“Reports indicate that the Kurita raid on Barlow's End was planned before we staged our war games.”
“Still, they caught the Eridani Light Horse in transfer.” Hanse tapped a stylus against his chin, considering the possibilities. “How much can they have learned?”
“Little, I think. The battle went badly for them. The Dragoons abandoned the Kurita House troops shortly after the Light Horse became involved. Presumably, they deemed it impossible to achieve the goals of their mission. That left the Kurita unit unsupported. After another day of fighting, the Kuritans pulled out, too.
“We took losses ourselves, mostly minor, though the only existing prototype of Professor McGuffin's jump stabilizer was destroyed. The professor is, of course, furious. I am sure Doctor Banzai will be distressed as well. He put so much work into the design.
“There was an unusual item in the after action report from the Light Horse, though. The Kuritans did retreat, but those House troops seem to have been fanatics. We found the Kurita Commander dead in the command camp with a sword in his hand. He had been shot in the back of the head. It was some kind of ritual killing, perhaps a variant form of seppuku.”
Hanse shook his head, unable to understand a code that required a life for a simple military reversal. Enough lives were spent on the battlefield. “So you think that the Kuritans will be too busy piecing their units back together and placing the blame to understand the significance of the nature of our defenders?”
“I do,” Allard replied. “Galahad's cover is most likely still safe from them. I think, however, that the Dragoon intelligence network may be a step ahead of the ISF.”
“What do you mean?” Hanse asked suspiciously. “What have they been up to?”
“As you know, we have had agents recruiting mercenaries all over the Sphere, particularly on Galatea. The Dragoons also have an officer on that world who stays in touch with the market for mercenaries. Though still cool to our offers to jump contract, she has taken some interest in our hirings.
“Then there are the visits the Dragoon JumpShips have been making to some of our systems. Too many of those sites are our transfer lay-overs.”
“Not fighting. Just checking up on us,” Hanse observed, and Allard nodded agreement. “I don't think that is authorized surveillance. The Wolf is double-checking ISF intel. He's watching his rear.”
A sly smile began to grow on Prince Davion's face. “Perhaps things are not so cozy between the Dragoons and my old friend Takashi. How long does their contract run?”
“Almost another year and a half,” Allard answered promptly.
Hanse looked disappointed at that. It was a long time.
“What's going on inside the Dragoons?” the Prince asked. “Didn't we get an agent in there?”
“We tried, but the Dragoons rarely recruit from outside their own organization. They are almost a closed shop. The recent plan to infiltrate them has met no real success. Our agent posed as a potential recruit. We assumed that a ‘MechWarrior with a new machine like the Hatchetmanwould interest the Dragoons because they always seemed so interested in new and unusual technology during their contracts with us and with House Steiner. We thought their commanders would be tempted enough by the chance to get their hands on a Hatchetmanthat they'd accept our agent.”
Hanse snorted mildly and shook his head. “Sometimes I think that Wolf is more a fox than I am. They found a way to get our 'Mech without taking our agent, didn't they?”
“They did,” Allard confirmed. “They offered our agent a trade, one of their special-model Archersfor his 'Mech. They also offered a slot in Carter's Chevaliers, a subcontracting mercenary unit. They said the position was 'for a trial period.' In order to preserve cover, our agent had no choice but to accept.”
“Fortunes of war,” Hanse said resignedly. Not every gambit could succeed. At least, this one wasn't a total failure. It might still bear fruit in the future. Until then, they must try something else. “With things getting a little tense on the other side of the border, maybe we can stir up the pot. Do we have any combat footage of the Dragoons pulling out on Barlow's End?”
It was Allard's turn to look puzzled. “Some.”
“Have it edited to emphasize the timing of the Dragoon departure and to de-emphasize the strength of our forces. Then let a Kurita agent acquire the film. Maybe Takashi will help us out by turning on the Dragoons. They may not come to us, but at least they won't be working for him.”
Allard accepted the order in silence. He started for the door, but before he reached it, Hanse called his name. The minister turned and made a fumbling catch of the small object the Prince tossed to him. It was the holodisk he had brought.
“While you're sending out packages, see if you can find an anonymous way to get that to Jaime Wolf. The Wolf is an honorable man. If there is some plot to discredit his people, he won't like it. He might even break his contract off short.”
Hanse smiled at his own cleverness. No one had ever denied that he deserved his nickname of “the Fox.”
28
Hoshon Mansion , Cerant, An Ting
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
24 November 3026
Morning sunlight slanted in from the garden, throwing rippling shadows over the wooden floor. The open panels allowed the cool air to move through the room in a gentle breeze, but Minobu did not feel the chill. He was absorbed in his painting, completing a delicate chrysanthemum on the black vase he held in his left hand. The sable sheen of the ceramic shape reflected the light in subtle and harmonious ways.
Minobu held up the vase and turned it in the light. Satisfied with his work, he placed it on the drying stand and cleaned his brush. He had just turned to face the inner door when the panel slid open to reveal Jaime Wolf standing there. Though the lintel was low, the mercenary did not need to duck as he crossed the threshold.
“Finally found time to visit the invalid?” Minobu said as the Dragoon came forward.
“Things have been a little hectic since Barlow's End,” Jaime replied evenly, though the harsh note in his friend's voice surprised him.
“I expect they were.” Minobu's days had not been busy, but they had been full of pain as his battered body gradually healed. The convalescence had been long and slow, empty of the support of friends. He had seen little even of Tomiko, for she had fled the room at first sight of his prosthetic arm and leg.
“Marisha is with Tomiko,” Jaime offered.
“My wife will enjoy the company.” Perhaps now things will change,Minobu thought. Marisha may be able to help Tomiko accept the new reality of her husband.
Jaime's visit might be a sign of the end of his estrangement as well. In the seven weeks since his accident, Minobu had felt deserted. Even Michi's return a week ago had brought no relief. The young Tai-iwas distant and reserved, all business. Much about him seemed changed. It was as though he, rather than Minobu, had been injured on Barlow's End.
No,thought Minobu, caught in self pity. Not Barlow's End—Minobu's end.
“I was remiss in not thanking you for the report you sent concerning the action on Barlow's End,” he said woodenly. “It was most enlightening.”
“Don't pull this inscrutable samurai crap with me,” Jaime said, annoyance flaring. “We've been friends for too long.”
Now Minobu was taken aback. Lost in his own problems, he had failed to notice that Wolf was troubled, too. “When first we met, I knew you were perceptive, my friend. I did not know your perceptions would make you a pain in the butt.”