Lethal heritage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  "Strategy meeting?" The furrows in Victor's brow deepened. "Why? Last I knew it, Wolf's Dragoons had opted to stay out of this war. Besides, the invaders have left."

  The mercenary's smile dimmed. "Times change, Prince Victor, and this meeting is to ensure that we, not they, control the speed, time, and direction of the change. If we don't, to butcher the old child's rhyme—All the Kings 'Mechs and all the King's men couldn't put the Successor States back together again ..."

  43

  Palace of Obsidian and Jade, Imperial City, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  15 November 3050

  Shin knelt carefully within the shadows of the garden wall. His black silk kimono rendered him all but invisible, but the garment's fine cloth did little to ward off the cold of the clear Luthien night. Shin welcomed the cold, though, for its numbing effect on the burning of his right side.

  He forced himself to control his breathing and drink in the garden's peace. Letting his eyes half-close, he shut out what little light bled into the garden from the rest of the Imperial City, not at all worried that he might doze off. Between the pain and the emotions running riot through him, sleep was the last of his problems.

  He lifted his head slightly to study the purple-black outline of the palace that was home to Kanrei Theodore Kurita and his family. Like the Old Man's demesne on Edo, this one was also molded on ancient Japanese architecture. The central tower rose only three stories, but each was double normal height and the tower had an incredible girth. Shin had traveled in DropShips with less area and mass than this building. He was honored that the Kanrei had granted him a room in this place. A long way from the slums on Marfik!

  In thinking of his life, everything before the invasion seemed faded and unreal like early holodramas and ancient newsreels. The invaders were, in many ways, the most honorable of foes. Again and again, they tried to match their forces to ours so that we would not lose too much face, even in defeat. Sometimes they seem downright naive in dealing with us, and since their defeat on Wolcott, we've had no more attacks against our worlds. Could it be, in their way of looking at the universe, that one defeat calls for an end to their assault?

  As quickly as the question formed itself in his mind, he rejected it. No, that makes even less sense than some of the theories concerning who they really are. What little I've seen of the machines and suits we "earned" from the battle on Wolcott leads me to believe they're human, despite the size of those infantry. That they have BattleMechs says that they ran into humans with 'Mechs at some point, but no one knows how far out Periphery pirates may have ranged. Are they from some lost colony, or maybe the descendants of some charismatic leader who led people off unnoticed to build a martial society?

  Our captives claim to be closemouthed about their past I because they say they are now members of the Kurita Clan, yet they won't tell us what significance that has. It's a mystery wrapped within countless mysteries. Now that they've gone, will we ever be able to dig through these mysteries, layer by layer?

  The barest hint of boot leather scraping against stone brought Shin's head up sharply. Eclipsing glittering stars, a slender figure vaulted up over the crenelated top of the wall and dropped to a crouch within the garden. As the intruder uncoiled and started to move toward the palace, Shin identified her as female. No weapons visible ... An assassin?

  Noiselessly, Shin picked up a pebble, then stood and moved forward. He whipped the pebble against the garden's far wall. As the intruder turned to identify the sound, he came in at her back, but did not strike her from behind. "Stop!"

  Instead of obeying his command, she whirled and executed a roundhouse kick meant to take his head off. Shin ducked beneath most of it, though her heel clipped him and knocked him slightly off balance. Recovering as she came around to face him, he dropped into a fighting stance. Again, moving more quickly than he expected, she grabbed at his right wrist and pain immediately shot up to his shoulder. Though agony numbed the limb, Shin slipped his arm from the kimono's sleeve, ducked, and spun away. As the intruder pulled on the garment, the yakuza let it be stripped from his torso. His movement took him into the center of the garden and left his foe holding the empty kimono.

  Doors at both the garden and the balcony levels opened, spilling pale light out into the night. One rectangle trapped Shin and splashed his long-legged shadow against the garden wall. The intruder cast the kimono aside in preparation for another attack, then stopped short and bowed respectfully to him.

  Shin's mouth dropped open in surprise. Fighting one moment, then bowing the next? What's going on here? As the intruder came up, Shin bowed to her, then tried to recall where he had seen that red wolf's-head insignia decorating the left breast of her tunic. Wolf's Dragoons? Was it possible? After all this time, the only thing they could want here is the Coordinator's death. If so, why attack the Kanrei's palace?

  The intruder pulled off her black balaclava, which let her long, blond hair spill down over her shoulders. "Komban wa, Kanrei Kurita-soma," she offered in flawless Japanese to the man standing on the balcony. "I bring you the greetings of Colonel Jaime Wolf."

  The Kanrei rested his fists on his hips. "Colonel Wolf sends greetings to me?" A note of humor entered his voice. "Has the Christian hell truly frozen over, or is this some manner of trick? Do Dragoon envoys always assault the trusted aides of those to whom they bring a message?"

  The woman laughed, a lilting sound completely at odds with the deadly menace Shin had sensed from her earlier. "Major Lilith Lang of Wolf's Dragoons, at your service. This is no trick and I would not have attacked Shin Yodama had I known it was him."

  Shin stared at her. "What? How did you know ... ?"

  Lilith pointed at the yakuza's chest. "Your history identified you. The left side proclaims you a member of the Kuroi Kiri and the right sings of other great deeds."

  The light from the palace lit the outlines of Shin's new tattoo. Part of the snarling smoke jaguar face had already been filled in on his shoulder. Its gold eyes glared defiantly at both the mercenary and the Kanrei. Below it, traced in black, was the crumpled form of a dead armored infantryman transfixed with a sword. The trail of stars and jumps made in the escape from Turtle Bay decorated the length of Shin's right arm from wrist to shoulder, and scenes from the prison break bled over from his back to the side of his ribs.

  Hohiro, entering the garden through the ground-level entrance, pulled his kimono tight against the cold. "I was unaware that Colonel Wolf had such an interest in my father's men."

  "There is much that interests the Dragoons, and much of which you are ignorant, Hohiro," Lilith hissed, her icy tone matching his. She looked up at Theodore. "It is to end this ignorance that I am sent to bring you, your family, and Shin Yodama to Outreach. There is much for you to learn."

  Hohiro laughed scornfully, but the Kanrei seemed to consider her outrageous statement for a moment or two. "I would be a fool to travel alone to the headquarters of an enemy ..."

  The mercenary smiled. "Colonel Wolf predicted that you would say that. He said that you may bring your Genyosha or Ryuken with you if need be, but that he hoped the promise of safe passage from Dechan Fraser and Jeanette Rand would suffice. He also said that his war was never with you or the Combine, it was only with Samsonov and your father. It is because of that vendetta that I could not come here openly. But you must realize that if the Colonel had sent me on a mission of destruction, nothing could have stopped me."

  "Well spoken," Theodore agreed. "I shall not need the Genyosha or Ryuken with me, but I would like to bring Tai-sa Narimasa Asario."

  Lilith beamed up at him. "Excellent. Colonel Wolf said he looked forward to finally meeting Tai-sa Asano. Gather your people and shuttle out on a vector to the Ginka orbital factory. We'll radio coordinates to our JumpShip."

  Hohiro walked further into the garden and looked up at his father. "This is madness, sasen. We've just driven off an enemy and now you deliver us into the hands of ano
ther. I don't understand."

  The Kanrei exchanged a look with Lilith, then spoke quietly but firmly to his son. "It is not for you to understand right now, Hohiro. You must just obey. For Colonel Wolf to take the risk of sending an envoy here means that his purpose is a serious one. Wolf is no fool, nor is he mad. That's enough for me."

  44

  Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach

  Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

  12 January 3051

  Victor Ian Steiner-Davion stood in the doorway of the hall, awe-struck by the crowd of people filling the room. If even half the stories I've heard are true, so many powerful people have not gathered in one place since the wedding of my mother and father. Military leaders moved in and out of small groups surrounding political leaders while members of Wolf's Dragoons—looking as though they fiercely resented the service—offered drinks and tidbits to their guests. Perhaps most shocking to Victor was that, with so many important people present, no one noticed his arrival.

  The second he caught himself feeling piqued, he smiled. Recall, Victor, that here you are a very small fish in a big pond. You are neither a political nor military giant—yet— and therefore should be content with having been invited at all. His thoughts began to drift toward the puzzle he, Kai, and Morgan had tried to solve during the journey to Outreach, but he stopped himself. We weren't able to figure out why Wolf was calling us together then, so there's no sense wasting brainsweat on it now.

  Amid the press of people, Victor saw a familiar figure in the red and black uniform of the Kell Hounds. The man stood tall and gave off an aura of strength and power. He wore his salt and pepper hair long enough to reach the shoulders of his red jacket, but kept his white beard closely trimmed. As always, Victor had the strange sensation that death would have to take this man asleep because it could never take him awake.

  Victor crossed to where Morgan Kell stood talking with two people from the Free Worlds League and they politely backed away as Davion approached. At the sight of him, Morgan's face lit up.

  "Highness," said his mother's cousin and founder of the Kell Hounds, "as always, seeing you is a pleasure without equal."

  Taking Morgan's hand, Victor returned the smile. "Without equal? My mother will not be happy to hear that ..."

  Morgan Kell laughed aloud. "Ah, you've caught me, for your mother has a special place in my heart. Consider my statement amended but no less heartfelt."

  "Done."

  The mercenary looked Victor up and down, then nodded with satisfaction. "Dan Allard told me good things about you in that action on Twycross. He said you can think on your feet and that you weren't afraid of mixing it up. That's good." His eyes focused distantly. "It got your Uncle Ian killed on Mallory's World, but it's pulled your father and your cousin Morgan Hasek-Davion out of more scrapes than I've got fingers and toes to number."

  "If the Hounds hadn't been there and Colonel Allard not been willing to take a chance, things would have turned out much differently."

  Morgan's eyes narrowed. "And if you hadn't sent Kai Allard to recon the pass, how would things have turned out?"

  Victor looked over to where Kai stood with his mother, father, and twin sisters. "If only he'd allow himself to realize it."

  Morgan Kell cupped one hand around the back of Victor's neck. "I think you'll find that warriors like Kai keep a tight rein on themselves because they're afraid of what would happen if they don't. Just be thankful he's on your side. If he ever cuts loose, there's not much in the Inner Sphere that could stop him."

  The growing whine of an electric wheelchair precluded any further comment by Victor. He turned to see a man dressed in the uniform of a general in the army of the Free Rasalhague Republic. His silver hair and black-streaked beard were vaguely familiar, but it was the sight of the scar on the left side of the man's face that dredged up a name from Victor's memory. That's Tor Miraborg, He must be here with Haakon Magnusson, the Silver Fox. Wolf really did get everyone here.

  For a moment, Victor thought the female aerospace pilot following Miraborg might be his daughter, but the nameplate over her left breast pocket read "Janssen."

  Miraborg fixed Morgan Kell with a savage stare. "You are Morgan Kell?"

  The mercenary nodded silently.

  "I am Tor Miraborg. Your son murdered my daughter!"

  The anger and pain in the crippled man's voice made Victor cringe, but Morgan kept his face impassive. "Explain how my son, dead for a year and a half now, could have murdered your daughter."

  Raw hatred washed over Miraborg's face. "Your son came between Tyra and me. His influence drove her away and made her accept a position with the Rasalhague Drakøns. My daughter died fighting the invaders."

  Morgan pulled himself up to his full height. "Then your daughter and my son shared one last thing in their too brief lives. I received a holodisk from her not long ago, and she was kind enough to share with me and my wife some remembrances of her times with Phelan ..."

  Miraborg's shoulders slumped forward and his chin dipped to his chest. "She talked to you?" he asked in a tortured whisper. "She recorded a holodisk for you! Why?" Victor recognized the question Miraborg dared not voice. She never communicated with her father and he doesn't know why ...

  "Her disk came in response to one I had sent her," Morgan replied quietly. "I will let you see the message, if you wish."

  The Iron Jarl shook himself, and the fire came back into his eyes and voice. "No. I want no part of your message. She stopped being my daughter the day she left Gunzburg."

  He spun his chair and headed off through the crowd, leaving the slim, blond woman standing alone in his wake.

  Anika looked up at Morgan. "Colonel Kell, I'm Anika Janssen. I was Tyra's wingmate. I was also her best friend." She glanced after Miraborg, then shook her head. "Ignore what he said. He's just a bitter old man. I knew your son and was with him and Tyra many times. I was there when they met. You have nothing to be ashamed of in your son. Phelan and Tyra were very good for each other."

  The mercenary rested both of his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you, Lojtnant. I'm glad to know Phelan had friends."

  Anika swallowed hard. "And, if you wouldn't mind, sir, I'd like to see that holodisk she made. Tyra and I never really had a chance to say good-bye. She took her Shilone into the invader flagship, right into the bridge. She did more to stop the invasion than anyone else in the whole Royal Kungsarmé, but the Iron Jarl won't acknowledge her heroism."

  "I will have a copy of the disk to you by tomorrow morning." Morgan smiled warmly at her. "And thank you."

  As Anika withdrew, a commotion at the door caught Victor's attention. Dressed in a black silk gown with red trim that might have been a parody of the Dragoon uniform, Romano Liao, Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation, was desperately trying to get one of the two Dragoons at the door to announce her. The hapless guards tried to ignore her at first, but when she punched one of them in frustration, the man reacted and drew back his hand to slap her.

  A slender, dark-haired man slipped between them, facing Romano. The guard caught himself even as the younger man gently grabbed his mother's wrists. For a moment, Romano's face contorted with rage, but then she kissed her son on the cheek with a look of sheer adoration. Meanwhile, Tsen Shang, her consort, stepped forward to take her arm and lead her away.

  Victor shook his head. No doubt she's as mad as her father was. It looks as though her son, Sun Tzu, can control her, but for how long? He looked over at Kai, who was watching Sun Tzu Liao trail after his parents. Both Kai and Sun Tzu are Maximilian Liao's grandsons, each one entitled to press a claim to the throne of the Capellan Confederation.

  I don't think Kai wants it, but would that stop Sun Tzu from wanting to get rid of a potential rival?

  At the far end of the room, the leader of Wolf's Dragoons mounted a dais. Behind him came another man in a Dragoon uniform, but he stopped as Wolf approached the podium at center stage. The rest of the Dragoon command sta
ff filtered up onto the dais, but remained back along the wall.

  Victor frowned. That's odd. Where's the Black Widow? I hadn't heard that Natasha Kerensky was wounded or killed.

  Jaime Wolf smoothed his thinning gray hair. "Thank you all for responding to the summons that has brought us together here on Outreach. Some of you must have found it strange and yet you have sensed that my reason was not frivolous. Rather, I wish to speak to you about a problem that faces all of us and whose true depth perhaps only the Dragoons can know.

  "Before I begin, however, I would like to present my new second in command." With one hand, Wolf indicated the younger man standing a few steps behind him. "Some of you may have known him as Major Darnell Winningham. His real name is MacKenzie Wolf, and he is my son. He will now replace Natasha Kerensky."

  Wolf let the whispered reactions to his announcement rise like a wave and then die down again as he continued. "As you all know, the Inner Sphere has been invaded in the last year by an enemy possessing BattleMechs of extraordinary power. Recently, the forces of the Federated Commonwealth and Draconis Combine have had modest successes against these invaders. After months of trial and error, they finally managed to hand the invaders a defeat. Since then, the invaders, for all intents and purposes, have withdrawn into the shell of the worlds they conquered."

  Someone shouted, "It's because we kicked their butts!" Victor couldn't identify the voice, but he found himself caught up in the defiant chorus of assent. We did hit them hard.

  Wolf shook his head. "Can you really believe that so implacable an enemy is cowed by minor defeats? They withdrew because one Rasalhague pilot sacrificed herself by smashing her Shilone into the invader's flagship. At the very least, she killed the invasion leader and devastated the command structure of the enemy forces. If she'd missed ten meters up or down, left or right, the invaders would still be marching inexorably forward.

  "If you are so naive as to think that two minor victories and a lucky stroke by a brave pilot could drive these invaders back, our chances for success are poor in our war against them."