Текст книги "Wolves On The Border"

Автор книги: Robert N. Charette

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

32

Gakken County , Benet III

Draconis March, Federated Suns

19 May 3027

 

Long after the roar of the rockfall had turned to silence, Colin MacLaren was calling. Hayes and Sheridan tried to convince him that the Widow was gone, lost to a freak of nature. Believing that Natasha Kerensky could not be taken from him this way, he refused to stop calling for his Captain. His lancemates began to discuss how they might force him to head for the DropShip.

When a faint crackling became audible on the lance circuit, all three Widows stopped what they were doing and boosted power in the comm circuits. A faint voice came through.

“Calm down, old man. You haven't lost me yet.”

Sheridan and Hayes whooped for joy. For all his earlier concern, MacLaren stayed calm, but he couldn't keep the emotion from his voice. “Is the Captain all right?”

“I'm alive, which is more than I have any right to be. Black Ladyhas seen better days. Lost my aerial in the slide. Took me a while to rig the spare. Sorry about worrying all of you.”

“The Captain needn't apologize,” MacLaren returned. “If the Captain will give us her coordinates, we'll be down to join her.”

“I wish it were that easy, Colin. I'm in some kind of chasm. The walls are too steep to climb, and trying to come down would be suicide without jump jets. The talus slope from the rockfall is very unstable and would probably slide again if a 'Mech were to try to walk on it.

“See if you can link with the Webto use the ship's comp to give us a tacmap. This thing must come out somewhere.”

MacLaren did as he was ordered. When the Widow's Webcomputer fed him the map for the area, he located the chasm and saw that it finally leveled out twenty klicks to the northeast. He relayed the information to Kerensky.

“That's it, then,” she said. “We'll rendezvous at grid seventy-two, reference three-seventeen. Get a move on. You've been exposed up there too long.”

“But the Captain will be alone.”

“No 'buts,' Colin. We haven't any choice. You can't slide down after me. Get going.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Kerensky could picture the Maraudermoving like a sulky child denied its wish, and the thought lightened her mood considerably. Her people would give their lives for her, but it was no less than she would do for them. The Black Widow Company was the best, though once they had been the dregs of Wolf's Dragoons. She had turned that band of gamblers, criminals, and discipline problems into damn good soldiers, and then into the most formidable company in the most formidable mercenary unit in the Inner Sphere. It was an achievement that even one of her ancestry could view with pride.

Now she must deal with the present, however. She faced a twenty-kilometer march in a battered 'Mech. Her cockpit was already hot because several heat sinks had been damaged in the fall. The dysfunction lights indicating the failures in the heat exchangers were almost lost in the crowd of yellow and red lights on her systems board. One of the Donal PPCs was completely out, but all other weapons registered as functional. Assuming that the telltales were themselves reliable, Natasha reminded herself. She hoped she wouldn't have to fight.

The chasm was floored with blocks of granite and mounds of glacial till, much of it taller than her 'Mech and probably weighing five or more times as much. The massive rocks blocked most of her sensors and all of her comm frequencies. Visual range was reduced to handfuls of meters. Yes, she definitely hoped she wouldn't have to fight.

Before she had gone half a klick, the first blip showed on her Mass Anomaly Detector. Opting for avoidance, she altered her course. Twice more, she evaded what read as 'Mech-size masses moving among the rocks. When the fourth appeared directly in her only available path, Kerensky advanced cautiously. When she reached a visual observation point, however, there was nothing to be seen.

She ran a check on her MAD sensor systems, which came up green. Either the check system was faulty or she was chasing ghosts. Investigating three more blips gave the same results. It had to be the sensor system. There were no such things as ghosts, she told herself. Here amid the gloom and giant stone reminders of an ancient time, her rationality seemed subordinate to those old Human fears of the dark and the unknown. The Warhammermoved on, its cautious motions reflecting its pilot's growing nervousness.

“Bang! You're dead,” came a distorted voice over the taccomm.

Kerensky whirled the Warhammeraround, searching for the mark that had appeared on her MAD sensor. A voice meant a foe she could face, not some nameless shadow. She found the target, snugged into a cleft in the rockface, the collapsed folds of a camouflage screen draped over its clawed feet. It was a bright green Marauderwith silver credit symbols glittering on its carapace.

The protective hatches on the Warhammer'sSRM launcher opened and her functional PPC came up as Natasha recognized the 'Mech. It was the Bounty Hunter. She didn't know his name, and she didn't want to.

The dorsal hatch of his BattleMech was open, and the pilot stood there, arms spread wide. Kerensky stopped herself from triggering any weapons, unable to burn down someone who had put himself at her mercy. Even this scum. It appeared that the Bounty Hunter wanted to talk. Maybe he would give her a reason to change her mind.

“Don't shoot, Widow Lady. At least, not till you check your rear.”

Three more 'Mechs had moved out of concealment, an Orion,a Quickdraw,and a Shadow Hawk.That was a hundred and ninety tons of trouble added to the seventy-five in front of her. Even if her Hammerhadn't been battered by the last week's fighting and her recent slide down the mountain, Kerensky knew she probably wouldn't have been able to get away from this ambush.

“Can't you at least say hello, Natasha? I know we didn't part on the best of terms back on Le Blanc, but it cost me quite a bit for your comm frequency.”

Kerensky disdained to reply. The last time she had met with this man-with-no-name, they had fought. Michael Hasek-Davion had informed the Dragoons that he was holding a family of renegade Techs, and Wolf had sent her to make sure the Techs were not runaways from the regiments. When Kerensky arrived on Le Blanc, the Duke offered her employment and a share in the services of Techs. She still wondered why he thought that would tempt her. When he refused to let her see the Techs and her Widows moved to take them away, the Duke sprang the Hunter and his dogs on the Dragoons. The Hunter had bagged two more Dragoons that day. The Widows had grabbed the Techs and gotten away, but so had the Hunter.

Her Warhammerstood motionless now. The Hunter and his bullyboys had the drop on her, and so she'd let him make the next move. If it was hostile, he would be cinders before the Black Ladywent down.

“Come on, Widow Lady. Anything in the past between us was just business. You burned old Michael H-D when you scampered with his Techs. Let's call it even between us on that one.”

“We'll never be even, scum. You've cost me too much!”

“Ah, those dulcet tones. Never say never, my dear Widow,” he chided, relieved that he had gotten her talking. It would be downhill from here. First, she needed to be reminded of exactly where she stood because it would make the negotiations easier. “If I'd wanted your butt today, you'd be hanging on the wall. But, I'm in a good mood,” he said expansively. “I've got a deal for you.”

“Shove it up your exhaust ports.” How could he expect her to trust him? She had “dealt” with him before.

“Now, is that any way to talk to someone who's trying to do you a favor?”

“The only favor you can do me is to drop dead.”

“You're trying my patience,” he said, the harshness in his voice due to more than the electronic distortion. “Let me make it clear. I've got a contract on you and you're under the guns of my boys. You don't walk out of here unless I go with you. Which is exactly what I want to do.”

“Never.”

“Now what did I tell you about that word? Listen, we've both got problems. Your pet Snakes ain't showed. They've left you Wolves on the rack to dry. You're stuck on this rock until you take the tracking station at Beaux Pawl, unless you want to lose half your DropShips on the way to orbit. You ain't taking that station till you get through twice your number in defenders.

“As for me, my boys and I have offended our friends somehow, and they've decided they don't like us anymore. We been double-crossed and our ride out of here has been chased off. So we're stuck, too.

“We've got a lot to offer each other. You've got Jump-Ships insystem. I've got a friend in Beaux Pawl who's very good with explosives. Not only that, I'll cancel the contract I have on you. All it takes is a ride out of this system on your JumpShip. A DropShip hitchhiker is a small price to pay to keep that silky skin intact.”

“I don't travel with cold-blooded killers.”

“That's not what some people are saying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a call from a friend of mine. He placed you on New Mendham eight months ago. Same time that a bunch of black 'Mechs trashed a town held by Kurita. Very messy. Those Jocks tried to blame it on Davion as well.”

“My company was elsewhere.”

“ Ibelieve you, sweetheart. You wouldn't lie to me. But you can't prove it, can you?

Kerensky thought hard. No, she couldn't prove it without compromising Dragoon security. That would mean big trouble with Wolf, something she was unwilling to risk. The Hunter took her silence as his answer.

“Thought so. My friend says there're pictures to back up the story.” Inside his helmet, the Bounty Hunter smiled at Kerensky's curse. “You know, Widow Lady, I think you and your buddies are being set up. Somebody's got a real mad on for you. You're not the only Wolvie brass I was offered a pass at.”

“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, letting her indignation leak into her voice. The Hunter might want to gloat and thereby let something slip.

“That ain't for me to say,” he replied. Sorry, Natasha,he said silently. I'm not that easy to catch.Aloud, he continued. “Client privilege, you know. I'll tell you that my employer wore a badly disguised Waco Ranger's get-up, because that doesn't really tell you anything. Everybody in the business knows about old Whacko's Death Oath. It's an obvious cover for anyone who wants to target Wolvies.

“Of course, once we're out of this system, I might recall some significant details. I might also name a few names and dates that might be worthy of further pursuit.”

“Do so now!” Kerensky ordered, abandoning both subtlety and any hope of worming information out of the Hunter.

“Uh-uh, Widow Lady. Not while we're in this system.” Not,he said to himself, ever, but if I tell you that, I'm stuck here.

Kerensky fumed. The Hunter was too slick for her to catch him out while she was still shaken from her slide down the mountain. She was too rattled to play at word games. Her earlier outburst revealed her strong desire to get the cowards who stooped to setting bounty hunters after her and ruined her negotiating position.

“Very well,” she said. “I accept your offer. We get you out of the system and you give me the names. I want the villain behind this!”

“I'm sure you do, little lady.” Kerensky realized that he had been speaking over a circuit open to his men when he said, “Let's go boys. We've got our ticket off this rock.”

33

Davion HQ, Kitchuken Barrens, VMM

Draconis March, Federated Suns

22 June 3027

 

As Captain Frank Woomack gazed out over the barren landscape, motion off to the left caught his eye. He watched as one of the local gyrulizards slithered from its sunny perch into the shadow of a rock outcropping as a hovercraft bearing the sun-and-sword roared by. The vehicle's engines were audible even through the plastiglass. The machine cut across Woomack's line-of-sight and accelerated toward the perimeter of the complex. A second, then a third, followed the first.

“The Feds are stirring out there,” the Dragoon announced to his companions.

“Think the Colonel has sent somebody after us, Captain?” Corporal Kathy Keegan's voice was full of hope. The internment at the Davion base had hit her the hardest of the three. Even though their captors had allowed them a fairly free run, she chafed at the confinement within the climate-controlled buildings of the Federated Suns outpost.

“If he has, Kathy, we'll be heading for orbit before nightfall,” said Steve Geiger confidently. The loss of his Stingerand his own wounds had done little to damp the private's ebullient spirits.

“Don't get her hopes up, Geiger,” Woomack warned. “We don't know what's going on. It could just be maneuvers.”

“But, Captain, we've been held here for over a month. If the Feds were going to ransom us, we would be gone by now. They must have refused,” Geiger concluded. “The Colonel won't leave us here to rot.”

“You're right on that, Steve. The Dragoons don't abandon anybody,” Woomack said, directing his reply to Keegan. “The Feds must be dragging the negotiations out for some political reason. If so, we sit and wait. It could be worse. They're treating us more like guests than prisoners.”

“I guess you're right, Captain,” Keegan conceded, hugging herself. “It's so hard sometimes. The walls. Not being able to go outside. It's really starting to get to me.”

Keegan had started to shiver as she spoke. Woomack moved to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “You've got to keep it together, Kathy. We'll be out of here soon.” Keegan stifled a sob. Woomack bit his lip. Sending people into battle had always come easy for him. Morale problems always disappeared in battle. Here, there was no battle for distraction. Feeling out of his element, he tried again. “Would it help if I could get them to authorize a trip outside?”

“It might,” Keegan answered in a small voice.

“Then that's what I'll do.” Woomack gave her a pat on the back and turned to Geiger. “Kid, see if you can get ahold of one of those Feddie officers.”

“No problem, boss,” Geiger said, tilting his head at the door.

Woomack turned his head to see a Federated Suns Leftenant standing in the open doorway, arms folded across his chest.

“Captain Woomack,” the Davion officer said. “Major Whitfield wants to see you again.”

“Does he? Well, I don't think I want to see him.” If the Feds were going to baby them, maybe he should act like a sulky kid to see how far he could push them.

“I don't believe you have that option, Dragoon.”

“You gonna carry me, Feddie?”

“Not personally. I can, however, have it arranged,” the Leftenant said with calm assurance. His voice left no doubt of the firmness of his intention to enforce the invitation.

“Tell you what, Feddie. You take my people for a walk outside and I'll go along peaceably.”

The Leftenant laughed at that. “Your peacefulness is unimportant, Woomack. If your people want to take a walk, they'll have the company of some of my troopers. It's no big deal. After all, where are they going to go?”

Woomack cast a glance at Keegan. Already her eyes were lit with anticipation of getting out into the open. Woomack may not have impressed the Feddie, but he had gotten what he wanted.

“All right, Feddie. Let's go see your Major.” Woomack pushed past the Leftenant and started down the corridor. The Davion Leftenant just shook his head and followed after.

Woomack did not wait for his escort. He knew the route. He ought to. The Major had been calling these talk sessions three times a week since the Seventh Crucis had pulled out three weeks ago. Two or three hours of boredom each time. Things had been more interesting when McKinnon's Raiders were in charge of the prisoners. It had been fun to bait Kate Nomura. She was gorgeous when she was mad.

The Dragoon waited once he reached the Major's office, but not for long. The Leftenant was only a few steps behind him. When the officer caught up, he keyed open the door. Woomack strode through.

Major Whitfield was seated at his desk. At his left, as usual, was his secretary, manning the recorder. A white-haired stranger was seated at the other side of the desk. The business suit he wore was a rare sight at this military installation. Woomack figured he was probably some kind of psych specialist here to analyze whatever the Dragoon said.

Whitfield indicated the empty seat to Woomack, and the Dragoon took it. Once his visitor was settled, Whitfield said, “Captain Woomack, I would like you to relate your part in the recent raid by Wolf's Dragoons against the Federated Suns planet Udibi.”

“Again?”

“Again, Captain.”

Woomack shrugged. He told the tale of the Dragoon raid and their successful escape with most of the material uncovered in the supply cache. This time, he made an effort to emphasize the Dragoon accomplishments and their strict adherence to the Ares Conventions of War. Woomack didn't know who the old guy was, but it wouldn't hurt to play to Dragoon strengths and might even improve the Dragoon reputation if the old geezer had any influence. Woomack finished his recitation with a politely phrased request for the formal ransom that was customary for captured mercenaries.

“I assure you, Captain Woomack, that you will be returned to your unit as soon as possible.” Whitfield was as earnest and sincere as he had been every other time he'd made the same assurances.

“I heard that one, Feddie,” Woomack came back. “I heard it from Ryder when he took my parole. I heard it from McKinnon before he left. I've heard it from you for three weeks. From where I sit, it seems to be a lot of hot air.”

“No need to get testy, Captain,” the white-haired man said. “I am the reason for the delay.”

Woomack gave the man a calculating look. The geezer didn't look like much. “So who are you, old man?”

“My name is Allard. I am a minister in the government of Prince Hanse Davion.” Allard gave the Dragoon a pleasant smile. “I am here to finalize the arrangements for your return to the Dragoons.”

“Not more bureaucratic nonsense.”

“Bureaucratic, perhaps,” Allard said with a chuckle. “But I certainly hope you do not find it nonsense. You and your companions, as well as what remains of your 'Mechs, will be conveyed to a rendezvous on Le Blanc. There will be no ransom.”

Woomack closed his mouth. “What do you mean no ransom?”

“You only have to perform a single task.”

“So that's it,” Woomack snapped. “I'll have you know Dragoon soldiers are no traitors.”

“No one mentioned treason, Captain. We merely wish you to perform the services of a courier. Prince Davion has a rather lucrative offer he wishes to convey to Colonel Wolf.”

34

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

29 June 3027

 

Warming sunlight drenched the central plaza of Cerant. The tall shape of Government House, seat of Kurita planetary authority, glowered at the former office complex that was now the Wolf's Dragoons' Administrative Headquarters. Unaware of, or at least unconcerned with, the tensions between the two parties, the civilians of An Ting went about their daily affairs. Food vendors and trinket hucksters vied for the attention of the noonday crowds. Here and there could be seen the bright red and white stripes of Civilian Guidance Corps men intimidating criminals and disruptive influences with their merc presence. Everywhere people bustled about, concerned for their own interests. A knot of Kurita soldiers moved through the throng, headed for the Dragoon building.

At their head was Minobu Tetsuhara, deputized by the absent PSL officer. Following him was his aide Michi and Sho-saCharles Earnst, his second-in-command of Ryuken– ni. With them was Tai-iDela Saraguchi and a detachment of six of her security troopers. The group's grim faces cleared their path without the need to speak a word.

They climbed the long stairs at the front of the office building and passed into the shadows of the portico. As they crossed the line of supporting pillars, Minobu looked up at the fierce faces of the guardian Myoo into whose shapes the columns had been carved. The resolution there was unmistakable. Grant, oh great spirits, that my own resolve be as strong,he asked of them.

A quartet of Dragoon sentries stood by the door, their faces showing only puzzlement and concern. The Kuritans swept past them without acknowledging the ragged salutes.

The warm air of the lobby was an abrupt change from the temperatures outside. As he walked up to the desk, Minobu noted the modifications that had been wrought in the building since the Dragoons had occupied it. Gone were the inspirational posters showing Lord Kurita urging the government workers to productivity for the Combine. Gone, too, were the works of art set there to inspire the spirits of those same workers. The Dragoons had stripped the place for utilitarian efficiency. If they could have removed the Myoo without damaging the building, they probably would have.

“Where is Colonel Wolf?” Minobu asked the Lieutenant seated at the reception desk.

“The Colonel is in the middle of a session in the conference room, Tas-saTetsuhara.” The man was good at his job and showed no surprise at the armed security troopers. Maintaining his pleasant tone, the Lieutenant went on, “If you and your party will take seats in the waiting area, I'm sure he will see you as soon as he is finished.”

“Secure the desk,” Minobu ordered without looking at his men. “Noketsuna, take over the commnet.”

Before the Dragoon Lieutenant could protest, two of the troopers had him by the arms. The stunners in the hands of the rest of the Kurita soldiers stifled the captive's attempt to protest. Outnumbered and with no desire to experience the unpleasant effects of those weapons, he let himself be marched to the waiting area. As his captors led him from the desk, the Lieutenant could see the lone figure of Minobu striding down the interior corridor. It had all happened so quickly and quietly that the guards outside were undisturbed.

Minobu had no trouble finding the conference room. He had often been there in happier times. His PSL-validated keycard overrode the lock and the door hissed open. When Minobu entered the room, heads turned in his direction, and all discussion ceased.

He surveyed the faces. Some showed minor annoyance at an interruption. Others looked confused or surprised. A few revealed naked hatred. Minobu presumed it was not directed at him personally. His kisenses agreed that the ill-will was directed at his uniform. The Dragoons had been given reason to hate the symbols of House Kurita.

Seated at the far end of the table was Jaime Wolf. His face showed nothing of his thoughts, and Minobu could not sense the mercenary's emotions. Jaime was an enigma.

Natasha Kerensky broke the tableau. “You didn't get an invitation. What do you want here, Snake?” she hissed. Hers had been one of the openly hostile faces.

Minobu ignored her and addressed Jaime Wolf. “I have just received a communique from Warlord Samsonov. It is a matter that bears immediate discussion.”

“We are in the middle of a strategy session,” Wolf stated.

“It is your strategies that are at issue here.”

“Very well. Take a seat.” As Minobu moved to do so, grumbling rose around the table. “Damp it, people,” Wolf ordered. “We're going to hear him out.”

As Minobu approached the table, Colonel Shostokovitch rose and gestured for Minobu to take his seat. The big bear of a man then moved down the length of the table to stand beside Wolf. He seemed content to observe the proceedings, standing with arms crossed across his chest.

Minobu settled himself in the vacated chair, and placed a message flimsy on the table. He made no move to open it or to pass it to the Dragoons on either side of him. “The Warlord has sent me an account of last month's action on Udibi.”

Minobu waited for a reaction or an explanation from Wolf, but none came. Silence stretched uncomfortably. He tried again. “The Warlord states that Wolf's Dragoons have made an unauthorized incursion into enemy space. In response, he has filed a formal protest of insubordination with the Coordinator's office.”

“Not treason?” Colonel Korsht asked.

“No. Treason is impossible from mercenaries,” Minobu pointed out.

“But that's what he means, isn't it?” Korsht continued. “I am not privy to the Warlord's thoughts, Colonel. It is possible. In any case, the charge is serious.” Minobu's eyes passed across the faces of the other officers. “The Warlord has prepared a number of other charges as well, not the least of which is breach of contract.”

That excited a babble of protest, as Minobu had known it would. Just as Akuma must have known it would, too. Minobu wondered if the former Sworder had deliberately chosen him as a messenger in a move to focus Dragoon hostility against Minobu rather than himself. There was nothing Minobu could do about it. The Warlord had ordered him to take the place of the PSL officer on this mission, and he could not refuse.

“The Dragoons have taken no actions that violate the strict wording of our contract with the Draconis Combine,” Wolf said.

Minobu had hoped that his friend would deny the charge and offer proof to back up that denial. Instead, Wolf's words left Minobu with no doubt that the Dragoons had conducted the raid on Udibi, just as Samsonov reported. The carefully chosen wording meant that Wolf was relying on legalistic interpretations. A merchant's trick, not a samurai's solution. “Then you do not deny that the Dragoons have conducted a raid on the Federated Suns planet of Udibi.”

“As commander of the Dragoons, I will neither confirm nor deny anything until I see the specifications of the charges.”

“Very well, Colonel Wolf.”

Minobu thought he caught a flash of distress in Wolf's eyes at the formal address, but he could not be sure. Wolf sat today as master of his troops, not as Minobu's friend. There had been a bond between them, but it was strained and perhaps broken now. For the sake of what once was, Minobu felt compelled to speak.

“The wording in Warlord Samsonov's account of the Udibi action shows that he is furious. He is a man who does not take kindly to being embarrassed. As far as he is concerned, your success speaks against you in this. It has also been related to me, in private, that he has sworn the destruction of the Dragoons if they break faith with House Kurita. Regardless of your fidelity to the Combine, he seems to feel that your actions have touched his honor. A shamed man may take drastic steps. Even when such steps may not be in his own best interest, shame may drive him on.”

Wolf sat quietly for a moment after Minobu finished. He interlaced his fingers and ran them back and forth across each other. Still looking at his hands, Wolf asked, “Are you saying that he will try to destroy us anyway?”

“I am not sure what he will do.” Minobu took a deep breath. “He has warned me that he will have the head of any Kuritan who aids Wolf's Dragoons against the Combine ... or against him.”

“We don't need any help against that toad-licking slime snake,” Kerensky boasted. “The Dragoons can kick his butt to Aldebaran and back. If he tries anything, that's just what we'll do.”

Dragoons around the table chorused agreement. Out of the midst of the insults and complaints about ungrateful employers, Kerensky's voice rose again. “Let's cut them off now, Colonel. Unity knows they've asked for it.”

“There is much to what Captain Kerensky says,” Korsht seconded. “Perhaps it would be best to break contract now and forfeit the bond.” Many other officers nodded or voiced their agreement.

“And where will we go?” Wolf asked. “Nobody wants a merc unit that runs away when things are tough.”

“They'll understand,” Major Patrick Chan protested. “Nobody will fault us for leaving Kurita.”

“You're wrong, Pat. The Successor Lords watch our every move,” Wolf reminded him. “If we break faith with one of them, each one will assume we'd to the same to him or her if we get unhappy. What seems like a good reason to us doesn't look the same from the other side of the paychest.

“Even if we have a good business reason to break contract, we still have our own honor to worry about. We gave our word. If we break it, what are we worth? We'll be the cheap sellswords they claim we are. Can any of you say you want that?”

The only reply was silence.

“We'll keep our contract, to the letter,” Wolf continued. “If the Combine steps over the line, then we can act in all honor. Until then, we work for House Kurita.”

The acknowledgements were soft, but they came forth, Minobu noticed that some of the Dragoons, including Kerensky and Korsht, said nothing. At least they did not disagree. Despite their outspoken opinions, Minobu did not think they would disobey Wolf.

“Your devotion to honor is most ennobling, Colonel Wolf,” Minobu complimented him. “It will stand you in good stead.”

Wolf looked up sharply. “There's something else, isn't there, Tai-saTetsuhara?”

Whether or not Wolf had felt anything earlier, Minobu experienced the sting of the formal address. He inclined his head, took a deep breath, and released it. He pushed the message flimsy forward on the table before raising his gaze toward Wolf.

“Lord Takashi Kurita summons you to Luthien to account for your actions.”