"I know better than to give his ambitions a power base. What do you think he can do with the Office of Military Affairs? He has no political instincts. He will play with his toy soldiers, and be content. Because I see that he does have some little aptitude on the battlefield and in the matters of military organization, I satisfy him, cut off his ambitions, and serve the Combine at the same time. He is a hero to the people and the soldiers. They will rally for him. And they will become a new army." Takashi spun to face Cherenkoff again. "But the army he builds will still be mine!"
The Warlord gave a ragged bow from his seat, a hesitant smile on his face. "As you say, Coordinator. It still disturbs me to see how the Genyosha and the regiments of the Ryuken are being rebuilt. They receive training only from Prince Theodore's hand-picked officers. Consider what such a force could mean in the hands of a rebellious general, even one without political acumen."
An injudicious push, Subhash observed silently. He expected another outburst from Takashi, but the Coordinator merely sat down again, calmly arranging the reports he had scattered in his earlier outburst. Takashi mused for a few minutes. A smile split his now-placid visage. "I shall order the training regiments dispersed, their troops to be scattered among the units of the DCMS. With no core of loyal regiments, my son will never have a military power base So you see, Warlord, there is no need to fear an armed coup even if Theodore could put together the political or popular support, he will never have the military strength."
44
Draconis Military Compound, Pauchung, Xinyang
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
18 June 3031
The cavernous hall was filled with five rows of the massive, twelve-meter ovoids, and their gimbal-jointed frames. Technicians scurried among them, checking connections and monitoring coolant levels. They were careful to avoid touching the inner shells, lest a hand or finger be trapped and torn off by a sudden shift of orientation within the skeletal frame. They were also wary of burning themselves on the recessed patches of shell that glowed orange from the laboring heat simulators.
From his perch in the control booth, Dechan Fraser watched with satisfaction. He didn't envy the Techs on the floor, for they did not have the advantage of the heating that kept him warm. Despite frosty breath and numb fingers, they were preforming well. They were two hours into the run, and there had been no equipment failures. He swiveled his chair around to the console and checked the readouts. All was going well.
Across the small booth, Chief Tech Kowalski bossed his team of supervisors and fussed over the fine-tuning of the computer system managing their simulator run. At his side were Tomoe Sakade and Tai-sa Narimasa Asano of the Genyosha, whose troops were undergoing today's testing.
"Problem three," Tomoe announced. "Initiate on my mark."
Dechan bent over his keyboard, starting the preliminary artillery barrage on her signal. In a nearby building, the boxy shapes of vehicle simulators had come to life, rocking and jolting on their pistons and spinning on their turntables as they impersonated a battalion of armor moving to the attack. The troopers inside would experience it as a real charge into battle. After five minutes, Dechan was pleased at the tactical expertise the Genyosha were showing against their computer opponents.
"Your new Genyosha MechWarriors have shown a remarkable improvement, Tai-sa Asano," he complimented.
"These are only simulators, Tai-i Fraser," Asano said, his lined face expressionless beneath his thatch of white hair. "It is very different when one is in a real BattleMech."
"We don't have the real thing for training the warriors," Tomoe lamented. "And even if we did, we couldn't afford to run wargames to give them practice."
"It's a good thing you were able to acquire these sim tanks, then," Dechan concluded.
"It's just too bad they're not a single lot," Kowalski complained, having crossed the room to place a stack of computer disks in front of Tomoe. "The computer is having fits trying to keep the parameters balanced between the different models, let alone the different manufacturers."
"You mean you're having fits, don't you, Mister Kowalski?" Dechan said.
"Same thing," Tomoe chuckled. "Kowalski-kun is half-computer, or so the other Techs in the Legion claimed. They used to say that his mother was a MultiMac 2700."
Kowalski frowned in annoyance. "That's a bad old joke, Sho-sa Sakade."
"You are right, Kowalski-kun," she said, contritely. "I apologize.”
“Accepted."
"But you're having trouble?" Dechan asked insistently.
"How could I not be?" Kowalski rubbed his right hand back and forth across his head, rumpling his short hair into new patterns of disarray. "I'm only a mortal man, woefully ill-educated in these days of lostech. There's so much we don't know about what we've lost. I feel adrift in specifications and blueprints.
"The rebuilding program's technical teams are giving me all the help they can, but their members are just as overworked, and the resources never seem to be enough. There's too many programs, and we've too little knowledge to draw on. There are so many things the Kanrei wishes developed at once. Battle technology, communications work, agriculture. We spend weeks or months recreating research that a Star League scientist could have simply called up from his computer. I'm a Tech. What do I know about rice?
"I am as much a scientist as anyone can be in these latter days, but I cannot know everything, or be everything. The Kanrei put me in charge of research, but I'm not a bureaucrat. I belong in a lab. Still, I might be able to monitor progress on at least some of the projects if it weren't for all this moving about. I haven't been in one place long enough to do anything properly."
"We will do something about that soon," Tomoe promised him. "This training system must be fully functional. We need to take the sim tanks with us when the training command moves on."
"Moving again," Kowalski sighed, then pointed at the stack of disks. "At least this project is done. These compdisks should enable you to run the system with minimal interference from the Techs of the units to be trained. Please keep it out of the hands of any fumble-fingered Mech Warrior who thinks he understands technical matters. The training team has worked too hard on this to see some well-meaning monkey undo it."
Kowalski had more to say, but Asano interrupted.
"Trouble on the floor."
Asano pointed to two figures running between the last rows of the tanks. One was a black man in a Kurita MechWarrior's uniform. The infantry-style battlejacket he wore over his jumpsuit flapped loosely as he pounded across the floor. The jacket had been adopted by the Ryuken and the Vegan Legion in imitation of Theodore, and marked the running man as belonging to one of those regiments. The other figure was a woman whose clothes were a motley collection of uniform pieces. Her hair was bound back into a tight braid that bounced as she ran. Dechan recognized her instantly. Her presence also identified the Kuritan for him.
"That's Sho-sa Tetsuhara and Jenette Rand," he announced.
"Weren't they supposed to be down at the ComStar compound overseeing that first shipment of parts?" Asano asked.
"Hai," Tomoe confirmed. "Something must have happened."
Tension built within the control booth as they waited for the two to climb the stairs. Dechan envisioned a wide variety of disasters, from ComStar reneging on the deal to a new outbreak of war. A glance at Tomoe's worried face reminded him that there was another sort of news that Fuhito might feel he had to bring in person. Something might have happened to Theodore.
Fuhito and Jenette tumbled through the door Asano opened for them. Dechan caught Jenette by the shoulders to steady her, and she slipped an arm around his waist. From their exhaustion, they must have run all the way from the airfield. In the moment it took them to catch their breaths, Dechan stole another glance at Tomoe. She had controlled her emotion and hidden her concern behind a mask of calm. "Sho-sa Tetsuhara, report!" she ordered.
Fuhito tried once, to no avail. He closed his mouth,
swallowing to control his diaphragm. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he spoke. "The Coordinator has ordered the training regiments broken up. We are to be scattered across the Combine."
"Has the training command been dissolved?" Tomoe asked. Fuhito shook his head.
Dechan was relieved. He looked across to smile at Tomoe, and she returned his grin. Fuhito's brow wrinkled at the reaction to his words. Asano looked as puzzled as Fuhito.
"It's all going according to Theodore's plan," Tomoe explained. "He expected this to happen sooner or later, once his father realized that we had a strong corps of loyal soldiers building up. The spread of the troops will allow the spread of his program that much faster."
"This explains your requirement that the troops teach each other once one lance had mastered a problem," Asano said.
"Exactly," Dechan said. "We want them to get the other regiments of the DCMS infected with our tactics. The training command can't get all of the DCMS regiments, so we send out the next best thing—loyal, educated soldiers. As soon as he can manage it without attracting undue attention, Theodore will arrange for the promotion of our scattered trainees. We have been training sergeants here, not privates. We know we can't get to every soldier, but at least we will get the lance commanders and line officers on-line with the program."
"But with our regiments split up, Prince Theodore will have no strong force in readiness," Fuhito objected.
"The regiments will not stay dispersed forever," Tomoe assured him.
"So ka," Asano said, nodding. "Our Prince Theodore plays a deep game."
45
Beneath Pauchung, Xinyang
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
18 June 3031
“Too deep," Michi coughed as Theodore pulled him back onto the narrow ledge at the tunnel's edge. His overcoat hung soggily over his compact frame as he regained his feet. Michi pulled his scabbarded sword out of the carry loops on the coat's back. He flicked open the catch behind the fastening plate and shrugged his shoulders free of the heavy garment. "Only slow me down now," he said to Theodore's questioning look, stuffing the sword through his belt.
"You said you had the right code phrase to contact this gang," Theodore accused.
"I did, but it was two years old." Michi released the empty magazine from his Nambu. It splashed into oblivion in the scummy water around their knees. He slipped a fresh clip into place. "How was I suppose to know that the gang would splinter, and our contact end up on the losing side? That Chokei fellow must have done something really awful for those guys to be so hot on the tail of anybody who claims to be associated with him."
A laser pulse struck the water near them, steam rising in an evil hiss as the water vaporized. Michi shoved Theodore to get him moving and snapped off a pair of shots at the unseen gunner.
They cut into a side tunnel to avoid any more immediate fire. Two alternate tunnels later, they were back in the main tunnel, splashing through waist-deep water at a junction, when a shout announced the arrival of their pursuit. Ten yakuza soldiers were splashing along the submerged catwalk against the tunnel wall. Michi knelt, heedless of the filthy water that lapped at his chin, and took careful aim. He squeezed off a single shot, chipping the wall near the head of the lead kobun.
The man shied from the ferrocrete fragments that stung his face. His foot slipped from the path as he stepped back, and he windmilled his arms to maintain balance. His weapon splashed into the water before he did. As the man's head disappeared beneath the scum, his thrashing foot caught the next kobun in line and tripped him cursing into the muck.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Theodore and Michi ran on. Half an hour of twisting tunnels and backtracking brought them to a tunnel that angled upward. The kobun were gaining. As the two moved up the tunnel, the water level gradually dropped until it was only ankle-deep. Though less cumbersome to run through, it was more noisome. Foul odors rose with each squelching footstep. After five minutes, they came to a halt before a massive metal grating that spanned the tunnel.
"Control?"
"None."
Theodore could hear the pursuit drawing nearer. "The last cross-tunnel is too far back. We'll never reach it before they do." Michi nodded.
"I didn't want to kill them," he said, pulling the slide on his Nambu to ensure that the action was free of sludge. He caught the ejected shell before it hit the water, and pocketed it. "Too much blood will make a wall you won't be able to cut through."
"They're the ones who won't let us leave peaceably. What happens is on their heads. Shigata ga nai," Theodore said fatalistically, checking his own weapon.
There was no cover, so they pressed against the walls to take advantage of what little protection the conduits might afford. The first kobun appeared, and Theodore took him down with two shots. Michi dropped one and wounded two more before the survivors stumbled back around the curve of the tunnel.
The wan yellow light from the overhead panels that had lit their way so far began to dim and fluctuate. Moments of utter darkness alternated with seconds of pale illumination. Theodore crouched, awaiting the assault that should follow the yakuza's tampering with the lights.
A sudden crash and scream echoed through the tunnels. Firing started around the curve. Theodore recognized the angry whine of ricochets from metal. He had seen no armor, metal or otherwise, among their pursuers. Had someone else cut themselves into the situation?
The noise stopped. Theodore looked over to Michi, who shook his head. They waited.
Their rescuer appeared down the tunnel. In the fitful light, it seemed that a fantastic armored beast shuffled toward them. Red beams lanced the flickering darkness from its headlight eyes. Metal squealed with each step the lumbering monster took. Its huge claws were outstretched, reaching for them. Had their rescuer only acted in order to claim their lives for himself?
The machine squalled to a halt, and the tunnel lighting stabilized. In the low glow, Theodore finally recognized the shape of a cargo-loader exoskeleton. Crude armor of welded metal plates protected the operator, and shielded the more delicate parts of its superstructure. In a more open environment, it would have been easy prey for a trained rifleman with a good eye to find its weak points; but here in the cramped, ill-lit tunnels, it was as potent as a BattleMech.
The makeshift 'Mech's torso clamshelled open to reveal the driver removing the neuroband from his head. He was older than Theodore had expected, his gray hair and lined face a stark contrast to his well-muscled body. He wore only shorts and a stained, makeshift cooling vest, with a battery pack over his lower abdomen.
"Looks like I saved you boys a good bit of trouble. Lucky for you I was on my way home. My name's Frank Chokei," the man announced, holding out his hand. Neither Theodore or Michi moved. Chokei grimaced indifference and dropped his hand. "I see you've heard of me."
Chokei turned back to his machine and flicked a toggle. The grate that had barred passage rose silently into the ceiling. "Come on in anyway," Chokei grumbled as he brushed past them. Ten meters down the line, he stepped up into a dry side passage. Theodore and Michi followed.
Chokei led them to a large chamber, well but crudely outfitted for living. Theodore counted twelve bedrolls. The amount of personal gear scattered looked right for that number of inhabitants. To his surprise, a table in the corner held a partially disassembled neurohelmet of the style used in BattleMechs. On a rack behind the table hung a half-dozen DCMS-issue cooling vests. So the rumors were true— Chokei was a MechWarrior and had other Mech Warriors in his employ.
"We have indeed heard your name, Chokei-san," Michi said politely. "But we do not understand why you are here in the sewers. Just what did you do?"
Chokei gave him a sidelong glance before walking over to a table and opening a silver humidor. He took out a long, black cigar, snipped off an end, and stuffed the uncut end into his mouth. Just when Theodore thought Chokei intended to ignore the question completely, his gravelly voice slid out around
his cheroot.
"I broke the code of the yakuza."
Chokei lit his stogie and puffed for a minute. "At least, that's what they say. I told the district governor about some of the Hanei-gumi's activities. Quite intricate detail, too. Several very prominent businessmen were very embarrassed. Some of the gang stuck with me, especially my MechJocks. Most of them had spent some time in the DCMS and understood what I was doing. The rest turned on me, swore to kill me. But I'd do it again in a minute."
"That's pretty cavalier for a man under the Hanei-gumi's death sentence," Theodore commented.
"I got my reasons."
"And what are they?"
"You're awful nosy, young fella."
"I have been accused of that."
"You know, kid, I like your style. I'm gonna tell you something that I never told the bosses of the Hanei-gumi. Not that I think it would make much difference with them. They're real hard ones when it comes to the yakuza code.
"Those businessmen I embarrassed—they were passing info to the Fedrats. I couldn't stand the thought of somebody making a profit from endangering the Combine. So I figure they earned what they got." Chokei took a long pull on his cigar, then blew the smoke into the overhead fan. He watched as the anemic blades swirled the wafts into intricate patterns. "Then I headed down here. My people hid the 'Mechs while we looked for a way offworld. There's quite a lot a smart man can do to make money with a few BattleMechs.
"I been thinking about getting out of here, finding a cooler climate. I figure my MechJocks and I could get into the mercenary business. Know anybody who's hiring?"
Theodore smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do."
46
Hotel Grandica, Mizutoshi, Corsica Nueva
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
Heir to the Dragon Page 24
