Lethal heritage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The slender Precentor from the Draconis Combine shrugged. "I have no way to judge this. My informants cannot or will not travel among the yakuza. We have been unable to gauge their strength, but unless the yakuza have a storehouse of weapons and munitions hidden away, their resistance cannot last. They will cause trouble, but they will never drive the invaders from Turtle Bay."

  All the Precentors turned to Myndo now that the reports seemed to be complete, but she was looking at Ulthan Everson, her old adversary. She smiled, as at some secret amusement. "Yes, Precentor Tharkad?"

  Fingers intertwined, Everson rested his hands on the podium. "I believe, Primus, that the Precentor Martial said Ulric expressed interest in our offer to share intelligence with the invaders. But have we abandoned our own mission of leading humanity back into the light? How does aiding a formidable, possibly non-human, invader in his conquests help us to achieve our own mission? These clan creatures wear civilization like an ill-fitting mask. Our message of spiritual prosperity can mean nothing to them. I do not see the logic in your offer to help them."

  "My old friend," Myndo said, and Everson reddened at her patronizing tone. "I believe this course of action is the most logical under the circumstances and does advance our cause."

  She smiled, as though in innocent wonder, which seemed to deepen his distress. "First, in exchange for military intelligence, the invaders will allow us to remain on their conquered worlds. We will be permitted to act as an interface between the populace and the invaders. In short, we will become a benevolent class of administrators able to restructure the worlds, including all governmental, and more important, educational systems to indoctrinate the people with our message. To wit, ComStar is the savior of all mankind and only through us can mankind rise again."

  She ticked off another point on one finger. "Second, we can direct the invaders at targets that we want destroyed for our own purposes. We can prompt the Smoke Jaguars to shatter Luthien and decapitate the Draconis Combine. We can turn them toward cold Tharkad to eliminate that half of the Steiner-Davion axis. With Thomas Marik sympathetic to our cause, we can keep the invaders away from his holding until they have spread themselves thinly enough to be defeated."

  Her voice dropped with the last point. "Third, and oh so final, giving the clans military intelligence means that they will become dependent upon us. We will become their eyes and ears, so that on the day we cut them off, they become blind and deaf. By that time, the Precentor Martial will have learned enough to enable him to defeat these hordes. And so all mankind will rejoice as ComStar rises up to destroy the alien invader."

  She smiled cruelly. "In short, ladies and gentlemen, the Clans and their invasion are a means to an end. I will use them and then discard them. Thereby, and in our own time, the dream of the Blessed Blake will come true."

  BOOK III

  Heart of the Beast

  19

  Edo, Turtle Bay

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  16 April 3050

  Shin Yodama clutched the threadbare blanket tightly to himself. The sewer's damp chill soaked up into him through the stone ledge where he sat. Moisture condensing on the tunnel ceiling dripped down with a dreadful monotony, but he tried to use it as a kind of mantra. Anything ... anything to take me away from this place.

  Two men grumbling next to him broke his concentration. "Why do we follow the Old Man if he is content to keep us down here like rats? These invaders are not a storm that will blow over. I do not think the Old Man has the will to fight them."

  "He may be content to die down here in the darkness," the other man said, "but I am not. I want to be staring up at the rings when I go."

  Both men fell instantly silent as someone splashed through the knee-deep stream and approached the forward guardpost. Shin drew his pistol, but kept it hidden by the folds of the blanket. The figure approaching through the gloom sped on, seeming unmindful that he was rushing into danger.

  As the man pulled parallel with his position, Shin eared back the hammer on the pistol. "Who goes there?" he demanded.

  The figure stiffened, his terror apparent. "Azushi Motochika," he gasped.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Shin asked, putting his pistol aside. "We were certain the Muen no Daineko got you."

  The man shook his head and confidence replaced the fear in his voice and silhouette. "No. The Smoke Jaguars did not get me, but I got them!" Motochika chortled with selfimportant glee. "Did you hear that explosion earlier?"

  Shin nodded. "We assumed it was the Cats trying to seal another of our ratholes."

  "No, one of the sewer rats struck back at the Cats. I planted a bomb at the Meibutsu club. It exploded and I think it got all of them. There were a dozen in there. I saw them go in. I counted them."

  The other two men whooped with joy and pounded Motochika on the back, but Shin just stared in disbelief. "What about the others in the club? What about our people in there?"

  Motochika hesitated, but another of the men answered for him. "What do they matter? They were collaborators. They deserve what they got."

  Shin launched himself from the ledge and pistol-whipped the speaker down into the sewage stream. "Idiot! They are our people! Without them and their support, we are nothing! We survive on their generosity because they believe we can drive the Smoke Jaguars away."

  Before the echoes of Shin's outburst could fade, the heavy thunder of a BattleMech marching overhead smothered the sound. The three other men cringed in terror, the wet one pressing a hand to the gash Shin's gun had opened on his cheek. Shin looked up, the Mech Warrior in him not letting him show fear. He pointed at Motochika.

  "You! Come with me. We're going up to see what the Cats are doing. You two stay here." Without further ado, Shin set off down the tunnel, then along a side passage running north. His course took him beneath the streets that the 'Mech trod above. When the 'Mech stopped, however, Shin continued on until he came to a set of rusty iron rungs set into the wall. He let Motochika catch up with him, then pointed up. "This leads to an abandoned building that should be just up the street from where they're standing. You go first."

  Motochika mounted the rungs enthusiastically at first, but slowed as he reached the surface. He timidly pushed the trap door open, then crouched at the edge before waving Shin on up. Shin, who had waited in the shadows below the surface light's reach, joined the yakuza bomber and crept across the room to a broken window that looked out onto the street.

  It was warmer up here, but Shin felt colder than ever at the sight of the BattleMech he had tagged Daishi—Great Death. It was surrounded by five armored warriors like the one he had been lucky enough to kill in the field two weeks earlier. Each had a boxy missile launcher on his back, clamped firmly to the assembly Shin believed to be a power pack for the armor and its weapons. Instead of relying only on their right-hand lasers, the infantry carried heavy rifles, too. The yakuza MechWarrior noticed how the rifle's trigger-guard assembly fit neatly over the laser muzzle, probably to somehow amplify the laser's energy.

  The Daishi 'Mech towered above all but the tallest building in this slummy burakumin section of Edo. Though its legs and torso might have belonged to a humanoid model, the LRM launcher on its left shoulder looked like a multieyed auxiliary head and its arms were little more than bundles of gun-barrels. Shin recognized the weapons as large lasers, small autocannon, and medium lasers, with three more medium laser ports dotting the front of the 'Mech's chest.

  One of the armored warriors stepped forward. "People of Uramachi precinct, we have traced a criminal to this place. He committed the most wasteful and careless act of planting a bomb in a place where civilian and military personnel were present. The explosion caused great loss of life—both to our people and to yours. This will not continue."

  The infantryman pointed to the hovel nearest the Daishi. "If the individual responsible is not turned over to us in the next two minutes, everyone in this house will die."

  Shin cuffed
Motochika roughly. "Fool, see what you have done?"

  The younger man looked at Shin as though the Mech Warrior were mad. "You don't expect me to go out there, do you? I struck a blow for our freedom. They're bluffing. They won't destroy that house."

  Shin stared hard at the man beside him. "You best hope they don't. If they do, and if you refuse to turn yourself over, I'll shoot you myself and dump your body in the street."

  As the deadline neared, faces appeared in the windows and doorways of the street, including the house designated for destruction. The Smoke Jaguar infantryman bowed in the direction of the street, then turned toward the dwelling. At the same time, the Daishi swung its elbows back and locked its weapons down on the wood-scrap and tar-paper hovel.

  Motochika turned away, but Shin grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look out the window. "Watch!"

  At the large laser's hellish touch, the hovel exploded into an instant bonfire. Crackling flames appeared from everywhere at once, rising above the DaishTs head, then dropping down again as a hail of autocannon slugs flattened the building. A woman, her hair and clothing aflame, dashed screaming from the door, but one burst of laser bolts from the invader infantryman silenced her cries forever.

  The acrid scent of singed hair and burning flesh made Motochika tear away from Shin's grasp and vomit in the corner. Shin ignored him as the Daishi stepped forward and snuffed the flames beneath its flat metal feet. The infantry spokesman again addressed the street.

  "People of Uramachi precinct, we have traced a criminal to this place. He committed the most wasteful and careless act of planting a bomb in a place where civilian and military personnel were present. The explosion caused great loss of life—both to our people and yours. This will not continue."

  The soldier pointed to the next hovel. "If the individual responsible is not turned over to us in the next two minutes, everyone in this house will die."

  Shin's mouth went sour. "The same words, Motochika, and the same gestures. Are you going to take responsibility for your actions, or are you going to let more people die?"

  Motochika, still holding himself on hands and knees, looked weakly over his shoulder at the Kuroi Kiri MechWarrior. "No one else has dared to strike at them as I have. The Old Man authorized expeditions to steal weapons and supplies from them, but we have never hurt them. While he has been content with thievery, they have been kidnapping our people. If I am the only man with true courage, I cannot allow myself to be sacrificed because no one else will actually fight these invaders!"

  Shin fought to control the fury Motochika's words aroused. "What courage does it take to plant a bomb and kill innocents as well as the guilty? You are nothing more than a common murderer! And how is it you claim courage when you huddle here like a whipped cur? There must be more than courage. There must be intelligence and honor in your actions. You are a child striking out blindly, then expecting others to take responsibility for your mistakes."

  A bright spark of orange caught Shin's eye from the street, and almost instantly he knew what would happen. He leaned over and grabbed Motochika by the collar of his leather jacket. "This is courage. Watch and learn."

  A bald-headed, saffron-robed Buddhist monk walked down the rubble-strewn street toward the Smoke Jaguars. He held his hands pressed together just below his chin and bowed to the lead infantryman. "You will forgive me for not appearing sooner. I had sought to deny my fate. I planted the bomb you described. You need punish no one else."

  Without hesitation or remorse, the infantryman swung his laser rifle around and triggered it. The bolts stitched their way up the monk's body and knocked him flying. He finally rolled to a stop, smoke rising from the black crater where his face should have been.

  The Smoke Jaguars then turned and walked away as though nothing untoward had happened. Shin released Motochika, letting him slump against the window casement, then crept across the floor to the trapdoor. "Were I like you, Motochika, I would shoot you. But it is not my place to challenge the Old Man's authority. I am going to him now to ask for his judgement. If you are the man you claim to be, then follow me."

  ***

  Deep beneath the streets of Edo, the Old Man held court in a dusty, dimly lit room. Though small and skeletally frail, he was still possessed of great power. He stared mercilessly at Motochika's kneeling form, then lifted his gaze up enough to include the entire audience in his displeasure. From his position off to the side, Shin felt insulated from the Old Man's ire, but embarrassment and shame radiated from the other yakuza in the room.

  "So, Motochika Azushi," the Old Man spat out, "you presume to know what is best for us in this war against the Smoke Jaguars? You have had a revelation that gives you wisdom beyond your years? You have fathomed my thinking and believe you know the perfect strategy? You have decided that I am a doddering old fool who knows nothing? And this prompts you to plant a bomb that kills more of our people than it does of the enemy, and then you allow a blameless monk to pay for your action? Have you less pride than you have brains?"

  The Old Man drew a knife from the sleeve of his black silk kimono and tossed it to the kneeling hoodlum. "Use this."

  Motochika looked up, horror clawing lines of terror in his face. "Hara-kiri ? "

  The Old Man shook his head scornfully. "If I had wanted you to slit your belly, I would have scraped the knife dull against the stones and then given it to you. No. Prove to me your remorse."

  Motochika took up the knife in his right hand. All the fingers of his left hand he curled into a fist except for his littlest finger. He pressed that hand to the stone floor, then laid the blade's razored edge against the top joint. He looked up before proceeding.

  The Old Man's eyes narrowed. "You caused the death of blameless people."

  Motochika moved the knife down to the second joint. Keeping his head up, he sliced the blade through his own flesh, then brought his fist over, snapping off the severed part of his finger. Shin felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach while some of the other wartime yakuza recruits reeled away, but Motochika made no sound. He hugged his maimed hand to his chest, then offered the severed joints and the bloody knife to the Old Man. "Excuse me, oyabun. I will not fail you again."

  The Old Man nodded, then looked up at the others. "Many of you assumed I would do nothing to hurt the Smoke Jaguars, but you are wrong. I have had another, greater concern and I have been long in deciding how to acquit it." He glanced at Shin. "As you know from our compatriot, Yodama, Hohiro Kurita was lost in the fighting, but we have seen no proof of his death. This is because he is not dead. The Smoke Cats have him in their prison. We will get him out and return him to the Coordinator."

  Someone in the crowd gasped aloud. "But that is impossible. They are holding their prisoners in Kurushiiyama. No one ever escaped from there when the ISF controlled it, and the Cats have only increased security. We will die in the attempt."

  Shin saw many others nod in agreement. That prison— Kurushiiyama—is a legend even on Marfik. It is aptly named Pain Mountain. After what I have seen in fighting the Cats, if they want to keep people in, it's not likely we can get them out. Still, Shin was not inclined to bet against the Old Man.

  "Why am I surrounded by children?" the Old Man asked in disgust. "Do you not remember any of the stories? Kurushiiyama surrendered a prisoner once before. Its walls have yielded in the past, and will yield again. We will see to it."

  A tall man crouching just behind Motochika shook his head. "The story of that escape is an old-wives' tale. The prisoner was gut-shot. He may have escaped the walls of the prison, but he died in its shadow and the Sawagashii River carried him away."

  Pity and scorn playing over his face, the Old Man unknotted the obi on his kimono and fully bared the left side of his chest He pointed to the bullet wound scar that obliterated part of the dragon tattooed across his chest and abdomen. "This is where they shot me as I was clearing the last wall."

  He let the rest of his kimono fail away, revealing the
tattoo on the right side of his body. Like a grand mural running from shoulder to waist, the multi-colored tattoo depicted the story of a young man's journey from captivity to freedom. At his shoulder, the saga's hero escaped the confines of a dark, lightning-struck mountain. At the foot of the mountain, he fought and killed two demons, though one managed to stab him in the belly with a fiery spear. Finally, blood leaking from the wound, the hero swam a river and took refuge in a seasonally dry storm tunnel until he could regain enough strength to leave the sewers.

  "You see, my friends, it is possible to beat Kurushiiyama. The route I used to escape had been deemed the secondary one because we saved the first and best for a mass escape. Our first duty is to the Dragon, and saving Hohiro will acquit it perfectly. After that," the old man smiled cruelly, "the Cats will be ours to play with."

  20

  Avalon City , New Avalon

  Cruris March, Federated Suns

  30 April 3050

  Prince Hanse Davion leaned forward across the briefing table and stared at the holographic map of the Lyran Commonwealth. He reached over, took his wife's left hand in his right and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you certain four more worlds are under assault? They only hit the first dozen two weeks ago! Is it possible?"

  Justin Allard, standing halfway down the table, nodded slowly. "It looks as though the troops that conquer the worlds are not the same ones used to garrison the worlds. Once the populace is disarmed, the invaders are most willing to work with local authorities to maintain order. This frees up the shock troops to move on to hit forward targets."

  Melissa Steiner Davion studied the map. "If their first wave took twelve worlds so easily, why did they only attack four in this wave?"

  "That, Archon, is a question I cannot answer." Justin nodded to Alex Mallory, the tall, slender man seated at a data terminal opposite him. Alex hit a number of keys, and the map dissolved in favor of some grainy images of bizarre 'Mechs engaging in combat. The picture zoomed in on the green falcon crest on one 'Mech's chest. As soon as that pictare stabilized, another crest—a wolf's-head—appeared beside it.