Текст книги "Wolf Pack"

15

MacKenzie's group had been gone for a month when the ambassador from the Draconis Combine arrived at Gobi Station above Outreach. At first we all thought it was just another job offer from Theodore Kurita, albeit one carried by a fancy messenger. When Ambassador Kenoichi Inochi, the head of the Kurita mission, refused to speak to anyone other than Colonel Wolf, suspicions were immediately aroused. For by then we had learned the origin of the rogue Elemental.

Careful analysis had shown that the assassin's battle armor was indeed of Nova Cat origin, though the assassin had not been as big or bulky as a typical Clan Elemental. That might suggest that the man was not a Clanner, but it wasnt proof; not all Elementals are of the Clan-bred phenotype. On the other hand, any Clanner not of the Elemental phenotype who had won the right to wear battle armor would have to be a highly competent soldier. Wolf's would-be assassin had barely been able to control his suit. The real evidence, however, came from the modifications made to allow the smaller man to use the suit: they were all of Inner Sphere manufacture.

We knew that the Combine had captured a number of battle suits from the Nova Cats when Hohiro Kurita had tricked them on Wolcott, and many more after the battle of Luthien. Most of the modification components in the assassin's suit were of Combine manufacture, making House Kurita's realm an obvious choice as a starting place for the search. Our lack of agents in the Combine made progress slow, but the assassin was at last tentatively identified as one Ken O'Shaunessee. Lifted Kuritan ISF files identified O'Shaunessee as an agent of the Dofheicthe clan, an hereditary organization modeled on the ninja of ancient Terra. Wolfnet had failed to uncover any record that the man had received battle armor training, but they were able to place him on New Samarkand, the planet where the Kuritans had set up the training facility for their newly formed Elemental-style infantry units.

When intel's final report was circulated, only the stubborn clung to theories of a Clan origin for the assassin. Though Wolfnet could not determine who had actually ordered the attack, it seemed likely that Takashi Kurita had decided it was time for Jaime Wolf to die, honorably or not.

Now a Kuritan was knocking on our door, and the Wolf was intrigued.

A reception was laid on for the ambassador. It was no more than we would have done for the representative of any of the Great Houses, but far more than had been done for any Kuritan since before Misery. The hall was decorated in the Kuritan style and certain pottery was displayed prominently near the guest of honor's seat. I thought it too subtle a touch: this ambassador was unlikely to recognize the work of such a minor artist as Minobu Tetsuhara, however much fame he had achieved as the Kuritan commander on Misery.

Ambassador Inochi arrived dressed in formal Kuritan style. He wore a tailed waistcoat of blue silk so dark that it looked black over gray pin-striped trousers. A cummerbund of iridescent daigumosilk circled his waist, and spats of the same material covered the tops of his shiny black shoes. He was a slender man and walked with a limp—acquired in combat, to judge by the medals and ribbons on his chest. Several of the decorations indicated action on the Davion-Kurita border during the Fourth Succession War. Likely that his unit had fought us, then.

If Ambassador Inochi recognized the pottery, he gave no sign.

As he and his party made the requisite small talk for hours, I wondered how they could do it, but was even more amazed that Jaime Wolf was easily a match for them in this game. I'm told that earlier in his career, he had been more direct. With age comes restraint, I expect, but there are those who think that politeness and circumlocution are signs of weakness.

It wasn't until ten in the evening that Inochi announced that he had brought a message from Takashi Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. Some of the Dragoons around me expressed surprise; they must have assumed that Inochi was Theodore's man. The Wolf never batted an eye.

"You do not seem surprised, Colonel Wolf," Inochi said. "Perhaps you learned of my mission during the long weeks that I spent traveling here to Outreach."

The Wolf smiled blandly. "Perhaps your message will be more surprising than your sponsor."

"Perhaps it shall, Colonel -san." The ambassador inclined his head. "The Coordinator is a man of honor. He has a long memory."

"As do I."

"This he understands." He held out a hand. A kimono-clad aide shuffled up and handed Inochi a scroll of rice paper. Tying it shut was a black ribbon sealed with the dragon's-head symbol of House Kurita. "The Coordinator is well aware of your command of Japanese, yet he has composed this message in your language. It is intended as an honor."

The Colonel made a formal bow. "I accept the gesture in the spirit in which it is offered."

The ambassador bowed back, a wry expression on his face. I suspect that he recognized the ambiguity of Colonel Wolf's words, and that he appreciated it. "The Coordinator's message begins with a poem:

Glorious sunset;

Blossoms on an autumn wind,

A warrior's life."

 The Wolf straightened and drew in on himself. For more than a full minute he was silent. Inochi waited patiently, silent as well. Apparently the rest of the message had to wait for the Wolf's response to the opening poem. People had begun to shift nervously when, at last, the Colonel spoke.

"Sun and moon, brothers.

Evening light shines like spilled blood;

New day, the wheel turns."

The ambassador bowed deeply. "I see that my unworthy fears that the Coordinator misunderstood you are groundless." As if on cue, the aide brought out a message pouch from his kimono and handed it to the ambassador. Inochi bowed and offered the packet to Colonel Wolf. "This contains the formal challenge, as well as a personal message from the Coordinator. Shall we be able to work out the details soon?"

Colonel Wolf accepted the package, but his reply was cut off by the arrival of Stanford Blake. Stan wore his undress uniform, rumpled from travel. He must have come straight from the spaceport upon hearing that the Wolf was entertaining a Kuritan embassy.

"What's going on?" he asked as he bulled his way through the people separating him from the Colonel. If Stan was aware of the ambassador, he was deliberately ignoring his presence.

Halting Stan's charge with a raised hand, the Wolf said to the ambassador, "Please excuse my officer's lack of courtesy, Inochi -san."

"Courtesy be damned," Stan snarled. The sudden apparent reversal of the Wolf's policy had obviously made Stan forget his usual decorum. "I want to know what's going on."

Jaime Wolf turned to him and said calmly, "Takashi Kurita has just offered me a duel to the death."

"And Colonel Wolf has accepted," Inochi added.

Turning to face the ambassador again, the Colonel said, "Your pardon, Inochi -san. But I fear you have misunderstood me. I had only intended to acknowledge your Coordinator's offer."

The ambassador's face darkened. "Then you refuse?"

"I acknowledge." The Colonel shrugged. "To do more at this time would not be proper. I have responsibilities, and must gauge the balance of duty and honor. Surely you understand that this is a matter that will take some thought."

Mollified, the ambassador said, "I understand." He bowed. "I will be honored to convey your response as soon as you have made your decision."

"There won't be any duel," Stanford announced.

Inochi gave Stan a look of distaste. The Wolf addressed the ambassador. "It's not Colonel Blake's decision."

"Jaime!"

"Not now, Stan." The Wolf never took his eyes from the ambassador. "I am sure that you will understand if I retire now, Inochi -san. Please feel free to remain and enjoy our facilities."

With formal politeness, the Colonel took his leave and departed the room. The ambassador must have been expecting him to perform some sort of private meditation, for his face took on a puzzled expression when the senior officers present filed out after the Wolf. Inochi returned Stan's glare with a smile that never touched his eyes.

From among the transmissions that were continually passing by my headset commo unit, I picked out a public-band announcement. Recognizing its importance, I hurried after the officers. I reached the conference room before they had all settled into their customary places, and skirted the wide table to halt at the Wolf's side and stammer out my discovery.

"Colonel, there's a public announcement going out that Takashi Kurita has challenged you to a duel."

"He's pushing it." Stan was angry. I felt sorry for his operatives; Stan's thunderous arrival made it clear that they hadn't warned him of this.

"Just bull," Carmody ventured. "The old Snake's just blowing waste heat."

"He's samurai." That came from Neil Parella, commander of Gamma Regiment. "He can't say things like that in public if he don't mean it."

"Who says it's public, Neil? What if the report is for our ears only?" Carmody turned to me. "What about it, Brian? What kind of distribution is that announcement getting?"

"It's on the ComStar network. The broadcast tag says the message is going out all over the Inner Sphere."

That brought curses from most of the officers. Jaime Wolf sat quietly in his chair, leaning on one elbow. Above the hand that hid the lower part of his face, his eyes were thoughtful.

Stan addressed him, but spoke loud enough so that all present heard his words. "Reject the challenge and Takashi loses face. It would be a major insult. We'll never work for the Combine again."

"Isn't that what we wanted anyway?" Kelly Yukinov asked. The Alpha Regiment commander looked around the gathering, soliciting support.

Carmody slammed his hand on the table, as if that settled matters. "Then there's no point in worrying about it. Ignore the old Snake."

"What about Dragoon honor?" Hanson Brubaker objected. "Duel is a proper way to end a feud. Kurita is walking the honor road. If the Colonel ignores the challenge, is he fit to call himself honorable?"

The Wolf ignored the implied insult. Carmody rose to his defense.

"You weren't at Misery. You don't understand."

Brubaker frowned. "I understand honor."

"Honor?" Carmody laughed. "The Kuritans claim they understand honor." Turning to the Wolf, his voice took on an imploring tone. "It's another trap, I tell you. Jaime, ignore the Snake."

"Who can ignore honor and live with himself?" Brubaker asked as he stood. His face was suffused with blood and his carriage was stiff. He seemed ready to challenge Carmody, or perhaps the Wolf himself.

"Sit down, Hanson," Stan said. "We're talking Kuritans here, not honor."

The arguments went on for more than two hours before Colonel Wolf finally dismissed his officers. He announced no decision. On and off over the next two weeks, further arguments erupted. The Wolf listened patiently, never rising to any bait tossed before him. He let his advisors dispute at will. Given their head, they beat the subject to death; their opinions never changed, only solidified. Sometimes the Wolf just seemed tired, bored with it all. Other times he was fiercely alert. At those moments he seemed to be waiting, as if wanting someone to make a specific point. When no one did, he seemed disappointed, yet remained almost perversely unwilling to lead the discussions.

The Kuritan ambassador grew impatient, but each note he sent was returned with a polite refusal of an answer. Despite repeated requests, the Colonel would not meet again with Inochi. Then word came that MacKenzie's mission was successful—they had found the cache. As if that settled matters, the Colonel cancelled the afternoon conference. Smiling at some secret pleasure, he said to me, "Now there's only one piece of old business."

He sent for the ambassador from the Draconis Combine.