So things stood when Lord Kurita and Jaime Wolf arrived, talking easily to one another as though they were fellow officers. Without a word, each took in the tension at the factory complex.
“What's the problem here?” Wolf inquired of Yukinov. The Major's explanation was brief and to the point, omitting nothing relevant.
“If it is military data, we are obliged to turn it over to the Combine,” Wolf concluded. He turned to Takashi Kurita. “Is it so classified, Lord Kurita?”
The two men searched one another's eyes, cold blue meeting steel gray. Minobu could almost see their ki strengths thrust and parry in the space between them. This had become a test of wills and of loyalties. A long time later—a mere heartbeat—Takashi Kurita replied, “It is.”
“So be it, Major Yukinov. See that House Kurita receives all the property due them.”
“Well said, Colonel,” remarked Lord Kurita with a smile.
“I am sure your underlings were merely being over-zealous. I myself often have to deal with such enthusiastic supporters.” He placed his hand on Wolf's shoulder, turning him toward the door. As the Coordinator walked the mercenary Colonel from the vault, he lowered the pitch of his voice and spoke more loudly. Minobu had no doubt that Lord Kurita wished all present to hear his words.
“There is no problem, friend Colonel. I take no notice of anything out of the ordinary. It will be as though nothing had happened.”
At the vault's great double doors, a courier met the pair of leaders. He handed a message to Lord Kurita, who read it quickly and stuffed the flimsy into a pocket in his uniform.
“I am afraid I must leave, Colonel. Duties of state call me back to Luthien.” It was not long before the Coordinator had gathered together his officers and left to prepare for his journey. Work in the factory continued as before, while Bynfield approached the group of Dragoon officers.
“Malfing samurai,” she said, spitting onto the concrete.
“Military data, my left cheek. This stuff is pure Tech stuff. Unity! Half of it is just theoretical. At least they didn't get all of it.”
Wolf rounded on her, his carriage stiff. “What do you mean?”
She held up a tape cartridge.
“This. It's good stuff, too. Axial flux patterns in fusion containment bottles, myomer stress reaction patterning.” She went on, becoming more and more intricate in detail. Lost in her technical world, the Tech didn't notice that Wolf just stood there watching her, his face hard.
“Bynfield, you're confined to quarters until further notice.”
“What!” She was shocked. It was clearly not what she had expected.
“You have jeopardized our position by disobeying orders. We agreed to pass that data over. All by yourself, you've broken our contract.”
Bynfield's mouth worked, but no wound came out.
“Can't we just turn it over now?” somebody else asked.
Wolf turned on him. “You haven't been studying your briefings. We're stuck. If anybody finds out about that tape, we're in trouble. I lose face for not having control over my troops.” His glance clearly indicated the “troops” in question. “Kurita loses face because he was generous in overlooking our little scene. Nobody wins.
“Kurita might decide we can't be trusted with anything. Then where are we? We sit out a five-year contract on garrison in the hinterlands. No combat bonuses. No loot shares. You all know that we can't afford that because the short contract with Steiner left us strapped.
“Besides, we have our reputation to consider. We're supposed to be the best, most reliable mercs in the Sphere. We break contract now and we start the slide down.”
Into the silence that greeted Wolf's words, Minobu heard someone suggest, “We could pack up and head for home.”
Wolf addressed his answer to all the Dragoons. “That's not an option right now.”
The silence fell again. After a moment, Wolf turned to Bynfield. “Bury it deep, Talia. For five years, it doesn't exist.”
Minobu could see her face reflect an inner struggle. An order to hide knowledge was obviously unpalatable to her. “Yes, Colonel,” she said finally.
As the impromptu meeting broke up, Wolf noticed Minobu watching and his eyes widened briefly in surprise. In those eyes, Minobu could see that the mercenary Colonel had forgotten the Kuritan's presence, and that meant he had spoken freely. The mercenary's speech had not been a staged performance. Minobu made Wolf a slight bow, and Wolf nodded before heading out of the vault.
Minobu pondered the incident. Wolf's command of Combine custom was correct, and his solution was as elegant as one could hope from a man who was not samurai. No one would expect Wolf or his people to commit seppuku over this conflict. Yet Wolf showed a genuine concern for loss of face, especially before Lord Kurita. Was it possible that a mercenary could be a truly honorable man?
In the few days Minobu had spent with Wolf's Dragoons, he had learned that many things were not as he had believed them to be. His stay with the Dragoons was going to be interesting, he decided. Very interesting.
* * *
Lord Kurita still found time to make a proper exit from Quentin IV. He bid formal farewell to the officers of the Dragoons whom he had met during his stay. He even found a word of praise for the exemplary work Senior Tech Bynfield had done in organizing the stripping of the Independence Weaponry complex. Before he boarded his DropShip, he stopped to speak to Minobu.
“You look much better now that you are back in uniform, Chu-sa Tetsuhara.”
Minobu bowed, unsure if he should respond. “Wolf's Dragoons could be a lasting benefit for the Combine. I expect good service from them.” Lord Kurita paused briefly, looking over the honor guard of Dragoon BattleMechs that had assembled for his departure. “Although a dutiful samurai should not expect it, a lord rewards good service.”
“Hai, Tono,” Minobu replied in response to the ancient proverb. He had heard that the Coordinator liked to couch his orders in such proverbs or in poems. He wondered if there were some special message in Lord Kurita's words or if his lord were merely stating a general principle.
Takashi Kurita turned then, indicating his intention to leave. Minobu bowed and immediately felt the heavy weight of the Coordinator's gaze on his back as he held the bow. All doubt about whether his lord had intended some special meaning vanished with Kurita's next words.
“Be a dutiful samurai, Chu-sa Tetsuhara.”
“Hai, Tono.”
Takashi Kurita boarded the DropShip that would take him to his JumpShip. Before long, he would be back home in his Imperial City on Luthien.
13
Hoshon Mansion, Cerant, An Ting
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
9 November 3024
The arrow thudded home two fingersbreadths from the previous shaft, completing the practice pattern on the fifth target. Minobu shifted his attention to the sixth target and selected another arrow. Fitting it to the string, he raised the bow above his head. He paused for an instant, then lowered the bow, bringing the arrow to full draw at the same time. He waited for the moment when archer, arrow, and target became one. He waited and ... “Husband!”
... the moment came—he released the arrow, letting it fly smoothly to its mark at the center of the target.
Now he could deal with Tomiko's interruption.
Minobu unstrung and racked the bow, then closed the cover to protect it and its fellows from An Ting's chill morning air. He turned to the house, shrugging his kimono on to his bare shoulders. In the doorway, his wife stood shivering in her robe.
When he stepped inside, she closed the panel behind him and reached to put her arms around his neck. “You are so cold, husband. Could you not practice your kyudo indoors?”
“If I did, I would have no need for you to warm me afterward,” he said, gathering Tomiko in his arms. Minobu found her lips while his hand reached for the tie that secured her raven hair at the nape of her neck. As he pulled her down to their futon, her h
air fell free, bringing a new night sky to shroud their privacy.
She pulled back from his embrace. “Your aide, Captain Noketsuna, called. There is someone to see you.”
“Things are peaceful on the border.” He slid his hand down her neck, past the edge of her robe, and caressed her breast. “Let them wait.”
“He seemed concerned,” she persisted, though her voice was husky with the thrill of pleasure.
“Pity the poor samurai whose wife is more devoted to his duty than to him.”
She smiled teasingly as she poked him and slid free of his clasp. He returned her grin.
“If it is peaceful, there will be other times,” she said.
“Other times, eh? All right, I will be off to my duty.” A hint of mischief crept into his voice. “But I shall condone no complaints from my wife when I visit the pleasure quarter because she has no interest in me.”
He dodged the pillow whose fine cedarcine wood would have raised a serious bruise. It tumbled past him to strike harmlessly on the floor. When she did not join in his laughter, he saw that her face was serious.
“It is something to do with those awful Dragoons, isn't it?” Her words were more a statement than a question. “They will be your misfortune.”
“Most likely it is the Dragoons, but you should not speak of them so. Ever since I was assigned to them over a year and a half ago, they have been our good fortune. As their liaison, I have been assigned this fine home, where we live in comfort. Our son Ito has been accepted for the spring term at Sun Zhang Academy. Could you ask for a surer sign of favor? It will guarantee him a post as a ‘MechWarrior.”
She sighed, unconvinced. “Sometimes it seems like an illusion. I worry so. You spend so much time with those ... mercenaries.”
Tomiko uttered the word with such distaste. Minobu wondered if his own voice had revealed the same scorn when he had learned of this assignment. If so, the scorn was gone now. He had learned much in his posting to the Dragoons.
“I spend time with them because it is my duty.”
“You needn't spend your free time with that Jaime Wolf.”
“No, I need not.” It was the old argument again. “That, at least, is by choice. Jaime is more than an ordinary mercenary soldier. He is many things, but foremost, he is a man of honor. Besides, does not the Coordinator encourage us to enlighten promising souls to the superiority of the Dragon? I am but doing my part.”
She turned her back to him, signaling the end of the argument in a manner he knew too well.
He finished dressing without another word from her. When he was ready, Minobu looked again at his wife, who had not moved. He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped through to the corridor. “I will be in the office,” he said, closing the panel.
The walk through the private quarters of Hoshon Mansion was short, but the dark wood accents and the finely made shoji panels created a sense of peace that settled his nerves. This house, with its simple, traditional furnishings, often had that effect on him.
Minobu entered his office by the inner door. In the outer room, he could hear the strident tones of Natasha Kerensky berating his aide. Poor Michi Noketsuna! The young Tai-i was too new at his job to have to deal with the fiery Captain Kerensky at this early an hour. Minobu sat at his desk and pressed the stud that would illuminate a telltale on Noketsuna's desk letting him know that Minobu was present.
Noketsuna must have been waiting for that signal. Almost immediately, he shifted his pleas for calmness on Captain Kerensky's part to specific requests that she sit down so that he could take care of some business in the inner office. She gave him no chance. “Oh no you don't, you little Japanese stonewall. I saw that light. I'm going in with you.”
She was as good as her word.
Michi Noketsuna reached the desk first. Minobu's practiced eye saw that he was upset, but the young Captain managed to maintain his decorum. Not a strand of black hair was out of place. Michi's skin was darker than typical for most Kuritans of Japanese ancestry, and Minobu suspected that his coloring probably concealed any flush of embarrassment at the garb of their visitor.
As usual, Natasha Kerensky was dressed provocatively. Whether it was the silver cord with dangling onyx wolf's-head that tied back her dark red curls or the highly glossed boots of speckled shant leather, each garment she wore accentuated her renowned beauty. A custom-built Marakov slug-thrower was slung low on her hip, and the flash of light on the gun's ivory grips drew attention to the sway of her hips. The weapon added a menacing accent to her carefully cultivated image. She was well aware of her effect on men and had been known to take advantage of it.
Kerensky started to harangue Minobu as soon as Noketsuna began his explanation of the situation. Minobu could not follow either of them. “Please, Captain Kerensky, you will have my full attention just as soon as I can get the story of what has happened,” he said, indicating the chair across from his own. She took it, but her foot tapped the floor in an angry rhythm. “Now, Captain Noketsuna, please start again.”
He did. The story was simple and one that Minobu had heard before. Kerensky's Independent Company, the notorious “Black Widows,” were once again in port on liberty, and once again, the Civilian Guidance Corps had detained members of the company on charges of drunk and disorderly, destruction of property, and sundry other incidents of mayhem. This time, at least, there were no charges of murder.
Minobu listened through his aide's reading of each circumstance, then he questioned him on specifics, asking Kerensky for clarification. Despite her terse and hostile responses, it soon became clear that the charges were all minor and Kerensky's protests merely perfunctory. She was displaying the fierce loyalty of a she-bear for her cubs. Indeed, Minobu had heard other Dragoons opine that those cubs, her troopers, would follow her through all the Buddhist hells. Such loyalty was enviable and the one who could inspire it was fortunate. Minobu found it pitiable that her social form was so unmannered and impolite.
As it was not the first time her troops had created a disturbance on An Ting, he decided that it was necessary to make a point. “Captain Kerensky, even though the revenues of An Ting are at the disposal of Wolf's Dragoons for the duration of the contract, the Dragoons are not the lords of the planet. The people of An Ting were here before the Dragoons came and will be here long after the Dragoons are gone. Neither you, your troops, nor any other Dragoons may make free with them. Upon release from Civilian Containment Quarters, your troopers are to be confined to the military reservation at Boupeig for the duration of their current stay on An Ting.”
Kerensky started to protest again, but he cut her off. “Of course, the damages will be charged to the Dragoons. Colonel Wolf will receive a full report on the situation and your response, Captain.”
Though obviously furious, Kerensky left without another word.
“She acts like a man,” Noketsuna commented after she slammed the door to the outer office. Minobu almost chuckled at his inexperience.
“That should be no surprise. She has lived a man's life and has been a ‘MechWarrior almost longer than you have been alive, my young friend.”
“Impossible! She is barely older than I.”
“Read her dossier. She was commanding a company before you entered the academy.” Michi's eyes widened. “She is a remarkable woman, Michigan. Just one of the remarkable things you will discover about Wolf's Dragoons. I have confidence that you will take it in stride. Otherwise, I would not have requested you for my aide. Now, before I swell your head further, what is the business of the day?”
Noketsuna directed his attention first to the military situation reports. Minobu felt pride when he saw that all the Dragoon units out on raids were reporting satisfactory progress. The elements of Epsilon Regiment engaged on Courasin signaled that operations were complete and that they were en route to their home base on Thestria. Davion activity in all sectors were minimal. In all, there were no surprises.
The next order of business was a revi
ew of the status of the Dragoon fighting units present onworld for furlough. Wolf had set up a regular schedule of relief rotations for the regiments. Each had a unit, sometimes as large as a battalion, on An Ting for rest and recreation at all times. It gave the troops a break from garrison duty or a vacation from the periodic raids along the border worlds.
It also meant that, in addition to the Dragoon dependents, An Ting had a considerable population of the fighting elements of the Dragoons at all times, almost as though it were a garrison station itself. Wolf had once told Minobu that this schedule was really Takashi Kurita's idea. The Colonel claimed that Lord Kurita had known Wolf would consider the planet assigned to the Dragoons for their dependents to be too close to the border and hence vulnerable to a deep-penetration raid. Wolf alleged that it was the Coordinator's way of getting a free garrison for a planet not listed in the service contract.
The rotation schedules were orderly. Branson's Company of Alpha Regiment was scheduled for return to Capra today to trade places with Specter's Battalion of Delta Regiment. Zeta Battalion was returning to An Ting for rest and refitting after the action on Bergman's Planet. Until the three companies from Gamma returned to the field, things would be a bit crowded at Boupeig. Minobu issued an order to open the southern barracks in preparation for Zeta's arrival.
The supply accounts were next. All was in order and by the book. Beta Regiment had filed a complaint, charging that the last shipment of cold-weather gear had been defective and inadequate to cope with the frigid temperatures of the Borealis continent's interior. Minobu initialed the note and issued a requisition for a replacement order to be sent through the Procurement Department. It was not like them to issue shoddy goods to a unit in the field. Gamma Regiment, Beta's companion on Misery, had no similar complaints. The only other item of note was a shipment of armaments from Ceres Metal that had arrived at An Ting's orbital station, pending transshipment to Delta Regiment on Capra. After reading the manifest and verifying its accuracy with Noketsuna, Minobu approved the transfer. There should be no problem in having the materiel reach the regiment before its next scheduled action.
Wolves on the Border Page 11
