Heir to the Dragon

by Robert N. Charrette

  Theodore was gambling with the life of the Dragon, but he had no choice. The Combine's resources had been stretched dangerously thin. If Operation Orochi failed, the Combine would fall. But if he had been content just to defend the worlds of the Combine, the Draconis military would eventually have crumbled under the pressure of the mighty Davion-Steiner war machine. He was staking everything on this audacious operation.

  The arrival of the Fourth Guards was the sign Theodore had been waiting for—the Fox had fallen for the bait. Theodore had been right in his assessment of Hanse Davion as a man who took few chances when playing for such high stakes. The Fox had chosen to protect his own instead of going for the Dragon's throat. Davion was no coward, but he was not foolishly blind, either.

  Theodore checked the deep-space feed. The Davion Guards' DropShips were still on course for Exeter. The Guard would want Kurita blood. They would want to stop the Dragon before he took Robinson or thrust any deeper into their state. Theodore had succeeded in arousing Davion's fear.

  Smiling with satisfaction, he fed course instructions through to Fuhito's screen.

  * * *

  Fuhito ran the BattleMaster up the hill, seeking a clear field for his sensors. At the crest, he halted and oriented the massive torso toward the distant Samuelson Military Reservation. The Kuritans had cracked the Davion defense. 'Mechs stalked through the outer reaches of the reservation, headed for the laboratory and testing compounds.

  A pair of missiles smashed into the hillside at his right. Only one explosion geysered dirt, rocks, and vegetation against the BattleMaster's leg. He gauged the origin point and snapped off a shot from the 'Mech's paired rear-defense lasers. The ruby pulses caught a deadfall, exploding it to flinders in a cloud of flash-heated steam. As the debris fell and the smoke cleared, he watched an infantryman stagger away, the flesh of his hands welded to the plastic of the launcher he had used. The man had survived firing on the Kurita 'Mech. Without thought, Fuhito triggered a single pulse that vaporized the stumbling figure.

  Downslope, the Dragon, Sentinel, and Crab that made up the rest of the lance were prowling through the remains of the First NAIS Cadet Cadre. There would be no counterattack against the Samuelson Military Reservation.

  The BattleMaster's internal comm screen lit with a map, a projected course highlighted in red. Fuhito tapped an acknowledgement, satisfied that Theodore would read it on his screen when he could spare attention from his strategic concerns. He radioed the movement order to the lance. The expeditionary force had performed this smash-and-run routine across Exeter's northern continent, just as they had done on each planet they had hit between here and the Combine's border. Now it was time to withdraw. The Kanrei must have decided that they had done enough damage here.

  Perhaps not quite enough, he thought, as the BattleMaster came on a staging area for Davion infantry. Fuhito charged his 'Mech forward, lasers flaring from its chest. At his right, the hunched, alien shape of Barnaby's Crab strutted, blasting with its heavy laser forearms. The Fedrat troops, surprised and demoralized by the sudden appearance of the Kurita 'Mechs, panicked to scatter in all directions. The Kuritans continued on, unscathed by the encounter.

  Theodore's face appeared on the internal comm screen. "Everything in order, Fuhito-kun?"

  "All clear, Tono."

  "Good."

  "What's next, Tono?"

  "Next we leave Exeter, Fuhito-kun. The Fox has taken the bait."

  66

  Breed System

  Raman PDZ, Draconis March, Federated Suns

  31 October 3039

  Marshal James Sandoval took the crumpled fax out of his pocket. Straightening it, he stared again at the bitter order. Recall.

  All the forces under his command that had been tagged for the second wave were assigned new targets. His own First Robinson Rangers were to lead the attack to recover Breed. The second wave was indefinitely postponed, with all assigned resources being diverted to meet the threat from the Kurita counterattack. Postponed? More likely canceled. The chance had slipped by.

  Only six months ago, they had struck the Combine, catching the Snakes unaware. Initial progress had been good. The lack of BattleMech support and counterattacks had only confirmed his belief that the Kuritans had not had time to rebuild those very expensive forces. What they did have was tied up in Dieron resisting the combined attacks that threatened to cut the Combine off from Terra.

  It had all looked so good.

  Then the Combine's resistance had stiffened. Even though the Davion forces were facing armies light on 'Mechs, the Kuritans held. Planets didn't fall when they were supposed to. The timetable of the invasion had begun to slip. Even then, Sandoval had not been especially worried. The Snakes might have been unprepared, but no one in his right mind would expect them to give up as easily as the Capellans had in the last war.

  Then had come the assassinations against the officers of the Steiner front. It had thrown the Lyran thrust into turmoil. The Steiner advances had stopped almost instantly. The no-guts cowards had even gotten themselves kicked off Vega. He had heard a rumor that Katrina Steiner had panicked when she found an origami cat in the Royal Throne Room on Tharkad. James shook his head. An army had to be bigger than its leadership, stronger than its machines. While the Steiner troops had lots of heavy equipment, they seemed lightly equipped with determination. James felt betrayed. He knew that his father would be feeling even more so after all he had done to foster the alliance with those faint-hearted Lyran fancy-dressers.

  He had never expected the Davion High Command to crumble, too. Sortek must have overrated the opposition on An Ting. It was the only explanation for the abandonment of the Galedon thrust. James knew better. From all he had seen, the Snakes had to be on the ropes. They were certainly ready to collapse all along his own front. Another push, and they would have.

  Then the word had come that the thrice-damned Theodore Kurita had engineered a massive counterattack. Combine units had thrust deep into Federated Suns space, endangering Robinson. James stared sullenly at the faxes littering the small desk of his cubicle. He knew them too well. Supply bases gone. Militia units crushed. Combine planets retaken by the Dragon. AFFS units in danger of being cut off. New Kurita BattleMech units identified. Unexpected forces assaulting Davion worlds.

  Everything was coming apart.

  The door buzzed, and he tapped the switch to open it. Sir Michael Hallbrock stepped through. He flashed James a brief, apologetic smile. "Time for the approach briefing, Jimmy boy."

  "I'll be there in a minute."

  Hallbrock started to leave, but stopped halfway through the doorway.

  "You done good, Jimmy. The Old Duke will be proud."

  James didn't bother to look at him. "We're turning our backs on our last chance to crush the Combine. They've got to be weak, too spread out. If we could just keep pushing."

  "Ain't a war ever been fought without a soldier carrying a politician on his back, Jimmy."

  James sighed. "Sir Michael, you and my father fed me history when I was growing up. You told me tales of how warriors saved the day, rescued the maiden .. . slew the dragon. The Mech Warrior always pulled it out when everybody else had lost hope."

  "And you're wondering what's wrong with you that you're not the hero?"

  James bit his lip. The old Colonel knew him too well.

  "A good soldier follows orders," Hallbrock said softly.

  "Even when he knows they're wrong?"

  "Are you so sure that they are? Are you willing to bet the lives of millions that you are right about how weak the Kuritans are?"

  After a moment of silence, James shook his head.

  "I figure Hanse Davion feels the same way." Hallbrock straightened up. "Weak or not, them Snakes are holding Breed and we've got orders to take it back. The men are waiting, Marshal."

  James forced a shallow smile. "Go on. I'll be along in a minute."

  Hallbrock nodded. The door hissed softly as it cut off James's view of
the lanky old Colonel. James sat, glumly staring at the clutter on his table. He felt the frustration building until it burst forth, and his arm swept out to knock all the fax sheets and data disks to the floor.

  Drained of emotion, he stood slowly and walked through the mess to the door. He had an assault briefing to run.

  67

  Kirkwood Manor, Conqueror's Pride, Proserpina

  Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

  12 December 3039

  The night was scented with the heavy, sweet odor of yoruhana blossoms. Occasionally, insects blundered through the light pools thrown by the stone lanterns, whirring gems of iridescent chitin. The garden was an island of serenity.

  Yasir Nezumi was at ease here, despite the kimono that clung to the sweat brought out by the warmth and humidity. The manor belonged to a yakuza leader, a minor official of the Boshi-gumi clan. It was a near-perfect replica of a Muromachi shoen complex and a sign of the progressive changes made under the enlightened rule of the Dragon. Each day, more of the war-ravaged world was returned to productivity. One day, the Amerigo continent would be reclaimed as well. When that day came, the Boshi-gumi clan would be strong; they owned much of its land. The future was bright for those of the clans.

  A kagetaka called from the bushes.

  Nezumi started, and a nervous anticipation filled him. The kagetaka was not native to Proserpina, and though common on worlds across the Inner Sphere, it was a species not yet reintroduced to this planet. He cleared his throat. He wished his voice to be heard clearly. It was important to make a good impression. He was not dealing with the ordinary here.

  "The war against the Davion and Steiner teki is going well. Our enemies retreat, cowed and chastened for their temerity. Lord Theodore is triumphant in arms.

  "Now that the danger to the Combine is past, it is time to consider the proper ordering of things. The long years of waiting for an appropriate moment are over, and we must turn our eyes to the future. With the invader returned to his own space, we can now attend to internal matters.

  "For years, Takashi Kurita has hindered our lord. Unjustly. Unwisely. The mantle of the Dragon has passed from Takashi-sama. Men of vision have seen this for some time, but they thought it prudent to refrain from action. Now the truth must be recognized. All loyal citizens must do what they can to see that an orderly transition proceeds, that the old and faltering give way to the strong and vital."

  He paused, letting the garden's silence engulf him.

  "It is Kanrei Theodore's desire," he added.

  Having stated his case, he relaxed. A beetle buzzed by his ear and down past his shoulder to bump into a lantern at his side. Its gossamer wings folded under its carapace as it landed. Concerned with matters knowable only to an insect, it crawled off into the darkness. "Is there anything else to be said?" Nezumi asked the night. The silent serenity of the garden went undisturbed. He waited a minute, but there was no answer from the bushes or the trees. He repeated his question. Nezumi sat quietly for another two minutes.

  Had he been wrong?

  He would not know any time soon. Resigned, he stood up, groaning as he straightened. The price of advancing age, he lamented. His knees and back were painfully stiff as he walked the path of carefully chosen and placed stones. As he neared the bushes at the edge of the garden, his concern over his aches vanished. A speck of white arrested his passage, a folded rice-paper figure standing on one of the path's stones. It was an origami cat.

  He smiled with pleasure. He had served the Kanrei, and he knew the Kanrei rewarded those who served him well.

  68

  Temujin Starport, Conqueror's Pride, Proserpina

  Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

  14 December 3039

  Yasir Nezumi was waiting just inside the roped-off area of the Temujin Starport receiving area, standing prim and straight in his dark businessman's jacket. Behind the yakuza oyabun, the crowd milled in sudden excitement as Theodore walked down the ramp from the DropShip Tetsuwashi. A chant of "Banzai!" arose, and Fuhito held back Theodore's aides. Alone, the Kanrei walked into the acclamation, acknowledging it graciously. As he reached the oyabun, the man made a formal bow. "Welcome back, Kanrei."

  "Domo, Nezumi-san." Theodore smiled as he rose from his bow. He thrust out his hand, and the stocky oyabun took it firmly and pumped it vigorously. "I'm pleased that you could take time from your business to be here to meet me. Tomoe has spoken highly of your patriotic organization's outstanding aid. I'm honored."

  "Iie, Tono. It is my honor to take part in welcoming home the victorious Dragon."

  "Hardly victorious, Oyabun. We're still at war with the Federated Suns and the Lyran Commonwealth."

  Nezumi shrugged away the significance of that remark. "They have almost completely withdrawn from our planets. The teki's assault is finished."

  "As is ours," Theodore confided. "You know as well as anyone how thinly spread we were within our wedge into Davion space. We couldn't have continued much longer, but they did not know that. It doesn't matter. We achieved our aim and impressed our determination on Hanse Davion."

  Theodore stepped away from the oyabun, intent on clearing the receiving area. Over his shoulder, he added, "There's still the hornet's nest in Dieron that needs my attention. I will be heading there tomorrow."

  "Your generals are well-trained and efficient, Tono. They can handle the minor operations in that district," Nezumi called aloud. Then he lowered his voice so that it carried no further than Theodore's ears. The oyabun's manner shifted to that of friendly conspirator. "Wouldn't Luthien be a better choice for your next destination? It is your due."

  Theodore was puzzled by Nezumi's obsequious behavior, but he had no time to ponder it. As they broke through the cordon, well-wishers, anxious officers, and toadying courtiers surrounded him, cheering and calling. Smiling, Theodore turned to the task of greeting his subjects.

  Working his way through the crowd with an ease he wouldn't have been capable of two years ago, he spotted two familiar faces, Dechan Fraser and Jenette Rand. They stood aloof from the others, private and separate, despite rubbing shoulders with Kuritans. He greeted them, surprised but pleased that they were here. They were concerned about something and desirous of a private meeting. Assuring them of his attention as soon as possible, he arranged a meeting for that evening. Theodore turned, looking for an aide. None was in sight, but he saw Nezumi still standing at the fringes of the crowd. "Nezumi-san," he called. "Can you arrange an escort for my friends?"

  "Hai, Coordinator," Nezumi responded with a sharp bow.

  Theodore froze.

  "I'm not the Coordinator."

  Nezumi smiled broadly. "Is it not time for the cat to strike?"

  Theodore's eyes went wide, his composure gone as dread flooded him. "What have you done?" he said softly.

  Fearing that he already knew the answer only too well, Theodore pushed his way through the crowd. He did not head for Nezumi or for the limousine that awaited him. He ran back toward the DropShip, calling out orders for lift-off.

  69

  Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  9 January 3040

  His footsteps echoed from the walls as Theodore pounded down the corridor. Otomo guards moved to defensive positions as he approached, readying their heavy-barreled stun rifles. They relaxed as soon as they recognized him, slapping their weapons against the hard plasteel of their cuirasses and bowing their helmeted heads. Theodore paid them no heed.

  The last door loomed before him, its brass fittings gleaming in the soft radiance of the glow panels. Theodore hit it hard, jarring to a stop when the door remained firmly in place. His palm had slipped from the handle before he could turn it far enough to disengage the latch. With a curse, he twisted it savagely. Flinging the door wide, he entered the Peony Room, coming to an abrupt halt as he found the man he sought.

  Takashi Kurita stood with his back to t
he door, apparently halted in mid-motion. The Coordinator wore his tan DCMS uniform. Its spotless surface glistened in the soft glow from the paper-shielded glow bulbs scattered throughout the chamber on black lacquered stands. The uniform's creases and folds were barely disturbed by Takashi's motions as he lifted an exquisite, cut-glass decanter in his left hand and poured dark amber fluid into the ice-filled tumbler in his right hand. Takashi returned the decanter to its place among the trays of food and rack of bottles on the table. He stoppered it before turning slowly to face his visitor.

  "A very dramatic entrance," he observed wryly. He lifted his glass in mock salute, but did not drink. "Come to boast of your successes?"

  Theodore sensed the waves of hostility rolling toward him from the Coordinator. Just like old times, he thought. "They are not mine alone. The Combine has drawn together to do this."

  "Without me."

  "Without you."

  Takashi stepped away from the table of refreshments, walking slowly across the room. The soft light threw diffuse and enormous shadows against the gleaming, gold-framed paintings on the walls and the low beams of the elaborately raftered ceiling, as though some hunched giant were walking past. Takashi stopped when he reached the small elevated platform that held the carved chair of state. The Coordinator turned to face his son. "Am I such a useless old man that I must be confined here, surrounded by your lackeys?"

  "I did what seemed best. You charged me with the military affairs of the realm. This invasion was one such affair. I didn't wish to disturb your serenity."

  "I am not a blind dodderer," Takashi snapped. "Save your courtly excuses for the masses and the fawning toadies of the court. I am the Dragon, you insolent pup! This is my realm still. Not yours!"