"Tetsuhara," Takashi said slowly. "He chose his response and died a true samurai. I honor him."
"You killed him. He would not see the truth, as I have."
"You are mistaken, as he was not."
"In ancient Japan, there was once a samurai forced to commit seppukubecause he was caught in the machinations and intrigues of a noble of the court. His name was Asano, and he made the only decision he could, as did his loyal retainers. As have I.
"I have been as loyal to my master Minobu Tetsuhara as Oishi Yoshio was to his lord Asano. Oishi left his life as a samurai and pretended he didn't care about his lord's fate. But all the time, he was preparing vengeance in his lord's name. So for years, he and his fellows waited until they could confront Lord Kira, the man who had forced death upon their lord.
"I, too, have denied my heritage and hidden my goal. Though I am but one and not forty-seven, as the loyal retainers of Lord Asano, yet I will have justice done. You are in my hands now. As the forty-seven offered Lord Kira the way of honor, I offer you now the chance to commit seppuku.Atone for your failure as a samurai's lord."
Takashi's eyes were glacial ice. "If I do not?"
"I will kill you," Michi said, his voice as cold as Takashi's eyes.
"You say that you are justice, yet I tell you that there is no justice in what you are trying to do. It was never my will that Minobu Tetsuhara die."
"Warlord Samsonov was your man."
"Samsonov was a fool," Takashi snapped "Ultimately he was his own man, and he paid for it. But you know that, don't you? It was you who killed him, not one of Wolf's Dragoons."
"I killed him," Michi confirmed. "He was not enough of a man to end his life honorably. I expect better of Takashi Kurita."
"There is much I was blind to during those years," Takashi said. "Just as there was much that you could not see, or seeing, understand. Your vendetta is misplaced."
The Coordinator talked of the political maneuvering that went on around Wolf's Dragoons during their contract with the Draconis Combine. He spoke of Warlord Samsonov and the man's hatred for the Dragoons and for Jaime Wolf, in particular. He had not, Takashi declared, ordered Samsonov to do what had been done to the Dragoons; in particular, he had not ordered the attack on the Dragoon families.
If Takashi was to be believed, his concerns for the Combine had been misinterpreted by Samsonov. Michi felt the seeds of doubt begin to break the soil of his mind. If Takashi had not ordered Samsonov's actions, there was no reason for vendetta against the Coordinator. He was wrong in demanding Takashi's death.
Takashi enumerated the threats that had faced the Combine in those days. Emphasizing his paramount concern for the survival of the realm, Takashi asserted that no one person could put his own concerns ahead of the Combine. Michi could not disagree; he had set aside his own desires more than once in favor of the Combine's survival. Takashi believed that the importance of the realm's survival justified the actions necessary to ensure that survival. He spoke of manipulating the warlords, pitting them against one another and constantly testing their loyalty, as a tool to that end. Sometimes, regretfully, tools broke or were misused. The Coordinator implied that Samsonov had misunderstood, had usurped prerogatives reserved for the Coordinator.
Despite Takashi speaking of his own clan and the Combine as one, Michi found the Coordinator's arguments seductively persuasive, But what if all the arguments were merely another manipulation? What if they were simply lies?
Sounds impinged on his awareness. The scuff of a footfall on tatamimats. A soft mechanical whine. The rustle of cloth against flesh. Banishing his doubt, Michi dropped into warrior awareness. He felt the hardwood grain under his fingers and saw the flicker in the light that told of moving bodies.
He and Takashi were no longer alone.
25
Restoring the cache ships and organizing them into a convoy was a task unlike any Elson had ever commanded. He was surprised to find himself interested in the details and intricacies of coordinating the efforts of his command. His enemies in the council of officers seemed even more surprised, while his own faction simply took his abilities for granted.
The trip back to Outreach along a command circuit was as long as the trip out, but instead of drilling Elementals, Elson spent his time dealing with a wider variety of concerns. It was a different way of preparing for the future. Each time they lay over, recharging their drives or transferring to a waiting JumpShip, he visited some of the other DropShips and made himself known to the crews. Though he spent most of his time with the warriors, he did not neglect the techs or the scientists. Any good warrior understood the importance of those who designed and maintained weapons. By showing that he understood their roles, he won their loyalty with surprising ease.
By the time the convoy reached the Dragoon home-world once more, Elson would have a strong cadre of people who believed in him and his vision. He knew that he would never convert Atwyl and his cronies; the oldsters were the most committed to the erroneous path of Jaime Wolf. Wolf commanded their respect and loyalty with such force that otherwise clear-thinking warriors ignored centuries of tradition. It was not something Elson could ignore, and it worried him constantly.
But he saw hope. Even at the funeral, some had spoken of MacKenzie Wolf's failings. The talk had not been public or in the recorded eulogies, but it was there. It became more common as the journey went on. Even some of the oldsters had been heard to speak of MacKenzie's corruption by easygoing spheroids. Jaime Wolf had not passed on his genius to his son, and now that MacKenzie was dead, there was no reason to pretend otherwise.
"The flaws of the offspring reflect the flaws of the parentage," said an old Clan proverb. Breeding rights went to those who performed, those who had proved themselves. Those who were disgraced lost all rights and privileges. The blood told the true story.
It was not hard to see that Jaime Wolf's bloodline was flawed, however successful he had been. Clanners understood that a flawed commander was a sentence of death, and no one wanted such a sentence. Clanners knew, too, that old men lose sight of the day they live in, preferring the past and its security. Such a commander would sooner or later fail his warriors, betraying them to an undeserved death or a disgraceful failure.
Fear is a warrior's constant companion, but the true warrior masters his fears. In doing so, he conquers and fulfills his destiny. Death is not a threat to a real warrior; he knows there is no escaping death. It is his job to deal in death, so he must understand its ways and, more importantly, the meaning of death. A death without meaning was the real fear of a true warrior.
But these Dragoons, Clanner or spheroid, misunderstood that reality. They had come to believe that life was their prize, that by excelling they could leave their warrior natures behind and go on to something else. How could they ignore the warrior's knowledge of the precariousness of life? They had fallen into an old man's way of thought. Jaime Wolf feared for his Dragoons and worried over their ability to survive. For years his actions had been directed toward reducing his fears, and this mission to recover the cache ships was only the latest step in Wolf's plan.