One very interesting fact stood out to me while I was reviewing Descartin’s records. I didn’t really notice it until a discussion of the best mechwarriors in known space came up among the mechjocks in the MIB. Obviously, I argued for Descartin as the best, but I also decided to look for the records of all the frontrunners to back up my claim.

Surprisingly, it turned out that Descartin had his testing at practically the same time as Phelan Kell and Kai Allard-Liao. Of course, these two warriors needed no introduction, having long made their mark on the course of history.

It has to be said that who these two warriors were helped them. If they weren’t of noble status, could they have made the same impact? Descartin, being only a ‘simple’ clan mechwarrior, would find opportunity after opportunity passing him by in his years wandering the clans. Certainly events conspired to prevent him from influencing the outcomes on Luthien and Tukayyid.

But what an impact he made in 3068. Unbelievable. Just freaking unbelievable.

-The Word of Blake Contagion, Frank Meronac

 

Takashi Kurita Memorial Spaceport

Imperial City, Luthien

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

9^th August 3068

 

Yoshino Ihara, even after all his years of wandering the worlds of the clans and the Inner Sphere, forgot one cardinal rule when stepping off the dropship.

Do not ever, ever, take a deep breath. Just a week of breathing ship processed air would sensitize the nose to the various icky chemicals and pollutants on virtually all planets.

On a world like Luthien, known throughout the human sphere for being the Black Pearl of the Combine due to its heavily polluted environs, doing exactly that was akin to suicide.

Yoshino, excited to be on Luthien for the second time in his life, did just that.

His eyes bulged out as he realized his boneheaded move once the stench penetrated to his nerve receptors. Yoshino let out a strangled gasp, and his hands flew to his throat in a futile effort to relieve his shocked throat muscles, cramped up from his sudden seizure.

He looked around frantically as he tried to both breathe and release the foul air from his lungs at the same time. Then he felt a sudden thump on his back, driving out all the air from his lungs. He fell to his knees as he sucked in air through his mouth, not his nose, which also prevented him from getting the smell through his pain wracked smell receptors.

After about ten seconds, Yoshino looked up and behind, to see, not surprisingly, a dour looking Descartin Winters with his arms folded across his chest. The taller clan mechwarrior seemed exasperated at even this latest delay.

Yoshino couldn’t quite understand what was driving Descartin, ever since they had left Outreach. It had been one dreary transit after another, handed from one jumpship to the next as they traveled deeper into the Draconis Combine.

Descartin had been as tense as a wound up spring ever since they had left Outreach. Thankfully, he had been a lot more stable since he had met Deserk’s wife, which had assuaged some of his guilt at not being able to keep his sibkin alive.

Descartin had been very quiet throughout the journey, seldom getting out from his room for meals. Most of the time, they had to bring meals to his room. Yoshino knew Descartin was trying his hardest to forget the events of the past few months by immersing himself in his Great Work, but he also knew it wasn’t working very well.

Yoshino knew their stated purpose was to bring the giftake of the Nova Cat abtakha who had died in Dragoon service back to Irece, the new capital world of the clan after their Abjuration from the clans. But he also knew there was another reason, and it was for this other reason that they had arrived at Luthien.

Yoshino had only been to Luthien once before, and that was when he was eight years old, accompanying his parents on a vacation. For a moment, he thought back fondly on those carefree days of discovery and adventure.

“Can we get going now?” Descartin asked as he hefted the luggage he had dropped in order to help Yoshino recover from the deadly ‘first breath’. Descartin wore the traditional attire of a Goliath Scorpion Seeker over his tall frame, a dark brown caftan-like tunic which spread across his arms and legs, along with a black vest with the emblem of the clan over his torso. He lacked only the hooded headgear, which exposed his light brown hair and pale green eyes. All these definitely made him stand out in the crowd of short Japanese with their dark hair and black eyes, wearing business suits and traditional Japanese clothing.

“Sure, sure.” Yoshino knew Descartin well after their many years together, and he was able to judge the warrior’s moods well.

Right now, Descartin was feeling antsy. Why? Yoshino asked himself. The answer came to him almost immediately. Because the last time he was on this world, he was trying to conquer it.

Yoshino got and started to walk. “Let us get moving then. But we need to find some transportation, and a place to stay. Let me talk to the locals. Some of them might know something helpful.”

The group walked down the dropship ramp, entering the spaceport terminal. Hordes of civilians were milling around, some of them laborers hauling goods, others selling goods just outside the dropship pads, and also inside the terminal.

Yoshino uttered a short prayer to Buddha for the ISF to ignore them. Although they were hardly a threat to the Combine, he knew the most feared secret police in the Inner Sphere did not care for such niceties. The last thing he wanted was trouble.

And he saw trouble on just about his very first sight of the terminal interior.

A DCMS soldier laid flat on his back on the floor, surrounded by interested onlookers as a distressed woman clutched her purse in an overhead position. It was apparent to anybody that the soldier had been hammered by the same purse.

“Get away from me, hentai!” The woman screamed, then ran away in tears.

The man stumbled onto his knees, his arms wide out in a gesture of supplication, “Come back, my beauty!” It was a move worthy of inclusion in a stage performance, if not for the blood flowing down the man’s nose, spoiling what would have been a handsome face.

Yoshino winced. He knew the soldier. Obviously, the man had not changed, not even after 15 years.

Ignoring the bemused looks of the others, Yoshino ran up to the soldier. Without waiting for the man to recover, Yoshino dragged him to his feet, whipped him around, and then shouted into the man’s face, “Return me my 500 C-Bills, you baka!”

Tai-i Ryo Saeba of the 2^nd Legion of Vega flashed his typically lazy smile at Yoshino. “And who might you be to demand such from an honorable officer of the DCMS?”

“Don’t recognize me?” Yoshino grinned mirthlessly. “How about that kendo match back at Sun-Zhang when I whacked you silly?”

Amazement appeared in Ryo’s eyes as he took in the man in front of him. He grasped disbelieving at Yoshino with both hands, clutching his arms.

“Yoshino Ihara? You’re alive?” He exclaimed in delight. “I can’t believe it!”

Yoshino wanted to laugh, but he kept the semi-stern expression on his face, a close mimicry of their sensei’s look whenever Ryo went off on one of his outrageous female underwear stealing escapades.

He frowned, “Forget about all that! Where’re my 500 C-Bills?” He moved quickly, getting Ryo into a headlock under one arm.

Only for the taller DCMS mechwarrior to duck and spin away, then going into a fighting stance, his hands raised, “I said I’d pay you back! You don’t have to get violent about it!” Ryo said.

Descartin walked up. “What is going on?” The clanner asked.

Yoshino finally allowed himself to crack a smile. “Ryo Saeba, meet Star Captain Descartin Winters. If you can’t give me back my money, you might as well do us a favor.”

 

“So you guys are here to see Tai-Sho Narimasa Asano.” Ryo stated. “Not considering the trifling details in getting past his security detail, and avoiding the questions of the ISF, there’s very little I can do to help you.”

They were sitting in a teahouse near the spaceport, sipping at their drinks. They were still waiting for the customs officers to grant them a berth for the Nobori-Nin they had brought along. While Descartin would have been perfectly in his rights to claim the mech, he had not done so, and so it still belonged to Yoshino.

Meanwhile, they discussed their options. Yoshino watched Ryo warily. The hentai peered at Tina every few seconds, and he was sure what his friend was thinking of. He tried not to think about it too much. Anyway, Tina, as an adult, and one born in the clans, would know how to handle Ryo. It wasn’t really his problem.

“You have contacts, Ryo. It shouldn’t be too difficult.” Yoshino took a long look around him. The apparent prosperity of the current Combine was not lost on him as he took in the advanced air conditioning units, the clean sidewalks, and the high quality mix of synthetic and wood furniture in the teahouse.

“The simple fact is that the Tai-Sho isn’t around on Luthien at all,” Ryo said, “He left just two days ago for an inspection of the Ghost Bear border, and he won’t be back for several weeks.”

Yoshino shook his head. “Perhaps you can find out for us where he is going, and we can try to catch up.”

“No need.” Descartin cut in. “Chasing him might actually cost us more time and money. We do not exactly have unlimited funds, Yoshino.”

“So what now?” Yoshino asked.

“We stay on Luthien until Asano returns.” Descartin stated as though it was an apparent fact. “Tai-i Saeba, can you get us cheap lodging for as long as we need to stay in the city?”

Ryo took a sip of his tea. “Not a problem. Any friend of Yoshino’s is a friend of mine.” He smiled at Yoshino. “I’m just happy you’re still alive and not some organic waste matter on some rock somewhere. I got intel reports about you becoming bondsman to the Cats, but then you disappeared into the homeworlds and nobody, not even the Cats, knew much after that.”

Yoshino grinned in return. “I thought I’ll be dead plenty of times in the past 15 years too. Good karma, I guess.”

Then Ryo suddenly turned a predatory smile. “You know something? Because you weren’t officially dead, your family estates caretaker… what’s his name…”

“Toda.” Yoshino supplied.

“Yeah, Toda. He continued running the place as if you’re still alive. In fact, he was so successful that when the Combine took back Avon, your estates and holdings were the biggest on Avon. The Coordinator appointed a new Duke in charge of the place then, but he and his family died in an accident recently, and so there’s now a void just waiting to be filled.”

Yoshino knew what his friend meant. “You’re saying I got a chance at being planetary governor.”

“Yes. So, thought you knew all this already?”

“No, I just got back.” Actually, the real reason why I wasn’t going to contact Toda unless it was absolutely necessary was because I was afraid of what I might find, Yoshino admitted to himself silently.

“But now that you know?”

“It changes nothing.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m still bondsman to Star Captain Winters, a yeoman in his quest. Nothing else matters.”

“Really?” Ryo was about to press further when Descartin suddenly spoke up.

“No, that is not true at all,” Descartin said, a strange fire in his eyes. “Yoshino, if you really need to take up the title, I will be most willing to release you.” He spun to look at Wolkul and Tina, both of whom looked surprised. “In fact, I might as well make this official. I hereby release all of you from service. You are all free now.”

Descartin continued to speak as though in a fevered dream, his words almost tumbling over one another. “Tina, Wolkul, if you wish, you can arrange transportation back to Roche. Just go to the Nova Cat embassy. Yoshino, you are back in your homeland. I have no doubt you will be one of the Combine’s finest warriors. The Nobori-Nin is yours.”

A stunned Yoshino could only watch as Descartin stood up from his chair, giving them a slight smile and a serene expression. “I bid you goodbye. From now, none of you have anything to do with me or my quests. I wish all of you happiness and good fortune in your future endeavors.”

Then he strode out of the teahouse, carrying only a small rucksack with the giftake of the Nova Cats, his letter from Jaime Wolf, his vineers, and his music scores, which was practically all he had. As he walked out, Yoshino glimpsed a satisfied look on Descartin’s face, as though he had come to a decision that he had always wanted to make. Nobody moved an inch, stunned beyond belief.

“What in the Nine Hells…” Yoshino sat there with his mouth gaping wide. “Descartin!”

He shot up from his chair and ran out. He emerged into the busy streets, where throngs of people were milling about. He looked left and right desperately for Descartin, which should be a simple task given the warrior’s abnormal height amongst the shorter people of the Combine and his distinct clothing.

But Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion was nowhere to be found.

 

When this began I had nothing to say

I get lost in the nothing that’s inside of me (I was confused)

I let it all out to find that I’m not the only person with these things in mind (inside of me)

Well I don’t think they can see the words reveal

This is the only real thing I got left to feel (nothing to lose)

Just luck, hollow and alone

And the fault is my own, and the fall is just my own

Descartin Winters wandered the streets of the city aimlessly. He had boarded one of the underground mass transit systems to one of the city’s districts, attracting much attention from the other passengers. Of course, nobody gave him any trouble, since he still exuded a quiet menace imparted by his attire, even if he did not carry any weapons, since they were outlawed on Luthien.

The streets bloomed with smelly steam from the transit system, while a few vehicles roamed the streets. The area was not bustling with people, but it was not exactly in shutdown mode either. It was almost evening, and the city was winding down.

His actions in the teahouse had been a spur of the moment decision, and one that made perfect sense to him. If anything else, he kicked himself mentally for not having done it on Outreach. Instead, he had dragged Tina and Wolkul hundreds of light years away for no apparent reason.

He liked things the way they were now. Just him, and his quest. Nobody else needed to be with him, nobody else needed to share his risks. Nobody else needed to die for him like Deserk.

The letter, the identity of the Archer pilot who might be able to help him, his fate should the Khan decide he was a renegade. He did not care anymore. He would let the fates decide his destiny, and his destination.

Somewhere where he might discover peace. Somewhere where he could find himself. Someplace where he might belong.

Not the wandering from clan to clan, the countless battles fought for various petty reasons, the death of good warriors in next to pointless conflict. He wanted none of that anymore.

He wanted a real reason for fighting, one to hold himself to, a goal to strive for. Being ‘the best mechwarrior’, the oft stated goal of all clan warriors, was a joke to him. So what if he was? So what if he was not? Did it ever matter?

He knew that what Frank and Ian had tried to drag him into, the establishment of a new merc unit, was an interesting idea, and he had been more than a bit tempted. But in the end it was just more useless fighting, the quest for fame and fortune. He wanted something more meaningful, something that could really make a difference. He thought it was a pity that both Frank and Ian could not recognize that.

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real

I wanna let go of all the pain I felt so long(release all the pain ‘til it’s gone)

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I’m close to something real

I wanna find something I wanted all along

Somewhere I belong

He was in the Paschal district, a relatively affluent district that looked to be a commercial and cultural hub in the city. The streets were relatively clear of people, and Descartin noted the easy strides of the Friendly Persuaders swinging their batons in their hands, the brightness of their candy-striped uniforms as he walked on the streets.

He was surprised at the relative affluence of the Combine. For years, and especially before and during the invasion years, he had believed that the people of the Combine lived in squalor, near barbaric levels of civilization. Even after first hand experience of the Combine during the war, he had little time to notice the details, caught up in fighting from world to world. And after Tukayyid, well, he was not in the Inner Sphere anyway, so he had little idea of how the people of the Inner Sphere lived, other than accounts from Yoshino Ihara.

He had subscribed to the Warden philosophy, but he had also strongly believed that the Inner Sphere was corrupt. But his experiences amongst the clans have also enabled him to see that they were actually no better. He was no Cloud Cobra cloister philosopher like Peyes Mannix, but he had learnt enough to know that there was no one ‘best’ path for humanity.

And not enough reasons to justify war with the Inner Sphere.

And I got nothing to say

I can’t believe I didn’t fall right down on my face (I was confused)

Looking everywhere only to find

That it’s not the way I imagined it all in my mind (So I implied)

Do I have the negativity?

Cause I can’t justify my way when everyone is looking at me (nothing to lose)

Nothing but game, how I went along

And the fault is my own, and the fall is just my own

It almost came as shock to him after an hour of walking and looking at people when he found himself standing in front of, of all things, a museum dedicated to the clan invasion.

The front of the museum was dominated by a statue of a dragon crushing a Clan Dire Wolf in its coils. Beside it stood several statues of other mechs, all traditional Combine designs like the Panther, Jenner, Daimyo, No-Dachi, and Akuma mechs, resplendent in the various field colors of the Combine’s most elite regiments. Descartin walked in, marveling at the accurate depictions of the mighty war machines.

But what caught his eye was a gold Grand Dragon standing just inside the museum, in the main lobby as he entered after ascending the steps around the Dire Wolf statue. He handed over a few K-Bills from his meager supply to the attendant at the door as he entered, never taking his eyes off the mech.

For it was a real mech, not a stone sculpture imitation. And he was sure he had seen it years ago, in the Waseda Hills.

Descartin saw a Phoenix Hawk lead the charge down the slopes, followed closely by a Grand Dragon, moving at almost a hundred kilometers an hour. He snapped off a shot at the fourth mech in line, a Crockett. One PPC bolt missed, but the other burned into the left torso. The assault mech shook off the hit, and continued down the into the valley.

“Brace yourselves!” Descartin snapped at his trinary as the gold painted mechs slammed into their lines. He did not know if any of them received his order, but the battle swept over him, and he could hardly care less as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the inferno.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the memories. What is wrong with me? He asked as he came up to the plaque in front of the mech and read off the words.

“This Grand Dragon was the personal mech of Coordinator Takashi Kurita as he fought the clan invaders during the Battle of Luthien, 04-05 January, 3052. Warning: Engines and weapons have been removed.”

So that explains why they fought with such tenacity, Descartin thought. They were led by their ruler, and it was indeed the last line of defense. If only we had tracked back and taken Takashi…

If only, if only. It was the story of his life. If only he had done this, if only he had done that. Descartin had many regrets, and he was not sure if he could hold up under their weight.

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real

I wanna let you off the day I felt so long(release all the pain ‘til it’s gone)

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I’m close to something real

I wanna find something I wanted all along

Somewhere I belong

He looked through the various halls, teeming with tourists and children on school trips, led by museum guides proudly extolling the bravery and skill of the Combine’s warriors during the dark days of the clan invasion, and their nation’s triumphs in Operations Bulldog, Serpent, and Hunter.

Serves the Smoke Jaguars right. Descartin had no love of the dead clan, and he had been as satisfied as any other Nova Cat, past or present, when he had heard of their demise. The Smoke Jaguars had been the most brutal and savage of all the clans, and they had paid for their sins, leaving only ghosts of the clan in the periphery, trying to eke out an existence among those they once considered far beneath them.

He passed by the various halls commemorating the victories and important battles fought by the Combine, letting his feet guide him as his mind ran through his memories of the invasion. There was one for Wolcott, where the Combine won its first battle against the clans. Another for Teniente, where he had come so close to capturing Hohiro Kurita.

Then he came to the hall for Luthien.

“Everybody, break past the Archer, I will try to occupy it for as long as possible!” Descartin stomped on his foot pedals, sending the Timber Wolf flying towards the Archer. He fired his remaining PPC at the apex of his jump.

The PPC scored a hit, flensing away armor on the left torso.

“That was for Deserk, freebirth!” Descartin shouted in exultation. The Archer could be hit!

But its lasers pounded away at the already crippled Timber Wolf, seeking out the vulnerable innards of the mech. Descartin twisted his mech from side to side, even as he saw the rest of his command rejoin Yegro on the far side of the hills.

Another status light for a heat sink winked from green to red. Descartin resisted the urge to wipe off the sweat pouring down into his eyes as he dueled with the Archer.

He was able to connect with some shots now that they were at point blank ranges, but it was too late. The Archer tore into him, slicing away actuators and engine shielding, along with his weapons. His cockpit was bathed in red as they spoke of the tremendous damage his Timber Wolf had endured.

A laser beam cut into his left leg, crippling the hip actuator just as Descartin was putting all the weight of the mech on that leg as he tried to turn to his left. The Timber Wolf crashed to the ground.

He entered the hall, and was struck by a host of familiar images. He felt a wave of vertigo wash over him as he grappled with the images running in his mind. It was so long ago…

There was the map of Imperial City and its environs, identical to the one he had studied before the assault in his room. A space map detailing the clan run-in, a replica of the image on the ship’s holotank as they dashed for the world. A Panther mech of the 1st Sword, synonymous with the Combine military.

I will never know myself until I do this on my own

And I will never feel, anything else until my wounds are healed

I will never make anything until I break away from me

I will break away, and find myself today

There was a group of people in the room, along with some children, all listening to a guide as he spoke.

“The clanners landed here, on the Tairakana Plains. Our glorious aerospace fighters strafed them relentlessly, destroying many mechs and driving the barbarians further into the embrace of the Otomo. Our esteemed Coordinator, who was Kanrei at the time, had dressed up some agromechs as battlemechs. As the Smoke Jaguars closed in with them, they managed to reveal themselves as dummy mechs armed with explosives, which sent the clanners reeling!” The guide laughed, and his audience laughed with him as they savored the historical victory.

Descartin tried not to pay them any heed, even if the guide was wrong on some of the details. He looked around for information on the mercenaries, especially the Kell Hounds. With luck, he might be able to find the name of the Archer pilot.

Strangely enough, there was very little information on the mercenaries who had fought in the battle. Most of the details described each of the DCMS regiments, but only a few comments about the Kell Hound and Wolf Dragoon regiments could be found.

What a shame, Descartin shook his head. If it was not for the mercenaries, the clans would have won the Battle of Luthien, no matter what the DCMS did. That they were relegated to the part of bit-players was a sorry piece of revisionist history.

The guide was going off again about the fight in the Waseda Hills, about how Takashi Kurita and his Dragon’s Claws fought the Nova Cats to prevent them from reaching the city. But to hear the guide say it, it seemed as though they did it single-handedly, when Descartin knew full well that was simply not true.

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real

I wanna let go of the pain I felt so long

I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I’m close to something real

I wanna find something I wanted all along

Somewhere I belong, Somewhere I belong

I have had enough of this. He cleared his throat. Descartin began to speak, firmly and strongly, over the voice of the guide.

 

Peering into the display case for a shattered clan neurohelmet, Isis Marik wondered at the technology capable of producing such lightweight equipment. She had been around enough mechwarriors to recognize the advantages conferred by smaller, hardier neurohelmets.

It had been a dreary and boring month on Luthien, and she finally managed to convince her handlers to let her out into the city after staying cooped up in the palace with nothing to do.

Coming here to the war museum was something she had wanted to do ever since she had left Luthien when Omi Kurita died. Isis still felt sadness whenever she thought of her poor friend, murdered by an assassin when she had so much of her life left to live.

It was a very good thing Victor was the one who made the decision concerning his treacherous sister Katrina. If it had been up to Isis, she would have strung Katrina up and stuck her head on a pike, damn the consequences, for what she did to Omi and Victor.

She was here to get Omi and Victor’s son, a task Victor had asked her to do for him. However, it turned out that Chandrasekhar Kurita, or ‘Uncle Chandy’, as he was popularly known in the Draconis Combine, and quite possibly one of the richest men in the Inner Sphere, had taken young Kitsune to Hachiman and its nearby worlds for some unscheduled fun.

So she was left to wait on Luthien, since there was no itinerary for her to use to catch up with them. Isis spent most of her time going over reruns of old period drama shows, gossiping with the ladies in the palace, and figuring what dress to wear for the dinner function of the day.

In other words, she was bored out of her mind.

She knew she had gotten over Sun-Tzu Liao’s rejection, but she still felt like a floundering fish, unable to find a purpose in life. She had no place back in the Free Worlds League; her father did not even want her around. She would have been happy with Victor, but Thomas had also refused to let her near him, since Joshua’s death and Victor’s betrayal still rankled.

The end result of all these was that she was left with nowhere to go, and nothing to do. The trip to the museum was the first time she had actually stepped out of the Imperial Palace for a week. Accompanied only by two Otomo warrior bodyguards, she was glad to be out in the city.

Isis had been delighted to realize that other than being a gaijin woman, none of the civilians actually recognized her. She had quietly but firmly inserted herself into this mix of tourists from Pesht and schoolchildren from a school in the city, followed by her two plainly dressed bodyguards. The guide seemed knowledgeable enough, but she was a bit tired of his platitudes as he praised Takashi, Theodore, and Hohiro Kurita at regular intervals. She just wanted him to get on with the account of the battle.

The guide was saying, “Then our beloved Coordinator drove all the Nova Cats before him as they…”

“Excuse me,” A voice rang out, “But that is wrong. The mechs of the Dragon’s Claws held the west approach to Imperial city, while the mech of the Kell Hounds, Wolf Dragoons, and the other Combine regiments formed a ring of fire around the valley. The Dragon’s Claws held their ground as the Nova Cats charged at them. Despite their best efforts, two binaries managed to break through to the Kado-Guchi Plains.”

The guide spun around furiously. “Who said that?”

The crowd turned as well to see a tall man in a strange black attire standing behind them, his clothes vaguely reminiscent of the Arkab. He had a head of light brown hair, and the palest green eyes Isis had ever seen. He carried himself with quiet authority, but also with an air of the tragic about him. A small rucksack was slung over one shoulder.

“I did.” He said simply.

“And what gives you the right to speak these lies?” The guide asked.

“Lies?” The man shook his head sadly. “What I said were not lies.”

“Oh yeah?” The guide questioned with a tinge of sarcasm, placing his hands on his hips. “And how would you know?”

The man smiled slowly. “Because I was there.”

The crowd rose their collective eyebrows. The guide rocked back slightly. The way the man had said it, and his sheer presence, was very convincing. Isis thought she had met many kinds of warriors, but this one seemed, well, different.

The man did not allow the guide to recover, and quickly got on with his account. “The defenders of Luthien quickly regrouped their forces, and engaged the rest of the clan forces as they entered the Kado-Guchi Valley. Meanwhile, the clan elements at their rear split into two, one heading for the city, while the smaller unit went back to the battle.”

The man frowned, and Isis guessed he probably was reliving an unpleasant memory. “But the clans were too few in number, and the defenders fought well. The attack that managed to reach the city was snuffed out by the city’s last few remaining militia units.”

The man pointed at the huge map in front of them, using the mounted laser pointer in front of the map. “Over here was the Combine’s remaining units, while the mercenaries were here, here, and here. The Nova Cats attempted to break the lines into half, but the Wolf Dragoons managed to push several battalions into place to halt their axis of attack. The Smoke Jaguars suffered the worst losses as they charged headlong into the valley.” The man sketched out several movements on the map with the pointer.

“They were repeatedly cut off by mercenary troops, and then fell upon by the numerically superior defenders. The Jaguars lost more than a Galaxy of troops in the fighting, while the Nova Cats lost less than one. By all accounts, the defenders were badly hurt as well, having lost more than 9 regiments in the field.”

“I have always wondered about the decision to pull back.” The man grimaced. “If that trinary had not attacked the city, it could certainly have damaged enough units to force a general withdrawal. We could have won…” The man’s voice trailed off, then a sad smile spread across his face.

“But I guess the fates never meant for us to win.”

He turned, and walked away, leaving a bemused crowd staring at his back, while the humiliated guide spluttered, “Stop there!” The man continued on his own way, not paying the guide any heed.

Strange, Isis thought, I don’t remember clanners, even Nova Cats, wearing that sort of attire. And he had to be a clanner, because his words suggested that he fought on Luthien on the side of the clans.

“He was right, you know,” Tai-i Daisuke Ichikawa of the Otomo, her assigned personal guard, said. “The clanner, I mean. I was there too.”

Isis looked at Daisuke crossly. ”Then why didn’t you correct the guide?”

Daisuke pursed his lips. ”Not my place to decide on national history.” His partner, Chu-i Atasushi Yanagisawa, nodded emphatically.

And that was what infuriated Isis at times. For all of Theodore Kurita’s reforms, the Draconis Combine was still a relatively closed society. Propaganda abounded at all levels, while the vast powers of the government boggled her.

She had grown up in the much more freewheeling environment of the Free Worlds League, and such control over the populace was unheard of. People tend to speak their minds freely, and damn the authorities. She heard things were changing under her father’s rule though.

In the Draconis Combine, matters were more complex. There was a great deal of social and cultural engineering, as well as a rigid intolerance of faiths and religions other than state approved ones. There was no strict caste system, nor slaves for that matter, but Isis knew that Combine society was nevertheless stratified into levels that stifled social mobility save for the truly exceptional.

The ISF and the Order of the Five Pillars worked fastidiously to ensure that all Combine citizens were indoctrinated in the proper attitudes since birth, which resulted in a extremely stable, but ultimately close minded society unreceptive to new ideas and concepts until Theodore started his changes, which, for all of their effectiveness in bolstering the realm’s prosperity, still rankled with the traditionalists.

Isis had met her share of the traditionalists, and it always took her a supreme effort of will from giving into the urge to bash out their heads with the nearest handy blunt object. They regarded women like chattel, and were often scornful of anything that did not agree with their world viewpoints.

Tai-i Daisuke was better. As a warrior, he had been exposed to many other cultures during his years of service to the Dragon. But he was still, first and foremost, a totally loyal soldier of the Combine.

And that included keeping his mouth shut when even lies were being propagated.

Isis sighed. “Alright. I understand. But if the man was a clanner, then why the getup?”

“I really don’t know.” Daisuke shrugged.

Atasushi added, “I did see something like a scorpion insignia on his vest.”

“A scorpion insignia?” Isis was intrigued.

Daisuke paused to think. “Maybe he’s one of those who call themselves the Goliath Scorpions. I’ve never met them, and they are a Warden home clan anyway, so nobody really cares about them.”

Isis was worried. “But if there is such a warrior here, could it be a resumption of the invasion?”

Daisuke laughed as they walked out of the hall, “With one warrior? Impossible!”

Having had enough of the museum, Isis and her bodyguards left the building. The sun in the sky was just on the horizon, its meager light filtered out by the planet’s heavy polluted atmosphere.

“Where to next, your Highness?” Daisuke asked.

Isis had not really thought about where she was going next, since she just wanted to explore the city on her own time and preference.

“Somewhere to eat, perhaps?” Atasushi suggested. “Besides, I think I’m hungry.” He said sheepishly.

Isis smirked at the Otomo’s admission. “Okay then, let’s go for dinner. I know this Italian restaurant in the area. I’ve asked around the palace servants. There’s this fast shortcut there, if you don’t mind.”

Daisuke seemed wary. “Are you sure that the route is safe?”

Isis waved off his concern. “Come on, this is Luthien! What could happen?”

Famous last words, she thought to herself moments later as she looked at the sprawled bodies of the Otomo on the dirty alley concrete. They had been ambushed by a group of thugs in the narrow passageway. Isis had been leading the way, her two bodyguards behind her. The thugs had struck from behind, using blackjacks in a brutal attack on Daisuke and Atasushi.

The two Otomo were highly trained hand to hand combatants, but even the finest warriors could be defeated by a well timed trap. They fell like tenpins, and Isis found herself alone, facing at least 6 thugs.

“Come along now, little lady. Give me all your money, and we’ll also give you a good time!” One man with a weasel face exclaimed, grinning and revealing several broken teeth.

Isis turned and ran, only to be stopped when she saw another big thug blocking the other side of the alley, preventing her from escaping.

Isis gritted her teeth, and drew a short knife from her belt. She charged forward, slashing with the weapon at the man. The man jumped aside to avoid the blade, but in so doing allowed Isis to just squeeze past his bulk.

“Get her!” Somebody yelled.

She fled down the alleyways, emerging out onto a deserted street just as she slipped on a piece of garbage. She slid painfully across the floor. The shouts of the thugs told her of their pursuit. She tried to get up, but she was suddenly jerked back by her hair. Isis screamed in fear.

Then the grip on her hair was released just as suddenly, and she heard a thumping sound of an object hitting another, as well as a grunt from her assailant.

She shifted around on the ground to see the black clad man from the museum standing alone against eight thugs. One thug was already on the ground out cold.

“Take him!” One thug shouted. He moved forward, but the man caught his punch in his fist, and whipped his other arm with unbelievable speed into the elbow joint of the punching arm. A loud cracking sound told of broken bones as the thug screamed in agony, staggering back clutching his arm as the clanner released him.

The rest of the thugs advanced together, armed with an assortment of weapon, from knives to chains to blackjacks.

The clanner fought back with a ferocity and skill Isis had never seen before, not even in her few sessions watching Victor being tossed around by Tiaret Nevversan.

The man seemed to have eyes behind his head as he blocked and attacked with blinding speed, taking some hits and countering others. He weaved between the thugs with quick footwork, not letting them surround him at any time. Two thugs went down quickly under fast and accurate blows to their vital body parts, while another was left holding his broken nose.

One thug slashed down with his knife. The clanner blocked with his arm, which sent a splatter of blood flying as the knife opened up a vicious gash across his arm. The man did not seem to pay the wound any heed, and stepped in to headbutt the thug into unconsciousness, and followed up with an arm twist motion that sent the bloody knife into his own hands.

He spun around with the knife, dropping low at the same time to avoid the roundhouse blows passing over his head. He stabbed out with the knife, and another thug went down.

The two remaining thugs seemed to waver in their steps as they realized that they had bitten off more than they could chew. They turned to run, only to crach into Daisuke and Atasushi as they ran out of the alley.

The thugs and the Otomo went down in a tangle of limbs. Almost immediately, the thugs were hammered into submission, now that they were facing enraged and humiliated samurai.

Daisuke got up, dusting his hands on his clothes, then jogged over to Isis.

He asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, thanks to him.” Isis nodded towards the clanner, standing quietly to one side, blood flowing down his left arm. Isis noted that he was not even breathing hard. But his eyes were bright, and at the same time vacant. Maybe he’s suffering from shock.

She walked up to him. “You’re bleeding badly. You need medical attention.”

 

Descartin started as he realized the woman talking to him. He was wondering why he had even bothered to step into the midst of this crime.

He had left the museum, and simply went down the nearest street. He had intended to look for some place to stay, and a place to eat, when he had heard a scream. Without knowing exactly why, he had gone into the fight without a thought, his accumulated hand to hand experience serving him well as he took down one thug after another.

He looked at the woman, her eyes full of concern for him.

“This is only a small wound. Nothing to be concerned about.” He said.

“No,” the woman insisted, “this is a serious wound. I’ll take you to the nearest clinic to treat it.”

Descartin opened his mouth to protest, but he shut it when he saw the determined look on the woman’s face. If there was one common thing he had noticed about women in both the clans and the Inner Sphere, it was that when they really, really wanted something, the man had better give in, warrior ability or not, Trial of Possession or not.

“Aff. I will go with you to bind the wound.” He conceded. No big deal, quiaff?

He saw one of the Japanese men got up from talking to the thug with the broken nose. “Just a bunch of toughs.” The Kuritan said. “I’ve already told them to report to the nearest Civilian Guidance Corps station to report their wounds and get medical attention.”

“What makes you so sure they will do so?” Descartin asked.

“They had better for the sake of their future descendents.” The man grinned, leaving no doubt as to what might befall the toughs if they did not comply. He bowed to Descartin, “Sumimasen. I am Tai-i Daisuke Ichikawa, and this is my partner Chu-i Atasushi Yanagisawa.” The other Kuritan followed with a bow. “And this is Duchess I…”

“Irene Manson.” The woman cut in suddenly, and Descartin thought he saw the two Kuritans raise their eyebrows in surprise. “And you are?” She asked.

Descartin thought about it. Lie, or truth? Not point in lying, so truth it is.

“I am Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion, currently on a Seeker assignment.”

Irene nodded, obviously trying to digest the information. Then she grabbed hold of his uninjured arm.

“Come on,” she said, “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later in a neighborhood clinic, Descartin looked down at the bandage on his left arm, while Irene was collecting some antiseptic pills and disinfectant for his wounds, as well as paying the bill. It had turned out to be a minor injury, which Descartin already knew, one easily treated. He sat on a green colored bench, waiting for Irene.

“So, Star Captain, you fought here twenty years ago?” Daisuke asked. The two DCMS warriors sat on either side of him, and Descartin thought they were sizing him up in case of trouble.

“Aff. I was a Nova Cat with the 449^th Assault Cluster.”

Daisuke nodded. “I fought too. I was with the 1^st Sword at the time, in a Shadow Hawk. I think we probably shot at each other.”

“I think we probably did. I was in a Mad Cat then.” Descartin looked at Daisuke. “You do not seem angry.”

“Why should I? We won, did we not?” Daisuke said complacently.

“True, true.” Descartin agreed. “And is it possible for you to tell me why two mechwarriors like you two are guarding Miss Manson?”

“Whoever said we were guarding her?”

Descartin held out one hand, and started counting off his fingers. “One, you said she was a Duchess during the introductions, which means she is of high rank. Two, the way the two of you were so anxious back at the alley. Three…”

“We get it, we get it.” Daisuke admitted. “We are bodyguards for the Duchess, as she is a very important person. Heads would roll if she came to any lasting harm.”

That explains it, but does not describe what sort of important person she is. Not that it really matters, Descartin thought. None of my business.

Irene seemed to have finished settling the bills, and walked over. “Mister Winters…”

“Call me Des.” He knew his full name was a mouthful.

“Des,” She smiled shyly, then handed him a small plastic bag, “Here’re your medicines. Take them to prevent infection of your wound.”

“Thank you, Duchess Manson.”

“Irene.” She corrected him. “Now, how about dinner?”

 

“Des, do you have anywhere to stay?” Irene asked.

Descartin stared down at the bones of the chicken he had devoured with relish. He had not realized he was starving until the aroma from the food hit his nostrils.

“Neg.” He said. “I have nowhere to go.” He tried not to sound pitiful. After all, he was still a warrior, and a warrior had his pride. He was sure he would be able to find some lodging, one way or the other. He hoped.

“My sister’s family has an extra room.” Atasushi said. “You could stay there. My sister and her husband are still waiting for their first child. Until then, the room can be yours, for a small rent.”

“Do you have money?” Daisuke asked.

“Aff. About 800 K-bills.”

“That’s not a lot.” Irene commented. “How about this? I pay for your lodging at the good Chu-i’s sister’s flat, and in turn, you provide extra protection for me in the city.”

“But, but…” Descartin was a bit startled at her suggestion. Being her bodyguard?

“Why not?” Daisuke jumped in. “Do you have any pressing matters?”

“Not really…”

“Then take up the Duchess’ offer! And you and I can exchange tales of battle everyday!” Daisuke slapped Descartin comradely. “What do you have to lose?”

Descartin looked at Irene, who looked extremely pleased with herself, then Daisuke, who was grinning from ear to ear, and Atasushi, who was calmly waiting for his decision.

What is it that made these people trust me so much? He wondered. How can I ever repay them for their faith in me? Is it fate?

He let out a sigh. “Very well then. I agree to your offer.”

“Good.” Irene said with satisfaction. “And one of the first things we are going to do is to get you some new clothes!”

 

“Ryo, I am getting angry.” Yoshino stared at the DCMS officer. “You said you’ll get us a place to stay!”

“Yeah, but isn’t this it?” Ryo winced for the coming explosion.

Yoshino stabbed a finger at the wooden signboard above them. “A geisha house?” He roared. “Are you taking me for a fool?”

“Hey, the owner owes me, and it doesn’t attract attention of the wrong kind.” Ryo pointed out, trying to mollify his irate friend. “Besides, Tina seems to like it. Great music and culture all night long!” The hentai started shaking his hips about in a lewd suggestive motion.

“ARGHHH!” Yoshino pulled at his hair as he screamed at the heavens in frustration.

 

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