The extremely low proportion of naval shipyards to population could be regarded as a consequence of the Succession Wars, only to be saved as the Houses re-instituted the Ares Conventions, or a version of them anyway. But it also offered a deadly Achilles Heel to whoever was willing to exploit this weakness. Cut down your opponents’ transport facilities, and you’ll have them at your mercy. Max Liao and Tsen Shang knew what they were doing when they hit Kathil in the 4^th SW.

In more recent times, the Black Dragon Rebellion showed the evolution of this strategy even more clearly. The Word of Blake, silent participants in that fratricidal conflict, would carry this line of thought to its logical conclusion by using nuclear weapons to cripple humanity’s links to space.

Many factions paid dearly for the Blakists’ strategy. The Snow Ravens come to mind.

-Space Revolution, David Bellion

 

Imperial City, Luthien

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

20^th September

Shogun Hassid Ricol looked on the approaching procession of vehicles with cold satisfaction. After so long, so many years of hard work, he had finally succeeded in his dream. The Draconis Combine belonged to him.

Not all of it, of course, not yet, but he was confident of its inevitability. There had been setbacks, but not fatal ones, like the failure to eliminate Hohiro Kurita. And with control of Luthien, came control of the Combine. It was not just the political centre of the Combine, but also a manufacturing powerhouse that churned out upwards of 40% of the entire Combine’s mech production. In comparative terms, it was even more crucial to the Dragon than Hesperus was to the Elsies.

“Is everything ready?” Ricol spun around and asked Vance Rezak, resplendent in his new DCMS issue uniform, sporting the insignia of a Tai-sho. Tai-shu Kiyamori Minamoto was also supposed to be present, but he was too busy reviewing reports from their campaign to clear the Combine of all dissenters, as well as figuring out a way to retake Avon.

The former pirate smiled fastidiously. “Yes, Tono. Everything is in place for the young Coordinator. There’s still some debris and uh… organic waste material we have to clear out, but his path through the palace to the throne room would be perfectly clean.”

“Excellent, Vance. You shall be rewarded handsomely for your efforts.” Ricol turned back to the vehicles travelling down the long motorway while flanked by an entire company of traditional Combine battlemechs like the Panther, the Wolf Trap, and the Dragon. “Nothing must go wrong for Jubei as he ascends to the Dragon throne.”

Appearances must be kept, but the final power still rests in my hands. Ricol smiled. It had been so difficult to seek out a Kurita malleable enough for their purposes, but it had been entirely worth it. All the time and money spent squelching the few brain cells left in Jubei’s mind had resulted in a near mindless Kurita who was only too willing to listen to his most trusted advisor Shogun Hassid Ricol.

Ricol snickered inwardly.

The line of vehicles halted in front of the porch, as did the mechs, where a red carpet with a few yellow birds awaited Jubei as he left his hovercar. Arrayed on the sides of the carpet were a few cameras, crewed by newscasters reporters loyal to the Kokuryu-kai filming the event for public consumption.

The doors of a hoverlimo opened on its own, and Jubei Kurita, the would-be Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, stepped out. He was dressed in a traditional Japanese attire, tailored to emphasize his height and strength. From a distance, he looked every inch the classic Kurita samurai, strong and proud.

It was all a façade. Ricol, who knew where to look, saw the half empty gaze of Jubei’s eyes, the weak form of his chin, the smoothness of his face that was more suited to that of a courtesan than the scarred visage of a battle hardened samurai. Even an experienced warrior could discern the flaws in his stance. Too rigid, unnatural. Liable to break with a strong wind.

Jubei walked down the carpet at a deliberate pace, followed at a distance by his attendants and bodyguards. Ricol narrowed his eyes as he saw the Word of Blake Precentor Takei Inamoto walking behind at a discreet distance. As much as he owed the success of his plan to the Blakists, he detested the idea of the Combine coming under their sway.

No, he already had a plan to rid himself of those accursed Blakists. And it would start with a firm message. A very firm message, to be delivered by Rezak’s hand and pistol.

As Jubei approached him, Ricol smiled widely. “Koninchi-wa, Shogun Ricol.” Jubei said solemnly. To his surprise, Jubei spread his arms out wide, and walked up to him for a hug. Unable to think of anything else since this wasn’t what he had planned, Ricol smiled even wider, and clasped the young man in a comradely embrace. He patted Jubei several times on the back, all the time wondering what sort of spin he was going to put on this.

Then there was a cold sensation between his chest. Ricol gasped, then pushed himself away from Jubei. He glanced down at the dagger in between his ribs, then looked up in disbelief. “What…”

Jubei Kurita was smiling sadly, his eyes no longer vacant, but filled with deadly purpose. He said, “Did you really expect me to be your figurehead? You underestimated me, Ricol, and now you shall pay for all you have done. I, and only I,” Jubei said softly, “shall be the undisputed ruler of the Combine. You can never be trusted.”

No, this is not possible! “Vance, kill… him!” Ricol managed to stammer out. He was getting cold, so very cold. He could feel the strength leeching from his body, and darkness seemed to be clouding in from the edges of his vision. He could sense the various gathered media people just filming away. None of them came to his aid.

Ricol pointed a shaking finger at Jubei. “Kill him!” He yelled again to Rezak, but there was no gratifying sight of Jubei being shot in the head. Instead, the young upstart stood in place, solemn and confident at the same time. Ricol dimly realized that Precentor Inamoto had walked up beside Jubei. Losing his strength, Ricol fell to the ground on his knees and hands. He could feel the metallic taste of blood surging up his throat. His end was near, but by the Nine Hells, he will see Jubei pay for his treachery!

Unable to resist the urge to see what had happened to Rezak, Ricol turned his head. He was shocked to see a grinning Rezak holding a silencer pistol in one hand, and a katana in his other hand, with dead bodyguards all around him, a gathering pool of blood beneath their cooling bodies.

Rezak bowed deeply, and spoke, “I, Vance Rezak, pledge myself to the service of the Coordinator.”

“Arise, Tai-shu Vance Rezak.” Jubei ordered, then said to Ricol. “Do not worry, Hassid,” said Jubei with earnest fervour, “The Combine shall be strong under my leadership. With the help of our allies in the Word of Blake, we shall conquer the Inner Sphere and lead our people to their glorious destiny. You have done your part. Now is the time for you to rest. You have earned it.”

No, no, you are a fool, Jubei! The Blakists are just using you! The Combine will be nothing more than a puppet state! And you, Rezak! You had planned this all along! All these thoughts ran through Ricol’s mind, yet he could not even muster the strength to warn Jubei. How could I have miscalculated so?

Jubei waved one hand dismissively. “Dispose of Shogun Ricol, Tai-shu Rezak. We shall organize a grand funeral for you, Shogun Ricol.” Tai-sho to Tai-shu, the price of loyalty, Ricol reflected bitterly as he saw Rezak raise his sidearm to aim between his eyes. He looked into the dark recesses of the gun barrel.

Then he knew no more.

 

Ihara Family Estates, Avon

“Come on, you have to be faster.” Yoshino Ihara commented as he parried another sweep of the shinai from young Kitsune, who was pressing the attack for all he was worth. Sprawled on one side of the dojo was Descartin Winters and Ethan Morimoto, both exhausted after their own sparring session. His loyal head manservant Toda sat quietly to one side, taking notes, no doubt on room for improvement for all involved. Isis Marik looked on dubiously, probably worried for Kitsune.

She doesn’t have anything to worry about, Yoshino thought, this is just a sparring exercise, and if Kitsune gets a few soft whacks from me, well, that’s traditional samurai toughening for you. But I’ve to admit he’s doing well enough that he doesn’t need that sort of ‘encouragement’.

It had been a long and hard two weeks after Descartin and his ramshackle command had arrived in the Avon system. The Black Dragons had committed the entire 11^th Ghost regiment to capture the crucial dropship and weapons manufacturing facilities on the world, and their sudden, rapid assault had pressed the local garrison unit, the mercenary battalion Storm Angels, almost to the breaking point.

But Major Ethan Morimoto had eventually managed to hold the 11^th Ghost to a stalemate, and was even gaining the tactical advantage when Descartin arrived. Jumping into the system almost simultaneously were a contingent of the Guardians of the True Path, derisively called the Sun Dragons by the Black Dragons, led by Jon and Robert Takiro.

Almost immediately on their arrival, Descartin had executed a combat drop right on top of the 11^th Ghost command HQ with the combined force of their mechs and DEST troopers, killing their commander and sending the entire unit into disarray. The Ghost regiment had tried to rally, but Yoshino’s position as the returning prodigy sparked a wave of intense patriotic fervour amongst the already Nova Cat-sympathetic populace which eventually convinced the 11^th Ghost that the battle for the planet was a lost cause. Of course, the media war waged by Takura Migaki had played an important role in that too.

The retreat of the 11^th Ghost had left behind many significant intelligence documents which the ISF had eagerly seized, and their analysis had in turn yielded the first true inkling of the overall strategic situation in the Combine, as well as the various loyalties of the units involved.

Yoshino had remembered reading through the initial assessments along with the rest of the command staff, and the overall consensus was, “We’re fucked.”

The Black Dragons commanded a surprising total of 30 mech regiments, most of them fully supported by auxiliaries such as vehicles, infantry, and aerospace forces. They had even managed to control five of the Combine’s precious warships, which gave them a substantial space warfare capability.

While there were still 50 odd loyal units that had rightfully denounced the rebellion for what it was, many of them were still required to guard the Draconis Combine from the other Houses and the clans. Though the Federated Suns border was largely denuded of loyalist regiments, the front with the Ghost Bears and the Periphery were another matter.

Even with the assistance of the Nova Cats, many loyalist regiments on the Ghost Bear front could not be moved away for fear of the clan smashing its way through the weakened border. In hindsight, it was obvious that Tai-shu Minamoto had been using his authority to place the Combine’s units in such a way that loyalist regiments would either be picked off or isolated without support right from the start, or else be trapped on the border guarding against the Bears, while his own rebel units were free to claim the rest of the Combine, particularly the more crucial facilities and capitals. The ISF had really dropped the ball on this one, Yoshino thought. And once he had claimed enough production facilities, the units on the clan front would have no choice but to submit to him if they wanted to continue receiving enough supplies to do their jobs.

In the end, that had effectively left Hohiro with only 20 odd regiments to fight the Black Dragons. And a great deal of them were still recovering from the Ghost Bear War and the Draconis March incursion.

Luthien had fallen to the Kokuryu-kai, of course. And New Samarkand. Marduk. Al Na’ir. Dieron. Midway. Quentin. Practically the entire mech production of the Draconis Combine now laid in Black Dragon hands.

Is there a worst way to start a civil war? Yoshino pondered even as he swatted away another vicious swipe from Kitsune, who was tiring fast, his young body not used to such physical exertion. At least Hohiro did not end up like Victor Davion. He’s only a jump away from Luthien and ending that baka Jubei’s life.

Finally, Kitsune lowered his practice sword, apparently exhausted. Yoshino nodded though his men, and they both knelt to each other, and bowed, signifying the end of the match. Yoshino took off his men, and patted Kitsune encouragingly on a shoulder as he stood up. “Good work, boy. You’ve done well. Now go to Toda. He’ll tell you what you have to improve on. Then go take a bath. Your uncle is arriving soon.” The boy nodded in reply. He did not speak, a far cry from his formerly exuberant manner before the war started. War does that to children, Yoshino noted sadly.

As Kitsune skittered away quietly to the old manservant, then the two of them moving out from the dojo, Yoshino saw the look of disapproval on Isis’ face. Descartin seemed to have noticed as well, and asked, “What is wrong?”

Isis pursed her lips for a moment, before replying, “Why are all of you indulging him in learning the sword? He’s too young for this.”

Major Ethan Morimoto shook his head, “No disrespect meant, Duchess, but in a typical Kuritan noble family, most kids his age would already be thinking of starting their training. True,” he held up a hand to forestall her answer, “most start at 12, but there’s nothing that says they can’t start earlier. In fact, I’d say it’d be good for the mind and body of a growing boy. Or girl for that matter. Takashi Kurita started even earlier.”

“But it’s obvious that he’s doing this because he’s still mad over the Coordinator’s death,” Isis replied. “That’s not going to be healthy.”

Ethan looked over to Descartin, who had sat up straight, and was saying, “That is true, but what else could he do? Rather than letting him bottle up his rage, we will be letting him blow off steam in these sessions.” Yoshino winced, remembering the sheer strength behind some of those blows during the session. That was some steam Kitsune was letting off. “And he gets to learn how to fight, which he would be doing when he is older anyway. Why not now, when he has motivation?”

Yoshino added in his two ryu. “Duchess, Kuritas, of all things, are warriors. Kitsune is no different. In fact, all three of us here started our training at about his age, or in Descartin’s case, even earlier. These skills will serve him in good stead in the future. Don’t forget who his father is.”

Of course she wouldn’t. Nobody in the room could. Victor was a warrior born, and Kitsune was the heir to no less than 3 warrior traditions. The Davions, Steiners, and the Kuritas all had produced many renowned warriors, and that would be the route Kitsune was most likely to take as well.

Isis sighed. “I just feel sad that his innocence has been taken away from him. What kind of world we live in, that makes young children learn to fight?”

Yoshino saw Descartin open his mouth to retort, probably to say something about the merits of the clans and the sibko system, except that he closed his flytrap almost immediately to spare Isis a serious put down. After a pause of a second, Descartin eventually said seriously, “A world where surviving is everything.”

Out of a corner of his eye, Yoshino saw Tai-i Shimazu walk into the dojo with a slip of paper. “The Coordinator is on his way,” Lainie said without preamble, handing the slip of paper to Yoshino. “His dropship just landed, and he’s in a convoy heading here now.”

Because of security reasons after the botched attempt on Hohiro’s life on Wolcott, there was no way they dared to receive Hohiro Kurita at the spaceport. There were simply too many places where a sniper could pick him off on the tarmac. Perhaps after a few more weeks, when they had stabilised the situation and hunted down the remaining Kokuryu-kai, but not now.

The estate was a different matter. Smaller than the spaceport, it was also far away enough from populated areas, especially the city, that might pose a problem. Security teams and mechs prowled the area around the estates constantly, while security cameras manned by loyal Sun Dragons kept an eye out for likely enemies. ISF personnel provided yet another layer of protection within the estate mansion itself, many of them acting as extra staff and servants while carrying concealed weapons.

With so many important people in the estate, which curiously didn’t include him or Descartin, Yoshino understood the necessity of the paranoid levels of security. The fact that Theodore had practically handed to them all the accoutrements and symbols of the Dragon was another factor. All these were needed to lend legitimacy to Hohiro’s reign, and the items had to be defended at all costs. There was the Coordinator’s mantle, a heavy set of gold and gems signifying the Dragon’s power. But its importance actually paled in significance beside the artefacts held in a well guarded room, which contained Shiro Kurita’s ancient katana, as well as the entire contents of the Sanctum Arcanum. The collection of items alone would be worth billions, but the fact that they also represented the soul of the Combine made them priceless. Yoshino shuddered at the thought of losing those items. It had been an audacious decision Theodore Kurita had made when he made Descartin escort Kitsune and all those articles to Avon. If we had lost them to Rezak…

Yoshino checked his watch. “We have about an hour. Let’s meet in the main hall in 30 minutes. I’ll also get the others to join us.”

The group left the dojo.

 

Ryo Saeba winced as the Physician of the Dragon poked a needle into his right arm, singing all the while in some weird tune. Unlike the populace, Ryo knew that the mysticism of the medical order was just so much useless mumbo-jumbo, but old habits die hard.

“That is the last shot you need, Tai-i Saeba.” The doctor walked away, throwing the needle into a biohazard bin, and taking off his surgical gloves and then writing into a small notebook. “Congratulations on your complete recovery.”

“Domo arigato.” Ryo swung his leg, testing it for any pain. He was pleased not to feel any. He hopped off the bed. “I’d be going off now.”

“Very well. Please tell the next person in line outside to come in.”

As he left the clinic, he saw a Gun-cho waiting for him, standing beside the line of bandaged and disgruntled DCMS soldiers seated on long benches outside the clinic. After telling the next DCMS trooper in the queue to enter the clinic, the Gun-cho had a message for Ryo to change into his dress uniform to receive the Heir Designate.

Twenty minutes later, Ryo was shuffling nervously beside the receiving entourage in the main hall. Yoshino was there, of course, in his capacity as the ranking noble on planet, not considering Isis Marik, who as usual, was taking charge of Kitsune. Descartin stood near the Duchess, while around her was Daisuke and Lainie Shimazu. Daisuke had not fully recovered yet from his injuries, but he had been adamant that he return to duty. The Nova Cat Secorra stood aloof from them to one side, while another clump of personnel denoted the ISF Directors.

Old Toda opened the doors of the hall leading to the porch, moments before they saw the cavalcade of vehicles and mechs enter the gates of the estate. The regimental insignia of a black tidal wave showed clearly their unit, and for the first time in his life, Ryo found himself envious of the Genyosha warriors as he noted the cutting edge units marching in. I could have been one of them. If only I had toed the line and not cross it so often…

Ryo grinned ruefully to himself. No, this was the way he was, and he was satisfied with himself. After all, had he not gained great fame and honour from his participation on Luthien? Sure, they might have lost the capital, but the price they had extracted from the Black Dragons would have them licking their wounds for quite a while. And in the few days they had since winning Avon, Descartin had actually managed to come up with an overall strategy for victory, one they would be unveiling to Hohiro very soon.

Leaving his hovercar, Hohiro Kurita’s face was one of relief as he saw young Kitsune. Isis released Kitsune, who ran towards Hohiro, and the Heir-Designate gathered up his nephew in a crushing hug that elicited cries of delight from the young boy as he lifted Kitsune into the air. Ryo smiled along with the others as they saw Kitsune being happy for once.

Yoshino stepped forward. “Koninchi-wa, Hohiro Kurita-sama. I am Daimyo Yoshino Ihara, at the Dragon’s service. Welcome to Avon, and forgive me for not receiving you at the spaceport.” Despite the rushed nature of the meeting, certain proprieties still had to be observed.

“Domo arigato,” Hohiro replied easily, “I understand, Daimyo Ihara. Now, introduce me to the brave men and women who stand with you.”

Ryo stood proudly as he greeted Hohiro Kurita, taking the opportunity to observe the soon-to-be Coordinator. Hohiro Kurita looked very much like his father, and intelligence and courage shone from his eyes. Yet, Ryo could not help but feel something lacking from the younger Kurita, as if Hohiro’s soul had not been tempered enough. Perhaps this civil war will be the tempering he needs, Ryo thought, shuddering at the likely cost.

The ISF people were next, and Hohiro nodded grimly as he noted the absences of several key figures, lost to either betrayal or death.

Then it was Hohiro’s turn to introduce those who came with him. Ryo noted the sudden fire igniting in Descartin’s eyes when an elderly and distinguished samurai wearing a pair of shades(of all things!) was introduced as Tai-sho Narimasa Asano. It was interesting how things turned out. In the end, Descartin did manage to find Asano after all.

Toda appeared again next to Yoshino when the introductions were completed, this time holding a tray with the Coordinator’s mantle. An old lady, Jokan Constance Kurita, the Keeper of the House Honour, stepped forward as Hohiro kneeled before the tray, her movements slow due to age. Beside her was Franklin Sakamoto, Hohiro’s half-brother and commander of the Otomo infantry, who had been injured in the fighting and was evacuated.

For a member of the Legions of Vega to be present for such an important ceremony was a sign of the Coordinator’s favor, and Ryo, for once, was glad for the way events had led them here. He glanced at Descartin. Well, funny how things worked out.

 

Descartin barely paid the short and perfunctory ceremony any attention as he stared at Narimasa Asano. The objective of his quest was finally within reach! But he just had to leave the letter from Jaime Wolf in his room. No matter, it should be easy to get to Narimasa Asano now.

The Tai-sho’s eyes wandered around the room once, before settling on Descartin. Descartin started as Asano nodded to him. He recognises me?

There was no time for further thought, as Constance Kurita kneeled before Hohiro, who was standing up with the mantle of the Dragon around his neck. Everybody else was going down on their knees, and Descartin gestured to Secorra, the two clan warriors doing the same.

“All hail the Dragon! Our lives for the Dragon!” The various Combine soldiers and servants in the main hall yelled. Those not from the Combine, like Descartin and Isis, did not join in, but stayed respectfully on their knees. Then there was a steady procession of further chants and cheers proclaiming the new Coordinator’s wisdom, longevity, virility and sundry other stuff, which Descartin found mildly interesting. He suppressed an urge to yawn.

Hohiro stood with a grimace on his face, as though enduring the acclamation rather than enjoying it as any self respecting egomaniacal interstellar tyrant would. Descartin thought the new Coordinator seemed rather impatient, and wanted to get on with the more important and practical business of retaking the Combine. Which he personally agreed with.

And indeed, moments later they were all gathered in the briefing room of the mansion, sans the civilians. Descartin remembered with a smirk Yoshino’s surprise when Toda had revealed the room to him, along with the various new additions to the mansion, which was far bigger and different than the time when he and Deserk had barged in trying to stop Yoshino from slitting his own belly.

Thinking of it made Descartin realise just how far they had come since those halcyon days.

“So, what do we have now?” The new Coordinator asked as he sifted through the reports flitting across his computer screen. “I would like to hear suggestions on how to deal with the Black Dragons, in light of the intelligence reports we have.”

Yoshino shot Descartin a look. Your turn to start jawing.

Descartin looked back, and shrugged. You can do it just as well.

Yoshino glared at him, and jerked his head towards Hohiro. I don’t want to be accused of taking undue credit.

Descartin rolled his eyes. Fine, fine. Your place, your way.

He cleared his throat, then paused as he noticed everybody looking at him. He said somewhat self consciously. “Uh, I have an idea.”

 

Narimasa Asano sat back in his seat, awaiting the clan warrior’s presentation. He was extremely interested. It was not everyday that a clan warrior would give a strategic briefing to Inner Sphere commanders. And more than that, he knew this particular clanner, who had been one of the very few warriors to face Morgan Kell and survive, was no ordinary soldier. Being a top ranked commander in the DCMS and having contacts with the Nova Cats was certainly useful.

A map of the Draconis Combine laid before them on a projection screen, the worlds under their control outlined in red, and those in the Black Dragon’s clutches in black. Neutral worlds unclaimed by either side were in white. Certain key worlds were shaded, and glowing more intensely than other worlds. Some of those worlds glowed an ominous black, but had a ring of red around them.

“Those were the worlds needed to win back the Combine.” Descartin Winters said as he walked around to the front of the table, a long pointer in his hands tapping lightly on each of the red ringed worlds. “Notice that we already have Avon, Chatham and Schuyler. Altair and Togura are still in doubt. Dieron and Midway should be the priority targets ASAP.”

Hohiro grasped the implications immediately. “The shipyards. Naval superiority.”

Descartin nodded. “Aff. The shipyards.” He continued, “Actually, the idea for this came from my initial assessment of Avon, and its relative importance. The Nekohono’O class dropship made here had already proved its effectiveness during the Trial of Retribution, and it was obvious that the Black Dragons needed the shipyards here because they needed the dropships to achieve naval superiority.”

“Since the fall of the Star League, and I mean the Great Father Kerensky’s Star League, naval combat has been on the wane as warships become scarce, even in the clans. As a result, much of the emphasis was placed on ground armies slugging it out. Few navies had tools other than assault dropships and aerospace fighters to enforce their strategies. But now, I think the time and conditions are ripe for such an undertaking.”

“We still have to defeat them on the ground,” somebody pointed out.

“I understand. You all know that the Black Dragons have more effective regiments than you do, but that’s only before you consider that many of them are now stuck with their conquests as well, which removes them from any reinforcing or offensive manoeuvres. Luthien alone has 4 regiments defending it! And they cannot move away!”

“Why not?” Hohiro asked.

“Because they have to control the mech factories there to have any permanent chance of success. Weakening the garrison means that a well timed strike by your forces could probably lose them the capital. They succeeded the first time through treachery. They won’t have this advantage the second time round. Next, because we hold Avon, only a jump away, they can’t budge, and their scarcity of naval assets means they cannot enter Avon without a great deal of risk. In fact, a regiment and half of troops would be sufficient to garrison Avon. If they ever downsize the Luthien garrison to 2 regiments, 1 elite unit from Avon with proper support can assault the Black Pearl for a beachhead and hold on for reinforcements.”

“And the rest of Combine?” Hohiro swept one hand across the map.

“Local concentration of forces means that they have the tactical edge, but nothing more than that. It is well known that the attacker has the advantage in strategic scale campaigns, because he gets to pick and choose his targets, and can assign a preponderance of forces to ensure that they do stomp flat any opposition they encounter. When we factor in critical worlds and non-critical worlds, you actually have more than 15 solid regiments to carry out any offence, while the Black Dragons would be hard pressed to hold onto what they already do have. Forget about the border worlds on the Steiner and Davion fronts, or worlds without manufacturing facilities. You need weapons to win the war, and whoever wins this war will have to have the most key weapons producers and supply depots on his side.”

“You mean for me to sacrifice worlds to the Black Dragons?” Hohiro asked with an edge in his voice. “I can understand stripping away troops from the inner fronts, but to deliberately take away troops from worlds vulnerable to the rebels?”

“Tono,” Jon Takiro spoke up for the first time. “It would not be sacrifice, as long as we do not lose the loyalty of those worlds even after your forces have left. If the Black Dragons are so foolish as to spread themselves thin across the Combine,” the old man smiled, ”Why then, that simply makes our task easier!”

“Problem lies in the loyalty of these worlds,” Asano spoke for the first time. “We do need some sort of campaign to ensure the people’s loyalty. A propaganda campaign through the HPG network?”

He noticed Descartin exchanging glances with Isis Marik, who was the only civilian present. As the daughter of a House Lord, she was more than qualified to attend such meetings.

This time, it was Isis Marik who spoke, a bit apologetically. “Worlds that have declared for the Black Dragons seemed to have fallen out of Comstar’s control, and into the Word of Blake’s.”

Everybody had been so obsessed with enemy troop figures and locations that they had forgotten to stay ahead of all developments. This placed a very different spin on matters, and explained Isis’s embarrassment. Her father Thomas Marik had given the Word of Blake sanctuary in the Free Worlds League, and was still one of their strongest backers. For years the Blakists had laid low, but apparently they had decided to take a more active approach.

Asano shuddered slightly at what this might portend for the rest of the Inner Sphere. If the Blakists were finally crawling out of their holes, he had a suspicion nothing good would come of it.

Hohiro rapped the table lightly with his knuckles to get back on point. “Even the least important world is crucial to the Combine. If the Blakists really are cooperating with the Black Dragons, then we might have a problem bigger than just this civil war.”

“In all fairness,” Takura Migaki mentioned, “This was not the first time the Kokuryu-kai had cooperated with the Blakists. The Blakists provided covert help for the Society ten years back during the previous assassination attempt on your father.”

“Which was stopped by Camacho’s Caberellos.” A Tai-sa noted. “They are on Hachiman. What are the chances we can call them in?”

“We are getting ahead of ourselves.” Asano pointed out, trying to get the discussion back on track. “Tono, what do you think of abandoning some of our worlds to free up troops for offensive actions?”

“I do not like it, but that does not mean that I’m discarding it as an option. I mean to have 70% of the Combine’s world behind me, at the very least. Also, we have to contact Precentor Martial Davion so that when we take back our worlds, Comstar can help us garrison them. That should free up more troops without having them to garrison our gains.”

Descartin blinked. “I had not thought of that.”

Hohiro went on, “The basic plan is sound, I admit. It is the best option, unless we want to pay more lives and treasure on the way. Do we?” The shaking of heads around the room confirmed Hohiro’s observation.

Descartin said, “So our very first step is to pin enemy forces where they are, and prevent them from further offensive actions. This is accomplished by careful use of warships and assault dropships to block them from attacking without incurring heavy losses, while placing our forces nearby to keep them where they are. Also, we will have to reinforce units that have a reasonable chance of winning their conflicts, and pull out those that are clearly outgunned. Exceptions are Altair and Togura. They have to be taken at all costs.”

“Next, Dieron and Midway. With luck, this can be done before they turn out any new warships.” Descartin shrugged, “After that, anything goes. In fact, even retaking Midway and Dieron is going to be a difficult task, because you will likely have to guard against Black Dragon counterattacks. The factories on Luthien will start working in a few months’ time, and you will want to have a full naval blockade around Luthien in place by then. A warship backed by Achilles gunboats and Okinawa carriers, along with Nekohono’Os should do the trick, assuming their warships have already been dealt with. If conditions are right, you might even want to forget about retaking the other key worlds and the blockade and retake Luthien outright.”

Yes, he is a clanner all right. He has not forgotten about going for the jugular, though he is also aware of the risks. Or is he? Asano asked, “Why not now?”

Michael Ryan answered this one. “When we jumped out, they had no less than three warships in-system. Going in at this time with the forces we have would be suicide.”

“Supplies? Logistics?” Hohiro asked, and Asano nodded. Amateurs may study tactics, but only professionals study logistics.

Descartin Winters did not disappoint. In fact, he smiled slightly, as if the question had been anticipated. “That is part of the reason for taking the shipyards first. They would be needed to service and produce more transports for the logistics network, while denying the same to the Black Dragons.” He tapped a key, and the map changed to a spider-web like layout, along with highlighted jump routes indicating supply lines.

Asano studied the network closely, but could not discern any real flaws. But he did have a question. “Having a network is good, but where exactly are we getting our supplies from?”

Yoshino Ihara stepped forward this time. “The Nova Cats. For the past 10 years, the Irece Prefecture has been rapidly industrializing and upgrading its industries. Matabushi has been more than willing to work with Clan merchants in procuring new technology and production lines, and as a result, many worlds in the Irece Prefecture are fully capable of producing both Inner Sphere and Clan grade weapons. In fact, on Avon here, we have several weapons manufacturers producing clan grade energy weapons, which can be refitted onto your omnimechs.”

Hohiro frowned. “I thought the project was postponed for several months because Matabushi was unable to pay the Nova Cats?”

“The rebellion was probably incentive enough for their merchants to cooperate. Your brother might also have something to say to encourage that.” Minoru Kurita was the current Nova Cat Oathmaster, and had immense authority in the clan.

“True.” Hohiro said. “But I hope that is the extent of the Nova Cats’ involvement in the Combine’s affairs. We need them focusing on the Ghost Bears. The same goes for Comstar.”

The Kuritan civil war was an internal affair, and as much as the Nova Cats were an allied power controlling a large chunk of the Combine, drawing them into the conflict would have raised tensions amongst those clansmen still getting to grips with their new existence. Asano knew from several private discussions that Hohiro had decided to take a page out of Peter Steiner’s book regarding the Wolves in Exile, and decided to hold off using the Nova Cats until the time came to retake the capital. Until then, they were to serve the whole of the Combine and the Inner Sphere by extension by holding the Ghost Bears in check.

Descartin added a further point. “Also, we can expect substantial stockpiles on Black Dragon held worlds. Implementing an extensive scrounging and scavenging program on retaken worlds might be a good idea.”

The discussion went on for another two hours, as they fine tuned their strategy and made contingency arrangements in case of unexpected developments. A sudden attack from the Federated Suns. The Ghost Bears invading again. A strike into the Combine from the Snow Ravens in the Periphery. The Blakists trying to expand their holdings by swallowing up worlds in the Dieron District.

Asano narrowed his eyes at the last. The possibility’s growing by the day.

 

As the meeting ended, while the various staff groups broke up, Isis was preparing to depart when Hohiro called out, “Duchess Marik, I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

Isis stopped just as she was about to call for Descartin. “Yes, Hohiro-sama?”

“This concerns you and Kitsune.”

Isis furrowed her brow. “What is it about us?”

Hohiro clasped his arms behind his back. “This place is not safe for either of you. In fact, the entire Draconis Combine is not safe for you. As long as Kitsune is here, the Black Dragons will take every opportunity to harm him. And because Victor had asked you to take care of my nephew, you will be at risk as well.”

Isis shook her head, “We’ve survived so far.”

“Only because of sheer luck. For your sakes, I’m sending you and Kitsune to Tukayyid, where you’ll be safest. On the next outbound dropship.”

She sighed, accepting the inevitable. “When?” She knew Hohiro had Kitsune and her best interests in mind, but she had a reason for staying on Avon. Or at least she thought she did.

“Tonight. I do not want to take any chances. You will be escorted by several assault dropships throughout your journey to the Free Rasalhague Republic. This is the least I could do for Victor and Omi.”

Isis could only nod in agreement. Then she said, “This may be a bit late, but I am sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man.”

Hohiro bowed slightly to her. “Domo arigato. I think in the end, this was for the best.”

“How could you say that?” Isis was shocked. “Doesn’t his death mean anything?”

His face tightened up. “It did mean something. In effect, he forced the last few reactionary elements in the Combine into the open. Make no mistake, Isis, this is their last gasp. Another decade or two, and the Combine would have accepted my father’s reforms completely, even without the rebellion as the older generation faded away. All they’ve done is to hasten the process. This is a struggle between those who believe in the new Combine, against those who would rather return to the old ways, which would have ruined us.”

“Did you suspect this would happen?”

“Hai, we did. There was a steady increase of reports warning of such an event, but as usual, we ignored it.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “We always seem to neglect reports which would do us the most harm.” Then the smile faded. “But the price paid was my father’s life. I have to make his sacrifice worthwhile.”

“So it’s all out war from now on?”

“Yes. I am thankful, Isis, for your efforts in helping Kitsune.”

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“I know. This Star Captain from the Goliath Scorpions also helped, and I was surprised when he was the one to make the presentation.”

Isis smiled, “He’s a deep one. He’s a skilled warrior, no doubt, but it seems that there is much more to him than meets the eye.”

Hohiro dropped his voice to a whisper, “Unfortunately, I cannot accept his aid any longer.”

“Why not?”

“As I have said before, this is an internal matter of the Combine. He has already helped us far too much. It’s all too easy for the Goliath Scorpions or our citizens to have a… misunderstanding. I have heard of his quest, and I intend to send him onto Irece as soon as possible.”

Isis ignored the slight coldness in her stomach. “Why couldn’t he come with me and Kitsune to Tukayyid?”

Puzzlement flitted across Hohiro’s face. “Why would he want to do that?”

Isis was about to reply when they were approached by another DCMS officer. “My apologies, Tono, but there are some matters…”

“I am sorry, Isis, but perhaps I will talk to you later.”

“It’s alright.” Isis said as Hohiro walked off.

She paused for a while, before hurrying down the corridor, just in time to catch Descartin, who was walking alone. The clanner seemed to sense her presence, stopped, and turned around just as she came within arms reach.

“Isis, what’s the matter?” Always the same level, calm tone, when he spoke she realised. But there was always an undercurrent of something she did not understand.

“Are you free now? I’d like to go for a walk.”

Descartin shook his head apologetically. “Uh, I am quite busy, with preparations and all for the campaign.”

He hasn’t been told yet. “Des, Hohiro told me he doesn’t want you to help any more. Because you’re still a Goliath Scorpion, and he fears your involvement may create problems in the future.”

“But he cannot stop me from doing what I want, could he?”

“Not really.” Isis paused. “Anyway, I haven’t toured the gardens since I arrived here, and Toda insists that I should before I leave.”

“So what’s the hurry?”

“I’ll tell you as we walk. How about it? Don’t forget, you’ll still under my employ.” She smirked.

Descartin flinched. “Urgh. I thought you had forgotten that.”

“I also enjoy your company. Please?”

He smiled in resignation. “Fine. Since the Coordinator doesn’t require my services, there is little chance that I will be able to obtain a mech to fight with anyway.” He started walking again, before looking back at her. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing,” she said as she caught up to him.

 

“Where is Duchess Marik?” Hohiro asked Yoshino, who was checking his wristcomp for the day’s schedule. They were in the room marked as Hohiro’s office, along with Tai-sho Asano, supposedly to discuss matters pertaining to the civilian administration of Avon.

Yoshino wished he was somewhere else. Trying to fit back into the fabric of Kuritan society was tougher than he thought. He had to watch every word, try to remember customs he had not used for more than ten years, and generally try to conform to what was expected of a noble, especially one in charge of a major world. Being a warrior in the clans was so much easier.

“Tono, I think she went for a walk in the park,” Yoshino answered while concentrating on the problem of juggling the meetings such that they could retire before midnight. Damn, we’re running behind schedule for the day, and no way to cut it down. Oh well, overtime it is. No big deal.

“Tai-i Shimazu is with her husband, while Daisuke Ichikawa is still on the injured list. The few remaining walking wounded of the Otomo are mostly with me.” Outside the door, in fact. “Who is escorting the Duchess?”

“Do not worry, she’s with Star Captain Winters. She should be safe enough.” As the words left his mouth, Yoshino paused thoughtfully. That sounded rather suggestive. The two of them? Can it be? Nah…

“Well, I hope nothing untoward happens to her, Daimyo Ihara.” Hohiro sighed. “The last thing I need would be explaining to Thomas Marik how I got his daughter killed.”

Yoshino nodded emphatically in agreement, then said. “Having somebody interfere now would be disastrous.”

Kurita leaned back against the back of his seat. “Right now, right here, I want you to call me Hohiro, and to the Nine Hells with convention. In turn, I shall call you Yoshino. Just two warriors talking shop. After what you had done for the realm, and your heroism in the invasion, I think I can trust you.”

Yoshino blanched. “I’m still trying to adjust to being in the Combine again. I’m having a hard time even trying to manage the civilian administration.”

Asano laughed, and muttered softly, “Your troubles are just starting, boy.”

Yoshino frowned. Now what did that mean?

Hohiro spoke, “I need confidants now, with Shin Yodama fighting on Togura. You seem like a good warrior, and you should be relatively honest after spending so much time in the clans. Years ago, my father formed a shitenno, a circle of his closest advisors. I need such a circle right now, composed of my peers and capable men I trust. ”

“It’s an honour, I’m sure, but…”

“You don’t feel qualified enough?” Hohiro raised a critical brow.

“Tono, I just spent the past 15 years of my life gallivanting in clan space. That doesn’t exactly build credibility.”

“You did well enough when you took over Avon.”

“Only because Takura Migaki was behind me every step of the way manipulating public opinion.”

“And what is wrong with that?”

“Propaganda is often needed only when you need to convince people of something, and right now, my status needs a lot of convincing. It also offers your enemies a possible avenue of attack by accusing you of coddling traitors. After what I’d done, or more accurately, did not do in these fifteen years, that makes me vulnerable, and that affects you as well.”

“No, Yoshino, you are exactly what I need. You are a living bridge to the clans, a testament to the spirit of cooperation. You are a gifted warrior, with many victories to your name. And your honour and loyalty in sticking to your word and bond in your time away from the Combine will play well in the eyes of many. You are no traitor.”

Yoshino wanted to press the issue further. But he’s already made up his mind. Mujo. Flow with the times. “Since you’re so insistent, I bow to the Dragon’s wisdom.”

Hohiro smiled. “Good. I also wish to make your current status clear to everybody. As I’m now the Coordinator, there was a recent spate of promotions in the Genyosha. However, because of the lack of qualified candidates, we have a battalion CO post open. I’d like you to take it. You’ll be a Chu-sa.”

“But I’m also the Planetary Chairman of Avon.” I don’t mind extra work, but I do mind if trying to do too much affects my performance.

Hohiro waved away the concern with one hand. “New times, new methods. You can fulfil both roles. Get reliable administrators to govern Avon for you while you fight with the Genyosha.”

Yoshino rubbed his chin. “Well, Toda has been acting for my proxy for years when I was gone anyway. I could trust him, and whoever he picks to help him.”

Asano, who had been quiet throughout much of the discussion, suddenly cut in. “Good, because Toda told me something a while ago which will affect you on a lot of levels. It’ll help you fit right back into the Combine, especially in the nobility.”

Huh? “Asano-sama, what do you mean?”

“Toda’s an old comrade of mine, as he was to your father. In fact, your father was a member of the original Genyosha under Yorinaga Kurita.”

Yoshino was surprised. “He was?” Why didn’t my father tell me this?

“Hai. Toda was not worried about your ability to govern Avon, nor your warrior skill. But he was worried the Ihara line would be left without heirs.”

“So what?” The mention of heirs sent alarm bells ringing in his head. No, not that matter again!

“Well, you should know your parents, before their untimely death, arranged a nice noble girl for you to marry.” Yoshino thought he could see silent mirth behind Asano’s face.

He shivered. “Yeah, I do know that. I even know who she is. So what?” Gee, I’m talking tough to hide my fear. After what she did to me that summer vacation, I’m going to stay the hell away from that she-demon! Never mind that it was years ago. Childhood scars were hard to erase.

“Well, your arranged bride Dai-i Naoko Kawakami landed with us. She’s currently squaring her troops away on the Takei Airbase. Because I’m a friend of your father, that makes me an elder you absolutely have to listen to, unlike Toda who you can brush away because of the difference in status. So I’m telling you right here, right now that I’m arranging for the two of you to meet tomorrow afternoon for lunch to discuss your wedding plans. That’s what your parents would have wanted.”

The younger samurai blanched in real fear at the words. Her? A Dai-i in the aerospace force? Is this a joke on me by the entire universe?

“You’ll be getting married soon.” Asano grinned sardonically. “Congratulations.”

Yoshino gulped.

 

Descartin trailed slightly behind Isis as they walked through the garden. Jasmine and chrysanthemums threw off their distinctive scents, while orchids and even mycosia flowers provide variety. There were a dozen other species which Descartin did not even bother to identify. I am no botanist. And I am not a lot of things. Hope they swept the garden for hidden bombs, especially near the mycosia flowers.

Isis breathed in deeply, clearly enjoying the natural perfume. “They must have put a lot of effort into getting so many different species. The colour coordination is excellent.” She turned to Descartin, and grinned. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I have no illusions about how much I do not know.” Descartin said. “I have spent my entire life for war, and I know very little else.”

“You have your music.”

“A pale shadow.” He smiled ruefully. “Just a lousy hobby which I have negligible skill in.”

“Why are you always putting yourself down like that?” Isis said with a tinge of irritation.

“Because it is the truth.” No need to go into that any more than necessary.

She did not reply, and they walked for several moments in silence.

“So, what was it that you really want to talk about?” Descartin asked.

“Hohiro is sending me and Kitsune to Tukayyid tonight,” Isis whispered. “I was wondering if…” She trailed off.

“Yes?” Descartin kicked out at a small stone, sending it skidding across the paved ground.

“Would you like to go with us?”

He halted in his steps, and looked at Isis. Her face was hopeful, and he was half tempted to agree to her request immediately. But he held back. The name Tukayyid still haunted him, even after so long. He could never forget the screaming, the cries for help. He could not forget the slaughter of both clan and Com Guard.

He could not forget that during the closing moments of the battle, he had revelled in the killing and the blood. She is as high above me as the stars are.

“Isis, I cannot,” he said softly.

“Why not?” Predictable, he thought. She looked him in the eye, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“I have matters to attend to. Obligations to fulfil on Irece.” Descartin looked down at his boots, trying to avoid her steady gaze.

“You could get Secorra to transport the giftake to the Nova Cats. You don’t have to go there yourself.”

“It is about honour…” Actually it wasn’t. He could hand them off to Secorra, or any one of the few Nova Cats who had accompanied Hohiro to Avon. At first, he had been planning to do exactly that, but now he wondered why he preferred to go there himself.

Isis frowned. “I don’t think so. Are you afraid of me?”

Descartin blinked. “Of course not!” Or maybe I am, he admitted to himself. And the worst part of it is that I do not know why.

She stared at him. “You know, I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I’ve found you to be a good man. I’ve met a few clanners before, but you seemed to break the stereotype.”

“I never was really a typical warrior. And the years since have made me drift ever further from the normal. But I do not mind, actually. After all, the Founder said that warriors are supposed to make their own paths, not follow them.”

“Then make your own path, and follow me to Tukayyid.”

“I… cannot.”

She glared at him, and Descartin was momentarily grateful that she was not an enemy. Then her face softened.

“Those days on Luthien were good times, weren’t they?” She said wistfully. “No need to worry about politics, war, or when the next assassin is going to strike.”

“Yes, but war came by, like it always has.” Descartin hesitated, then spoke words which he knew would hurt her. “Go to Tukayyid, Duchess Marik. Then go back to the Free Worlds League. This is not your place, this is not where you should be. I belong to war. You do not. It follows my every step, marking my path with blood. Leave, and forget me.”

She stared at him again, and Descartin resisted the urge to flinch from her gaze. She looked at her watch. “I’ll be leaving at 12 o’clock at night. You have 8 hours to make up your mind.”

Isis Marik walked away, leaving Descartin alone to grapple with his own fears.

 

Ryo Saeba threw back his head, tipping the contents of the bottle he was holding into his  mouth, enjoying the sensation of the rice wine as it burned down his throat. He turned to Daisuke, who was quietly eating his own food. “You’re not going to snitch on me, are you?” Ryo looked around the officers’ mess in the estate, which had been converted from a servants mess hall to one for the officers of the DCMS. There wasn’t a lot of people, and many soldiers had taken advantage of Hohiro’s proclamation of a holiday to go out to the nearest city to have some fun.

“Other than the fact that alcohol is not allowed during meal time in the barracks, why should I do that?” Daisuke Ichikawa said sarcastically. The soldiers left on the estate were either on duty, or have no semblance of a social life whatsoever. The latter description fitted Daisuke perfectly.

“I’m off duty, Ichikawa. Want some? This is good stuff.” Ryo swirled the bottle in front of Daisuke, trying to entice him into drinking.

“Iie. No thank you. I’m on duty later.”

Ryo took another swig from the wooden bottle. “I thought you’re done for the day?”

Daisuke put down his chopsticks across his empty bowl of rice, having finished his meal. “Apparently not. Duchess Marik and young Kurita are leaving for Tukayyid tonight, and I’m in charge of their escort.”

Ryo raised an eyebrow, “They’re leaving? So soon?”

“The Coordinator is worried that the conflict will place them in danger, and the nearby presence of 3 warships is enough reason to send them away ASAP.”

“Yeah, but what about Descartin?”

“What about Descartin?” Secorra said as he walked over with his own tray of food, which consisted of rice with some fish and vegetables, plus a bland tasting soup. Interestingly, the solahma did not mingle much with the newly arrived Nova Cat contingent, instead mingling more with the warriors he had fought beside on Luthien.

Ichikawa shifted his position slightly to give Secorra space to sit down on the bench. “We were talking about Duchess Marik’s departure tonight.” He turned back to Ryo. “But I don’t understand either. What about Descartin?”

Ryo rolled his eyes. “Are you guys pretending, or you really couldn’t tell?”

“Humour us.” Secorra said, levelling a frigid gaze at Ryo.

Ryo sighed. “If you had been paying just a bit more attention over the past few weeks, you’d have noticed that sparks have been flying between our illustrious temporary commander and the Duchess.”

“In other words?” Secorra asked. “Please explain it to me clearly, because I am obviously not conversant enough in the ways of you freebirths.”

“They’re in love, or something like that,” explained Daisuke. “So that’s your big revelation? I’m disappointed, Saeba. I knew that already.”

“So you don’t see a problem?” Ryo pressed.

“Ryo, Isis is a Duchess. The daughter of a House Lord. Somewhat in line for the Captain Generalcy of a whole Successor State, even though she looks far from it right now. Her partners have to be carefully vetted, her choices in life tightly defined. And I can safely state that a clanner will be far down the list of accepted suitors.”

“But you’re ignoring the fact that they like each other. And more importantly, even we can see it.”

“It’ll all be a dream to Isis when she leaves. A fling with the unknown, with the forbidden, if you wish, nothing more than that. I think she never had a semi-normal life until those days on Luthien with Descartin and Kitsune, and she simply latched onto Descartin as a focus for her attentions. Her leaving might be better for everybody in the long run anyway.”

“Aff.” Secorra agreed. “Descartin is a warrior. Emotional attachments will only distract him. He does not require such frivolous matters to concern him.”

“Living for the battle, is that all there is?” Ryo asked. “Seems like an awfully boring way to get through life.”

“Speak of the devil.” Ichikawa muttered. “Descartin is here. Saeba, shut your trap about Isis, got that?” Ryo turned to see Descartin holding his own tray of food walking from the counter, looking somewhat shell-shocked.

“Hey, over here!” Ryo waved to the clan warrior. Descartin walked over to the table.

“You look stunned.” Secorra commented. “Anything the matter?”

Ryo smirked at Daisuke. I told you so. Daisuke pointedly ignored him.

“Nothing.” Descartin’s reply was rather half hearted, then he seemed to be speaking to himself as he said, “I just need more time to think, dammit.”

“Woman troubles?” Ryo asked knowingly, ignoring the look of death Daisuke shot at him. “I got lots of experience with that. Need my help?”

Descartin’s face turned black. “No.”

The other three warriors exchanged glances. Ryo was the first to break the silence, speaking uncomfortably. “Look, I know what’s between you and Isis. Here is just a piece of advice…”

“I do not need your advice.” Descartin interjected. “Who else knows?”

“Anybody with two eyes and some time spent with you and the Duchess,” answered Ryo. “So, are you going to follow her to Tukayyid?”

“What business is it of yours?” Descartin replied, a bit angrily. “It is my problem, not yours. Stay out of it.” He stood up, pushing his tray away. “I have no appetite. You are all welcome to my dinner.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Ryo remarked as they watch the Star Captain stomp away. He turned back to the table to grab a fish from Descartin’s tray, only to see Secorra already attacking Descartin’s abandoned meal after finishing off his own.

The barrel shaped clansman looked up to see the two Kuritans staring at him. “What? I am hungry.” He growled in warning, “Take my food away from me and I will kill you.”

 

Descartin slumped back on his own bed. He was really, really confused by the events of the day. He swallowed a pained curse as his head hit the stiff pillow hard, which was pretty standard in a military. At least it was not a rock.

Sleep, he told himself. By tomorrow my troubles will be over. Sleep. Sleep cures all. It has been a long day. It will be another long day. Sleep. If he willed himself to sleep hard enough, maybe it would work.

Sleep. Nice black abyss there. Hmmm… reminds me of space, and the stars, and of long walks at night with…

Sleep! Do not think about anything else! There is still a lot of work to do… well, not for me. He groaned to himself. “In Kerensky’s name, sleep! Ahhhh, fuggedaboutit! I give up!”

He sat up on his bed. He had laid there for twenty long minutes, trying to still his mind, using every single trick he knew from more than fifteen years of hard soldiering. They did not work. The thoughts always came rushing back into his head, and Descartin felt his brain was being a playground for a myriad of battling armies as he struggled with his choices.

What do I do? What should I do? Why am I thinking so hard about this matter in the first place? Does it even matter?

He clutched his head with one hand. The headache he had felt after the talk with Isis was coming back in full force this time.

Descartin was not ignorant. He had heard of the phenomenon called ‘affection’ and ‘love’, but he had not the slightest idea what they actually are. In the past, those were only glowing words on a screen, black ink on a book, or a rumour from his fellow warriors, never something to be experienced first-hand.

He knew sorrow, pain, despair. Indeed, he had known far too much of these in his life. But love? His time with Isis had introduced him to novel sensations which he had never felt before. In many ways, they had anchored him after his depression with Deserk’s death in the Periphery. In hindsight, Descartin was sure he would have done something silly to himself eventually if he had not chanced upon Isis that day.

He did not have any obligation to follow Isis. But he did have Jaime Wolf’s request to carry out. Honour guard for the giftake of the fallen abtakha who had fought for the Dragoons. Honour bound to carry out the request, all the way to the genetic repository on Irece.

But the Dragoons were not truly clan, and he could just as easily hand over the giftake to the Nova Cats without any loss of honour. As a free roaming Seeker, he could also go anywhere he liked. It was not as if he was absconding with clan equipment(Yoshino’s Nobori-Nin did not count, since it was isorla from another fight). He could go with Isis to Tukayyid…

For what? To find out if there was anything between them? What if there was not?

Descartin was still mulling over his choices when there was a knock on his door.

“Enter.”

Tai-i Daisuke Ichikawa shoved open the door. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. If you want more time to make up your mind, come with us to the spaceport. I’ll be in a mech, and I’d like you to stay with Isis and Kitsune on the ground.”

Descartin hesitated.

Ichikawa spoke again. “If you’re too uncomfortable, I can find a mech for you. It won’t be any top line unit, just something for you to think in.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Briefing’s in ten in the mechbay.” The Otomo turned to walk away, before he turned back to Descartin. “I don’t envy you for having to make such a choice. But there is a saying I’ve heard, and you should heed it. Live without regrets, my friend.”

Daisuke left.

An hour later, a battered medium mech marched alongside the dimly lit road, its searchlights roving around constantly to illuminate the area, while the other units around it did the same. A PPC slung under the right arm spoke of the mech’s deadly intent in war, though it was mitigated by its dilapidated appearance.

Compared to the mechs Star Captain Descartin Winters had piloted before, all the bleeding edge Clan or Inner Sphere models, the economy-priced Tengu was a pile of excrement, which was also why it was one of the few mechs left without a pilot after he original owner had died during the campaign against the 11^th Ghost. Well, not as bad as the Rifleman he had used for a while on Outreach, but still… They could have outfitted it with double heat sinks, at the very least.

Nevertheless, the Tengu moved smoothly alongside the convoy on its way to the spaceport, while the rest of the heavy escort, consisting of several APCs and a few other mechs, surrounded the armoured car holding Isis Marik and Kitsune with an open formation.

His hands moving of their own accord after years of piloting a mech, Descartin’s thoughts were fully occupied with his final decision. He had, indeed, made his choice, just before they left. He just hoped it was not the wrong one.

“Heads up, Echoes,” Daisuke said, “We’re nearing the spaceport. ETA 3 minutes. Stay sharp.”

 

Isis waited expectantly inside the dropship bay for the farewell party to arrive. They need to ensure that everything was ready for her to leave, and the dropship crew was double and triple-checking their systems to make sure that nothing would go wrong for her and Kitsune.

However, that was not the reason why she was so anxious.

The sound of combat boots on the ramp made her look up, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Descartin walking alongside Ichikawa, wearing a stoic expression on his face.

Then she saw that his hands were empty, he still wore his mechwarrior combat suit, and that he did not bring along the small satchel bag that contained his most prized possessions. She understood immediately. He walked up to her.

It was all she could do to keep herself from shaking. She bravely held out a hand to him, which he took and shook gently. “Thank you, Star Captain, for seeing me off.”

“Aff, Duchess Marik.” She scanned his face, searching for signs of regret, but other than the slightest twitch of his eyes, she could find nothing that could possibly make him change his mind. “I wish you a safe journey. Take care of yourself, and Kitsune.”

He looked like he wanted to add more, but she saw him square his shoulders. “Goodbye, Duchess Marik. I shall remember you fondly.” He walked back down the ramp.

“And I, you,” she said softly as she watched his retreating back.

 

The bright flare of the Overlord class dropship’s engines turned the dark night into near day. Descartin watched from his position in front of his borrowed mech’s legs, unsuccessfully fighting off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He had made his decision, basing it on his promise to Jaime Wolf. So why did he feel like such a damnable coward? Like he had run away from a fight instead of seeing it to its conclusion?

“You made the wrong decision.” Descartin turned to see Ichikawa. “Starting to regret it already?”

Descartin gritted his teeth. “I do not regret staying here.”

“Your posture says otherwise.” Ichikawa sighed. “I should know. A long time ago, it happened to me.” Descartin started at the other warrior’s revelation.

He smiled ruefully at Descartin. “I had my chance, and I threw it away, because I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have the confidence, the courage to face the future. I made the equivalent of running away. She left, and she died.” He looked straight at Descartin, who had lowered his own head.

“I am a coward.” The clanner finally admitted. “I thought it did not matter… but it did.”

“As they say, hindsight is always perfect.”

Descartin thought about calling back the dropship, or hijacking a ship to go after her, but realised he did not have the guts, or authority, to do that either. And the idea of facing Isis again after he had treated her so callously on her departure made his stomach somersault.

“I am such a surat.” Descartin muttered sullenly. “I can handle a mech, tactics, strategy. I can face down a thousand foes without fear. But I cannot face her. I cannot admit my feelings.”

Ichikawa grasped his shoulder. “There’ll be other chances. And maybe after you had done what you have to do, you could go to her. Seek her out.”

“Aff.” And I will find you again, Isis, once I am ready, Descartin promised himself.

 

“Do you wish to know what Commander Wolf wrote in his letter to me?” Tai-sho Narimasa Asano asked Descartin Winters as they sat in his office. Morning light streamed in from a window, the sun just beginning its long journey across the sky.

“Aff, I would like to know that very much.” Descartin held a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. He sipped from it from time to time. It was, he suspected, going to be another long day. He would need the extra pickup from the caffeine.

“First, let me tell you the tale of two warriors. Their story started on a border planet called Mallory’s World…”

Chu-sa Yoshino Ihara rapped his knuckles sharply on Tai-sho Asano’s office door, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable in his new DCMS dress uniform. He absolutely dreaded what was gong to occur.

“Come in!” Asano said.

He opened the door, and saw Descartin with a glazed expression on his face. “Uh, sir?”

Asano waved one hand dismissively. “I was discussing something with Star Captain Winters here, and we’re about to finish. Hold on a minute. Star Captain?”

Descartin seemed to have recovered, and said, “So the Archer I fought on Luthien years ago was Morgan Kell’s.”

“Hai. You now share his abilities, his skill. You should go to Arc Royal, where the Grand Duke resides, for your answers.”

Descartin nodded slowly.

“You belong to an elite cadre of warriors, Star Captain. Very, very few warriors have ever achieved this pinnacle. Records of them are extremely rare, because most of them died, or retired after they awakened.”

At Descartin’s querying look, Asano explained, “In the years since Nusakan, I have searched for others who possessed the ability. In all of the centuries of mechwarrior combat, I have found only fifteen. You are the sixteenth that I know of. Of them all, Morgan Kell has had the greatest impact on the Inner Sphere.”

Asano stared at Descartin. “Will you use your abilities for the good of humanity, like he did, or will you shut them away like so many of your predecessors? Or would you use them in the service of the clans, to conquer the Inner Sphere once and for all?”

“I do not know.”

“So look for Morgan Kell. He’ll guide you.” Asano turned back to Yoshino, who was waiting patiently in a corner.

“Ihara, sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s go now.”

Descartin twisted around to look at his former bondsman, who had an air of dismay around him. “Yoshino, what is going on?” The sombre mood in the room somehow lifted as Asano grinned at Yoshino’s discomfort.

“My doom.” Ihara answered the clanner glumly.

 

“Wahhhhh! Getting hitched so soon, eh, Yoshino?” Ryo Saeba teased his friend as they walked to the meeting room where Yoshino would finally face his fiancée. “You lucky bastard!”

Yoshino resisted the urge to put Ryo’s face through the wall. Descartin Winters, Daisuke Ichikawa, and Secorra looked on with considerable amusement as they approached ever closer to what Yoshino considered to be his personal apocalypse. Tina walked beside Ryo, grinning along with the others as Yoshino’s scowl deepened with every step.

He hated this entire idea of arranged marriage. But that was the wish of his parents, so he just decided to go through with it. It didn’t mean he had to like it though.

Asano had gone ahead with Toda as go-betweens for the meeting, which was a formality for the bride and groom to meet each other. After all, it wouldn’t do for them to see each other for the first time during the wedding itself, would it? It also offered them a chance to get to know each other better, though Yoshino doubted that happening.

Yoshino cursed Descartin under his breath for getting the others to come along, ostensibly as ‘moral support’. Ryo seemed to take delight in the entire event, and the others did not seem to be offering any real support, if any, preferring to laugh at him instead. Secorra was the most honest of them all; he had tagged along just for the free delicacies.

Some friends they were.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Naoko wasn’t such a… bitch. Yoshino winced as he remembered that summer vacation when she and some of her friends had dumped a whole pot of chicken feed on him and proceeded to lock him naked inside a henhouse for several hours. It took him years to get over his fear of chickens.

Even though Naoko was seven years younger than he was, she never seemed to have any fear towards the older boy, and Yoshino was bound by the strict conventions of Kuritan behaviour that dictated that he treat her civilly.

Unfortunately, Naoko didn’t want to play by the same rules. And the worst of it was that every time he complained(quietly, of course) to his parents, they would take that to be a sure sign of developing affection!

And now he was going to be married to her. Yoshino suppressed a shiver. She was now supposed to be 28 years old. Is it too much to ask for if I hope that she turns out to be an old hag so I can use it as an excuse to call this off?

They reached the room, and Yoshino stopped, trying to gather up his guts and maybe stall for a few more moments of freedom. Ryo smiled evilly, and proceeded to open the door nevertheless, while Descartin gave Yoshino a firm shove on the back.

The group more or less stumbled into the room. Then they stopped, their jaws hitting to the floor in unison.

One of the most beautiful women they had ever seen was sitting serenely on the matted floor before the low table. She was clad in a blue and white traditional kimono that emphasized her figure.

Fearing the worst, Yoshino turned his head to look at Ryo. As expected, the hentai was salivating from an open mouth. Drops of fluid splattered onto the expensive floor. Ewwwww…

“Come here, my pretty!” All hell broke loose as Ryo threw himself forward, and only Descartin’s lightning fast hands managed to grab him by his collar, pulling him back. Secorra and Daisuke grabbed each of the man’s arms, and proceeded to drag him out of the room, even while Tina was slamming a bag on his head with both hands to knock him unconscious. She wasn’t very successful. “No! I want to be with my pretty!” Ryo was yelling, even as he was dragged out.

“Don’t worry!” Daisuke grunted as he wrestled with the hentai. “Leave this baka to us! Go meet your fiancée!”

Yoshino lifted a hand to his head, groaning as the door closed, followed by several scuffling sounds, then a series of extremely loud thumps that finally silenced Ryo. Meanwhile, Asano and Toda were shaking their aged heads, apparently at the antics of the younger generation.

“You have interesting friends…” Naoko smiled, and Yoshino could not help but smile back ruefully.

“I apologise for my lack of manners, my lady.” He knelt on the mat opposite her, and they stared at each other for several moments before he tried to break the silence, “Uhm, I am Yoshino Ihara,” he said somewhat stupidly. Of course she would know my name! Damn, when did she grow up so quickly? And into such a fine woman, no less?

“I know. It’s been a long time. I was surprised when Tai-sho Asano told me a few years back that you were still alive.”

“Narimasa-sama, you knew?” Yoshino asked. No wonder she’s still single. She was waiting for me the whole time! He felt more than a bit guilty.

“Hai. When the Nova Cats joined the Star League about ten years ago, Toda asked me to look for you. Obviously, I did not find you, but the Nova Cats did tell me where you were, in clan space.”

“Then why didn’t you try contacting me? I could have come back, or I could have tried.”

Toda said, “I disagreed. I was there when you agreed to be Descartin Winter’s bondsman, and such a vow is not broken easily. In any case, you have returned at long last, a strong samurai in your own right. Would you say your years spent in the clans have been a waste?”

“Iie. They were not a waste. I have learnt much, perhaps more than I would have if I had not been captured.”

“So what did you learn?” Naoko asked. She smiled again, and Yoshino again found it difficult to reconcile this version of Naoko with the she-demon who had plagued him in their youth. Well, it has been a long time, and I guess people change.

Might as well start with some general topics and anecdotes. I am so sick of war and politics, Yoshino thought. “Well, you know the stereotype of the clanners being nothing but killing machines. So I was surprised when…”

 

“So it all went very well in the end, quiaff?” Descartin asked Yoshino as they sat in the empty and dim mess hall, beer cans strewn on the table in front of them. With Yoshino’s new duties, and busy schedule as a DCMS officer and planetary noble, and Descartin’s impending departure for Irece in a few more days, this would be the last time both warriors got to talk.

“Aff. I was pleasantly surprised. You know about what I had told you about Naoko.”

Descartin grinned. “I hope your getting henpecked in your youth is not going to be a harbinger of your future with her.”

“Well, I hope not. I like this older version of her. Funny how time can change people.”

“Sure it is not her appearance that is lulling you into a false sense of security?”

Yoshino grimaced, “I hope not.”

Descartin lifted a beer can to Yoshino in a toast, “Yoshino, I wish you all the best for your future.”

He lifted his own beer can to Descartin’s, “Have a safe journey, my friend.” They took long swallows from their cans of beer.

Descartin breathed out in satisfaction. “Thank you.”

Yoshino sighed. “I think I also need to apologise.”

Descartin shook his head. “For what?”

“I heard from Daisuke about your… problem. I’m sorry for not being there to help you make the right choice.”

“You were busy, and besides, I do not think you could have changed my mind.”

“So will you go to Tukayyid after Irece?”

Descartin leaned back in his chair. “I am not sure. Part of me yearns to see Isis again, but another part of me wants to go to Arc Royal instead.”

“Or maybe you’re just scared.”

Descartin nodded glumly. “Aff. I might still be. In any case, I will go to Irece first, then make up my mind. After all, Tukayyid is on the way to Arc Royal. No reason why I cannot stop over first.”

“Good luck, my friend,” said Yoshino. “You know, I never figured us to end up like this so many years ago, in the garden. We’ve come a long way since then.”

Descartin laughed, his dark mood lifting. “You can say that again! Remember when we were on Hector…”

The two old friends laughed throughout the night as they reminisced over their adventures and journeys. They knew it would be a long time before they might meet again. In the present age of war, it might even be the last time they would see each other alive.

 

Imperial City, Luthien

“So, what is Hohiro planning?” Jubei asked as he crossed his fingers in front of him, levelling a steady gaze at his military commanders.

Kiyamori Minamoto answered, “From our sleeper agents on Avon, it seems that they’re going to concentrate on building up their naval assets and denying us use of the same. Obviously, we’re going to counter by diverting all available assets to the contested worlds of Altair and Togura. Unfortunately, we have scant few units left to use.”

Jubei frowned. “What about the warships above us?”

“Tono, we can re-deploy only one warship at the most, because anything less than 2 warships around Luthien would only invite them to attack.”

“Is it possible to open Luthien up, then lure them into a trap?” Vance Rezak wondered aloud.

“Iie. I do not think so. Their assortment of Nekohono’O dropships would likely extract a high price from our forces both in space and on the ground. And we absolutely cannot afford to lose control of the Luthien Armour Works, which would be almost certain to be their first target. And the Dragon must not be risked at all.”

“My life doesn’t really matter.” Jubei said calmly. “What I want is the destruction of the forces espousing reforms in the Combine. If it takes my life to accomplish that, I am more than willing to pay the price.”

Jubei thought back to the day when Ricol had plucked him from obscurity to be groomed for the job of leading the Draconis Combine. He was grateful to the noble, but Ricol’s methods and known lack of trustworthiness could not be overlooked, which was why Jubei had Ricol killed.

Unlike so many who had opposed Theodore Kurita out of sheer spite or ambition, Jubei had a slightly different reason. While he never denied that Theodore’s reforms had strengthened the Combine, it was also becoming clear that those very same reforms were sapping the people of their sense of purpose. With time, the Combine would lose its sense of direction to enlighten all of humanity, and by then what use would that strength be? To be a nation of pansies like the Elsies, strong on resources but weak on resolve? It would be a fate worse than death.

Minamoto continued, “Reports indicate that Togura is already a lost cause. Shin Yodama is crushing our forces there after he diverted his Izanagi Warriors there from their border inspection on the Federated Suns front. Any reinforcements would arrive too late to make any significant impact.”

“What about Altair?” Jubei was determined that he retain at least one of the contested shipyards.

“Heavy fighting is still going on. I suspect Hohiro will also be sending forces to contest for the shipyards there, which means it could turn into a real meat grinder.”

Rezak said, “Then I suggest sending the three regiments of Hampton’s Hessens to Altair, and after that, be reassigned to Midway and Dieron. We cannot afford to lose the warships under construction in light of their strategy.”

“Agreed.” Jubei nodded.

“Coordinator,” Precentor Takei Inamoto of the Word of Blake spoke up, “What about the Nova Cats? After all, one of the Usurper’s heirs is in their command structure.”

Jubei dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, “Not a problem. Minoru’s connections with the Nova Cats has already tarnished his image in the eyes of many loyal citizens of the Combine. For the time being, as long as we do not bother them, they will not bother us. They know that to take sides in this civil war would probably tilt much support in our direction. While that might make things even more difficult for us in terms of military strength, the amount of civil unrest caused by that would be even worse for them.”

“But some of our units have attacked Nova Cat units in the field,” Rezak pointed out, “It’s very likely they’ll not take it lying down.”

“On the contrary,” Jubei smiled carefully, “I have already laid out my case in a transmission to Khan Santin West, offering to recompense him for the actions of those units. He has agreed, and is willing to grant us the benefit of the doubt for the time being. Don’t forget that the Nova Cats have their own problems to deal with, specifically the Ghost Bears.”

“So our immediate objectives are?”

“To consolidate our control over the worlds we already own, and to claim the shipyards.” Jubei said solemnly. “Naval superiority would dictate the fate of the Combine. People, this would be a long and difficult struggle, but I am certain we will succeed.”

Jubei looked over at Takei, who was sitting impassively. If not for the Word of Blake’s assistance, he would not be where he was now. But he also had no illusions about what they were after, and he refused to let the Blakists control the Combine through him. It was, on the surface, an alliance of convenience. But he was locked in a struggle for nothing less than the Dragon’s soul, and Jubei knew that a single misstep would be fatal. But he still needed their aid, which was why he not moved against them yet.

Who, Jubei thought, will backstab the other first?

 

“Are the operatives ready?” Precentor Takei Inamoto asked in the safety of the HPG station on Luthien. The office formerly belonged to a Comstar Precentor, who of course had been ‘removed’ following Jubei’s ascension to the Dragon Throne.

His aide Adept Toure replied, “Yes, sir. They are prepared for the mission.”

Inamoto nodded. “Then tell them to proceed.”

His aide tapped out a few commands on his wristcomp, then waited expectantly.

“Adept, is there anything else?” Inamoto snapped. The man was supposed to get out after being given his orders.

“Uh sir, I would like to know why you would want to kill Minoru Kurita and frame the Black Dragons for the deed. I thought we were on their side. Killing their Oathmaster would only enrage the Nova Cats and bring their wrath onto Jubei Kurita. That’s not what we want.”

“You know too little, Adept, and you’re not thinking with your brain,” said Inamoto. “I want the Nova Cats to fight the Black Dragons.”

“Why?”

“Blake demands that all the players in this conflict be drained of their vigour. By having the Nova Cats fight the Black Dragons, more of the Combine’s people will also forgo their neutral stance and take up arms against the clan. As a simple analogy, let’s take Hohiro’s side to be at strength 5, and the Black Dragons to be at strength 4. The Nova Cats are at strength 2. If the Nova Cats help Hohiro, their combined strength would be 7, and that should mean that they would win rather easily, right?”

Toure’s brow furrowed in puzzlement as he tried to reason his way through the problem. “Yes, I would think so.”

“Wrong!” Inamoto emphasised his answer with a slash of his right hand. “The Black Dragons would gain strength as well from those who would nominally support Hohiro, but hate the clanners, and they’ll not be 4 any more, maybe a 5, or even a 6 in terms of strength.”

“So that means…”

“They’ll bleed all the more for their sins… and it will be easier for the Word of Blake to redeem them when the time is right.”

Light dawned in Toure’s eyes. “I see! Thank you for enlightening me, Precentor.”

Inamoto nodded indulgently. “Blake’s will be done.”

“Blake’s will be done.” Toure repeated before he left the office.

And the moment for fulfilling his will is getting closer, Inamoto noted with satisfaction. The Free Worlds League is next. Such a pity we couldn’t capture Isis Marik here. She would have made such a useful puppet against the False One.

Inamoto began to laugh, and anybody that might have heard him would have been chilled to the bone.

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