"All the loyalty in the worlds is insufficient to stand up to a BattleMech and defeat it," Tomoe countered.

"She's right," Theodore agreed. "We need warriors, trained fighters. I believe we'll find many among the yakuza. Michigan has informed me that some gangs even maintain MechWarriors. We need that strength."

"Noketsuna again," Ninyu said through clenched teeth. He heaved himself up from his seat and leaned over the table to stare into Theodore's eyes. "You are blinded by your bushido,tricked by the illusion of nobility. Do you think he's some kind of noble paladin just because he kills people for revenge and calls it a vendetta of honor? Perhaps you think you are play-acting in some galactic version of Chushingura.Well, you know what happened to the forty-seven ronin. They died."

"Wasn't their greatest virtue supposed to be loyalty, Ninyu- kun?" Tomoe asked. Her voice was light in tone, deliberately innocent.

Ninyu straightened and glared at her. He let out his breath through distended nostrils. His voice was brittle as he stomped to the door. "Go on then, be a fool. Go on to hell!" The door slammed.

With stance and expression broadcasting his outrage at Ninyu's poor manners, Fuhito offered, "I'll bring him back, Theodore- sama."

"Iie,"Theodore said. "Let him go work it off."

"You are better off without him, Tono,"Tomoe avered. "His attitude would be a hindrance to your efforts, making the issue of his skills irrelevant. I shall replace him."

"Always looking to get into the action, To-chan,"Theodore said with a smile. He had no doubt her skills could replace those of his nekogami-trained friend. Their workouts left him with no doubt that she retained all her finesse, though she had borne him two children. But he needed something else from her now. She had valuable assets far beyond her dark-night talents.

"You know I have a greater need of you in the sunlight. While I am trying to gain these allies, someone must cover my absences and handle the day-to-day business. Someone must oversee the reconstruction plans and guide the development of the regiments as we rebuild."

"What about Asano and Earnst?" she protested. "Armstrong?"

"All good officers, but I trust no one as much as you to see that the old, wild attitudes do not corrupt the rebuilt army. Those you suggest are vital to our future, but they do not yet have the vision. Only you have the strength to guide my plans when I am elsewhere." Theodore reached across the table toward the hands she held tightly clenched before her. At the tentative touch of his fingers, her tension relaxed. He felt her surrender to his argument, submitting to necessity, though her heart wished otherwise. For all her teasing that he was unreasonably bound by giri,she, too, understood the iron call of duty.

"Trust Fuhito- kunbefore the others, though," he said. "He's matured into an excellent officer with a superior tactical sense. More important, he understands our goals and has a firm grasp of my intent.". Theodore ignored the look of surprise that washed over Fuhito's features. "Dechan- kunand his lady Jenette will help you as well. You cannot trust them with everything, of course, but I believe you can rely on them to train soldiers. Their Dragoon experience will be invaluable.

"I cannot be in two places at once. While I search for new soldiers, someone must guide the old. I need you to do that, To -chan."

She nodded. He sensed the fear that she felt for him. That was understandable. He certainly wasn't blind to the danger. The criminal underworld of the Combine was a dangerous place, a world unto itself whose rules he didn't understand. From what Michi had told him, his position as Heir-Designate might not be sufficient armor. The yakuza, or some other underworld denizens, might be just as happy to see Theodore die as talk to him. But this was a job that only he could do, for only he had any hope of commanding allegiance from the outlaw yakuza. He wanted to hold Tomoe, to kiss away her fear and thereby lose his own. He could not. Even here among his closest friends, propriety forbade it.

Michi stirred. "Time to go," he announced.

42

Pleasure Quarter, Deber City, Benjamin

Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine

15 January 3031

Sound struck Theodore with almost physical force as Michi opened the door into the bar. The pounding, cardiac beat overwhelmed all noise from the milling inhabitants of the dim chamber, which was darker by far than the neon-strobed night of the street. Spotlit on platforms suspended by gossamer threads above the crowded floor, scantily clad dancers gyrated provocatively. Not until one of the women misstepped and nearly plunged from her platform did he realize that the dancers were not holographic projections, but were real. Of course. Live entertainers cost much less and had other capabilities no holo ever would.

Theodore started down the five steps to the main floor, following his companion. While Michi paused at the bottom to scan for a path through the milling bodies and crowded gambling tables, Theodore observed the grim-faced pair of rogues reflected in the mirror-like metal wall just opposite where they stood. One was significantly taller than the other, but their garb was almost identical. They could have been any two of the thousands of restless soldiers who roamed the Combine, unwilling or unable to return to their homeworlds after their regiments were shattered in the recent war. No one would guess that these two were the Heir-Designate and a former officer of the Ryuken.

Michi's faded tan overcoat swathed his body from neck to ankle. The caped shoulders flared out, widening his silhouette at chest level. The Kurita dragon dyed into the leather of the right shoulder padding was a pale serpent, almost invisible. The battered disk clasping the coat rode somewhat higher than on Theodore's, allowing an observer a clearer look at the distressed battle jacket and heavy sidearm belted on it. While Theodore carried his own two swords, Michi had a single, long sword slung on his back, the grip protruding over his left shoulder. The hilts of all three weapons had scuffed, nondescript fittings and braid.

Turning from their reflection, Theodore observed a woman weaving toward them through the crowd. Deftly avoiding or countering hands that snaked out to grope her or delay her passage, she was clearly used to receiving such attention. Michi stepped into her path, blocking Theodore's view of the woman's red-sheathed form. Unable to hear their conversation, Theodore was surprised to see Michi pull out a folded piece of paper. A large denomination C-bill was held to its underside. The woman smiled at Michi and took a step back. His offering vanished into the soft crevice between her breasts, which heaved visibly in the circular cutout of her dress. The woman waved a nonchalant hand toward the bar and turned away.

Michi nudged his companion with an elbow and tilted his head in the direction of the bar. Theodore nodded and followed willingly. Two stools emptied as they approached.

Michi slid onto one, pointed at the dirty cups already present, and held up a hand with the last three fingers extended. The paunchy ugly behind the bar nodded and poured two cups, holding them in one greasy paw until Michi slipped several C-bills into his other, outstretched hand. Theodore sat next to Michi and picked up his drink. His nose wrinkled at the foul stink of the booze, but he downed it, for the sake of his disguise. They waited.