“Command is more than just another skill. You can't train a man to make command decisions in split seconds and live with the consequences. A man has to learn that for himself. If he takes too long to learn or he fails to see that he never will learn, good people die. And he still has to live with that.” Wolf stopped and took a deep breath. He seemed to come back to himself and to the present. “Touche, Minobu. You got your lecture from sensei Wolf. But by the look in your eyes, I don't think I told you anything you didn't already know.”
“A man needs to feel that he is not alone even when he knows it is so.”
“Ah, the wisdom of the Dragon.” The banter was back, covering exposed emotions. “My friend, we are getting entirely too serious for the day. Shall we return to more mundane matters again? Tell me how the organization of your unit is going. Logistics headaches are about the most mundane things I know of in this universe.”
“That is very true, but in this case, you may not have found your cure. The Coordinator has named us Ryuken, the Dragon Sword, and it seems he wants his sword well-cared-for. Our equipment is of excellent quality and our supply levels are high. The principal headache I face is where to store everything until I have the personnel to use it.”
“You're short on ‘Mech Warriors?”
“Not really. Some are having to travel long distances to join the unit. Others do not have the necessary experience as yet. It is but a temporary problem. You see, I have been allowed to request pilots from other units. There have been many volunteers as well.
“If the Ryuken is to fight like your Dragoons, I must have a certain breed of ‘Mech Warrior. I have been selective, and yet have found many fine candidates among the Combine's soldiery. However, once I select a pilot, especially one to serve as an officer, the ISF must approve of his or her loyalty to the Combine.”
“You don't sound too pleased with that last condition.”
“Let us just say that the ISF and I do not always agree on a ‘Mech Warrior's qualifications.”
Wolf nodded in understanding. His brow wrinkled briefly as he registered a phrase Minobu had used. “You said 'his or her loyalty,' didn't you?”
“Yes. Does it surprise you that a samurai of House Kurita would consider seeking out women for positions in a fighting unit? Many women serve in the Combine's military. Though I do not expect them to excel at a man's work, I do expect all my ‘Mech Warriors to perform to their utmost. I expect them all to work together as a team in a balance of strengths and weaknesses, as your ‘Mech Warriors do. A commander cannot afford to ignore talent and competence, and so I have made my choices looking for those qualities.
“Besides, I have seen women working well in the Dragoons. Therefore, many of my choices have been women. So far, it is proving a boon. They are grateful for the recognition of their prowess. They work hard, often harder than the men, and perform well. An additional benefit is that the ISF has fewer objections to the women I choose for my ‘Mech-Warriors than the men.”
“A noble attitude.”
Minobu could tell by Jaime's smirk that he was amused, but had no idea what the mercenary found funny. Confused but undaunted, Minobu continued to fill in his friend on the progess of the Ryuken.
“The training proceeds well with the soldiers on hand. First Battalion should be operational in another month, in time for the raid on Barlow's End.”
Minobu and Jaime, bows forgotten in their hands, were just getting down to the fine details of the Ryuken's readiness when they were interrupted by the arrival of Tomiko and Marisha. “See? I told you they would be talking business,” Wolf's lady announced.
“You sound like that's all we ever do, dear,” Jaime responded.
“Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Husband,” Tomiko said, cutting off the good-natured argument before it could get rolling. “I have asked Marisha to join us for the evening meal.”
Minobu turned to Wolf. “Which means, my friend, that I am to issue the same invitation to you.”
“I would be delighted, but I have a previous engagement.”
“Business,” Marisha said in disgust.
“Afraid so,” Jaime confirmed. “But there is no reason for you to pass up the Tetsuharas' hospitality. With luck, I won't be gone long and can rejoin you later.”
Jaime started to excuse himself, but Minobu cut in and insisted on accompanying him on the short walk to the Dragoon administrative building. Jaime seemed uncommunicative, and lost in his thoughts during the walk, but Minobu found that acceptable. A stroll in the gathering twilight was pleasant. It was made more so by the comfortable, if silent, presence of a friend.
As they drew near their destination, Minobu saw a knot of Dragoon officers gathered outside. It included two Regimental Commanders, Baxter Arbuthnot and Wilhelmina Korsht, several Majors, and a few lesser officers. Among those gathered and doing most of the talking, was Natasha Kerensky. Even though she was technically outranked by half the officers there, her actual status was almost as high as that of the Regimental Commanders. She was commander of an independent company and had, more than once, refused promotion. All present seemed to be giving serious consideration to her words.
The group was agitated and disturbed. Though Minobu could sense no imminent violence, the local constabulary obviously did not share that sense of safety. Four members of the Civilian Guidance Corps had gathered at the far end of the block, and the quartet watched the Dragoons nervously. One of the men in the red-and-white striped uniforms was speaking into a comm unit.
As soon as one of the assembled officers pointed out Jaime's arrival, the whole company moved to meet him. The Dragoons were vociferous, and the cacophony of voices made it hard to determine just what the trouble was. Minobu could tell that Jaime was having trouble sorting it out as well.
“Please take the discussion inside,” Minobu said, voice deepened to override the babble. “It is not seemly to air your grievances in public. You do nothing for the reputation of the Dragoons.”
Wolf took advantage of the sudden silence. “Tai-sa Tetsuhara is right, people. Let's take it inside.” He started for the entrance. “Coming, Minobu?”
“Wait a minute, Colonel!” Kerensky blurted, stopping Jaime's progress towards the door. Kerensky pointed at Minobu. “He's Kurita!”
A chorus of grumbling showed agreement with her statement and all it implied. Jaime silenced it with a monosyllable charged with the force of his will.
“So?”
“So, it's Kurita we've got complaints about. The Snakes are doing us dirty and he's one of them.”
“Do you have a specific difficulty with Tai-sa Tetsuhara, Natasha?” Jaime's use of her name was intended to bring things to a personal level, a deliberate reminder that she was speaking of a man and not a faceless, nameless “Snake.”
Kerensky faltered, but only for a moment. Though her voice betrayed a slight loss of conviction, her pose remained as arrogant as ever. “He's still a Kurita officer. How can we trust him not to go running to the ISF and report us as mutineers?”
“I trust him. That should be enough for all of you.” Jaime's eyes swept the assembled company. “I'll want his opinion on the validity of your complaints after I get your story. It'll be easier if he hears it for himself.”
“Perhaps it would be better that I not be there, Colonel Wolf,” Minobu said in a placatory tone. “I am no longer your Liaison Officer.”
“You were before and you know the new one. Your troops are going to be working alongside ours. You're still deeply involved in this, my friend.”
In a dimly lit room in Government Center, a tall, thin man smiled as he reached across his marble-topped teak desk and switched off the monitor that relayed signals from the comm station below. The image dissolved before the sound faded, taking away the gesticulating figures before the contentious voices vanished as well.
“It seems matters are proceeding quite nicely,” he said. His hands held a Dragoon undress cap, one finger tapping
a rhythm against the black wolf's-head of the unit ID patch. He tossed the cap to the taller of the two other men in the room. The scarred blond man put up a hand and caught the hat. Without any apparent effort, he made it disappear from sight.
The thin man got up and walked to the window that surveyed Cerant. A satisfied laugh filled the room. That laugh had a nerve-grating quality to it, but the two men in black Kurita uniforms showed no reaction at all.
17
Hoshon Mansion, Cerant, An Ting
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
16 August 3026
“Michi,” Minobu called over the intercom. Noketsuna appeared immediately. “Yes, sensei.”
“I want to show you something in the garden.”
“Is there a problem, sensei?”
“Perhaps.” Neither spoke as they strode through the passages, soles slapping softly on the oiled wooden floors of Hoshon Mansion. It was not until they were walking among the carefully tended plants and away from the walls of the mansion that Minobu spoke again. “I want to discuss a matter that may have great bearing on the future of the Ryuken.”
“Why do you speak to me, sensei! Surely your Executive Officer or some other member of the command staff would be of more help to you. Perhaps your friend Colonel Wolf?”
“I have already spoken somewhat to Jaime Wolf. You were with me when I was PSL officer, which gives you a perspective that my other officers lack. Besides, if I call the whole staff together, the ISF would know what was said before the minutes of the meeting came off the printer. It might be well to avoid that.” Minobu watched Noketsuna react with a moment of dismay that was quickly replaced by trust in his superior.
“The ISF would need to be informed of treason, sensei. I am sure I will have no need to speak to them.”
“You are honorable and trustworthy. Michi-san. And bright.”
“Thank you, sensei.”
“But I think the time has come that you should stop addressing me as sensei, especially when we are alone. We are both soldiers and have weathered the storm of Combine and military bureaucracy together. Let us speak as friends.”
“I am most honored by your trust, sen ...” Noketsuna stuttered, at a loss for the correct form of address. The sudden offer of comradeship from an older man, and a military superior at that, clearly flustered him.
“Minobu will do in private,” Minobu prompted.
“Minobu,” Noketsuna repeated hesitantly. He drew himself up, almost defiantly. “I shall agree to your request, but you shall still be my sensei.”
Minobu shook his head resignedly, but proceeded to outline for Michi the problems the Dragoon officers had brought to Wolf's attention on the previous night. Noketsuna listened carefully. Minobu could see that he was reaching a conclusion even without all the details. Rather than continuing, Minobu asked, “Well, what do you think?”
“The Dragoons are justified in calling Chu-sa Akuma an obstructionist. He is using his position as PSL officer to make their lives difficult.”
“A year ago, you would have said that mercenaries should expect no better treatment or that Akuma was justified in making their lives difficult. You have changed.”
“I've been learning from you, sensei.” Michi's use of the honorific was unrepentant.
“Have you learned to predict what the Dragoons will do?”
“That was something I thought even the master could not yet do.”
“Well spoken, imp. They are indeed hard to predict in many things. Jaime Wolf is a man as bound by his honor as we are by ours, and he will stand by his contract. Most of the others will follow his lead without question. The one I worry about is Natasha Kerensky. That one has a wild streak. She is impetuous and at the moment most unhappy with her employers. I fear she will do something ... hasty ... that will cause bigger problems.”
“Surely she will not disobey Wolf's orders.”
“Let us hope not. Things are confusing enough in this situation, even without such a volatile personality. For example, the supply shortages that the Dragoons are experiencing do not make sense, especially in light of our own abundance.”
“Could Chu-sa Akuma be setting them up for the 'company store' approach? Setting them up to be plunged into debt to the Combine?”
“Perhaps. I cannot say for sure. He has offered no Combine alternatives, with the attendant higher prices, to replace the balky sources on which the Dragoons rely. If that is his plan, it will fail. The Dragoons are too resourceful.”
“But you said that they were having trouble even with shipments from their long time suppliers like Ceres Metals.”
“That is another curious fact. From hints that Jaime has let slip, I had the impression the Dragoons held stock in that company. Major Seward of the Contract Operations Group reported increased tariffs and communications problems. Why would that be? There are unknown factors operating here.”
“If they are unknown, how can we deal with them?”
“As best we can, Michi-san. As best we can.” Minobu stared at the wall that blocked the view of Cerant. “I begin to believe that many recent events are interrelated in some way I do not yet understand.
“This latest order, for example, requiring that each military cargo be inspected and verified by a PSL officer, who will then accompany that shipment. The Dragoon officers are upset about that. Spies, they say. Spies set to learn their secrets. I think they may be right.”
“That would seem to be a reasonable assumption,” Michi said.
“Are we not the same, my young friend? We have been set the task of learning the methods behind the success of Wolf's Dragoons and copying those methods to better serve the Combine. We are also to learn their weaknesses.”
“Why does that make us spies? To copy their success is wisdom. Is it not also wise to identify another's errors that you may avoid them yourself?”
“Yes, it is. Somehow I do not think that it is quite that simple and innocent. I fear that someone wants us to find those weaknesses so that a plan might be developed to exploit and to destroy the Dragoons, should it become necessary.”
“If they are a threat to the Combine, should they not be destroyed?”
“It is always a Kurita samurai's duty to destroy threats to the Combine,” Minobu said with conviction. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a moment, he spoke again. “I think we can discern little more at this time. We have work to do and troops to train.”
“At least that is something we can do with a full heart, Minobu-.sama. It is a good work that is well underway.”
Minobu nodded, eyes on the sky. “But, my young friend, I fear that Akuma's work has only just begun.”
18
Greggville Province, New Mendham
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
19 September 3026
“Your papers!”
John Norris grimaced at the Kurita officer. Papers! As if the camera and recording equipment weren't enough identification. The bloody Donegal Broadcasting Company logo was plastered on every piece of hardware they carried and prominently displayed on their white caps and armbands. Norris fumbled in his satchel for the papers.
If the Draconian was annoyed at the delay, it didn't show. He stood patiently, the bright sunlight turning the dark brown of his combat jacket and the tan of his fatigues to pastel shades. In the shadow of his helmet's wide dish, his face was impassive.
Norris finally fished out the documents and placed them in the man's outstretched hand. As though waiting for that cue, the holotech, Berger, plopped his own passes right on top.
The Kuritan studied them for several minutes before announcing that they were in order. As he handed them back, his harshness slipped away in favor of curiosity. “Why are you fellows here in Kempis, so far from the front?” he asked. “This sector is pretty quiet. Not much action for a news team.”
“Just passing through,” Norris lied. “We're on our way to Seldez to do a story on that guy
from the Eleventh Benjamin. You know, the one who held the pass against the Davion thrust last week.”
“Sergeant Yamato?”
“Yeah, that's the guy. He's quite a hero.”
“He is,” the Tai-i agreed. “It's good to see the outside media recognizing the true heroism of the soldiers of the Draconis Combine.”
“Yeah, sure is. Long overdue, too, I say.”
“Well, you gentlemen have a safe trip,” the Tai-i said, nodding approval of the reporter's attitude.
“Geez, he bought that malarkey,” the stocky holotech remarked, as the officer walked off to continue overseeing the refueling operation for the truck convoy his platoon was guarding.
“Keep it down, will ya? These Dracs can get touchy,” Norris hissed.
“Aw, he can't hear me over them engines.”
“Well, he might have friends who can. We don't want him back asking more questions.”
Berger looked annoyed. No wonder the wags at the network called this guy Nervous Norris. The reporter was always worried about something. “We ain't spies. We're legit newsmen. He can't touch us.”
“If he decides we're spies, he'll touch us all right,” Norris retorted with an air of authority. “I once spent two weeks in a Davion cell waiting for the network to prove I was legit. The Dracs don't bother with cells. They shoot spies.”
Berger didn't quite go pale, but he quit grousing. “Think that tip we got on a Davion push for this town is straight?”
“We'll know soon enough. If it is, we'll get an exclusive.” Norris leaned down to whisper in Berger's ear as though to include him in a secret. “I know just where I'm gonna spend my bonus.”
“I'll bet.” Old Nervie would probably blow it on a racy novel, Berger thought.
Before Norris could enlighten Berger as to his plans, the Kurita sentry in the watchtower sang out, “Mechs coming in!”
Kurita troops scrambled to take defensive positions. Local citizens scrambled for cover. A team of Draconians unloaded a tripod-mount laser from one of the trucks and headed for the edge of the village. The Tai-i lit out for the watchtower, making only a short detour to grab a pair of binoculars.
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