"It is as Tai-sa Tojiro says," nodded Tai-sa Kwi-Nam. "We had the Clans where we wanted them, but how could we issue orders while arguing with Hohiro? His distraction jeopardized not only our operation, but it tore Techs away from the radar screens that would have told us the Clan Elementals were nearby. Your grandson and him"—Kwi-Nam thrust a finger at Shin—"have cost our troops their general staff."
"We would not have evacuated the world except that your grandson arrested us and left us in the charge of this bandit."
Tojiro spat at Shin. "We ordered, we demanded to be returned to our command, but we were brought here."
Takashi Kurita, looking serene and lethal, leaned back in his chair. Clad in a green and black silk kimono, he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. He interlaced his fingers and peered over them at Shin Yodama. "Sho-sa Yodama, these are grave charges against you. Did you and my grandson interfere with the conduct of these officers as they sought to prosecute their war?"
Shin growled in a low voice. "We tolerated incompetence until we could no longer stand seeing faithful soldiers being slain by their own leaders. These men have studied none of the tactical planning reports. They fought in the old style, and fought badly in it at that."
"Quiet, fool!" hissed Tojiro. "Do not imagine you can elevate yourself beyond your station. The Coordinator knows better. He knows the sort of filth you are."
A door slid open behind Takashi's chair. A tall, slender man entered the room with a fluid gait Shin recognized in-standy. As the dim light bled color into his features and blue rob, Theodore Kurita regarded Tojiro like a curiosity. "And if I claim Shin Yodama is vital to our war effort, to the new way of defeating the Clans, what would you say, Tai-sa Tojiro?"
"I would say you are a fool." The small officer turned to the Coordinator. "We know better than to imagine the old way has been swept aside, Lord Takashi. We appeal to you, to your justice. We have been wronged and we demand your judgement." Tojiro glanced at Shin. "We need an example to show the reality of the Combine."
Takashi Kurita looked toward his son. "He is a warrior in your command."
"But we all serve the Dragon." Theodore bowed to his father and Shin followed his example.
"Very well." Takashi nodded slowly at the two officers. "You are correct. The old ways have not been totally swept away. We still demand respect for authority. You know this?"
"Hai, Kurita Takashi-sama."
"Then you know what must be done." Takashi waved them away. "You may use the garden."
Tojiro blinked twice. "Sumimasen, Kurita-sama. Forgive me. We may use the garden for what?"
"For slitting your bellies, you treacherous dogs!" Takashi stood abruptly and both men cringed. "You claim to be my servants. You claim to follow me, yet you ignore everything the man I have placed in charge of my armies has told you to do! You place your honor above the life of the Combine!"
"No, my Lord, you have been deceived." Kwi-Nam dropped to his knees and bowed deeply. "Your son and his yakuza compatriots insulate you from reality!"
"Iie!" Takashi roared as he kicked Kwi-Nam aside. "Do not whimper, do not whine. You have certainly cost the Combine the world of Teniente, and you quite possibly have cost me the life of my grandson. Be glad I allow you to take your own lives. Be gone from my sight so I can try to remember when you were still men."
The two officers scurried from the briefing room, leaving Takashi, Theodore, and Shin alone around the holographic projection table in the center of the room. The Coordinator caught the yakuza's eye. "I admire the restraint it must have taken to endure a month aboard a DropShip with those traitors."
"I was sedated for the first part of the trip." Shin unconsciously rubbed his ribs with his right hand. "And when I was not, I made certain they were."
Theodore leaned forward heavily on the table. "The latest from Teniente is that Hohiro is alive. He has combined the Third Pesht Regulars and the Eleventh Pesht Regulars into one unit. They have supplies, but have gone to ground. They are gathering intelligence for a possible strike later, but the prognosis for their survival is poor."
Shin swallowed hard, his premonition of never seeing Hohiro again working its way in icy steps up his spine. "Hohiro asked for a regiment and a half to help relieve his position. With those troops, he thinks he can drive the Nova Cats from Teniente."
The Warlord of the Draconis Combine shook his head. "He might have thought he could defeat them at the time you left, but it is no longer possible at this point. The units took too much damage while Hohiro consolidated his command."
"But that sort of force should be sufficient to get him off the planet." Shin took a deep breath. "My ribs are healed. Assign me to a relief unit and we will get Hohiro out of there. We may lose Teniente, but we can pull the troops out."
Again Theodore shook his head. "There can be no relief for Teniente."
The Coordinator stiffened. "What do you mean? It is your son we're talking about."
"I know that."
"You must save him."
"How, Father?" Theodore dropped into a chair at his side of the table and punched out a request for data on the keyboard located below the rim. A map of the Combine and the Free Rasalhague Republic flashed to life, though fully a quarter of the worlds it displayed lay in Clan occupation zones. "I have the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats in position to hit fifteen different worlds. The Ghost Bears are ripping their way back down through the Rasalhague holdings, which exposes more of our flank to possible attacks. Just because they have not crossed the line between their apparent advance zone and that of the Smoke Jaguars does not mean they will not do so."
"You posit hypotheticals, Theodore, when it is your son who is in jeopardy." Takashi swiped a hand through the holographic map. "Hohiro is your heir. Ragnar Magnusson has already been lost to the Wolves. I would not have my grandson a captive of the Clans."
"He has been their captive before."
"And because of Yodama here, he was freed." The Coordinator hammered the table with his fist. "Give Yodama troops and let him go."
"What troops?" Theodore stood abruptly, his teeth clenched to hold back his anger. "Who, Father, who do I send? Can I send your Dragon's Claws? You and they fought valiantly in the defense of Luthien, but you were as shattered as every other unit that protected our homeworld. Wolf's Dragoons and the Kell Hounds have left to lick their wounds, but it will be two or three more months before they'll be back to operational strength."
"There are other units."
Theodore sighed heavily. "Yes, Father, there are other units, but they are protecting other worlds. Were Hohiro not on Teniente, we would not be having this conversation."
"But he is, so we are." The Coordinator sat down in his chair and stared broodingly at the map. "There must be a way."
"If there is, Father, it is beyond my ken to find it."
Omi Kurita's light, feminine cough spun Shin around to see her enter through the doorway behind him. The slender woman shuffled forward, keeping her gait politely modest. Her white silk robe rustled as she moved, and Shin smelled jasmine as she drew to his side. "Father, Grandfather, I must ask: if it were possible for a friend of mine who had a brother trapped by the Clans to obtain the troops necessary to rescue him, would they be used for that purpose?"
The Coordinator nodded sharply. "Hai!"
Theodore watched his daughter with hooded eyes. "Perhaps."
Omi's face remained an impassive mask. "You would not allow her to save her own brother?"
The Kanrei sat down slowly, resting his elbows on the briefing table. He steepled his fingers and watched Omi with restless blue eyes. "Omiko, I have already devoted more time to your question than I would allow anyone else asking such things. Still, I am on the horns of a dilemma. If I give your friend this leeway, what do I do if these troops she has obtained later become needed to defend a more important target?"
"Keep your word to her, Father."
Theodore shook his head gravely. "This is not som
e coy game to play, Omi. This is not the same as you asking to move a pawn for me while I play chess against your brother. You must know that if your friend were able to raise those troops, they would be vital to the defense of the Combine. We could not spare them."
Omi's eyes became sapphire slits. "Then, Father, what if she obtained them from outside the Combine?"
Shin felt his stomach tighten as Theodore recoiled from her question. In an instant, Shin knew her source for military support. As much as he wanted Hohiro safe, her suggestion struck him as treasonous. That Theodore had covered himself as well as he had surprised Shin.
The Warlord leaned back in his chair. "Your friend has grown up, hasn't she, Omiko? She plays at adult games."
"As her father often reminds her, this is not a game. If she were able to get a regiment of troops, would she be allowed to send them to rescue Hohiro?" Omi's composure began to crack and Shin saw a nervous tremor of her lower lip.
Her father watched her face, then nodded. As she reined in a blossoming smile, Theodore raised a hand. "However, daughter, your friend must understand that adult games do not always allow for total victories. Yes, if she musters troops, they may be sent to rescue Hohiro. I will even assign Sho-sa Yodama as her liaison officer. My offer is not without conditions, though, and she will have to agree to my terms before I allow her to proceed."
Omi glanced down at the floor. "As you would have it, Father."
"My condition is this, and it is one she may choose not to accept: From this point forward, she will no longer communicate with Victor Davion."
Except for the way Omi caught her breath, Shin would not have been sure she had even heard Theodore's words. She continued to look down and delicately wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "She will, out of love for her brother and the Combine, accept your condition as long as your ban only goes into effect after one last message."
"Hai, Omiko, hai!" Theodore nodded solemnly. "Go. Let her compose her final message. Sho-sa Yodama will act as her messenger."
Bowing to her father and grandfather, Omi retreated from the chamber, leaving all three men to consider her courage and sacrifice. Inwardly, Shin was jubilant, for the first time daring to hope that Hohiro might be saved. He knew what Omi had done required courage, both in making the offer, then agreeing to abide by her father's terms. When his sister becomes the Keeper of the Family Honor, Hohiro may wish he had stayed on Teniente.
Theodore looked at his father and saw the smile half-hidden behind the older man's hands. "You have something to say, Father?"
The Coordinator shook his head. "She is very much your daughter, Theodore." His grin broadened, but he respectfully refrained from laughing aloud as he added, "Now you will discover, as I have, that in fighting with your children, you win only the battles, never the war."
13
DropShip Dire Wolf, On-station, Alurial Continent
Hyperion, Wolf Clan Occupation Zone
25 February 3052
Phelan Wolf clasped his hands behind his back as the door to the ilKhan's ready room slid shut behind him. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
The ilKhan looked up from his desk and gave the Mech-Warrior a smile. "Punctual as always." He tapped the screen of the monitor on his desk. "Natasha was rather specific about your timing in her report. She says that if your unit had not moved so quickly, Simmons Dam would have been blown and the resulting flood would have wiped out the Guards."
"I think Natasha overstates matters a bit. Carew and his wingman pretty much had the Rasalhague commandos pinned down. We finished them, then engaged that lost militia lance: Though they might have been able to trigger the explosives already planted, they all live in the area and would have wiped out their own homes. I have spent more time chasing stragglers through the Teeganito Astako breaks."
Smiling only with his eyes, the ilKhan leaned back and watched Phelan. "How apt it is that you are battling for that particular Ward Bloodname. You suit its pedigree quite well."
Phelan frowned. "I do not understand." The fact that Cyrilla had taken her own life to give him a slot in a Blood-name contest still made his heart ache.
Ulric rose from his chair and waved Phelan to a campaign chair in a conversation alcove to the right of his desk. "As well you know, Bloodnames are limited to the surnames of the loyal warriors who fought with Nicholas Kerensky to end the barbarism that tore our people apart. When Nicholas reformed our society into the Clans, he outlawed all surnames with the exception of Bloodnames. He decreed that only twenty-five individuals would be given the honor of possessing any one Bloodname. From the first, the competition for Bloodnames was fierce."
"I have seen that." Phelan shook his head. "Warriors have been killed in this contest already."
"And more will die for the honor." Ulric's face hardened. "Each of the twenty-five Bloodnames for each House has its own pedigree. A particular name is known for the deeds of those who have worn it before. It is not unlike 'Mechs being handed down from father to son within the Successor States."
The ilKhan leaned forward. "Take, for example, the Kerensky name I am honored to wear. Bloodnames have existed among the Clans for just under 300 years, yet only twelve individuals have ever worn this name."
Phelan half-shut his eyes as he mentally did some quick math. "That means each of them averaged twenty-five years with that name, and Cyrilla said you have had it for the last fifteen years."
Ulric nodded. "And you know that Natasha won her Bloodname at age twenty-two—the youngest person ever to win a Bloodname. I won mine at the age of thirty. You see the significance, quiaff?"
"Aff. Within the Clans a warrior is considered old by the age at which you won your Bloodname. Even if I assume you were late in winning your Bloodname and that the others who had this one managed to win it at twenty-five years, the average puts them over fifty years, which is remarkable."
The ilKhan nodded. "In truth—and I mention this not as a boast—I could have participated in Bloodname contests when I was younger, but I declined until this specific name became available. I wanted it because of those who had worn it and the deeds they had performed."
"I don't understand. You turned down the honor of the Bloodname just to wait for a particular one?"
"Of course." Ulric chuckled mildly. "Why would I want a Bloodname that dozens of Warriors had worn? Yes, it is still a Bloodname, but its pedigree is less than desirable."
The younger MechWarrior nodded. "If the best Warriors hold themselves back for the better names, less fit Warriors will battle for the poorer ones. They perpetuate the cycle." He smiled slowly. "I can also see a case where someone with a poor Bloodname might attempt risky things to bring prestige to his Bloodname, but thereby put himself at risk."
"Again, you are well suited to your Bloodname. Like Cyrilla and the others who have borne it, you are capable of insight and remain realistic about your own abilities and accomplishments. This Bloodname for which you battle is one of the most valued within the Clans."
"I imagine the invasion is improving the pedigrees of a number of Bloodnames." Phelan smiled as he tried to imagine what the pedigree of Natasha's Bloodname would be.
The ilKhan shrugged. "It has enhanced some and destroyed others. One of House Malthus' Bloodnames was disgraced on Twycross. The leader of the Falcon Guards led his troops into an ambush and they were destroyed. While we were on Strana Mechty, they conducted a contest for the name, but no MechWarriors would touch it, so it went to an Elemental."
The disgust in Ulric's voice made it clear that he considered the commander's stupidity second only to that of someone actually entering a contest for that Bloodname. "I do not imagine you brought me here to discuss Bloodnames. How may I be of service?"
"I want you to help solve the ComStar enigma."
"ComStar enigma?" Phelan frowned as Ulric rose from his chair and began to pace. "Last I heard, ComStar was negotiating the return of Terra to us. We know it is a delaying tactic, but to what end?"
; "Exactly." Ulric stopped and looked out the porthole at the Wolf Clan armada. "We have participated in the negotiations and we have allowed ComStar to continue to administer our worlds to make them believe we are lulled into complacency."
"But ComStar must know you do not fully trust them, quiaff?"
"Aff."
Phelan frowned. "Then is it wise to let them continue administering our captured worlds?"
The ilKhan nodded almost absentmindedly. "Quite. If nothing else, it creates a drain on their resources. Were they to rise up in revolt, what would it get them? We can return to any world they attempt to take, and if they manage to defeat our garrison troops, we put them down again."
Ulric turned and narrowed his eyes. "No, we have to assume they are delaying until they can organize a military response to the threat we pose. What are ComStar's chances of forging an alliance between the various Houses of the Successor States?"
Phelan fought to choke off a laugh. "Ah, I think they are very slim."
Ulric let a low chuckle rumble from his chest. "That answer is the same given by Natasha and her archivist. In this, all three of my advisors who know the Inner Sphere agree. This means, then, that ComStar will attempt to oppose us themselves. What do you know of their military?"
Phelan looked down at his boots and concentrated. He remembered bits and pieces of conversations overheard as a child, but could dredge up nothing definitive. "ComStar has its Com Guards. I think I have seen estimates that put their strength at somewhere between forty and fifty 'Mech regiments, but those estimates are highly unreliable. Most of their troops are stationed in lance- or company-sized units protecting various facilities. ComStar has, in the past, used mercenaries heavily to protect their centers, adopting them and fixing up their 'Mechs for them. Of course, the Com Guards have infantry, aerospace, and vehicular support."
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