Ninyu held the mask high to let light illuminate its black lacquered interior. He pointed to the two needles jutting out beneath the eyeholes. Each tip was coated in a dull brown substance.

"No joke," he said. "Anyone who wore this mask would die a painful death. This is a hint.

"In some traditions, the tenguwere the original tutors of the ninja. In my year of training with a nekogami sensei,I learned something of the many ancient customs and beliefs that the nekogami observe. They take the tenguas their ancestors, venerating them as they do the generations of ninja who tie them to ancient Japan. The Spirit Cats are very traditional." Ninyu handed the mask back to Theodore. "They are not happy with you."

"What did I do?" Theodore asked innocently.

"You said they were your agents on Dromini VI."

"I thought it would give the officers more confidence. The nekogami are feared throughout the Inner Sphere. If the generals knew we were relying on our own sleeper agents and half-trained volunteers ..

"Just because a strike team wears black suits doesn't mean they are nekogami, no matter what you call them. Frak! It doesn't even mean that they're ninja. You could have said the ISF would take care of it."

Theodore thought he detected a note of hurt pride in Ninyu's voice. "The generals are simple military men. They've little faith in the agents of the ISF and believe commando raids should be left to their own specialists, such as the Draconis Elite Strike Teams and professionals like the nekogami. They would not have believed that I had arranged for a DEST attack without alerting the Coordinator or the Warlord. Since no one really knows how and where to contact the nekogami, I thought they might believe I had somehow gotten access to them."

Ninyu shook his head. "Using the nekogami's name without their permission was a bad idea. One of the bigger clans like the Kageyoruor the Dofheicthewould have been a better choice. They may not be as good as the nekogami, but they aren't quite so fanatically possessive of their reputation. You could have gotten almost as good an effect without angering the Cats."

"I'll be more circumspect in the future."

Tapping a finger on the mask in Theodore's hands, Ninyu said, "You'd better be."

35

Ducal Palace, Kanashimi, Dromini VI

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

15 September 3029

"You bastard! How could you sit here and listen to me prattle on about honor and agree with me when you were planning such treachery?"

Enraged at the news he had just received, Theodore swept the visiphone across the taboret. The comm device smashed into the fine crystal decanters and took them crashing to the hard marble floor. Even before the shards of crystal bottles and ancient ceramic sakebowls landed, Theodore had drawn his sidearm. Driven by fury and frustration, he leveled it at the man kneeling in the center of the room.

Duke Frederick Steiner, ankles manacled and left arm still linked to the hobble by a short length of chain, stiffened. Rising as erectly as possible under the circumstances, he lifted his chin and met Theodore's gaze defiantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said calmly. The Duke's eyes never wavered to the pistol whose single, black-eyed stare was directed between the Lyran's blue eyes. Theodore could not help but admire such cool acceptance of the death before him.

The Duke's serenity touched Theodore despite his rage. Perhaps Frederick Steiner was, indeed, a true warrior. Perhaps he did not know. Ever since the Duke had landed at the head of a Steiner raiding force to cripple Theodore's invasion plans by destroying his carefully hoarded supplies,

Frederick Steiner had conducted himself well. He had fought fairly and with great courage, and nearly led his single regiment of BattleMechs to victory against the three Kurita 'Mech units already onplanet. The fervor he had inspired in his men was a testament to his leadership.

Unable to sense a hint of treachery in the man before him, Theodore banked his anger. The Duke had to be a dupe of his cousin and ruler, Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth.

"No. Youwould not have resorted to such trickery," Theodore said, speaking his conclusion aloud. "Your cousin sent Loki agents to cripple the JumpShips of my fleet. Four have blown helium tanks, two have had their solar recharging exchangers destroyed, and the last has lost its station-keeping engine. That one is currently falling toward the sixth planet, though other ships should be able to stabilize its orbit." Theodore's voice rose in anger as he described the damage done by the Steiner saboteurs. "What you fail to do in honorable combat, sheaccomplishes by trickery."

"Get used to it, Theodore. It is the way of things. Politicians will forever betray warriors because what we observe as the conventions of war they exploit as our weakness," Frederick said with a smile.

Theodore's anger flared again, the Duke's smile enraging him. Frederick's acceptance of such an intolerable condition was disgusting, unbecoming. How dare he be so smug while Theodore's dreams to save the Combine turned to smoke around him? His finger tightened on the trigger.

Through the walls of his anger, Theodore sensed satisfaction and a feeling of completion coming from Frederick. Despite all that had happened to him, this man was ready to die to see his state continue.

As much as Theodore wanted to lash out because of the destruction of his own ambitions, his dreams for hisown state, Theodore knew that this was not right. This man was not responsible for the dishonorable deceits of his ruler. Frederick was an honorable warrior, and Theodore could not shoot down such a samurai while he knelt in chains.

Theodore's finger had been increasing its pressure on the Nambu's trigger while he struggled with his thoughts. Honor overcame rage, but only in time for Theodore to redirect his aim. The Nambu boomed, obscenely loud within the confines of the room.

The slug slammed Frederick in the side of the head. The Duke jerked backward, toppling to the floor. His free hand pawed feebly at his wound, smearing the blood. Then, with a sudden shiver, the Duke went limp.

Theodore took a half-step forward, afraid his decision to spare Frederick had been too late. Blood gushed from the Lyran's fingers to foul the elaborate pattern of the carpet where he lay. Theodore let out a sigh when he saw that Frederick still breathed.

Guards exploded into the room. Eyes wide and weapons ready, they searched for any danger to the Prince. Reassured by Theodore's ready weapon and obviously uninjured condition, they subsided into cautious watchfulness. Three slung their weapons in preparation for removing the Lyran. Their manner indicated that they assumed Frederick to be dead. Theodore halted them with a raised hand.

"Send for the Brotherhood physician." He holstered his pistol. When the confused guards were slow to respond, he snapped, "Quickly!"

Two guards collided in the doorway in their haste to do his bidding.

The doctor arrived to find Theodore attempting to stanch the flow of blood. Surrendering his patient to the expert, Theodore stood back and watched. After a few minutes, the doctor stood up. "There is no more that I can do here," he announced blandly. "He must be taken to the infirmary."

"See to it," Theodore ordered sharply, pointing to a pair of guards. He turned to the physician, who flinched back from him. Feeling the tightness of his facial muscles, Theodore realized how grim must be his countenance to make the other man react so. "Your prognosis, Doctor -san."