Heir to the Dragon

by Robert N. Charrette

  As soon as he had cleared the horn's shadow, Tomoe was in his arms. Their lips met, and her deft hands twitched open the closures of his cooling vest so she could slide her arms around him. When they stopped to catch their breaths, Tomoe smiled radiantly. "Hardly the behavior of a man who is to be married to someone else in three days."

  "Maybe so," Theodore said, returning her smile. "If I loved her. The marriage is only political."

  "I thought you hated politics."

  "I do. This is necessary, as you well know. The Combine must have continuity in the line of the ruler, and my father arranged this marriage to ensure that I will have a sound claim to Rasalhague. My bride-to-be is the daughter of the District Governor, and her family has strong ties with both the Sorensons and McAllisters, two ancient and honorable families in this region. The marriage will serve to bind this oft-rebellious district closer to the heartland of the Combine.

  "It is my duty and I will do it."

  "Quite a speech," Tomoe said with a frown. "And quite political. You must be coming to like politics after all."

  "You know that's not the case," Theodore insisted. "It is giri. I am a samurai and must do my duty."

  "Yes, you are a samurai," she said, caressing his cheek. "Always giri rather than ninjo. Always duty before human feelings."

  Tomoe stared deeply into his eyes. He wondered if she was searching for a denial of her statement. If so, she would not find it. At last, she sighed and lowered her head to rest it against his chest.

  "I had hoped you would return early from the drill and give us some time together before the wedding," she said, voice muffled in the folds of his vest.

  "And I have done so." Theodore rested his chin against the soft pillow of her glossy black hair.

  "I know. I shall treasure that for the rest of my days."

  The sorrow in her words was painful to him. "It doesn't have to be this way."

  "Oh, but it does, my brave samurai," she sniffed. "We have been through it all too many times. I will not be your concubine. Once you are married, we will be lovers no more."

  "That's not what I want," he insisted, holding her away from him and tilting her face to his.

  "It's not what I want, either, but it is the way it must be."

  He started to object, but she held her fingers to his mouth.

  "Don't spoil the little time we have left."

  She took his hand and led him to the gantry elevator. They said nothing during the ride down and the subsequent walk to the barracks. As soon as they had closed the door of Theodore's room behind them, she slid his vest over his shoulders. Before it hit the floor, she had started in on the closures of his tunic. For an hour, they had no more need of words.

  She lay with her head on his shoulder and ran her hand down the length of his body, back and forth, pausing occasionally before sliding past the bony curve of his left hip. Theodore relaxed, enjoying her gentle touch. He wanted to convince himself that it would go on forever.

  "Your father has been delayed," she said without preamble.

  "An attack?"

  "Nothing so dramatic," she said with a shake of her head. "Court business. His JumpShip is due in-system tonight, and Tai-sho Sorenson's DropShip awaits him.at the zenith station. They will have to make the trip from the jump point under high-gee to arrive in time."

  "Rest assured that they will. Father must be here to bless the union; anything else would undermine what he hopes to gain." Theodore shook his head ruefully. He had received no more than the barest acknowledgment of the wedding date from his father, and now the Coordinator would be pushing men and machines in order to be present. "What about Mother? The Mukade received no communiques through the ComStar network while we were enroute."

  "Your mother and the rest of the court is already inbound from the jump point. They delayed departure from Luthien somewhat when it looked as though Takashi might be able to accompany them, but they finally had to leave without him. You know Takashi won't risk her on a jump to a nonstandard point or allow her to travel at more than one gee. That puts quite a constraint on travel time. Her DropShip has been inbound for over four days. Morning update put ar rival in"—she pulled his hand over to check his ringwatch— "one hour."

  "I should be there to meet her," Theodore said, rising from the sleeping mat.

  They showered together, using much of the hour. He was half-dressed before noticing that she was only watching him.

  "You're not dressing."

  "I'm not going with you," Tomoe said simply.

  "Why not? You're my Command Lance second. As my executive officer, you are entitled to be present at formal gatherings."

  "A position, it is well known, that I earned on my back."

  Theodore walked across the room to the comm unit, which Tomoe had warned him contained a listening device. Slipping a prepared disk into the slot, he pressed down on the receiver three times, activating a recorded conversation that would drown out anything they said. He turned to Tomoe.

  "That's not true. We may be sleeping together, but you have earned your position in my lance fairly. Your record at Wisdom of the Dragon speaks for itself. The simple fact that you, a woman, could graduate from the academy shouts of your ability."

  "Tell it to the troops, especially Tourneville," she responded bitterly. "Most believe that you carried me through the academy as well."

  "Tourneville is my father's creature," he said, as though that explained everything about the man. "He is a bad echo of the Coordinator's short-sightedness. My father should be glad I have a regular, careful lover who is loyal to the Dragon. Here, in the heart of restless Rasalhague, I could be running around making bastards and creating future pretenders to the throne."

  "This is not a joke. Tourneville is dangerous. It's bad enough that you insist we live with his bugs and his peeping, but his talk when you are not around is insufferable. Why did you choose him for your command lance? With the selection privilege as first graduate of Wisdom, you could have chosen another fine Mech Warrior like Sandersen. One who would be as loyal to you as Tourneville is to Takashi."

  "Tourneville is a spy I know, and he is not very good at his job. That is exactly why I chose him. Had I chosen someone loyal to me, I would never know who of those around me worked for my father. This way I have some control over what the Coordinator hears about my actions. After all, we always know where Tourneville's bugs are." He reached out to caress her hair. "It's not important what they think. I want you with me."

  Tomoe shook her head. "I am enough of a scandal. It wouldn't be wise to flaunt me before your mother and the courtiers."

  "To the seven hells with them," Theodore said. "Cursing won't change it," she insisted. "I'm only thinking of your political welfare.”

  “To the hells with politics, too."

  "Get used to it, lover," she snapped, stepping away from him. "Politics will be your bedfellow for the rest of your life. Politics is your duty."

  Theodore scowled at her. He hated it when she wouldn't listen to him. "If you won't go under your own power, I'll carry you. Naked, if I must," he said, making a grab for her.

  Tomoe slipped to one side. He felt the firm, smooth curve of her breast just before she seized his arm and twisted. He landed in a heap on top of the rumpled blankets.

  "Go on with you," she said, turning her back on him. "Do your duty."

  "Damn!"

  Theodore stood and smoothed out his rumpled uniform. Grabbing up his combat vest, he started for the door. As he opened it, he thought she said something. "What was that?"

  "I said," she repeated in a very small voice, "spare me a little more time before I lose you."

  "All that I can."

  He closed the door so that he would not hear her cry.

  Teary-eyed and naked, Tomoe turned to the computer and called up the duty files. When the commander was off partying, the executive officer had to run things. She scanned the lists and began to enter commands.

  "Damn duty,
" she snarled at the empty room.

  9

  Inbound from Rasalhague Jump Point

  Rasalhague Military District, Draconis Combine

  22 September 3019

  Senior Tech Beom Karlborgen looked down at the small green tablet lying in the palm of his hand. He stretched his thumb over it and rolled it around. It was smooth, hard, and cool. And deadly.

  Three days ago, CommTech Fletner had passed him a personal communique. Fletner's face showed what he thought was the proper amount of sympathy. The message stated that Beorn's brother Alfred had died in the crash of a commercial air flight into the capital. Fletner had been impressed with Beorn's fortitude upon receiving the message.

  As for Beorn, he had never had a brother named Alfred.

  The message was from the Rasalhague underground. He was to proceed with Plan A, as in Alfred. He was to implement that plan on this incoming flight.

  For weeks, he had been making subtle alterations to the control systems of Tai-sho Sorenson's DropShip. He had smuggled on all the components of the bomb and installed them under cover of normal maintenance work. No one had suspected or questioned him. Why would they? Had he not served loyally as Sorenson's chief technician for two years? Had he not uncovered three bombs planted in various vehicles that the Tai-sho was to have used? The Tai-sho had complete confidence in him. Indeed, Beorn was a man considered above reproach.

  He was a sleeper agent. A time bomb.

  Three days ago, the message had come to activate him. The shift of plans meant that Takashi Kurita would die before the wedding. The ceremony scheduled for tomorrow would certainly be postponed, but the leadership of the underground must be confident enough that it could still take place after the official mourning period. At least, they were confident enough to take a chance, and use this rare, and perhaps unique, opportunity to dispose of the tyrant.

  With Takashi dead, Theodore would be under more pressure than ever to produce a legitimate heir. A marriage arranged by his father could hardly be ignored, especially when that marriage would calm a potentially rebellious portion of the realm.

  Beorn looked at the junction box on the wall in front of him. From here, he could activate the assassination devices. Concealed among a myriad of ordinary instructions were the override programs. Once activated, there would be no escape for Takashi. The bomb would detonate at fifty meters above Rasalhague mean sea level, almost exactly ten meters above the runway of the Reykjavik Starport. The explosion would gut the Leopard Class DropShip. Its flaming mass would continue on the course he had locked into the autopilot and then plow straight into the Kurita military sector of the starport. There would be no survivors.

  Innocents would die, both aboard the DropShip and at the port, but that could not be helped. This was war. A dirty and undesirable one, but war nonetheless.

  A klaxon sounded through the ship. First warning to take stations before final approach. The stress aboard would be nothing like the three-G press they had endured under the Coordinator's orders, but the captain would want everyone safely strapped in anyway, taking no chances while the Kurita tyrant was aboard.

  Beorn looked again at the tablet in his hand. Closing his eyes, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it. There was no turning back now.

  He slid out the wire support frame, unlocked the box, and lowered the lid onto the frame. Carefully, he tapped the activation codes onto the membrane keyboard in the box lid. Three green lights flashed within the box. Satisfied, he closed the lid and reinserted his maintenance key into the lock. From his tool box, he took a hydrospanner, and with a sharp rap from the tool, snapped the key off in the lock.

  Those on board were doomed, but they would never know it until the pilot tried to adjust the ship's approach vector. By then, it would be far too late. The ship and its passengers would be irrevocably headed for impact with the Kurita military sector of the starport.

  Beorn squeezed his eyes together, suddenly drowsy. They had said it would be fast. Legs numb, he slid to the floor. Goodbye, Hilda. I wish there had been more time for us.

  Beorn Karlborgen closed his eyes and slept.

  * * *

  Theodore frowned at Tourneville's fussing.

  "Shouldn't you have had the unit flash on your cap changed, Sho-sa?" the man chided. "We are no longer with the An Ting Legion. After the wedding, the lance moves on to the Twenty-second Regulars. I realize that you will not join us on Heiligendreuz for several weeks, but you are our commander, and it's only proper that you wear current insignia on your uniform. If you had gotten a manservant, as I suggested, all these little details would have been cared for."

  "I don't need that kind of help, Tourneville. For today, the cap will do as it is," Theodore said, hiding his irritation with a smile. And you don't need a helper in your spying, he added silently, accepting the preferred cap and settling it on his head.

  Ignoring his companion's frown, Theodore shrugged into a nonregulation battle vest. The dark-brown, padded garment almost covered the red diagonal stripe on his dark gray jersey. Theodore knew that Tourneville was as bothered by the scruffiness of the vest as by the fact that it covered the identifying stripe that was the most prominent feature of a Kurita MechWarrior's noncombat uniform. For a spy, Tourneville had a most curious desire to see things identified for what they were.

  As soon as they were ready, Theodore led the way from the barracks to the motor pool. After a short delay in which Tourneville dealt with a runner from the comm center, they mounted an open-topped groundcar and sped away with a soft electric whine.

  "What was that all about?" Theodore asked as they had cleared the gate.

  "Nothing important, Sho-sa. Some minor official has been trying all morning to speak to you. I told the comm center to hold all messages. Warlord Marcus Kurita's summons has higher priority than some local's desire to have his picture taken with the Heir-Designate.”

  “Is that all he wanted?"

  "Who knows?" Tourneville shrugged. "These provincials have no sense of importance. Warlord Kurita's desire to see you at the port control has priority."

  Tourneville had shown rare initiative in determining the relative importance of messages to Theodore. Though undecided whether he was more annoyed at Tourneville's temerity or by the man's fawning reverence for cousin Marcus, Theodore merely replied, "Mustn't disappoint the Warlord."

  10

  Inbound from Rasalhague Jump Point

  Rasalhague Military District, Draconis Combine

  22 September 3019

  "That is the first approach warning, Coordinator," Ivan Sorenson announced. "Time to prepare for the descent to the port."

  "Very well, Tai-sho" Takashi Kurita said as he stood. "I have found our little talk about the Rasalhague situation quite interesting. Your perspective on my cousin Marcus's performance as Warlord is most enlightening."

  As the two men left the tiny captain's lounge and entered the bridge of the DropShip, a pasty-faced crewman burst through the hatch.

  "Body . . . dead . . . purple splotches," the man stammered.

  Sorenson was on him in an instant, his two-meter height looming over the crewman.

  "Stop babbling, crewman!" he growled. "I want a clear report."

  The man made a visible effort to control himself. "Senior Tech Karlborgen. I found him in Engineering. He's dead, sir. It's awful. He's all covered in purple spots."

  Sorenson wasted no time. As he turned to exit the bridge, he shouted, "Pull us back to a holding orbit, Dai-i N'kuma. I don't want us down till we find out what happened."

  As he pounded the length of the ship, Sorenson considered the possibilities. He knew of no disease that would cause purple spots, making it likely that Beorn Karlborgen was the victim of foul play, be it some hideous poison or a tailored bioweapon. Whatever the cause, there was a murderer aboard. That meant trouble—and trouble was the last thing he wanted with the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine on board his DropShip. He had considered it a bit of good f
ortune when Marcus Kurita had suggested that the Tai-sho personally meet the Coordinator at the jump point. Now that fortunate assignment was on the verge of becoming a curse. My honor becomes nil, he told himself, if anything threatens the Coordinator while he is in my care.

  Sorenson reviewed his enemies, searching for a possible author for the day's trouble. When he could think of no one who had the opportunity, he started on possible enemies of the Coordinator. His thoughts shuddered to a halt when he confronted the backs of the crewmembers gathered around the body.

  Sorenson shouldered his way through and looked at the body. The calm, composed face of the corpse struck him at once. Not murder, then. What have you done, Beorn?

  Sorenson bent to examine the body. After a quick search, he was even more sure that the Senior Tech had killed himself.

  "The ship controls are frozen," said someone at his shoulder.

  Sorenson started at the voice, which was as cool and detached as though coming from beyond the grave. He turned, half-expecting to confront Beorn's ghost, and found himself looking at Takashi Kurita. The Coordinator had followed him.

  "It seems that your Senior Tech wished to be an assassin and had not the courage to face the death he would give us."

  Recovering his composure, Sorenson asked, "What do you mean?"

  "The Dai-i says that the command of the ship is locked into autopilot. We are committed to a course that will crash us into the control center of the military portion of the spaceport at Reykjavik."

  Takashi's words sparked a panic in the crew around them. Men and women scrambled in all directions, shouting and fighting among themselves. Several headed straight for an escape pod. The leader of that trio slapped the access control, screaming for the door to hurry up. All three wailed their dismay when the pod launched without ever opening its door.

  "Very thorough," Takashi commented. "All outbound communications are blocked, replaced by computer simulations of routine messages. The control center is unaware of our plight."