Текст книги "Heir To The Dragon "

Автор книги: Robert N. Charette

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

45

Beneath Pauchung, Xinyang

Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

18 June 3031

 

“Too deep," Michi coughed as Theodore pulled him back onto the narrow ledge at the tunnel's edge. His overcoat hung soggily over his compact frame as he regained his feet. Michi pulled his scabbarded sword out of the carry loops on the coat's back. He flicked open the catch behind the fastening plate and shrugged his shoulders free of the heavy garment. "Only slow me down now," he said to Theodore's questioning look, stuffing the sword through his belt.

"You said you had the right code phrase to contact this gang," Theodore accused.

"I did, but it was two years old." Michi released the empty magazine from his Nambu. It splashed into oblivion in the scummy water around their knees. He slipped a fresh clip into place. "How was I suppose to know that the gang would splinter, and our contact end up on the losing side? That Chokei fellow must have done something really awful for those guys to be so hot on the tail of anybody who claims to be associated with him."

A laser pulse struck the water near them, steam rising in an evil hiss as the water vaporized. Michi shoved Theodore to get him moving and snapped off a pair of shots at the unseen gunner.

They cut into a side tunnel to avoid any more immediate fire. Two alternate tunnels later, they were back in the main tunnel, splashing through waist-deep water at a junction, when a shout announced the arrival of their pursuit. Ten yakuza soldiers were splashing along the submerged catwalk against the tunnel wall. Michi knelt, heedless of the filthy water that lapped at his chin, and took careful aim. He squeezed off a single shot, chipping the wall near the head of the lead kobun.

The man shied from the ferrocrete fragments that stung his face. His foot slipped from the path as he stepped back, and he windmilled his arms to maintain balance. His weapon splashed into the water before he did. As the man's head disappeared beneath the scum, his thrashing foot caught the next kobunin line and tripped him cursing into the muck.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Theodore and Michi ran on. Half an hour of twisting tunnels and backtracking brought them to a tunnel that angled upward. The kobunwere gaining. As the two moved up the tunnel, the water level gradually dropped until it was only ankle-deep. Though less cumbersome to run through, it was more noisome. Foul odors rose with each squelching footstep. After five minutes, they came to a halt before a massive metal grating that spanned the tunnel.

"Control?"

"None."

Theodore could hear the pursuit drawing nearer. "The last cross-tunnel is too far back. We'll never reach it before they do." Michi nodded.

"I didn't want to kill them," he said, pulling the slide on his Nambu to ensure that the action was free of sludge. He caught the ejected shell before it hit the water, and pocketed it. "Too much blood will make a wall you won't be able to cut through."

"They're the ones who won't let us leave peaceably. What happens is on their heads. Shigata ga nai,"Theodore said fatalistically, checking his own weapon.

There was no cover, so they pressed against the walls to take advantage of what little protection the conduits might afford. The first kobunappeared, and Theodore took him down with two shots. Michi dropped one and wounded two more before the survivors stumbled back around the curve of the tunnel.

The wan yellow light from the overhead panels that had lit their way so far began to dim and fluctuate. Moments of utter darkness alternated with seconds of pale illumination. Theodore crouched, awaiting the assault that should follow the yakuza's tampering with the lights.

A sudden crash and scream echoed through the tunnels. Firing started around the curve. Theodore recognized the angry whine of ricochets from metal. He had seen no armor, metal or otherwise, among their pursuers. Had someone else cut themselves into the situation?

The noise stopped. Theodore looked over to Michi, who shook his head. They waited.

Their rescuer appeared down the tunnel. In the fitful light, it seemed that a fantastic armored beast shuffled toward them. Red beams lanced the flickering darkness from its headlight eyes. Metal squealed with each step the lumbering monster took. Its huge claws were outstretched, reaching for them. Had their rescuer only acted in order to claim their lives for himself?

The machine squalled to a halt, and the tunnel lighting stabilized. In the low glow, Theodore finally recognized the shape of a cargo-loader exoskeleton. Crude armor of welded metal plates protected the operator, and shielded the more delicate parts of its superstructure. In a more open environment, it would have been easy prey for a trained rifleman with a good eye to find its weak points; but here in the cramped, ill-lit tunnels, it was as potent as a BattleMech.

The makeshift 'Mech's torso clamshelled open to reveal the driver removing the neuroband from his head. He was older than Theodore had expected, his gray hair and lined face a stark contrast to his well-muscled body. He wore only shorts and a stained, makeshift cooling vest, with a battery pack over his lower abdomen.

"Looks like I saved you boys a good bit of trouble. Lucky for you I was on my way home. My name's Frank Chokei," the man announced, holding out his hand. Neither Theodore or Michi moved. Chokei grimaced indifference and dropped his hand. "I see you've heard of me."

Chokei turned back to his machine and flicked a toggle. The grate that had barred passage rose silently into the ceiling. "Come on in anyway," Chokei grumbled as he brushed past them. Ten meters down the line, he stepped up into a dry side passage. Theodore and Michi followed.

Chokei led them to a large chamber, well but crudely outfitted for living. Theodore counted twelve bedrolls. The amount of personal gear scattered looked right for that number of inhabitants. To his surprise, a table in the corner held a partially disassembled neurohelmet of the style used in BattleMechs. On a rack behind the table hung a half-dozen DCMS-issue cooling vests. So the rumors were true– Chokei was a MechWarrior and had other Mech Warriors in his employ.

"We have indeed heard your name, Chokei -san," Michi said politely. "But we do not understand why you are here in the sewers. Just what did you do?"

Chokei gave him a sidelong glance before walking over to a table and opening a silver humidor. He took out a long, black cigar, snipped off an end, and stuffed the uncut end into his mouth. Just when Theodore thought Chokei intended to ignore the question completely, his gravelly voice slid out around his cheroot.

"I broke the code of the yakuza."

Chokei lit his stogie and puffed for a minute. "At least, that's what they say. I told the district governor about some of the Hanei-gumi'sactivities. Quite intricate detail, too. Several very prominent businessmen were very embarrassed. Some of the gang stuck with me, especially my MechJocks. Most of them had spent some time in the DCMS and understood what I was doing. The rest turned on me, swore to kill me. But I'd do it again in a minute."

"That's pretty cavalier for a man under the Hanei-gumi'sdeath sentence," Theodore commented.

"I got my reasons."

"And what are they?"

"You're awful nosy, young fella."

"I have been accused of that."

"You know, kid, I like your style. I'm gonna tell you something that I never told the bosses of the Hanei-gumi.Not that I think it would make much difference with them. They're real hard ones when it comes to the yakuza code.

"Those businessmen I embarrassed—they were passing info to the Fedrats. I couldn't stand the thought of somebody making a profit from endangering the Combine. So I figure they earned what they got." Chokei took a long pull on his cigar, then blew the smoke into the overhead fan. He watched as the anemic blades swirled the wafts into intricate patterns. "Then I headed down here. My people hid the 'Mechs while we looked for a way offworld. There's quite a lot a smart man can do to make money with a few BattleMechs.

"I been thinking about getting out of here, finding a cooler climate. I figure my MechJocks and I could get into the mercenary business. Know anybody who's hiring?"

Theodore smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do."

46

Hotel Grandica, Mizutoshi, Corsica Nueva

Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

14 February 3033

 

Theodore watched the screen relaying the main viewer signal from the bridge of the DropShip. The stars disappeared as the ship's bow entered the docking tunnel. The channel monitoring the ship's progress switched to the debarking bay as the DropShip shuddered to a halt, gripped in the rotation of the asteroid.

The long trail through the Kurita underworld was coming to an end. The nearly two years of tricks and traps and bluffs were over. He and Michi had come to the asteroid belt of the Corsica Nueva system, having finally engineered a meeting with the kuromaku,the fixer who could accept their proposals and act as their contact to the federation of gangs, the Seimeiyoshi-rengo.

Theodore unstrapped and readied himself. His rough soldier's garb was no longer appropriate. Today, he wore a fashionable business suit of dark cashmere. His silken cravat was held in place with a stick pin of onyx and gold depicting the Kurita Dragon. He checked his appearance in the silvered foil mirror of the tiny washroom, and then keyed open the compartment's door. Michi Noketsuna awaited him in the corridor. Michi, too, was immaculately dressed, though his white-irised eye lent him a sinister air. Without a word, they walked to the hatch.

Three men in dark suits met them as they exited the docking bay. Theodore was pleased to see that each wore a different lapel pin. The years of groundwork had paid off; a coalition of gangs was forming.

Though no names or ranks were mentioned, the three men were unfailingly polite as they led Theodore and Michi through the arrivals complex. Theodore disrupted the smooth march as he stopped to take in his first view of the almost legendary Mizutoshi.

In the center of the hollowed asteroid was the great solarsphere, a Star League-vintage artifact that lit the day cycle of the hidden city. Under its soft glow, Mizutoshi sprawled in a blaze of attractions. All manner of vices were catered to by the yakuza who ran the asteroid. Theodore could see the first emissaries of the city's flesh trade notice his hesitation. Extravagantly dressed men led scantily clad women toward the new arrivals, each group eyeing the others competitively. The nearest began to extol the virtues of his merchandise, but the man went silent at a head shake from the leader of their escort. The others followed his example. The panderers stood restlessly, their greed warring with their fear of approaching the group around Theodore.

Theodore allowed himself to be urged forward. Three more men, with three varied lapel pins, waited by a huge, black turbofan car. Its manufacturer's plates indicated an origin in the Lyran Commonwealth. The model was only a year old, a blatant sign of yakuza power and influence. There had been little trade with the Commonwealth since '28, even less in such luxury goods.

Their escort entered the car, brushing down the main seats as they settled in the waiting jump seats. At their urging, Theodore got in, with Michi thumping down beside him. Two of the three men who were waiting with the car took seats on either side of the visitors, closing the doors behind them and shutting off the sounds of the busy city. The last seated himself in the enclosed compartment with the driver. At his signal, the driver engaged the fans. Dust rose sluggishly around the vehicle as it lifted. Though the whine of the lifting fans went unheard, their thrumming vibration could be felt slightly through the vibration dampers of the Steiner luxury vehicle.

The aircar cut through the clear, recycled air of Mizutoshi, the driver expertly compensating for the effects of the asteroid's tight rotation. As they slowed for their landing on a private platform of what was obviously a luxury hotel, Theodore's practiced eyes noted the bulges and panel lines that marked concealed sensor and weapon ports distributed around the landing area.

The car settled gently, and the waiting groundcrew had the doors open before the fans had stopped. Theodore stepped out, suddenly reminded of his location by the noticeably lighter gravity here on the upper story of the building. He was given little time to admire the view before he and Michi were ushered inside to the executive suite, an elegant room paneled with mirrors and fine-grained wood. One of the mirrors had a control console indicating that it doubled as a viewscreen. Before that wall stood a table on which an antique samovar gurgled as it performed its function. The outer wall of the room consisted of a single window, offering a superb view of Mizutoshi.

Three more men in black suits were waiting for them. Theodore recognized all of them from previous dealings. They were all oyabun,gang leaders, of considerable stature in the underworld. Theodore was surprised that one of them was Yasir Nezumi, the man who had refused to see them at the start of their odyssey. The yakuza chiefs and their guests bowed formally to each other.

"It was great kindness to allow us to visit today," Theodore said, offering a small, rice-paper wrapped package. It contained nine thousand K-bills, but the yakuza who accepted the package did not bother to look at the contents before placing it in the drawer of a table by the door.

"Please be seated," another oyabunsaid, indicating a pair of plush chairs separated from an arc of nine straight-backed chairs by a glass-topped table. A tenth chair, an overstuffed monstrosity of garish upholstery and crudely carved wood, sat between the arc and the table. As he and Michi took their places, Theodore observed that none of the oyabunsat in the armchair.

"You have no complaints of your reception?" one of the oyabunasked, beginning an interview that covered most of Theodore's interaction with the yakuza during the time he was seeking this meeting. The atmosphere alternated between tense hostility and relaxed friendliness. He was grateful for Michi's coaching in the proper attitude to take. He was careful to note which of the oyabunspoke often and which rarely. Michi had warned him that a paucity of speech would mark the more highly placed chiefs, though they, as guests, would not be expected to show the same restraint. Yasir Nezumi only asked one question. Finally, Theodore and Michi's answers seemed to satisfy the group.

Though Theodore had seen no signal, the nine yakuza stood up simultaneously. Theodore and Michi also rose when the kuromakuentered the room. A short, blocky man with a bull neck, he walked with a slight limp.

"Green tea for our guests," he said, settling into the overstuffed armchair across the glass-topped table from Theodore and Michi. He motioned for them to take their own seats. Behind him, the nine yakuza oyabunremained standing. Small talk about the trials of interstellar travel and life in a large city occupied them until the first cup of tea was drunk and a tray of sweets brought.

The kuromakusettled back. Theodore placed his tea cup on the table, prepared to listen.

"I grew up poor," his host began. "My family had little, often only pickles and rice to eat. My father was an educated man, a teacher at Luthien University, but he lost all to gambling. I do not have the education he had, but I've done the reverse.

"I started as a strong-arm. Life was simple then. Very simple. I was simple, too. An acquaintance introduced me to the yakuza. When I agreed to join, I had no idea what it would be like. I started by cleaning floors. Soon I progressed. Every day at five in the morning I would wash windows. Cold water, cold weather. It was very severe training. It's not so hard these days.

"My gang is old. Its lineage goes all the way back to Terra. It is a proud heritage. Pride is something you understand, my friend." The kuromakusipped his tea. "I don't require you to tell me your story."

Theodore's immediate reaction was relief. He felt uncomfortable with the tale he and Michi had developed. Then something in his host's tone registered, and suspicions suddenly flared in Theodore's mind. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course," the kuromakusaid, nibbling at a sweet roll. "Courtesy of the Kereikiri-gumiout of Marfik. They are very enamored of you. Others think that you should be ignored, that you have no real claim on us. If I thought you were who you pretend to be rather than who you are, there never would have been a meeting. But I was satisfied, and impressed, by your persistence. Thus we meet today to talk about what can be done to our mutual advantage."

The kuromakuwiped his hand on a napkin. Raising a finger, he sent one of the oyabunto the ancient samovar to draw tea for his guests and himself.

"You see, we are in trying times. Young men are less loyal these days, harder to control. I try to take in many, to show them the right path. It is my hope that they will do the same with the next generation. Beyond that, a man can have little expectation of affecting the future.

"I am a traditionalist, a firm believer in the old ways of giriand chivalry. Ah, I knew you would approve. But these are difficult times, and we do have to adjust. Sometimes we do things that will make a bad impression, but we are trying to fulfill our role. We would like to be appreciated for the vital part we play in our community."

"Kuromaku-samais a gentleman," Nezumi interrupted. The elder yakuza smiled indulgently.

"He certainly is," Theodore agreed. At least on the surface. He is a fine dresser with polite manners and an excellent sense of hospitality.

"Domo,"the kuromakusaid. "You must understand that the Seimeiyoshi-rengois loyal to the Dragon. Our connections let us see much, and we are well aware of the dangerous waters where the Dragon now swims. The powers in Luthien scorn our aid. So we are most pleased that you are receptive.

"We shall drink on it."

He nodded to Nezumi, who left the room briefly and returned with a lacquered tray bearing a steaming sakeflask and a single cup. A towel was draped over each of Nezumi's arms. As he placed the tray on the table, Michi removed a small wooden box from his jacket. He took out the ceramic cup it held and passed it to Theodore, who placed it on the tray. The kuromakusmiled benignly as he poured sakeinto the cups. Theodore noted that he was careful to ensure that the amount of rice wine in each cup was exactly equal, the sign of equality between gang bosses when they drank to seal treaties.

"We drink," the kuromakusaid, lifting the cup Michi had produced. "I from your cup and you from mine, affirming our loyalty to the spiritual family that is our homeland."

He tossed back his cup. Theodore did likewise.

The kuwmakurefilled the cups for a second round. This time, he poured slightly more into Theodore's cup than into his own.

"Now we drink to show our loyalty and devotion to the Dragon." They drank.

The kuromakutook the cloth offered by Nezumi and carefully wrapped his cup inside it. He tucked the package inside his kimono. Theodore followed his host's example, wrapping his cup in the offered cloth and placing it in a pocket.

The kuromakusettled back in his chair. "Now let us talk business."

BOOK 3

Audacity

47

Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

18 August 3033

 

Theodore raised his eyes to the ceiling of the great chamber. Even lit with hundreds of globular paper lanterns, the dark wood rafters held their shadows and secrets. Like the Combine itself,he thought. Like myself

Beneath those rafters, a throng milled. In the traditional fashion, one side of the room was predominantly filled by men, some in formal dress and some in ancient Japanese style. The garments were radically different in cut, but the colors were much the same, blacks and grays and black-striped grays, a stark and formal patterning that offset the varied skin colors of the nobles, officers, and courtiers gathered for the occasion. Across the hall, the women gathered in constantly reforming clumps. With most dressed in formal kimono, they were like a bouquet of summer flowers, far outshining the masses of sunflowers set about for decoration.

The mood was happy and celebratory. Understandably so, for the Coordinator's birthday remembrance was the most lavish festival on the Combine calendar. Even in the worst moments of his feud with Takashi, Theodore had received a perfunctory invitation. There had never been a personal message, but his father could not ignore the importance of the Prince and Heir-Designate's appearance at the function. The three-day-long festivities were one of the few occasions when Theodore was invited to the Combine capital. Even his own birthday celebrations were often held without him. He did not mind overly; in fact, he had preferred to avoid Luthien since that painful occasion of his banishment to the Legion of Vega.

There was little Theodore regretted about his absence from the Court. His foremost sorrow was that he saw little of his mother. Even on those occasions that he visited the capital world, Takashi's shadow always seemed to come between them. He also missed his favorite cousin Constance, but at least they kept in contact through letters, holo-messages, and couriers. His mother wrote, too, but Theodore suspected that Takashi edited all such communications.

Since his appointment as Kanrei three years ago, Theodore had not attended the Coordinator's birthday festivities. He knew that his absence fueled the talk of division within the clan and further incensed his father, but he had more important things to do than pander to his father's vanity. He had, of course, sent appropriate presents and the formal poem wishing the Coordinator good health and long life. They had not been well-received. Constance had described how Takashi ordered the Lord Chamberlain to burn the poems and send the presents to the most remote storehouses. Theodore didn't understand the excessive reaction, but then, Takashi had been given to excesses since the war.

This year was to be different. Previously, he had chosen to be occupied elsewhere, but now, of his own choice and in his own strength, Theodore had come. With his plans progressing so well, he had reached a turning point that made his presence on Luthien the best way to advance the situation. It was time to take a step out of the shadows.

He turned his gaze to where the Dragon Throne stood in splendor on the tatami-covered dais. Behind the carved teak chair was a wall of ebony bearing a four-meter disc of gold-rimmed carnelian. Flecks of ruby mapped the suns of the Draconis Combine among the pale mosaic chips of the background. On that field coiled the serpentine dragon of House Kurita, its elaborate shape picked out in scales of enameled metal, each gold-rimmed and patterned. The teeth of the Dragon's gaping jaws were flawless ivory and its eye was an amethyst, the continents of old Terra standing in carved relief above the smooth polished surface of seas. Takashi sat on his throne like the monarch he was, imperious and domineering. His black-dyed daigumosilk kimono flashed highlights from its folds whenever he shifted in his seat. The black-striped gray kataginuand hakamaof his kamishimowere of a matte finish, superbly setting off the shine of his underrobe. His once-raven hair was shot through with white, and the white patches at his temples had increased. The war had worn him. The war and his stroke. Once he had scorned the chair and had knelt like a samurai lord of old. Now, with his weakened leg, he could not kneel through a whole day of ceremonies. Any attempt to do so would fail, and the failure would embarrass him. The Dragon would never allow weakness to show; always he sought to give the appearance of strength. Appearances.

That I have learned from you, Father. Appearancesare important. But you must learn that they are not everything.

Subhash Indrahar stood on the dais near the throne.

You, too, play with appearances, my old mentor. You have aided me in keeping secrets from my father. What secrets do you keep from me? Is there something you could tell me about Ninyu Kerai, who stands at your side? Constance says that you have recently adopted him, making him your heir. I had considered him one of myshitenno, a trusted, if headstrong, companion. Do you seek to turn him from me? Or has he always been your agent among those who stand by me?

What is real and what illusion, master of the shadows?

Across the room, Subhash turned. His eyes met Theodore's and he smiled. Startled, Theodore broke eye contact, suddenly finding interest in the shuffle of courtiers at the five steps leading up to the dais. The nobles had already presented their gifts to functionaries who meticulously recorded details of each gift and its value. Now, each in turn at the call of the Lord Chamberlain, they came to present the Coordinator with a poem of praise and good wishes. Most read from papers they carried with them, but some few spoke from memory, and one or two clearly composed their odes on the spot. The Coordinator's fondness for poetry was well-known, and Theodore knew that his father put great store in a man's ability to compose poetry extemporaneously. It was only one more area in which Theodore had failed to satisfy him. He had no talent at all for verse.

At last, the line dwindled and the court poet finished reading the greetings of absent lords. The Lord Chamberlain nodded to Theodore. He stepped forward, well aware of the multitude of eyes following his progress across the hall. With absolute correctness, he bowed as he reached the stairs and again when he stepped onto the dais. He made a third bow halfway to the throne.

"O-medeto,Coordinator," he said in a voice pitched to carry no further than the immediate area. "My talent for poetry is so poor that I have prepared another sort of presentation for you."

Takashi stiffened, but Theodore ignored the reaction. "You have long hoped for a legitimate heir to carry on the clan after you and I have gone onward along the wheel. Today, I bring you that wish. I have a son for you to meet, an heir for the Dragon Throne."

"I have known of your bastards for some time. They are not welcome here," Takashi snarled. "This is poor joke."

"It is no joke," Theodore returned calmly. "Any bastards of mine are, indeed, of no consequence. But I have a legal heir, born of my legal wife."

"Impossible! You are unmarried," Takashi snapped. "Indrahar would have told me."

"It is true, Tomo."Subhash bowed so that he did not see the fury flare in Takashi's eyes, but Theodore had no doubt that the ISF Director knew what reaction his words would bring. Subhash straightened, his face and manner unperturbed. The Chamberlain and the poet padded down the steps, wisely exiting what could soon become a battleground. Takashi turned on Theodore, hard-eyed.

"Who is this woman?"

"Tomoe Sakade." Theodore held his head high. "You are foolish as ever," the Coordinator said to his son. "I will have this marriage annulled."