Blood legacy by Michael A. Stackpole

  "Raider Three and Ace will check the third lance. You two make sure our buddies get buttoned up."

  "Roger, Ace."

  Victor toggled his weapons to anti-'Mech levels and flicked his scanner back to vislight. With the sun just barely beginning to creep up over the horizon, he got enough light to see Kai boosting Ragnar up to the 'Mech's arm. Cassandra and Sun-Tzu had already reached their cockpits. And when he saw Kai sprint to his 'Mech and start the climb up onto it, Victor could not suppress a smile.

  Victor's pleasure died quickly as he looked up to see the right arm of Sun Tzu's 'Mech swing into line with Kai's. Though the motion might have been the kind of move any pilot would make as he began to acclimate to an unfamiliar BattleMech, something seemed wrong. Victor couldn't be certain one way or another, but the shiver that had run down his spine was instinct enough.

  Lunging forward, he slid his laser muzzles over Sun-Tzu's left shoulder. The scream of weapon on armor was strong enough for Victor to hear it even within his cockpit, and the bump of muzzle against cockpit was none too gentle. Sweat stinging his eyes, he punched up a tightbeam channel to Sun-Tzu on his radio.

  "Don't even think it. Not only will I kill you if you shoot, but I promise to reduce Sian to a cinder in your name."

  Bleed-over crackled into his neurohelmet. "... willingly erase the Liao-Shang line from the rolls of mankind." Hohiro's voice poured through the static strong and angry. Victor glanced at the edge of his display and saw Raider Four with its lasers also centered on the Kit Fox's cockpit.

  Sun-Tzu lowered his 'Mech's arm. "Treachery runs so deep in your hearts that you mistake innocent actions for conscious betrayal. It is you who are perfidious, not I."

  Victor dropped his voice to a low growl. "That may be true, little worm, but let it be a warning that you'd best be careful what you do from here on out. An innocent mistake on your part might cause Hohiro or me to have a 'weapons malfunction.' You'll be a lot more likeable in a eulogy than you are now, so I'll gladly deliver it."

  Victor broke off the channel and opened another one to Hohiro. "Great minds think alike, do they not?"

  Victor actually heard Hohiro laugh. "When small minds abound, they must."

  'Thanks for keeping an eye out for Kai."

  "I always watch out for my allies."

  "As do I." Victor backed his 'Mech around to face Hohiro. "Appears Raiders Ace and Three have formed a team. Need a wingman?"

  * * *

  Leaning against the garden's stone railing, Victor forced a smile as Galen handed him a mug of beer. Ignoring them, Sun-Tzu and his sister, seated on a stone bench in a far corner of the garden, spoke in hushed whispers. Their words did not carry, and besides, Victor did not understand Chinese, but he guessed that if he knew what they were saying, it would probably make him sick.

  "Ground control to Victor."

  Victor looked up at Galen. "Sorry, my friend, I was just thinking about part of the exercise."

  "I get the feeling something happened between you and Sun-Tzu while Shin and I were off disabling the third lance."

  "It was nothing."

  "Nothing?" Galen's blue eyes glittered. "I come back and find you and Hohiro thick as thieves and you say it was nothing? Hell, ComStar could award Sun-Tzu a Peace Prize just for getting the two of you to speak together."

  "A Peace Prize?" Victor chuckled and drank some of his beer. "No worry about that happening. The little rat did something and Hohiro and I probably overreacted. As for us being thick as thieves, what were we supposed to do? You and Shin became best buddies and Cassandra appointed herself Sun's babysitter. Kai and Ragnar were a natural pairing, so Hohiro and I had to work together."

  The older MechWarrior shook his head. "Now I think you're going for a prize in understatement. Shin and I got shot to pieces when that reinforced company of bogies dropped down on us. Sun-Tzu proved about as useful as a Rifleman's tissue-paper aft armor and there was only so much Cassandra could do fighting alone. You and Hohiro fought beautifully together. You really tore up the enemy."

  Victor raked his blond hair with the fingers of one hand. In Outreach's dry atmosphere, it had all but dried from his recent shower. "We did some damage, but Kai and Ragnar sent them packing."

  Just then, Kai, Cassandra, and Ragnar stepped from the ballroom and Victor straightened up. He set his beer down on the railing and fished a gold coin from his pocket. "Kai," he called, then flipped the coin to his friend, who deftly caught it in one hand.

  "Fifty Kroner?" Kai frowned. "What's this for?"

  "Remember we placed a little bet about the exercise? Ten Kroner a head to the winner?"

  Kai started to toss the coin back. "I only got four."

  Victor held his hand up. "You can owe me. Hell, you and Ragnar saved my butt out there. I ought to pay you a thousand times that."

  Kai smiled self-consciously and blushed. "My duty and my honor." He clapped Ragnar on the back. "If not for a reliable pilot protecting my rear, I never could have done it."

  Ragnar blushed, the color deepening when Cassandra added, "I'd like to have a decent wingman sometime. Next exercise, Ragnar's with me."

  Sun-Tzu grumbled from his corner, but Victor barely noticed as Hohiro and his sister stepped from the reception inside. Meeting Victor's gaze, she returned his smile of pleasure. Hohiro read the expression on his sister's face, then looked angrily at Victor.

  So much for our alliance. Victor turned away and recovered his beer. Only Galen's greeting warned him of their approach.

  "Evening, Hohiro. How nice to see you again, Lady Omi."

  "Evening, gentlemen." Hohiro smiled politely and Omi gave them a silent nod. "I have just been telling my sister about today's exercise. Once again, Victor, I must thank you for helping me when that lance overran my position."

  Victor shrugged. "That's what wingmen are for."

  "True, but most wingmen who had warned their partner about the folly of a maneuver would have let him die."

  Hohiro swallowed audibly. "Especially when their partner expressly forbade them to come help."

  Galen shot Victor a wink. "There's your problem, Hohiro. Victor is so contrary that if you toss him into a gravity well, he floats up. I know of only one way to get him to obey orders like that."

  Victor rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, quite an effective little persuader you are."

  Slipping her right hand from her brother's elbow, Omi pressed her hands together. "I believe Hohiro characterized your action as both bold and heroic."

  He said that? Victor blinked. "He probably realizes that in the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth, a bold MechWarrior is one who manages to survive his own stupidity, and a hero is a bold MechWarrior who survives rescuing other bold MechWarriors from even greater stupidity." His gaze flicked over at Kai. "Happily, there are exceptions to that rule."

  Omi smiled. "And I think present company proves an exception as well." She stepped away from her brother, placing herself between him and Victor. "In fact, if you are of a mind to, Prince Victor, I would gladly take the walk you suggested months ago."

  Victor looked up at Hohiro, knowing Hohiro was aware that he and Omi had taken more than one walk together since that first invitation. "If your brother does not mind."

  Hohiro smiled solemnly. "I trusted you with my life today and you safeguarded it better than I did. I believe I can trust you with one whom I hold more dear than life itself."

  "Arigato gozaimas, Hohiro-sama." Victor offered his left arm to Omi, and she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. "I accept the weight of your trust and am honored by it."

  "That is well, Victor Davion." Hohiro's eyes became dark slivers. "Our lives are too short and our duties too great for us to add yet more fuel to a centuries-old bonfire. Perhaps someday you and I, too, will be able to walk together as friends."

  17

  Grand Council Chamber, Hall of Khans

  Strana Mechty, Beyond the Periphery

  19 June 3051

&
nbsp; Flanked by two Elementals in black armor. Phelan Wolf marched to the small dais just to the side of the high bench. Taking his place on the black marble stand added at least another head to his height, but still left him that much shorter than the armored figures to either side. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked out at the Khans gathered in the dimly lit, semi-circular chamber.

  Though not nearly as large as the Clan Council Chamber of the Wolf Clan, the dark room seemed much more oppressive. The places for member Khans were carved from granite, with red velvet cushions on the seats and backs. They were arranged in five rows of eight, with the center aisle splitting the rows in half. The black stone used for their desktops was streaked with a pattern of white that reminded Phelan of the luminescent nebula clouds and stars seen from the observation deck of a JumpShip.

  The slate wall paneling and recessed lighting increased the gloom and deepened his anxiety. Even the seventeen colorful banners hanging down from the ceiling did not break the graveyard mood of the room. Three obvious breaks in the spacing and six empty seats in the Khans' area suggested to Phelan that three of the original twenty Clans no longer existed. Phelan shuddered to realize that a people able to destroy parts of their own society would surely have no qualms about destroying the states of the Inner Sphere.

  Even more unsettling was the style of clothing the Khans wore here in the Grand Council. Except for Phelan, the only other person whose face was not hidden by a mask was Conal Ward. Each Khan wore an exquisite headpiece that transformed him from a human into an anthropomorphic representation of his or her Clan. Phelan had seen the masks worn by the Smoke Jaguars, Jade Falcons, Ghost Bears, and Wolves during his adoption into the Wolf Clan warrior caste, but a baker's dozen new images confronted him in the Chamber. It brought home to him again that it was much more than mere distance separating the Clans from the Successor States.

  Phelan glanced over at Conal Ward and gave him a slight nod.

  Ward, whom the assembly had chosen to act as Loremaster while they elected an ilKhan, replied with a nod of his own, then turned to face the assembled Khans. "Let the chamber be sealed so that none of this debate may escape. If the accusations prove baseless, the questions we ask will blow away and be forgotten like ashes. Otherwise, the accused will have thirty days to prepare a defense."

  In unison, the assembled Khans intoned, "Seyla."

  The two Elementals split up and left Phelan alone on the dais. One took up a position by the side door through which the Loremaster and Phelan had entered the room. The other mounted the stepped aisle that split the chamber in two and stood with his back to the chamber's double doors.

  The self-importance in Conal's voice did nothing to ease Phelan's mind. "Phelan Wolf, do you know why you have been summoned here before the Khans?"

  The look on Conal's face told Phelan the Loremaster had something up his sleeve. Still, Phelan refrained from telling the Khans what Natasha had instructed him to answer. "It is not my ken to know the will of the Khans, Loremaster, but only to do all I may to fulfill their wishes."

  Conal's face settled into a mask of superiority. "The Clans are without an ilKhan during this most important time. The ilKhan is the war leader of all the Clans and is chosen by the Council of Khans as the instrument of their combined will.

  He is charged with the duty of fulfilling their mandate. More important, he rules until his replacement or his death to safeguard the Clans from the folly that has destroyed the Successor States."

  "That I understand, Loremaster."

  "Good, then your tutors have taught you well." Conal gave him a patronizing nod. "All Khans are eligible for election, but before that election can begin, charges against any Khan must be resolved or set aside for later judgement. In this case, we have called you to answer a most serious charge against Khan Ulric of the Wolves."

  Phelan's eyes narrowed. No surprise. Cyrilla was right. The battleground has shifted. "I vow not to rest until justice in this matter has been done." Phelan saw Ulric nod as his response anticipated the Loremaster's next question.

  Conal recovered after only a heartbeat's hesitation. "Very good, very good, indeed. The charge against Ulric is this: that he knowingly engineered the death of the former ilKhan, Leo Showers of the Smoke Jaguars. To your knowledge, is there any truth in this charge?"

  The bald-faced affront of the question shocked Phelan. He instantly shook his head with vehemence. "Not only is the charge baseless, I must call it ludicrous as well." He felt his temper rising, but fought to keep it under control.

  A Khan from the Steel Viper Clan stood. "But you do not deny that the ilKhan died when Khan Ulric did not?"

  "No, of course I do not deny it." Phelan swallowed hard and forced his hands to remain clasped behind his back. "I was there. I was the first person onto the bridge after the Rasalhague fighter hit it. The hull had a hole in it bigger than this dais, and anything that wasn't hitched down had been sucked into space. Debris had ricocheted like shrapnel through the area. That there were any survivors at all was a miracle."

  He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. "When I found Khan Ulric, he was buried beneath the panels of the holotank. He had blacked out and was unable to leave the bridge without assistance."

  A Smoke Jaguar Khan stood up under the banner of his Clan. "Such a state could be feigned."

  Phelan's nervousness and disbelief boosted into his anger.

  "You can't fake cyanosis. His skin and lips were blue from oxygen deprivation and he came around only after I fitted him with an oxygen mask."

  Phelan's ire peaked at Conal's expression of contempt. He drew in a deep breath. "But that is less important than the idiocy of what is suggested by these charges. A fighter slammed into the hull of the ship and breached it. Fifteen meters higher and it would have shattered the bridge bulkhead, purging vast chunks of the ship's atmosphere. If Khan Ulric wanted to use such a risky method to kill the ilKhan, it would have been stupid for him to remain on the ship, quiaff? Why would he endanger the Dire Wolf at all when he could have had a supposed 'sniper' from the Rasalhague resistance troops shoot the ilKhan on the ground?"

  The Smoke Jaguar Khan slammed his fist into his marble bench. "I will not be lectured by a freeborn whelp!"

  "Show respect!" Conal snapped at Phelan.

  Phelan's nostrils flared. "You demand a vow of my ceaseless pursuit of justice, then you seek to hobble me. I submit, Khan, that you would not need a lecture from a freeborn whelp if you had the brains of the average surat!"

  The Khan trembled with rage at being compared with a bat-winged monkey native to one of the Clan worlds. He started to sputter, but Phelan gave him no chance to speak. "Face it. This charge is born of the fact that Khan Ulric and his Wolves ripped through one of the most densely populated regions of the Inner Sphere while the rest of you moved at the speed of a stunned snail. And now your spite makes you want to strip the Wolves of their best leadership. Instead, you should be choosing Ulric as your ilKhan. He's the only Khan who accomplished anything in the invasion of the Inner Sphere, and those of you with stravag brains between your ears should see that."

  Conal's eyes blazed. "This is the Council of Khans! You are a visitor here. Watch your language and your tone!"

  Phelan folded his arms across his chest. "I mean no disrespect, but I cannot fulfill the oath I have sworn to serve my Khan and the Clans if I do not protest this idiocy, Quiaff?" He turned to face the Khans. "As for my language, Natasha Kerensky once told me, 'Slavish adherence to formal ritual is a sign that one has nothing better to think about.' I might suggest that within this, a warrior society, the same applies to those who fight with politics when what is called for are a warrior's skills."

  A number of Khans chuckled heartily at that, but their laughter only made Conal angrier. "This conduct would not be tolerated from one who is a warrior, much less an untested foundling." With a flick of his hand, he summoned the nearest Elemental. "Remove him."

  Phelan spitted the E
lemental with a harsh stare. "Ease off, Ace. I've already laid two Elementals out in my career. You don't want to be the third." Holding his head high, he set his face in a grim mask. "I may not have tested out, yet, but that does not invalidate what I have said. I am slowly coming to understand your ways, but nothing I have learned leads me to believe injustice is a trait for which you select. If it is, perhaps I should just return to being a bondsman."

  He stepped from the dais and swept past the Elemental. Slipping through the side door, he let it swing shut behind him, then slumped against the wall of the corridor. Balling his right fist, he slammed it against his thigh. You moron! That's exactly the kind of thing that got you tossed out of the Nagelring. Eventually, Phelan, you have to learn that to get along you have to go along. It's a good thing Cyrilla couldn't see that performance. She'd never consider me for a Bloodname slot if she had.

  Levering himself away from the wall, he rushed on past Natasha's archivist waiting in the hallway, far too distracted to notice the man or acknowledge his greeting. Further down the corridor and around a corner, Phelan stopped at a door showing the wolf's-head crest of the Wolf Clan. He knocked twice, then opened the door and entered the small office. Cutting through the door in the back corner, he came into Ulric's private office.

  Natasha rose from the chair behind the large desk and applauded. "Thought we'd lost you there for a moment. You did great." Cyrilla, seated across from her, nodded her approval.

  Phelan blinked. "What? The proceedings were supposed to be ..." He glanced back at the cabinet half-hidden by the open door. A monitor showed a view of the Grand Council Chamber. "You saw?"

  Cyrilla nodded and pointed to the remote control at the monitor. The sound started to come up. "All the Khans have access to this closed-circuit system. Watching the charade certainly violates the spirit of the Council regulations, but not more than a handful of the Khans can keep a secret anyway, so no harm is done."