Blood legacy

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Phelan heard Cyrilla chuckle. "Oh, he is good, is he not, Phelan?"

  "I guess so..." Phelan gave her a hard look. "Do you know what he is doing?"

  She shook her head. "No, but at this rate, I imagine he will succeed."

  Conal rested his hands on the hips of his gray jumpsuit. "Of course, saying they are suitable to replace Khan Ulric sounds as though I endorse Ulric's removal as Khan. I do not!"

  That statement brought shocked cries from some Council members and battered others into betrayed silence. Phelan saw more than one member who had spoken of Conal in glowing terms blush deep crimson, though several others turned purple with rage. Through it all, Conal smiled, as did Vlad, and waited for the furor to die down beneath the pounding of the Loremaster's gravel.

  "I do not support the removal of Khan Ulric because the arguments against him are foolish. How can we reject a man who has brought our Clan closer to fulfilling the goal of this invasion than any other? Can we fault him for taking an unfair advantage when the Wolf spearhead was directed at a heavily populated and heavily defended portion of the Successor States? Can we listen to the cries of foul by other Clans when their plan to hobble us failed, quineg?"

  Conal looked around the room, his dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "You seek to rebuke him, but I say we should exalt him. He is a man of vision, and he looks beyond the goal of the invasion to the time beyond. He sees into the future, and it is one in which the Wolves occupy their rightful place within the history of both the Clans and of mankind. To oppose him, to vote against him, should be considered high treason against the Clan.

  "Politics is a necessity, yet must it blind us? Ulric and I have had our differences in the past, yet I acknowledge him as an excellent leader. This is a time for the Wolves to come together, lest the other Clans destroy us on the eve of our victory. Let us not deliver ourselves to our enemies. Let us present such a united front that they would not dare think to attack us."

  Thunderous applause greeted Conal's speech, and some of his closest supporters rose to give him a standing ovation. When Phelan turned to see Cyrilla's reaction, he found the white-haired woman shaking her head.

  "He is amazing, quiaff, Phelan?"

  The young man nodded. "If he had not taken himself out of the running for Khan, that speech would have won him the spot instantly. Even some of those he embarrassed have recovered and are applauding him wildly. If he is only planning for the short term and wanted to reap adulation, he got his wish."

  "Yes, but is that all he wanted?"

  As the applause gradually died down, Carol Leroux stood. "Loremaster, though the request may seem ill-mannered, I have no choice. After hearing that speech, Conal Ward has shown us all that he is, indeed, worthy of our trust. As he declines nomination as Khan, I ask that his name be placed in nomination for Loremaster of the Wolf Clan."

  A hundred voices seconded that nomination, and Cyrilla punctuated it by hammering her fist into the bench top. "Oh, crafty dog. Conal, I underestimated you."

  Phelan felt confused. "I am missing something. Does not this mean an end to the threat to Ulric?"

  Cyrilla shook her head resolutely. "Far from it. It just means the battleground has shifted from the Wolf Clan Council to the Grand Council. There they can vote to censure Ulric for his conduct, and within their confines, strip him of his power. He would still be a Khan of the Wolf Clan, but the Loremaster would fulfill all duties, including voting."

  "Then you must stop him."

  "I cannot." Cyrilla nodded a salute to Conal. "Because he circumvented my threat this time, to react would be a poor move. Besides, after that speech, he will win no matter what I do."

  Phelan ground his teeth. "But that means the Crusaders have won. From what you and Natasha have said, that also means the Successor States stand no chance."

  Cyrilla rested her left hand on Phelan's shoulder. "Do not lose heart yet, Phelan. There is a battle to be waged in the Grand Council. As well you know, as long as there is life in Ulric's body, he is more than able to handle both himself and his enemies."

  13

  DuKirk Building, Dragoon Housing Center, Outreach

  Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

  17 May 3051

  Shin Yodama slid open the door and entered the small receiving alcove. The room's austerity seemed familiar rather than harsh because the quarters were so similar to his own on far-distant Luthien. In fact, the stark simplicity of the furnishings made him feel very much at home, as the arrangement made perfect zen sense. When he remembered that gaijin lived here, it was something of a shock.

  Beside the door was a small rectangle of carpet upon which stood a pair of boots and a pair of slippers. Without thinking, Shin pulled off his own boots and donned the slippers. Placing his boots next to those of his host, he walked forward across the polished wooden floor and bowed.

  "Konnichi-wa, Major Kell. I thank you for the invitation to visit." Shin looked around the room and smiled. "I envy you your surroundings."

  The black-haired mercenary returned the bow. "Thank you, Yodama-san." He waved the Combine MechWarrior to a pile of pillows on the floor. Shin noted that, like himself, Christian Kell wore a short kimono and a regular pair of trousers. The. difference was that Chris' kimono bore no Kurita crests. Shin, proud to display the crest on the breast, back, and sleeves of his kimono, started to fit the lack of crests into the rumors about Chris circulating through the Kurita community on Outreach.

  "Please excuse my rudeness, but I wish to speak directly about the reasons I asked you to meet with me." A bell rang in the small kitchenette. "I have some sake warming," Kell said. "Please make yourself at home."

  As Chris returned to the kitchenette, Shin turned to examine a rice-paper painting on the wall. Done in brush and black ink, it depicted a hastily painted 'Mech shielding a woman from a coiled serpent. The simplicity of the work contrasted sharply with the bold strength of the brush stokes. Down the side of the drawing, Shin saw a number of commentaries in Japanese that said much the same thing.

  "You are a talented artist."

  "Thank you." Chris set the tray with a saki flask and two small cups on the floor before seating himself on a pillow. "What little skill I have is in my blood."

  Shin seated himself and smiled. "If you inherited but half that much skill from your father, I applaud the alliance Wolf seeks to forge. I have no desire to face Patrick Kell's son in combat."

  Chris stopped for a moment and Shin felt as though the man's jade stare were slicing through to his soul. Then Chris bowed his head and smiled slightly. "You are good, Yodama-san. You probe without asking questions. Had the ISF arranged this meeting earlier, much could have been resolved before now."

  Shin frowned. "Your meaning escapes me. I am no gossip, but stories about you abound. In our training, I have found you an excellent leader and teacher. Would I be human if I did not take an interest in what shaped my sensei!"

  "No, no, your point is well taken." Chris poured the rice wine into the small cups, then raised his. "To success in our endeavors."

  Shin matched the gesture, then the two men sipped the raw liquor. Shin felt it burn its way down to his stomach, but relished the sensation. "I commend you, Major. It is the perfect temperature."

  "No inborn skill there, just years of learning how many seconds the microwave requires for the result."

  Both men laughed and drank again. "I have two reasons for asking you here this evening. The first concerns the training group. I have noticed, over the last five weeks, that the tensions between Victor Davion and Hohiro Kurita have begun to lessen. Both have shown a marked improvement in their development as a result."

  "Hai. I believe Kai Allard spoke with Hohiro and that Omi-sama has also encouraged cooperation with Victor."

  "I know." Chris smiled and Shin felt himself warming to the man. "I have spoken with Galen Cox about encouraging Victor to work with Hohiro. I would like you to do the same thing. Nothing overt or direct, but subtle
and thereby more effective."

  "Wakarimas, Chris-san."

  "Domo. Their ability to work together is vital to our effort. If they can get along, line troopers will try to do the same. Each can lead by example, and such example will prevent our coalition from collapsing because of infighting."

  "I agree. I believe the extended field operation you have scheduled for the end of this month will teach them once and for all the need for cooperation. If you permit, I will speak with Galen Cox personally so we can better coordinate our efforts."

  "Excellent." Chris refilled their cups. "The other reason I wished to speak with you is because of the inquiries that your Internal Security Force agents have been making about me."

  Shin shook his head. "The ISF has never been discreet."

  "No, and I fear some of my comrades within the Dragoons have been spinning great stories out of nothing to feed to your boys. I think I should clear things up."

  Shin stiffened. "Major, I can see from your quarters and your manner that you have a great understanding of the Combine way of life. You should know that we respect your privacy and do not require you to make a confession as in some tawdry holodrama. I am honored that you have chosen to speak with me, but I fear I am most inappropriate as a relay to the ISF."

  Chris' eyes glittered mischievously. "I do not think so, Shin Yodama of the Kuroi Kiri. I believe I can trust you to counter rumors that are wrong."

  As he spoke, Chris unknotted the sash on his kimono and pulled his left arm back through the sleeve. He bared the left side of his torso, revealing a brilliantly colored tattoo that ran from collarbone to navel and down to mid-forearm. Highly stylized, but still recognizable and beautiful, it depicted a black and red wolfhound locked in mortal combat with a blue and green dragon. Each beast had its teeth sunk into the throat of its enemy in a yin/yang design that suggested the equality and necessity of opposites. From their wounds, blood dripped down to fill the outline of a man. Stars surrounded him, and in his hands, he clutched a sword and a pistol.

  "I am Christian Kell of the Ryu-no-inu-gumi of Murchi-son. I believe, as one yakuza to another, we can trust each other."

  Yakuza? A Kell? Shin caught himself staring at his host and looked down immediately. "Sumimasen, Chris-san. Forgive my staring. I had no idea, having never seen you in a cooling vest."

  "No offense taken, Yodama-san. I know it must be something of a shock." Chris smiled broadly. "You looked only slightly less surprised than my uncle Morgan when he first saw the tattoo almost ten years ago."

  Shin shook his head to clear it. "So the rumors that you were raised in the Combine are true?"

  Chris shrugged and sipped sake. "More or less. My father was Patrick Kell and I was born on Murchison about six months before his death. As nearly as I can determine, he never knew I existed. I believe my mother meant to tell him in their last visit together, but she feared he would want to retire and settle down if he knew there was a child. She believed that would have killed him slowly, and would have trapped her, so she never spoke.

  "My mother made her living as an artist, but had connections within the yakuza community in Akumashima. When she traveled offworld, I was left in the care of a yakuza family. As I grew older, I accompanied her on her travels, though we did not go far after the 3039 War."

  Shin's brown eyes narrowed. "Murchison was taken by the Federated Commonwealth in the war."

  "Yes, and the occupation forces shut down all the routes my mother had used to leave and return at will. I have no doubt that the loss of freedom was what ultimately killed her. In fact, it was not long after the occupation began that she became ill. Yet if not for the occupation, I would never have left Murchison.

  "You see, mother never told me my father's true identity. She believed that if Patrick had known about me, he would have retired and not have been killed on Styx. When Murchison became part of the Commonwealth, the indoctrination of its people included exposure to countless documentary and holodrama broadcasts glorifying the Steiner-Davion heritage. That and the fact that I came to look more and more like my father as I matured compelled her to send me away. Then she died."

  Shin looked down at the floor. "I am saddened by your loss."

  "Domo arigato." Chris chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "As much as her death hurt me, I do not hold it against her for making me go. As I cleared out her things, I found her diaries, which was how I came to know my father at long last. I did not have to look very hard. After his death, she addressed every entry as though it were a letter to him.

  "I decided to seek out Morgan Kell. The Ryu-no-inu-gumi managed to smuggle me off-planet. I found my uncle on Arboris, right here in the Sarna March. Among my mother's things was a message concerning my lineage that she had verigraphed to Morgan Kell. Morgan accepted me immediately, took a leave of absence from the Hounds, and brought me here to Outreach for training. That was in 3042."

  "Your training must have gone well." Shin returned Chris' smile. "The first I heard of you was after the Ambergrist Crisis in '45. Rumor had it that you were a clone of Patrick Kell whom Hanse Davion had produced in some biomedical lab at the New Avalon Institute of Science. That you handily tied up a Liao battalion with only a company did not go unnoticed."

  "And is remembered still, if Lady Romano's cold reaction to me is any indication." Chris refilled their cups. "I think that should supply you with enough information to make your ISF happy and to stop them from further annoying the Dragoons with their questions."

  Shin nodded in agreement. "That will leave them the mystery of Kali Liao's supposed death and resurrection during a Thugee cult ceremony."

  Chris laughed. "No mystery there. Psychotropic drugs work wonders, especially when the subject has only a nodding acquaintance with reality anyway. A light cut on her flesh and keeping her juiced until it heals into a scar produces a miracle. No, if your ISF boys want a mystery, have them puzzle out a ComStar mystery for us."

  "ComStar?"

  "Yes. The Precentor Martial recently sent my uncle Morgan a message. It consisted of only one line, and that line was the famous old quote from Mark Twain—'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.' "

  14

  Montayana Foothills, Outreach

  Soma March, Federated Commonwealth

  1 June 3051

  As the last trace of red sun sank behind the saw-toothed horizon, Kai Allard shrugged off his pack. He leaned back against one of the boulders that surrounded the circular clearing Victor had designated as a good spot for their camp that night. By his compass and the map, they were only a half hour's march from their target. With the overhanging cliff above and the broken terrain surrounding, the campsite provided cover from spotting aircraft and patrolling 'Mechs.

  Off to his left, Victor and Galen also dropped their packs and slumped to the ground. Opposite them, Hohiro and Shin likewise dumped their gear. Cassandra and Ragnar put their things down next to Kai's while Sun-Tzu paced the clearing like a trapped animal.

  Kai looked at his chronometer. "We've made it here a couple hours ahead of schedule. Let's get some food in us, then get some sleep."

  Sun-Tzu glanced contemptuously at Ragnar. "You, fetch firewood."

  Kai countermanded that order. "No."

  Sun-Tzu's face hardened. "Then send someone to do it. Cox or the yakuza."

  "I said no."

  Ragnar stood up, determined to keep the peace between Kai and his cousin. "Don't worry, Kai. I'll get it. I don't mind."

  Kai laid his right hand on Ragnar's left shoulder. "I said no because we're not going to have a fire." He pointed off in the direction of their target. "Victor chose this place because it offers us maximum cover. Lighting a fire would immediately reveal our presence. Surprise is our only advantage in this operation, and I don't want to give that away."

  Victor chuckled as he rummaged round in his rucksack. "Besides, you don't want these rations warmed up. Cold, you can scrape the congealed fat right off the top. This stuff must
be left over from the Second Succession War."

  Sun-Tzu scowled. "Leave it to the aggressor to be so over-prepared for war."

  Victor snorted derisively. "Hey, if you Capellans had put up even token resistance twenty years ago, we'd have been through this stuff and would have had to make more."

  Sun-Tzu took a half-step toward Victor, but Galen stood up quickly, his readiness a warning. Disgusted, Sun-Tzu threw down his pack. He dropped to the ground and sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his pouting face.

  Kai looked at him and shook his head. He's no more a MechWarrior than Ragnar, but at least the kid tries. Kai realized that as tensions between the Davion and Kurita factions within the group eased, Sun-Tzu successfully focused the divisiveness on himself. He shrugged, feeling helpless to change things, and dug into his pack for a can of rations.

  He held up his discovery for all to see. "I've got a can of alleged beef stew here and I am willing to trade for almost anything. It even has a biscuit."

  Galen shook his head. "Nope. No rock bread and gristle chunks for me."

  Ragnar offered a can to him. "Chicken in naranji sauce and noodles."

  Kai failed to keep the surprise from his voice. "You want to swap that, straight up? That's the only stuff any of us have found edible on this outing."

  Shin held up two cans. "Ragnar, I'll give you two pork and beans for it."

  Victor dug quickly to the bottom of his pack. "I'll see your two beans and toss in half a chocolate bar."

  "Too rich for my blood." Kai smiled at Ragnar. "Looks like you've got a firm offer from the Prince of the Federated Commonwealth. Play hard to get and you might get more. Maybe even a planet."

  "But be careful," cautioned Cassandra. "The last time a Davion started giving up worlds, he gave away half the Capellan Confederation."

  Everyone, save Sun-Tzu, enjoyed a laugh over that joke. Yet, weary as they all were, Sun-Tzu's resentment sobered them enough that the laughter died prematurely.