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.

But Wolf's vision was clouded, distorted by his own rejection of his heritage. He had forgotten that a warrior's lot is death and dreamed that the cache ships and their technology could preserve the Dragoons. It was a foolish dream. Weapons are worthless without warriors to wield them, and warriors cannot ply their trade without death.

Wolf could not see the truth growing around him, but Elson could. He listened to the men and women who wore Dragoon uniforms. Occasionally he heard spheroids use Clanner arguments when they spoke of their fears. By spending time with them, he learned that they wanted to be warriors and how much they longed to walk the path of honor. Wolf was a fool to deny the Dragoons that.

Jaime Wolf's old man's ways would cost both him, and the Dragoons, if nothing were done.

When the Clans had returned to the Inner Sphere, life had changed forever. A new order was at hand. Elson was part of that new age, and those around him could see it. Soon all the Dragoons would know it.

26

From behind a concealed panel Subhash Indrahar's powered chair rolled into the chamber, the tatamimats crackling under pressure from the tires. The hated Ninyu advanced with him, stopping to stand behind his adopted father. Ninyu directed the squad of black-clad ISF troopers who followed him, coordinating their positioning with a second squad who entered by the doorway from the gardens. Each trooper held a Shimatsu 42, a short-barreled machine pistol made long-snouted by a sound suppressor.

While Michi stood gauging the new arrivals, the Coordinator took a step back, removing himself from the danger of Michi's sword.

"Your arrival is timely, old friend," he said to Subhash.

"So it would seem," Subhash replied, giving his famous smile.

Michi sensed confusion in the Coordinator and tasted the flavor of it in himself. Michi was armed and the Coordinator was not, but Indrahar was focused on Takashi.

The ISF Director spread his hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. "We find ourselves in a most regrettable situation, Takashi -sama. Saving you from this man will only preserve you for a short while. Jaime Wolf is already on his way down from orbit, fully prepared to meet you in a duel."

"As I intended," Takashi said in a cautious voice.

Subhash stopped smiling. "I warned you that this course held no good for the Combine. You chose not to heed me."

"As much as I value your advice, old friend, it is honor that compels my actions."

A brief frown flickered across Indrahar's face. "The Combine's survival is your honor, as it is mine. This duel with Wolf is counter to that survival. It should not take place."

"My life is of little consequence to the Combine's survival. If I fail, Theodore will succeed me. He will rule well."

"Well enough, when his time comes," Indrahar agreed, again with a smile. "I had hoped it would not be for some time, but even Theodore cannot save a Combine crippled beyond hope." The smile vanished as he added, "You did not have to accelerate matters to this point."

"I have followed the dictates of my honor and conscience."

"As a samurai?"

"Simply so."

"You are the Coordinator, not a simple samurai. You have concerns other than petty, insult-driven honor duels. This is no simple matter."

"No. It is not."

A wary look came into Indrahar's eyes. He folded his hands in his lap and said, "Regrettably, your decisions have forced the issue."