He straightened from his crouch, dropping the Kuritan's arm. As the fallen man's hand hit the pavement, a groan escaped his lips. Dechan took two steps back and bumped into his armored companion, who stood staring at the man he had identified as Panati.
"Forget your assassin. We've bagged Theodore Kurita!"
The armored man elbowed Dechan away and stepped over to confirm the identification.
"What a break!" Dechan exclaimed. "We've got Takashi's son in our hands. You can get your revenge against Kurita now."
"No."
Dechan was surprised by the monosyllabic answer. "I thought you believed that the whole family was responsible for the actions of one member."
"It is true that the group is responsible for the actions of an individual member."
"Then we can kill this one and finish it now. A Kurita life to fulfill your revenge. We won't have to risk our necks going after the Coordinator."
"It is not that simple. This is a vendetta. Only the responsible individuals are eligible targets."
A groan from the subject of their conversation brought it to a halt. The armored man's gun snapped down to cover the reviving Theodore as he rose unsteadily. Dechan moved to restrain the groggy Kuritan.
"He must have been screened from most of the charge by the redhead."
"You're scum, Bounty Hunter," Theodore croaked. "A murderer. You have no claim to vendetta."
"It is not my wish to kill you, Prince Theodore. The man Panati must die whether you surrender the papers or not."
"I have no idea what you are talking about. If you kill Panati-san, you will be hunted down like the dog you are."
"I have the right of vendetta to kill him," the armored man insisted.
"You have no such right. You're slime! A hired murderer!"
The armored man stood stock-still for a moment. Then he removed his left hand from the forward grip of his weapon and slid it up under his helmet. Dechan recognized the sound of the suit seals ripping open. In a smooth motion, the armored man lifted the helmet clear of his head and dropped it ringing to the pavement.
Dechan felt Theodore start as his partner's face was revealed. The armored man no longer had the fair regular features of his youth. A ragged scar ran up his left cheek, across the orbit, and disappeared beneath his raven hair, now slicked to his skull with sweat. The eye had been savaged by the vicious wound. Its milky white iris was a shocking contrast to the deep brown of his other eye.
"I am Michi Noketsuna," the armored man said. "Most of my past is of no consequence. For years, I served Minobu Tetsuhara as a staff officer. He was trapped into a situation from which there was no escape. I stood at his side in the seppuku forced upon him by his honor. Dishonorable men brought him to that end, and I swore that they would pay.
"I hunted the Warlord Samsonov who betrayed him on Misery. I wished also to hunt the Warlord's agents who arranged the events leading to that final betrayal.
"Regrettably, the principal agent of my lord's unnecessary death, Jerry Akuma, died on An Ting. But he was aided in his schemes by two men: Quinn and Panati, assassins who maimed and would have killed my lord in an effort to frame Wolf's Dragoons as traitors. The man holding you had the honor of causing the deaths of Akuma and Quinn. Panati, however, has eluded me until now. It was he who planted the bomb that crippled Tetsuhara-sama, and I require his death."
Michi fell silent. Time stretched, long enough that Dechan began to wonder if his partner had decided to conceal the last of his prey. Then Michi took a deep breath and continued.
"My vendetta has one more target: Takashi Kurita. He was the one who set into motion the plan to discredit the Dragoons. It was he who ordered Tetsuhara-sama to command the forces assigned to destroy the Dragoons. He knew that my lord had befriended Jaime Wolf, and that to face off with his friend on the battlefield would be intolerable. Had Tetsuhara-sama won that bitter battle on Misery and killed his friend as his duty required, he would have been shamed. Tetsuhara-sama knew that Jaime Wolf and his Dragoons were innocent of the heinous crimes laid to their name. There was no honor in bringing a friend, a man he considered closer than a brother, to ruin. Even so, he obeyed his orders as best he could.
"I need not elaborate on the penalty for a samurai who disobeys his lord. However the battle on Misery might have ended, Tetsuhara-sama was faced with seppuku as the only honorable solution."
"I apologize," Theodore said. "You have cause for vendetta. Panati is yours."
Michi bowed, then stepped over to the unconscious assassin. He cocked his wrist, and a blade slid from his vambrace to lock in place with a soft snick. Michi knelt by Panati and whispered, "The death I give you is too good for the cowardly murderer you are. You will not suffer pain, as you should, in payment for what you have caused."
He slid the razor edge into the soft tissues of the man's neck. The blade hesitated only an instant before slicing through the cartilage between two cervical vertebrae. Panati's head fell free from his body, and blood spurted out, befouling both corpse and pavement. Michi snapped his wrist, flicking the blood free from the shining steel. The weapon hissed back into its concealed sheath.
Dechan, absorbed in his partner's actions, was surprised by Theodore's sudden move. Almost as soon as he felt the Kuritan's hands upon him, he was flying through the air. Theodore snatched at the pile of weapons, grabbing the uppermost, a katana. The blade hissed free. Michi whirled, the muzzle of his Crowdbuster rising to cover the newly armed Theodore.
"Go no further, Noketsuna. I must oppose you."
Dechan struggled to his feet, pistol in hand. Unwilling to risk a shot past Michi, he waited for his partner to make a move.
"Do you believe that Takashi Kurita is innocent?" Michi asked the defiant Theodore.
"I don't know. But I must stand against you for my honor and for the sake of the Combine. I cannot allow you to go free so that you may attack the Coordinator."
"You have no chance against my weapon," Michi said quietly. "I can cut you down and walk away."
"I must attempt to stop you here if you insist on pursuing your vendetta at this time. If you walk away from here and leave me alive, I will hunt you down."
Michi stared up into the taller man's eyes. Neither moved for a full minute. Dechan shivered. He hated it when the malking Dracs went mystic.
Michi lowered his weapon, then slung it into carrying position on his left shoulder. He bowed, stiff and formal.
"I salute your resolution."
Theodore reversed his grip on the sword. He relinquished his right hand's grip and let his left arm fall to his side. The sword rested loosely in his hand, edge toward the sky. He returned the bow.
"The Combine cannot be deprived of the Coordinator at this time," Theodore insisted.
"I will stay my vendetta if you can prove that Takashi Kurita is innocent in this matter," Michi offered.
"That is impossible right now. I have other, more pressing business: the continued survival of the Draconis Combine."
"The Combine must survive," Michi agreed. "Allow me a day to discharge an obligation and I will aid you in your business."
Theodore nodded once. "I would be honored, Noketsuna-san."
Dechan scratched his head, bewildered at the sudden turn of events.
40
Deber's Strike Mountains, Benjamin
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
8 October 3030
Dechan Fraser glanced over to the campfire near the DropShip where the crew and the Techs were finishing their evening meal. From the bursts of laughter and occasional snatches of speech, he knew they would soon fall into their habitual dice game. He turned back to stare at his own barely touched food.
The four BattleMechs that made up the Bounty Hunter's strike force stood silent sentry, arranged in a rough triangle. One apex was Vic Travers' tiger-striped Orion. At the second, the two smallest 'Mechs of the lance stood side by side, Jenette Rand's Dervish and Dechan's own Shadow Hawk, their
dark-blue paint schemes blending into the night sky. The tallest of the four machines, the Bounty Hunter's bright green Marauder, made the last point. Between its deep, birdlike legs, the campfire burned, throwing its ruddy light onto their faces. Across the fire, Michi Noketsuna sat eating his supper, the Bounty Hunter's helmet resting upright at his feet.
"You were late getting back to camp. You been laying plans for what we do next?" Dechan asked.
Michi carefully set his plate on the fallen tree that served as his seat. "We do nothing. I go on alone."
"What?" Seated beside Dechan, Jenette was incredulous.
"My friends, you have no common cause with the Draconis Combine. In fact, your own friends and families war with the Dragon. I, however, am still loyal to my homeland. In this matter, my feud with the Coordinator is unimportant. Though Takashi has forfeited my loyalty to his person by dishonorable behavior, I cannot let his faults and failures turn me from the Combine.
"Early this evening, I met and spoke again with Prince Theodore. What he told me of the dangers facing the Combine was chilling. He does not believe his father guilty in the matter of Minobu-sama's death, but he can offer no proof at this time. He is sincere, an honorable man who seeks to save the Dragon from desperate straits. When the Combine is safe, he will see that justice is done.
"Right now, there is a great danger to the Combine, and all true samurai must come to his aid." Michi paused briefly, looking up at the stars. "I may be ronin, in the sense that I have no master, but I am still a loyal servant of the Dragon. When the Dragon is in need, I will stand to its defense. I must put aside my quest for vengeance until the realm is safe. When that day comes, I will kill Takashi Kurita with my own hand."
Dechan sat quietly through Michi's speech, trying to understand the complicated hierarchy of loyalties that ruled his friend. Though Dechan never wished to be tangled in as intricate a web of allegiances as bound a Kuritan, he had his own strong feelings about loyalties. In Wolf's Dragoons, it was much simpler. A man stood by his friends. "After all we've been through, you expect us to let you walk into the Dragon's den alone? Who's gonna watch your back?"
"I cannot ask it of you. The matter has become more complicated. Prince Theodore had informed me that the Coordinator was never scheduled to visit this planet. Therefore, the papers allegedly detailing his itinerary never existed. I believe that whoever was behind our now-deceased informant deliberately directed us at the Prince. Perhaps that person knew my true identity and expected me to kill any Kurita on sight. Perhaps not. Either way, the villain knew my target was the Coordinator.
"This is not your cause."
"It wasn't my cause on Milligan's World either," Dechan insisted. "I told you I'd see this through. You're not rid of me so easily."
"Or me, either," Jenette affirmed. Dechan showed his lady the pride he felt with a smile. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "We can look after ourselves."
"You honor me beyond my due, my friends," Michi replied as he bowed.
Dechan felt awkward; formality never sat well with him. To cover himself, he turned to Travers. "What about you, Vic?"
Michi and Jenette turned expectant faces to their fourth companion. Travers swallowed, rubbing his hands nervously along the tops of his thighs. The bristly black hair on his arms stood out starkly against his pallid skin as he added to the accumulated grease on his coveralls. "It's not what I signed on for."
"I understand," Michi said, face expressionless. Dechan, however, frowned, and Jenette's look of disappointment seemed a mirror to his own. Awkward silence fell over the group, and they returned to their supper.
When Michi tossed his empty plate into the cook-pot and rose, Travers stood as well. He seemed troubled, embarrassed.
"Ah ... before you leave," Travers said, fishing a crumpled paper from his pocket. A small, enameled lapel pin speared the folded sheets together. "I have a name and a letter. It'll help."
"Yakuza?"
Travers nodded.
Michi held up his hand in refusal. "I have my own connections."
"Not with this gang. You'll need these," Travers insisted, thrusting the gift forward.
Dechan didn't believe that. Travers' contacts with the criminal underworld had been useful in the past, but now Michi was dealing with politics. Besides, Dechan had never liked dealing with that kind of people. He always came away feeling soiled.
Michi gave a sharp nod of sudden agreement and accepted the offered letter. "Domo arigato."
Unity! Dechan thought. What's gotten into this boy?
"I have a gift for you as well," Michi told Travers, pointing to the bright green Marauder. "Please take it. I will not be able to use it where I am going."
"I couldn't," Travers protested, shaking his head. His stubble-bearded face was awash in confusion. "That's the Bounty Hunter's 'Mech, and you're the Bounty Hunter."
"No longer. I have worn the armor while it served me. It allowed me to safely reenter the Combine. Where I am going, the identity will be more of a hindrance," Michi said. He picked up the helmet and held it out to Travers. "You are the Bounty Hunter now."
"Take the 'Mech. Cellini can handle the Orion. I leave you the DropShip, the armor, and half of the war chest. I will need some of the money we have collected." Michi popped open a compartment on the side of the breastplate he wore. From its darkness, he removed a battered book. The solidograph on the volume's cover was scratched and scuffed. Papers, many stained and yellowed with age, and plastisheets of various colors jutted from the open sides, held in by a cord the color of dried blood. He tossed the packet to Travers. "The tradition is yours as well."
Travers caught the book and held it to his head as he bowed deeply to Michi, surprising Dechan with this show of etiquette.
Michi turned to Dechan and Jenette. "If you still wish to accompany me, we must leave within the hour."
41
Kanrei's Residence, Deber City, Benjamin
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
15 January 3031
"Then you won't come along," Theodore said, hoping to end the fruitless discussion.
"Iie. I've told you too many times that I think this plan is foolish," Ninyu snapped. "The Combine doesn't need criminals in its army. Besides, I don't trust this adventurer, and you shouldn't, either."
Michi, leaning in the corner he had appropriated upon entering the room, stood silent under Ninyu's accusation.
"He was a loyal retainer of my brother," Fuhito objected, stepping in to defend the silent man.
Theodore let Fuhito speak. Perhaps his words would succeed where Theodore's had failed, persuading Ninyu to accept Michi as the newest addition to his inner circle, those he called his shitenno.
In ancient Japanese history, that name had been applied to the loyal companions of Kiso Yoshinaka, the husband of another Tomoe. Yoshinaka's wife had been the celebrated Tomoe Gozen, a female samurai like his own Tomoe. Giving his companions the same name as Yoshinaka's seemed apt. Theodore also had it on good authority that his use of the term bothered his father, who remembered the fate of Yoshinaka. Theodore, of course, had no intention of ending up the same way.
Ninyu dismissed Fuhito's argument with a slash of his hand. "This fellow served your brother a long time ago. Noketsuna went rogue after Misery. He's a renegade who consorts with other renegades. He cannot be trusted."
"If, by renegades, you refer to Fraser and Rand, you are mistaken, Nmyu-kun," Tomoe said. "They voluntarily left Wolf's Dragoons to join Michi-san in seeking vengeance for Minobu Tetsuhara. Their loyalty to him has been exemplary."
"Hai!" Fuhito agreed forcefully.
Ninyu snorted his disgust as he turned to Theodore. "If you wish to be surrounded by the naive," he said, shrugging his shoulders to indicate that he refused to take responsibility for the results. "At least, don't give them any power. Keep them as advisors if you must, but don't follow them blindly. Abandon this renegade's plan to recruit soldiers from the y
akuza. The yakuza are criminals, worthless scum who stand apart from our ordered society. They are untrustworthy. The Combine doesn't need soldiers who would disgrace their uniforms. If you need warriors, look to our ordinary citizens. When their belief in the Dragon is strong, they are more than good enough. If you think they are insufficiently capable, and that the Combine still needs manpower, draft ISF civilian agents. Their loyalty is beyond question."
"All the loyalty in the worlds is insufficient to stand up to a BattleMech and defeat it," Tomoe countered.
"She's right," Theodore agreed. "We need warriors, trained fighters. I believe we'll find many among the yakuza. Michigan has informed me that some gangs even maintain MechWarriors. We need that strength."
"Noketsuna again," Ninyu said through clenched teeth. He heaved himself up from his seat and leaned over the table to stare into Theodore's eyes. "You are blinded by your bushido, tricked by the illusion of nobility. Do you think he's some kind of noble paladin just because he kills people for revenge and calls it a vendetta of honor? Perhaps you think you are play-acting in some galactic version of Chushingura. Well, you know what happened to the forty-seven ronin. They died."
"Wasn't their greatest virtue supposed to be loyalty, Ninyu-kun?" Tomoe asked. Her voice was light in tone, deliberately innocent.
Ninyu straightened and glared at her. He let out his breath through distended nostrils. His voice was brittle as he stomped to the door. "Go on then, be a fool. Go on to hell!" The door slammed.
With stance and expression broadcasting his outrage at Ninyu's poor manners, Fuhito offered, "I'll bring him back, Theodore-sama."
"Iie," Theodore said. "Let him go work it off."
"You are better off without him, Tono," Tomoe avered. "His attitude would be a hindrance to your efforts, making the issue of his skills irrelevant. I shall replace him."
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