They were cautious, having seen how well Theodore fared against their comrades. They took their time, contriving to set him up for a decisive attack that would not expose either of them to a crippling counterattack.
Watch the pattern,Comerford- sensei's ghostly voice advised.
Control the ma-ai,Tetsuhara- sensei's spectral tones demanded. A true warrior is always in control of the distance of engagement.
"Hai!"Theodore shouted as he caught the pattern and acted. He spun on his heel and launched a flying kick at the shorter of his two attackers. Thinking himself safely out of range, the man failed to counter completely and tumbled backward into the grime-smeared bricks of the alley wall.
Theodore's rebound dropped him to the ground, where he lay loose-limbed and sprawling. The tall one dove on him to take advantage of his disorientation from the bad fall, only to find Theodore's helplessness was a sham. Rolling away from the attack, Theodore let the man slam into the refuse-strewn ground. His own kick at the man's head was weak, but did serve to further daze his opponent.
Heedless of proper form, Theodore scrambled on top of the man. The man struggled to avoid his grip as Theodore slipped a choke-hold around the assassin's windpipe. Not trusting his strength at this point, Theodore went for a steady choke rather than trying to snap the man's neck. His opponent's struggles were slowing when a hand gripped Theodore's shoulder. "Enough."
Theodore spun, awkwardly because he was straddling a body. The backfist he threw in turning was caught effortlessly by the new arrival and held in a grip of titanium. His knee, directed at the newcomer's groin as Theodore tried to straighten up, was adroitly deflected by the man's hip. The man effortlessly redirected Theodore's energy, crashing him onto his back.
"Enough, I said."
Wind gone, Theodore lay weak and vulnerable. He squinted his eyes down to a slit in an effort to steady the doubled images he perceived. Even with his blurred vision, he recognized the smiling face of Subhash Indrahar, the man his father had elevated to Director of the Internal Security Forces.
Such a highly placed traitor,Theodore lamented. My mentor, a man I had thought a friend. You always took my side against Father. Now your true colors show. Now, it seems, my life is forfeit to misplaced trust.
"Do not think me a traitor, my young friend. As ever, I stand behind you as heir to the throne of the Draconis Combine. And do not think too unkindly of poor Kathleen. She only followed my orders. These men you have faced are a final exam of sorts, a test of your mettle," Subhash said, sweeping his arm to indicate the six men gathered around them, including the teary-eyed redhead and the one wearing Theodore's own discarded finery. "You have passed quite well."
"You had me in fear for my life."
"Of course. Only at the edge of death does a man truly live, and show whether he is truly a man." Subhash extended a hand to help Theodore to his feet. "You have shown that you are a man. Rough around the edges, perhaps, but refinement will come with time.
"I have known you since childhood, and I believe that I know the sort of man you are. You see the Combine as I do, the strongest hope of unification for the Inner Sphere. You believe, as I do, that the Combine must come before all, that is must be preserved to perform its destiny of reunification.
"Now I ask you to join with these men in a society dedicated to that end. I ask you to join the Sons of the Dragon."
Subhash waited for Theodore's reply. Though his mentor smiled benevolently, Theodore sensed the taut expectancy. Around him, the other men began to shift nervously.
He was at once touched and alarmed by Subhash's offer. The ISF Director was a man he had idolized for many years. His belief in Theodore's potential was something the young heir wanted to reward after his long and difficult childhood and adolescence. Yet this secret society of Indrahar's whispered of intrigues and dark alleys, things alien to the samurai Theodore believed himself to be.
The offer lay before him. If he refused now, it would never come again. Something in Subhash's voice and the tense stance of the men around him spoke eloquently of a unique opportunity. If he did not join, they would go their own ways and he would hear no more of it. Until he crossed them in some way. Subhash had become one of the most respected, and feared, ISF Directors in centuries. He was a good man to have as an ally and a bad one to have as an enemy.
Theodore smiled and executed a sharp bow. "I am honored."
Subhash clapped him on the shoulder. "I am pleased."
The tension in the alley evaporated. In the joking and verbal replay of the combats that followed, Theodore ventured, "Subhash-sawa, wouldn't you say that seven opponents were too many for one not well-versed in this type of nighttime activity?"
"You handed all six agents quite well, Theodore-sawa," Subhash replied with a pleased grin. "And I was no opponent at all."
Theodore was taken aback by the ISF Director's response, but said nothing. He looked carefully at the men around them, noting their height and build, the way they moved. Thinking back over his night's adventure, he was certain that he had encountered each only once. Moreover, none of the group fit the physical type of the swordsman who had wounded him. There was more going on than he understood. The words of old Zeshin, his childhood companion, came to him: A wise man listens when he has no words to speak.
Given what had happened this night, Theodore decided that was very good advice
3
Snorri's Tavern, New Samos, Kirchbach
Rasalhague Military District, Draconis Combine
17 May 3018
"Do you think he'll come?"
Of the five men and two women in the back room of Snorri's Tavern, the speaker was clearly the most nervous. Having drawn stares from the others with his question, he began to fidget with the gold braid decorating the shoulders of his tunic. His restless fingers had already unraveled one of the tassels and added to the frayed look of the ancient uniform jacket.
The bearded man sitting at the head of the table knew, as did all present, that the fat man in the outlawed uniform of the Rasalhague Prince's Guard was not entitled to wear it. His fellow conspirators tolerated his affectation because of the wealth he brought to the enterprise. The bearded man suppressed a sigh. Leading this odd assembly of personalities was a trial, made no easier by the wretched places where they often met. Slums were hardly in keeping with his dignity or that of their cause.
"Of course he will come," the leader assured the agitated man. "This matter touches too closely his own interests."
"He could betray us," warned one of the women. She was grim-faced and apparently calm, but her voice held just a hint of fear.
"He won't," the leader said, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard in a casual gesture of confidence meant to bolster his fellows. "His position with the Dragon is shaky enough. He has let his ambitions show too clearly of late, and his enemies in the court on Luthien are almost in position to deny his petition for elevation to the status of Archduke over the five worlds he controls. Add to that the fact that the Coordinator sent no Kurita troops to help him defend against the recent raids by House Steiner, and you will find a man who believes he has no future with the Dragon."
"He might see betraying us as a way to regain favor," countered a tall man, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His carriage showed him to be a military officer, but his drab, worn clothes were those of a mercantile messenger. A DCMS-issue laser pistol, its grip stained from years of use, rode in his low-slung messenger's holster.