Blood legacy

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Phelan pointed to the aerospace units. "Natasha, that's not enough aerospace support. And the Elementals are no good. He's got too many of them and they will be less than useless in an urban assault. He's cut his bid too close to the edge."

  "Has he?" Phelan watched in horror as Natasha slashed the Elementals in Marcos' bid by two-thirds and eliminated a whole Triple worth of the aerospace fighters. As near as Phelan could tell, Natasha chose units at random, more intrigued by the pattern their elimination made on her console than out of any strategic concern. Before he could protest, she'd entered her bid on the computer, which appeared below her foe's on the overhead screen.

  The only thing that kept Phelan's spirits from crashing to the deck was the stunned reactions of Marcos, Conal Ward, and Vlad as they studied Natasha's counterbid. Vlad hammered away at the keyboard on his information terminal, wiping away sweat from his head with the arm of his gray jumpsuit. His face brightened as he read some nugget of information, but Phelan's quick scan of new data from Gunzburg showed nothing to buoy his own feeling of doom.

  He looked up at Natasha. "What are you doing? Vlad had things so close at the start that I don't see how we could win, and you keep cutting it down like a mad tailor armed with shears. I thought you shared my concerns for the people of Gunzburg."

  Natasha turned on Phelan like a beast poked with a sharp stick. "I do share your concerns, but I do not have to make you privy to my every thought. There's more involved here than just the conquest of a planet, and whether or not a few innocents get splashed because they live in the wrong place. This is more than a fight between me and Marcos. It is a battle between the Wardens and the Crusaders. We hurt them with Memmingen, and they lost respect and materiel. Some of their bloodlines don't look so good now. If that happened at the cost of some civilian lives on Memmingen, too bad. Better they die that more can live."

  The urgency in her voice convinced Phelan that she believed in the utmost importance of her task, but he still could not see her goal. "I do not understand, Natasha. I thought that both you and Ulric, as Wardens, would try to end the attacks. Instead, all I see are the two of you working to out-Crusade the Crusaders. How does that make sense?"

  "You can't lead a group until you're out in front and know you will stay there." Her expression grew darker, as though a thin curtain had been drawn across her face. "It's a dangerous game, Phelan, but we must play it, and play it by their rules."

  Marcos' return bid filled the line below Natasha's offer. The Dire Wolf remained available, but the 'Mech forces now appeared as fourteen smaller daggerstars. The bidding had trimmed the number of Elementals to a pair of Triples, but aerospace forces remained the same as the line immediately above.

  Phelan shivered. The reduction of one company of 'Mechs did not seem like much of a change, but he knew it doomed any chances for a clean, decisive 'Mech victory. With the aerospace and atmospheric craft Miraborg had assembled, the Eagles would dominate the skies after only a short series of battles, and that would make things harder on the ground.

  Suddenly, unbidden, the memory of Tyra Miraborg filled his mind. She was the golden-haired woman as he'd seen her the morning he'd been freed from Miraborg's jail. Strong yet compassionate, she had ordered a prison guard to give Phelan a jacket and then presented him with the belt buckle she'd made, the same one Vlad wore as a token of conquest over Phelan. She had even gone so far as to oppose her father when he wanted to keep Phelan imprisoned on Gunzburg. It was Tyra who had won Phelan his freedom.

  Tyra was a Kapten in the Eagles' aerospace force when he met her and she'd refused a commission with the Kell Hounds when the mercenaries left her world. She was too much her father's daughter to ever leave Gunzburg. Now she'll be down there leading the fight against us.

  The sound of Natasha's voice dragged him back to reality. "Forgive me, Colonel Marcos, but I must ask you something. Is that your best bid?"

  Marcos looked like someone forced to eat soggy bread soaked in vinegar. "What?"

  "I asked if that was your best, bid."

  "I would suggest, comrade Colonel, that you make a counter-offer and find out."

  Natasha rested her fists on her hips. "Listen up, Marcos, I'll beat whatever you bid. If you want me to make a counter-offer, I'll just close my eyes and shave something off."

  Her hand hovered over the keyboard and Marcos blanched. He looked at Vlad, who seemed utterly perplexed. Conal folded his arms across his chest and said nothing, only watching it all with suspicion. Marcos pulled Vlad's terminal toward him and punched up his own request for data. He squinted at the information the computer reported back, his brow knotted in puzzlement.

  He straightened up. "If you wish, I will revise the bid."

  Natasha's finger poked one of the Elemental stars from the bid. "Just counter-bid this."

  Feeling hollow inside, Phelan watching in fascination as Natasha tortured Marcos. If her opponent believed her boast that she would beat whatever he bid, he could wipe everything away and leave her with a single 'Mech star. Any bid even close to that range could be beaten, and would guarantee defeat for the leader beating it. Phelan knew that the main difficulty with so bold a bid was that Natasha could refuse it, leaving Marcos hoist by his own petard.

  That meant Marcos would have to shave his bid as close to what he perceived as the edge, or even a bit below it, to successfully doom any effort of Natasha's. Phelan believed the bidding had already gone well below the margin he considered safe for the troops and citizens of Gunzburg, but Marcos, of course, did not have the same reservations about civilian casualties. Marcos' last bid had some slack built into it, probably in the form of a 'Mech star and an Elemental star. Natasha had removed the latter half of Marcos' safety net, so it was up to the Star Colonel to lop off the other half. When Marcos' bid appeared on the screen, Phelan saw he had done just that.

  Natasha smiled cautiously. "Is that it? Is that your best?"

  Marcos pulled himself up to his full height. "That is as low as I am prepared to go."

  "So you mean that if I bid just one Elemental Star less, I will win the right to take the planet of Gunzburg? You do not think it could be done with less force than you have bid?"

  Marcos faltered a bit. "No, Star Colonel, this is it. You will need everything I have bid to take this world."

  "You're certain of that?"

  Conal gently pushed Marcos to one side. "Warriors fight with 'Mechs, not words. Is there a point to this, Natasha, or are you stalling to work up the guts to make your bid?"

  Natasha took two steps toward Conal. Phelan couldn't see the expression on her face, but her ramrod-straight back gave away her fury. "No, Conal, I've no need to stall for time on this bid. This is the one I've been intending to make since the start. I just wanted to know how far Marcos would go."

  She pointed up at the screen. "I cannot use this thing for my bid because it will not register. I bid one."

  Marcos hunched forward, waiting. "One what?"

  "Just one." Natasha's hands curled into fists. "I bid just one warrior."

  Marcos stared at her, stunned. "One warrior?"

  "One warrior," Phelan whispered.

  "One warrior," Natasha confirmed resolutely.

  She turned from the Crusaders and graced Phelan with a hideous grin. "You want Gunzburg? It's yours, Phelan Wolf. Now all you have to do is go and take it."

  34

  Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  25 December 3051

  The irony of the situation almost gave Shin Yodama the desire to compose a haiku to describe it. Up above, on the surface, the Christian minority had decorated the streets of Imperial City with garlands of evergeen and ribbons of bright red. In small bands, they had gone throughout Luthien's largest city, doing what they could to beautify it, preparing for the advent of their savior. In Christian delirium, they rolled out a welcome mat for their beloved visitor.

  Down in the b
edrock beneath the city, Theodore Kurita's Defence Coordination Center was a stark contrast to the gaiety on the streets. Communication Techs remained hunched over scanners that monitored every cubic centimeter of the Luthien system. Other men, a select few that included Shin, attended the Kanrei—or, in Shin's case, his son—as the Kurita leaders studied various computer-generated battle simulations and actual spy reports.

  Tai-sa Hideyoshi could barely contain his anger. "But, Kanrei, how can you ignore these reports from the Draconis March and the Isle of Skye? We have confirmations over and again that Hanse Davion has moved 90 percent of his troops from those borders."

  Theodore's bright blue eyes were almost brighter than the muted lights of the command center. "I have not ignored his movements, Tai-sa. I merely chose to ignore the sinister motive you impart to them. Hanse Davion gave me his word he would not send his troops into the Combine. We have no evidence that he has done so."

  "Listen to reason, Kanrei!" Hideyoshi fought unsuccessfully to keep his voice from rising. "You know as well as I how many thousands of uninhabited stars he could use as stopping points to recharge his JumpShip drives. We would never detect them and his troops could arrive here without notice."

  "Do you want me to fear ghosts, Tai-sa?" Theodore shrugged eloquently, though fatigue bled away some of the emphasis. "We have run the computer projections. Even if Davion has sent his troops, they would not get here before February. By then, we will either have defeated the Clans, or else we will all be dead."

  Light glinted from the trio of gold bars on Tai-sa Yoshida's jacket collar. "Kanrei, our projections preclude the possibility of Davion having already put JumpShips in place to accelerate his troop movements."

  Hohiro laughed aloud. "Because, Tai-sa, that is such an absurd idea that we rejected it in favor of taking more time to study projections of the battle for Luthien."

  Theodore gave his son a nod. "I have Hanse Davion's promise. No F-C troops will invade our borders. End of discussion."

  An inarticulate cry of terror erupted from one of the ComTechs. "I have multiple JumpShip contacts in-system. They've materialized within the orbit of our farthest moon!"

  "Confirmed," another Tech cried out. "Fighters scrambling on the Orientalis moon base. Expect visual confirmation in two-zero minutes."

  "I have deployment! Multiple DropShips with fighter screens!"

  Even without the benefit of orders, Shin punched computer commands into his console. A three-dimensional model of Luthien and its system materialized above the briefing table where sat the strategists. The planet and its quartet of moons hung like blue-green marbles in the air. Around them whirled countless, sharp geometric forms matching the positions of orbital factories circling the world. Bright red as the holly berries on Christian wreaths, the JumpShips and DropShips clustered at a high point within the orbit of the most distant moon.

  Shin knew that orbit formed the closest possible point of approach to the planet within the system. Most JumpShips appeared above or below the solar poles, but some intrepid pilots dared make their approach at "pirate points" that were much closer. The moon's orbit was swept clean of debris, its pockmarked face showing where most of it had gone, so the ships did not have to worry about emerging from their jump through hyperspace in the midst of an asteroid belt.

  "The Clans are here already?"

  Hohiro's question started a flutter in Shin's chest, but he shook his head. "Negative, Hohiro-wima. The equipment does not fit the Clan profile. This is Inner Sphere equipment."

  The first ComTech's voice had returned to a workmanlike level, his concentration replacing panic. "DropShips burning hard. ETA one-one hours, repeat, eleven hours to landing. Vector plot puts them at Luthien."

  Hideyoshi thrust a finger at Theodore. "Damn you and your trusting soul! Hanse Davion has launched an attack against us. I promise to see you dead before I see Luthien in Davion hands!"

  Theodore's voice and face remained expressionless. "Save your threats for real danger."

  The scanners on the surface of Luthien and on satellites spinning through space all turned on the invaders. Gradually, the red spheres resolved into shapes that coincided with the various known classes of DropShips. Small pinpoints of light represented the fighters arrayed to ward the DropShips as they burned in toward the planet.

  Narimasa Asano's eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted from one ship to another. "Union and Overlord mostly. That's a lot of troops. I put it at seven or eight Regimental Combat Teams."

  Hohiro offered a wan smile. "Not enough to take Luthien."

  Theodore's expression hardened. "If they want it, we'll let them have it. Seven can't take it, and seven can't hold it against the Clans."

  "IFF transponders negative," Shin reported, "but I have some unconfirmed correlations with ships we know. Shall I tag the incoming ships?"

  Theodore nodded once, decisively, and Shin punched up the data onto the projection. As the DropShip formation split into three elements, little banners of katakana and hiragana symbols attached themselves to a ship here and there. Shin found himself suddenly surprised as more and more of the ships earned tags, with most of the data reports very recent in nature.

  Hohiro's shock rode plainly on his face. "Fitzlyon, Chieftan, Lugh, Manannan Mac Lir?" He turned to his father. "These are the ships of Wolf's Dragoons and the Kell Hounds! Mercenaries have come to attack us."

  Hideyoshi barked a harsh laugh of triumph. "There you have your ally's honor, Kanrei! He does not send his own troops, but instead dispatches mercenaries?' Hideyoshi managed to fill the word with utter contempt. "Hanse Davion does not even deign to dirty his own hands with us. What a fool you have been."

  Theodore said nothing, but watched the display intently. Shin saw the red dots of light reflected in Theodore's eyes, but could read none of the Kurita Warlord's emotions or thoughts. Hideyoshi and Yoshida clearly took Theodore's silence as weakness and hesitation, but Shin had the exact opposite reaction.

  A light began to strobe on Shin's console. "Sumimasen, Kanrei. There is communication coming in from the DropShip Chieftan. Do you want me to run it through here?"

  "Yes. Thank you, Shin."

  Hitting the right keys, Shin supplanted the orbital scan with a holographic image of Jaime Wolf. "Komban-wa, Kurita Theodore-sama."

  "Komban-wa, Tai-sa Wolf-sama." Theodore straightened up. "You realize that you have penetrated restricted space and appear to be on an attack vector for Imperial City?"

  Wolf grinned cheerfully, and Shin felt the weight on his chest evaporating. "Hai, Theodore, I do realize that. Forgive any concern we may have caused you."

  "Perhaps, Colonel." Theodore's expression eased. "Might I inquire what is your business here?"

  "We request permission to land," Wolf said matter-of-factly. "Hanse Davion sent us a report that you would soon have a fight on your hands. How could we let you have all the fun by yourself?"

  35

  Tenth Lyran Guards Headquarters, Alyina

  Trellshire, Lyran Commonwealth, Federated Commonwealth

  25 December 3051

  Kai Allard saw the surprise on Victor's face as he knocked at the open door of Victor's office. "Got a minute?"

  Victor smiled quickly. "Sure." He stood and moved from behind his desk, eclipsing the diminutive Christmas tree set on a table in the corner of the room. "What are you still doing around here? I thought you were heading down to Mar Negro for some diving on your Christmas break?"

  Kai nodded sheepishly. "I was planning to, but a storm front is threatening the peninsula down there. Leftenant Kimbal is from Alyina, so I let her have my leave to visit her family. Besides, I figure we'll see enough of Mar Negro when and if the Falcons decide to punt us off this rock."

  Kai brought his left hand out from where he'd hidden it behind his back. "I also wanted to make sure you got this. Merry Christmas."

  Victor accepted the gift-wrapped box and efficiently stripped it of the red ribbon and green paper. He opened the sma
ll box and set both the lid and the protective layer of cotton on his desk. Then he lifted out a carefully fashioned piece of dark jadework. Shaped like a monkey, cinnabar had been inlaid in the jade to give the creature eyes of red. In its right hand, it held a staff and its left hand clung to the leather thong to which the pendant hung. Victor looked up. "A monkey?"

  "Yes, but no ordinary monkey." Kai knew from Victor's voice that he was pleased with the gift, yet puzzled and curious about it. "That is Sun Hou-Tzu, King of the Monkeys in Chinese mythology. It wasn't because you remind me of a monkey that I got it for you, but because Stone Monkey and you are very much alike."

  "Calling me a monkey, are you?" A smirk lit Victor's face. "You're digging yourself a deeper hole here, Kai."

  Kai raised his hands. "I don't think so. Stone Monkey was royalty who hated anyone who gave him hollow titles and deferred to him because of his nobility. He was a mighty warrior who could not be defeated by even the fiercest of the gods. He was also cunning enough to win freedom from Yen-lo-wang for his people. Because of him, monkeys are not subject to death in the way we know it. Furthermore, Sun Hou-Tzu won for himself immortality."

  He shrugged. "Being as how you stand to inherit all the worlds of two nations, it's not too easy finding a gift for you. This totem is meant to remind you to always be yourself, no matter what. And if there's any justice, the Stone Monkey will share with you some of his audacious good luck. He'll keep you safe."

  Victor smiled and set the box on the desk. "I won't need his protection as long as you're around, or did Sun Hou-Tzu intervene on Twycross?"

  Distant echoes of battle played through Kai's mind, but the gratitude in Victor's voice kept Kai's feelings of regret at bay. "I don't know, but I don't see any reason to take chances."