old wolf and return the Dragoons into the Clan fold, Maeve rapidly rose up the ranks as she led the loyalist forces within the Dragoons to victory after killing Alpin in single combat. She was now the undisputed successor to the leadership of the Dragoons. In some ways, Jaime felt that she made up for the loss of Natasha, if only for a fraction.

  "Just something minor but nevertheless, very curious." Maeve handed the noteputer over to Jaime.

  Jaime put on his reading glasses and stared at the contents. "Test scores of an eight year-old boy?"

  "Yes, but there is something more. This boy's test scores are off the chart, his name is Duncan McGavin and he has just begun mechwarrior training; I haven't seen scores like this in freeborn sibkin, only trueborns with exceptional talent ever get these scores. Even then, no trueborn in Clan history ever got test scores as high as this boy." Maeve explained.

  "So what we have is an anomaly then. Duncan McGavin- his name sounds familiar."

  "He is the grandson of Lloyd McGavin, the founder of House Kurita's Nightstalker regiments." Maeve answered.

  "Interesting. Keep me updated on the boy's status."

  "There is something else." Maeve adjusted the noteputer to scroll down to a picture taken a few weeks before. "We also spotted this on the surveillance photos of the boy when he was dropped off by his guardian after he was enrolled in our combat schools."

  Jaime looked at the picture carefully; it showed a young, red-haired woman as she dropped the boy off at the entrance of the school. The face seemed a bit blurred because of the angle that the photo was taken but the features were unmistakable. A sudden, intense pressure began to build in his heart again as Jaime fought to control himself.

  "Are you alright?" Maeve asked.

  Jaime's voice was hoarse, but he had at last achieved control. "I'm fine. If you wouldn't mind General, I would like to be alone for a minute."

  "As you wish, Colonel." Maeve said as she got up and left.

  The old wolf could not believe his eyes as he kept staring at the surveillance photo. His mind told him that it was impossible, that the woman could not be real. It must have been a coincidence, his reasoning explained. Perhaps someone with similar features and he was transposing a dead friend unto it thereby creating an illusion.

  But he knew. Deep in his heart he knew. It was none other than Natasha Kerensky. Tears began to well up in Jaime's eyes as he alternated between shock and denial. Whatever he was going to do now, he needed to know who that woman was. Whatever the cost.

  As Jaime Wolf pondered, he did not notice an invisible laser embed itself on the back of his head. The rangefinder beam emanated from the window across an adjacent building. The office building next door was being renovated and so therefore was populated only by construction crews during the daytime; since night had already fallen, Dragoon security personnel naturally thought that it was empty; they were wrong.

  The neighboring floor next door was in fact inhabited at the very time that Jaime Wolf was alone in his office. The surveillance team had been monitoring the situation carefully until the specialists arrived. Watchers had reported that the supreme leader of the Dragoons was now at his most vulnerable point and therefore the death team was now ready to begin their task.

  Joshua adjusted his position overlooking the Dragoons headquarters building; he was lying prone on a padded mattress and making minute adjustments on his scope. The laser rangefinder had returned the distance to target and he was now readying his 8mm Magnum bolt-action sniper rifle to fire. Although the windows of Wolf's office were reinforced to withstand small arms fire, several shaped charges of C4 plastic explosives had been placed by the support team while masquerading as a custodial crew on the frame of the windows the night before. With a flick of the detonator switch, Joshua's assistant would blow the windows outward, thereby giving the assassin a clear shot at the back of Wolf's head. The window of opportunity would only be a matter of a split-second but that was all the time Joshua needed, he was experienced in making this shot over half a dozen times already in previous operations. So far he had not missed a single one.

  Joshua keyed in his throat mike. "All teams report in."

  "Watcher team all clear."

  "Sweeper team all clear."

  As his assistant gave the thumbs-up sign from across the darkened room, Joshua keyed in his mike again. "At my command, prepare to execute."

  Joshua began to level his breathing in order to match the rhythm of his hand when he would pull the trigger while his assistant prepared to detonate the high-explosive charges. A tiny, circular hole was cut in the window of the abandoned office, just small enough for the sniper bullet to pass through. The team hoped that the resulting confusion in the seconds after the shot would create enough of a diversion for them to pull off their escape but one could never discount the element of chance.

  Just as he was about to give the go order, another voice boomed into Joshua's earpiece. "All teams, hold!"

  As Joshua peered over his shoulder anticipating that the team was caught in a compromised situation, he noticed a lithe man with shoulder-length white hair slip into the room and order the rest of his team to leave.

  Joshua gave a puzzled look as he set down the rifle and turned to face his superior. "Lord Meridian, what is the meaning of this? We were about to execute the operation."

  "Your mission has been aborted. The teams are about to be reassigned." Meridian smiled. Even in the darkness of the abandoned office, his white teeth were clearly visible.

  "But why?" Joshua whispered in the darkness. "We could have had Colonel Wolf."

  "New priorities from our Blakist employers. They have other plans for the Colonel and his Dragoons. I am to proceed to the Chainelaine Isles in the Deep Periphery, the Blakists apparently need some extra technical help on erinyes."

  "And what of my team?" Joshua asked.

  "Your team has been reassigned but you won't be accompanying them. Our leader has decreed a special mission for you."

  "And that being what?"

  "Why, terminate the Black Widow of course- with extreme prejudice." Meridian replied nonchalantly.

THE END