She shoved the offered cup away. "That's just it. You don't. We all don't!"
"What are you talking about?"
The woman paid no attention to the other officers. She searched Kincaid's face, her head moving back and forth in a tiny, disbelieving shake. "Then I'm it. The only one to make it."
She buried her face in her hands. Her body shook with breathy sobs. Kincaid felt it tremble under the hand he laid on her shoulder. As he hoped, she steadied under his touch.
"Tell me what happened, Leutnant."
"We were surrounded outside Jalonjin," she began, voice muffled by her hands. "Leutnant-General Finnan had taken in a Kurita deserter and listened to him. Planned an attack based on the scum's information. It was a trap. The Legion was waiting for us. We didn't have a chance.
"Finnan gave the order to break into pairs and fight our way out. Just before my team went out, his Atlas caught a barrage of Snake rockets. He ... he went down. I think he's dead."
Kincaid exchanged a worried look with his executive officer.
"Colonel Donovon took over. She seemed sure that we could beat the Dracs. Don't know why she was so sure. We was getting stomped.
"She ordered my lance out to make contact with you. It didn't make any sense to me. Last I heard the rest of Third Guard was fighting way up north. We went, though. We lost Chaney right away when we cut through the lines. Whitney bought it when we ran into a Kurita reinforcement column. Me and Bradley, my partner, kept going. We thought we were in the clear when a pair of Dragons caught up with us outside of Halo. Bradley's Commando lost a leg, and the damned Snakes hunted him down after he punched out. They squashed him like a bug."
"Take it easy, Leutnant. Get on over to the barracks tent and get yourself some rest."
She rose shakily and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, the gathered officers of First and Third Battalions turned anxious faces to Kincaid.
"This is real bad, Brian," Kincaid's executive officer, Willy Williams, declared. "We're nearly surrounded here, and we've got that damned sand sea at our backs. Sounds like Second Battalion is cut up pretty bad. With Finnan down—even if he's just wounded—the southern front is in big trouble. Donovon in charge ..." He shook his head. "If the Legion is going to be able to concentrate on us here, we're finished, too."
Kincaid knew he was right. The Second Legion was bad enough. If they had the Fourteenth coming down on them as well, it was all over.
"It looks like we have no choice, Willy. Call in the DropShips. We've got to evacuate. But they're not going to like it on Tharkad."
* * *
Theodore and his officers crowded around the main radar screen in the Roccer command tower.
"That's the last one, then?" he asked.
"Yessir, outward bound on a solid burn for the jump point," the CommTech replied.
"We've seen the last of Finnan and his Third Lyran Guard."
Theodore smiled at Tomoe's comment. He put his left arm around her, reassuring himself that she had returned safely from her mission of deception into the Lyran camp. She nestled in close, careful of his injured arm. "What you did was very dangerous. You too, Kerai-kun."
"It saved lives," she pointed out. "By convincing the Lyrans that their position was hopeless, we made them retreat. With one force withdrawing, the others had no reasonable option but to follow. We were fortunate that Finnan was wounded. Had he still been in command, things might have gone differently. We cut the campaign here by weeks, possibly months."
"Sure it was dangerous," Ninyu said with a laugh. "But it was fun, too. You should have seen Tourneville's face when I told him that I used his name in the Lyran camp. He was fit to blow a coolant seal."
With Tourneville absent from the group, they all joined in with Ninyu's laughter. When they calmed, Fuhito said, "The Lyrans will compare notes when they're together again. They'll see that we manipulated information and made them believe in circumstances that were not reality."
Ninyu shrugged. "So what? We fooled them, and they'll be shamed by it. They probably won't even admit to their masters on Tharkad that we conned them."
"Finnan has certainly been embarrassed by the actions of his subordinates. When he recovers, he will face serious questions from his superiors. Perhaps he'll attempt to fix the blame on his junior officers. Already they are squabbling. In the last transmission we intercepted, Colonel Donovon was calling Leutnant-Colonel Kincaid a coward, which, of course, he denied vehemently while suggesting that she had no idea what she was talking about.
"It will be some time before the Lyrans sort matters out," Tomoe predicted.
"I'm sure it will," Theodore agreed. "We have done well here. Vega is safe. But we have a lot more to do elsewhere. This war is far from over."
34
Seramore Hotel, Noraton, Moore
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
2 August 3029
Ninyu slouched into the room and threw himself down into the massive floral armchair facing the oaken desk, heedless of the damage his grimed jumpsuit would do to the hotel's furniture. He peeled off his tight black gloves and dropped them into his lap. Flexing his fingers, he carefully tested the flexibility of each digit. His survey complete, he rocked his head back into the soft cushions.
Looking up from his book, Theodore was appalled by the haggard, worn look of his friend. A year of war had hardened Ninyu and stolen much of his jovial manner, just as it was wearing down everyone around Theodore. Even Tomoe seemed so exhausted when she left in response to Constance's message that Omi needed her. Was it affecting him, too?
A glance in the mirror on the wall separating the outer room from the bedchamber told him it was so. His shoulder-length hair was shaggy from lack of proper trimming. The silly, affected mustache he had worn during his tour in the Benjamin District was gone. He didn't even know if the style was still in vogue on Luthien. His face was thinner, almost gaunt, and his eyes were as haunted as Ninyu's.
"Tourneville is taken care of," Ninyu announced wearily.
"What do you mean?" Theodore was puzzled.
"He's dead."
Theodore sat back in surprise.
"Yesterday I learned from one of my people that he was ready to blow the whistle on your plans to invade the Commonwealth," Ninyu continued. "I was waiting for him outside the ComStar compound when he arrived. He had a coded message marked for delivery to the Coordinator. Chu-i Tourneville has had an unfortunate accident."
"Couldn't you just have distracted him? Bought us some time?"
Ninyu shrugged.
Theodore was confused. "Subhash-sama is helping us by altering Tourneville's reports. If you could merely have delayed Tourneville, it would have given the Director time to take care of this message. Surely he would not have ordered the man killed just to stop this one communication."
"The Director didn't order it," Ninyu stated.
"What?" If Ninyu had not acted under his ISF superior's orders, this show of initiative might be the sign of a dangerous loyalty shift. Even if the change were in Theodore's favor, altered loyalties were a sign of an unstable personality. The last thing Theodore needed now was a rogue ISF special agent, especially with Tomoe gone. She would not be able to counter Ninyu's actions with her special O5P talents.
"Then why?" he asked.
"I acted in the best interests of the Dragon. We have too many worries to keep that slinking tattletale on our list of problems. Subhash-sama trusts his Sons of the Dragon to act as they think best." Ninyu's face held the hint of a smile. "All of them."
Ninyu picked up one of his gloves, turning it right side out. He inspected it carefully before returning it to his lap. He seemed satisfied, as though his act had restored the universe to proper order. "Don't be squeamish, my friend," he said casually. "It's no worse than your shooting Sanada."
Theodore hid his outrage, but not fast enough. Ninyu's smirk told Theodore that he had caught the emotion and was pleased to have provoked the reaction.
It was true that Theodore had shot Tai-sa Sanada, but it was an impulsive solution to a problem, not premeditated murder. Besides, Sanada had been a dangerous, incompetent commander who had put his own vanity and honor before the needs of the Combine.
"That was different. Tomoe told me just before I went into the meeting with the generals that Sanada was in Warlord Cherenkoff s pocket. The fat fool may be impossible, but he's still a warlord, and dangerous because of it. He would never approve my invasion plan. Cherenkoff would quash Operation Contagion simply to annoy me. He would be happy to reward anyone who helped him make my life more difficult. Like calls to like, I suppose.
"This is too important. I cannot allow the invasion of Skye to be halted because of one man's petty desire to avenge an imagined insult or to curry favor with the Coordinator. If Cherenkoff learns of the troops we have assembled, he will issue orders to stop me. He will redeploy our troops and requisition the JumpShips for less important duty.
"The Warlord wishes to steer a course of dangerous indolence. He wants to sit and pick at Davion, as he has for years. Sometimes I wonder if he realizes that we really are at war. How can my father allow Cherenkoff to maintain control over Dieron?" Theodore's voice had risen as he spoke, his long-leashed anger and frustration running free. Catching himself, he paused to regain more control before continuing.
"The Combine needs this attack. We must strike back at Steiner.
"All through the meeting that thought gnawed at me. We discussed the plans openly, Sanada listening and taking careful notes. I knew that a good officer would do that in order to prepare properly, but I suspected his real motive was to gather evidence for Cherenkoff. Could I let one self-interested fool cripple the Combine's chances? I had been planning to embarrass Sanada before the other generals by repudiating his action in the Jinjiro Thorsen incident. I thought it might bring him into line, force him to abandon his selfish attitude.
"But then I saw the look on his face when Thorsen entered. I could feel his contempt and hatred, and I realized that public airing of my displeasure with him would only push him over the edge, and drive him fully into Cherenkoff's camp. I had no doubt that as soon as Sanada left that meeting he would go straight to the Warlord, who would have scuttled the invasion and the Combine's best chance to stop the Steiner attacks. Shooting Sanada was the only way I could think of to stop him."
"Stow the justifications," Ninyu snapped. "I never said I disagreed with what you did. Shooting Sanada put the fear of you into the rest of the generals. That's good. Nobody's talked to the Warlord, and with the landings on Dromini VI, they're in too deep to try that now. They'll stick with you."
"I don't want them with me. I want them with the Combine."
"Same thing."
"I am not yet the Coordinator.”
“It's only a matter of time."
"Would you kill my father to suit your ideas of what the Dragon requires?" Ninyu shrugged.
Unsettled by his comrade's ambiguous response, Theodore stood. He wanted to be alone.
Ninyu simply closed his eyes, ignoring the implication that he should leave. Annoyed, Theodore stalked to his bedroom. He was halfway across the inner room before noticing the object lying in the center of the bed. He halted in surprise. It had not been there when the orderlies had left, and no one had disturbed him until Ninyu had arrived. Fifty stories above the street, the windows were permanently sealed. There was no way into the bedroom except through the door to the outer chamber. How could it have gotten here?
He stepped to the bed and lifted the lacquered mask. Beneath it lay an origami cat. "Frak!" A folded paper sculpture in the shape of a cat was the signature of the nekogami. They were reputed to be the best at what they did. Assassins, spies, and saboteurs. Though the subjects of innumerable entertainments and books, few knew their real capabilities. None knew their identities. Ninyu appeared at the door, alert and ready for trouble, with a short, flat throwing knife in his hand. His eyes went wide when he saw the origami sculpture on the bed. Walking softly and scanning the room, he crossed to Theodore's side.
Theodore held out the mask. It was full-size and complete with the silken cords to tie it to the wearer's face. Theodore recognized it as one of the types worn in the Noh drama, but he did not recall the character it represented. The mask's staring eyes and grimacing mouth were menacing, an odd contrast to the long, bright red nose. With exaggerated care, Ninyu took the mask and examined it.
"It is a tengu mask," he pronounced.
"So ka. The winged swordmaster spirits of the forest. They were great tricksters. Is this a joke?"
Ninyu held the mask high to let light illuminate its black lacquered interior. He pointed to the two needles jutting out beneath the eyeholes. Each tip was coated in a dull brown substance.
"No joke," he said. "Anyone who wore this mask would die a painful death. This is a hint.
"In some traditions, the tengu were the original tutors of the ninja. In my year of training with a nekogami sensei, I learned something of the many ancient customs and beliefs that the nekogami observe. They take the tengu as their ancestors, venerating them as they do the generations of ninja who tie them to ancient Japan. The Spirit Cats are very traditional." Ninyu handed the mask back to Theodore. "They are not happy with you."
"What did I do?" Theodore asked innocently.
"You said they were your agents on Dromini VI."
"I thought it would give the officers more confidence. The nekogami are feared throughout the Inner Sphere. If the generals knew we were relying on our own sleeper agents and half-trained volunteers ..
"Just because a strike team wears black suits doesn't mean they are nekogami, no matter what you call them. Frak! It doesn't even mean that they're ninja. You could have said the ISF would take care of it."
Theodore thought he detected a note of hurt pride in Ninyu's voice. "The generals are simple military men. They've little faith in the agents of the ISF and believe commando raids should be left to their own specialists, such as the Draconis Elite Strike Teams and professionals like the nekogami. They would not have believed that I had arranged for a DEST attack without alerting the Coordinator or the Warlord. Since no one really knows how and where to contact the nekogami, I thought they might believe I had somehow gotten access to them."
Ninyu shook his head. "Using the nekogami's name without their permission was a bad idea. One of the bigger clans like the Kageyoru or the Dofheicthe would have been a better choice. They may not be as good as the nekogami, but they aren't quite so fanatically possessive of their reputation. You could have gotten almost as good an effect without angering the Cats."
"I'll be more circumspect in the future."
Tapping a finger on the mask in Theodore's hands, Ninyu said, "You'd better be."
35
Ducal Palace, Kanashimi, Dromini VI
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
15 September 3029
"You bastard! How could you sit here and listen to me prattle on about honor and agree with me when you were planning such treachery?"
Enraged at the news he had just received, Theodore swept the visiphone across the taboret. The comm device smashed into the fine crystal decanters and took them crashing to the hard marble floor. Even before the shards of crystal bottles and ancient ceramic sake bowls landed, Theodore had drawn his sidearm. Driven by fury and frustration, he leveled it at the man kneeling in the center of the room.
Duke Frederick Steiner, ankles manacled and left arm still linked to the hobble by a short length of chain, stiffened. Rising as erectly as possible under the circumstances, he lifted his chin and met Theodore's gaze defiantly.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said calmly. The Duke's eyes never wavered to the pistol whose single, black-eyed stare was directed between the Lyran's blue eyes. Theodore could not help but admire such cool acceptance of the death before him.
The Duke's serenity touched Theodore despite his rage. Perhaps F
rederick Steiner was, indeed, a true warrior. Perhaps he did not know. Ever since the Duke had landed at the head of a Steiner raiding force to cripple Theodore's invasion plans by destroying his carefully hoarded supplies,
Frederick Steiner had conducted himself well. He had fought fairly and with great courage, and nearly led his single regiment of BattleMechs to victory against the three Kurita 'Mech units already onplanet. The fervor he had inspired in his men was a testament to his leadership.
Unable to sense a hint of treachery in the man before him, Theodore banked his anger. The Duke had to be a dupe of his cousin and ruler, Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth.
"No. You would not have resorted to such trickery," Theodore said, speaking his conclusion aloud. "Your cousin sent Loki agents to cripple the JumpShips of my fleet. Four have blown helium tanks, two have had their solar recharging exchangers destroyed, and the last has lost its station-keeping engine. That one is currently falling toward the sixth planet, though other ships should be able to stabilize its orbit." Theodore's voice rose in anger as he described the damage done by the Steiner saboteurs. "What you fail to do in honorable combat, she accomplishes by trickery."
"Get used to it, Theodore. It is the way of things. Politicians will forever betray warriors because what we observe as the conventions of war they exploit as our weakness," Frederick said with a smile.
Theodore's anger flared again, the Duke's smile enraging him. Frederick's acceptance of such an intolerable condition was disgusting, unbecoming. How dare he be so smug while Theodore's dreams to save the Combine turned to smoke around him? His finger tightened on the trigger.
Through the walls of his anger, Theodore sensed satisfaction and a feeling of completion coming from Frederick. Despite all that had happened to him, this man was ready to die to see his state continue.
As much as Theodore wanted to lash out because of the destruction of his own ambitions, his dreams for his own state, Theodore knew that this was not right. This man was not responsible for the dishonorable deceits of his ruler. Frederick was an honorable warrior, and Theodore could not shoot down such a samurai while he knelt in chains.
Heir to the Dragon Page 19