Текст книги " Blood Legacy"

12

Clan Council Chamber, Hall of the Wolves

Strana Mechty, Beyond the Periphery

25 April 3051

Phelan Wolf looked questioningly at Cyrilla, who was laughing. "It is getting nasty. How can you laugh?"

She shrugged easily. "I dearly love watching Conal make a fool of himself."

Off to their right, a Clanswoman stood in place, haranguing her fellow Wolves. "We face the most important Clan election since before we left the Inner Sphere. Soon we must choose a new ilKhan, and the Khans we elect today will affect the outcome of the other election. One of them might even be chosen as the next ilKhan. This, if for no other reason, is why we must replace Ulric Kerensky."

The young MechWarrior frowned. "I do not know, Cyrilla. The speakers have been hammering Ulric pretty hard. All were obviously Crusaders whose main objection is that he is a Warden. It looks grim to me."

"So it might appear." A spark of amusement lit Cyrilla's brown eyes, but her voice took the tone Phelan had come to associate with lessons for him. "If you know a storm is likely to do damage, you button up as tightly as possible, then you wait for the storm to blow itself out before trying to pick up the pieces and rebuild. The arguments we have heard seemed to build one upon another and to pick up momentum. But their foundation is quicksand."

"It is?" Pehlan narrowed his green eyes. "The speakers say that Ulric abrogated his responsibilities by not honoring the compromise made when the invasion was planned. They have accused him of everything from stupidity to outright treason."

Phelan jerked his head in the direction of a handsome, dark-haired man seated just below their place. "And they push Conal Ward as a logical replacement for Ulric. If only half of what the speakers say is true, Conal could be a good leader."

Cyrilla folded her arms across her chest. "He may, indeed, be a good leader, but I think he has overstepped his bounds here. Conal backed Nevski's challenge to the Dragoon's DNA vote, and yet that effort failed badly, thanks to Evantha's own persuasive skills.

"You know enough of our ways to realize that we place efficiency and superiority in military arts above all else. A Khan is one who has strong support within the Clan. The Clan members know he will bring them victory at the lowest cost possible. Right now, Conal shows himself a master of politics and rhetoric, but all this talk has not won a single battle in the Inner Sphere. Ulric, who is no novice when it comes to politics orwar, will be re-elected."

The younger man eyed Cyrilla suspiciously. "More of your behind-the-scenes bargaining?"

"I would not be a House Ward Leader if I did not mind the affairs of all Wards, would I?" Her brown eyes flashed impishly. "I warned Conal not to push himself as competition for Ulric. I told him I would publicly endorse Ulric if Conal became a contender for Ulric's seat. This would point up Conal as a divisive influence within House Ward– something that would make most Clanfolk uneasy."

She smiled at Phelan. "We Clanfolk like people who know how to take and follow orders."

Phelan shook his head. "That explains why they view me with apprehension."

"Oh, not so much as you think." Cyrilla sat back in her chair. "If the reports of your 'Mech exercises are accurate, it is true that you operate in an unorthodox manner. But you get results. As a people, we also appreciate and respect that. Our society does not particularly encourage individuality, but we are capable of recognizing and understanding its value."

Phelan looked down at where Ranna sat beside Natasha. "I wish my unorthodox methods would work better against Ranna. She is my bane."

"And as she is also your lover, she knows you better than the others with whom you must fight." Cyrilla tapped her left index finger against her lips as she reflected for a moment. "When faced with three-to-one odds, a MechWarrior would usually take up a defensive position and try to inflict as much damage as possible on anyone who came after him. He knows the other side will send their least experienced warrior first, then the next level of experience, and finally the best of their number. Your willingness to play hunter instead of hunted is a shock, as is your willingness to shoot at more than one opponent at one time."

The younger MechWarrior shrugged. "That is how we do things back home. Aside from some strange battles with Draconis Combine warriors, most combat is a semi-organized free-for-all. Up 'til now, the Clans have not seen much of our fighting style because your 'Mechs are so much better than ours. Now that I fight in a 'Mech on a par with yours, the Clan rules of battle do not function as effectively."

He let a smile brighten his face. "And I do not know if Ranna is effective against me in a battle just because she is my lover. Not only is she a good MechWarrior, but she has patience. That seems to be a quality many of your people lack. With generations of children being born in lab facilities every five years and a Warrior's slide to oblivion starting at forty-five years of age, a long-term view is not very common here."

"Ah, yes, the famed Kerensky vision." Cyrilla nodded. "Ulric has it, as do Ranna and all the Kerenskys since Aleksandr himself. It is something in the Kerensky bloodline. Freebirth! I have tried to get the Keepers of our Bloodline to arrange for its blending into the Ward line, but the Kerenskys seem reluctant to give us the genetic material we desire."

Cyrilla laughed lightly. "Actually, Natasha is without the Kerensky vision. She has ever been one for action now rather than later." Cyrilla pointed down toward where Natasha sat. "She is the only Kerensky with an unblooded aide. For a Kerensky to bring one to a Clan Council is almost as serious a breach of House honor as Natasha's conduct and language here."

From Cyrilla's smile, Phelan guessed that she did not find Natasha's conduct particularly shocking or heinous. "What is it with unblooded aides? Vlad is over there with Conal, and I see other young people I assume to be unblooded who are with individuals you point out as part of House Ward. I know enough of the Clans to understand that this is significant, but I have yet to puzzle out the true meaning."

"You do recall my saying that candidates for a Bloodname are selected by nomination from within the House, Quiaff?"

"Aff. Or by combat."

"Well, bringing an unblooded aide to the Clan Council, especially one convened to elect the Khans and the Loremaster, is an endorsement of sorts. It lets others see who an individual favors. Conal favors Vlad and I favor you."

Phelan bowed his head. "I am honored."

"And when the opportunity arises, you will honor me by winning a Bloodname."

"I hope to prove myself worthy of your support." Phelan chewed on his lower lip. "Why would it be a breach of honor for a Kerensky to bring an unblooded aide to a Clan Council meeting if everyone else does it?"

Cyrilla shrugged. "The Kerenskys are supposed to hold themselves above this political infighting. It is a tradition that began with Nicholas, but apparently, ends with Natasha. Those years in the Successor States have changed her, honed her to an edge that I think will cut away at the heart of the Clans."

"When she tests out as a Warrior, it will certainly start some tongues wagging, Quiaff?"

"Aff, in a very big way. If Natasha can regain status as a warrior, we will have to question the idea of retiring warriors at an age when they may not yet have reached their peak. And if you test out, we will have to question the superiority of our ways over those that shaped you."

"I will do my best to make you proud."

Cyrilla nodded. "I anticipate no problems. I have more confidence in your ability to win than I do in my ability to figure out what Conal is up to. I am beginning to think he has some plan in mind here."

Phelan frowned. "It seems obvious to me. He wants to defeat Ulric and become a Khan. His desire must have outweighed your warning to him."

"Perhaps that is what we are supposed to believe. I do not like the fact that all the speakers attacking Ulric and backing him are fringe members of the Crusader cadre of our Clan. Those I would have assumed to be Conal's strongest supporters have been the least vocal during this debate."

"Maybe Conal is saving his big guns for later. Perhaps this is his way of bidding away supporters so the fight will not escalate into something he cannot win."

"An interesting analysis." The old woman's eyes narrowed. "While we do bid away troops when staging a battle, our political fights have never operated in that way before. He has to be up to something."

Cyrilla fell silent as her eyes focused beyond Phelan. He spun around and saw Conal Ward rising to speak.

"Loremaster, my Khans, and colleagues. I have heard many people castigate Khan Ulric for his conduct during the first stage of the invasion of the Inner Sphere. They note that by conquering more worlds than did any of the other Clans, he has violated an agreement under which the invasion was begun. They suggest that by pushing further than any other Clan into the Successor States, he has disgraced and dishonored us. They say that by prematurely launching waves, he has goaded other Clans into disastrous acts of daring that resulted in serious defeats for the Jade Falcons and Smoke Jaguars."

Conal's voice was strong, and he knew how to shift the tone and speed of his delivery to catch his audience in his rhythm. An engaging speaker, he had a warrior's dignified bearing to emphasize that his substance was equal to his style.

"I have also heard these same speakers extol my virtues and set me up as the man to replace Khan Ulric. They cite my experience in leading our Heavy Cavalry Galaxy and my past successes in campaigns against the Snow Raven and Ghost Bear clans. They remind you that I won my Blood-name at the age of twenty-seven and that four Clans have offered to trade for my genetic material. They point out that my offspring, though only ten and fifteen years old, already dominate their sibkos.

"I have heard these words and I must plead guilty to the vanity that makes me take pride in them. I will not, however, let anyone suggest that my actions make me worthy to replace Khan Ulric. There are others here—Cyrilla Ward, Natasha Kerensky, and Anton Fetladral, for example—who are far more suited than I to the position of Khan. Indeed, both Cyrilla and Anton have served in that role before and should be considered for service again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He is amazing, quiaff,Phelan?"

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

"Yes, but is that all he wanted?"

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

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

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

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

"Then you must stop him."

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

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

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

13

DuKirk Building, Dragoon Housing Center, Outreach

Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

17 May 3051

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are a talented artist."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wakarimas,Chris -san."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"ComStar?"

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