MacKenzie glanced at Theodore. "With one regiment in Imperial City, you must be planning to fight nearby. What is your choice of position?"

The Kanrei signaled his son to provide a map. A green neon topographical representation of Imperial City and the surrounding area floated above the table. Small red rectangles represented the units to be used in defense of the capital.

"Logistical necessities force us to battle within a fifty-klick radius of Imperial City. Luthien is so heavily industrialized that virtually any other venue would cause incalculable civilian injuries, not to mention damage to industry. We are fortunate that, aside from Turtle Bay, the Clans have fought a clean war. Even if they lost the battle but destroyed our industry, we would still be hamstrung. As it is, we intend to evacuate Imperial City the moment the Clans appear insystem."

Theodore pointed to a flat plain that stood beyond the hills that ringed Imperial City like fortifications. "This is the Tairakana Plain. We intend to defend here, then use the hills to fight a delaying battle as we come back toward the city. The hills will shorten ranges so that the Clans no longer have a gross equipment advantage. Our companies that have undergone field modification will act as a harassing force to keep the enemy concentrated on one front. If the Clan forces want to spread out and encircle the city, that's to our advantage, but we cannot allow then to flank our forces and cut them off from the city."

"Agreed." Morgan Kell stroked his snowy beard. "With us, you add seven regiments to your number, three of those—my first and two of Jamie's units—are equipped with Clan-type weaponry. With our strength added to yours, will you want to modify the plan?"

Theodore folded his arms over his chest. "Not substantially. What I really hope to do is use your regiments as reserves to bolster our line." He nodded to Hohiro, and symbols for the mercenary regiments appeared in several locations in the hills. "We will be holding the only quick route through the hills, so if the Clans pierce our line, they will lay open the way to the capital. If we fail, the fate of Luthien is in your hands."

"lie!"

The fear and fury breathed into that single word shocked Shin. As his head snapped around, he saw Takashi Kurita stalking through the doors. Silhouetted by the light from the open door, the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine gave off outrage like heat waves from a fusion engine. He stopped before Jaime Wolf, giving the mercenary a cobra-like stare. "So, the rumor is true. My son brings his treason home with him."

Takashi turned on his son. "It is not enough that you leave Luthien for nine months to consult with our enemy, but now you bring him here! Then I find you turning over to him responsibility for the safety of Imperial City!" Takashi faltered. "Maximilian Liao was fortunate in his child. At least Romano had the mercy to assassinate him before destroying his nation."

"If that is truly your mind, shall I get a gun and shoot you?"

At Theodore's reply, Yoshida and Hideyoshi looked in horror at the Coordinator, who seemed refueled rather than crushed by his son's words. Takashi's head came up and his dark eyes flashed ominously. "Your acquiescence comes too late to bring me solace. I have acknowledged your right to command the military forces of the Combine, and I would not unman you by stripping you of your office now." He fought to keep pain from his face. "Do not emasculate your own nation by putting the fate of our Imperial City in the hands of yoheiunits."

Theodore pointed toward the map. "As you can see, father, our forces are arrayed to bear the brunt of the attack. We will do all we can to be sure we never need the mercenaries' help. It is the DCMS that defends the capital; the mercenaries are only here to offer support." The Kanrei fell silent, the muscles of his face working as he struggled for inner control. "Besides, father, what unit would we draw off to ward the capital? We have no others."

Takashi shook his head as though rebuking a foolish child. "You have one more unit, Kanrei." His tone dripped scorn. "It is the one composed of my own bodyguards and of Mech Warriors who fought boldly long before you were born. These troops are known as the Dragon's Claws." The Coordinator raised his head and matched his son's stare without surrendering anything. "We will draw the line, and with me at their head, not a single Clansmen will cross it."

37

Stortalar City , Gunzburg

Radstadt Province, Free Rasalhague Republic

31 December 3051

To set foot once more into the Iron Jarl's antechamber sent a chill down Phelan Wolf's spine. With his ceremonial Wolf mask hiding his face, none who guided him toward Tor Miraborg's office guessed his identity or that he might have reason for unpleasant memories of the place. These guides had not been present two and a half years earlier when Jarlwards had conducted Phelan, severely beaten and half naked, to see their master.

And they wouldn't know that his office was the last place I ever saw Tyra.Phelan recalled the few minutes they'd had together, holding one another on the red leather bench in the room. This is where she gave me the belt buckle she'd made.He let his anger at Vlad rekindle his hatred for Tor Miraborg. If not for her father, Tyra would have come with him and the Kell Hounds, and he'd never have ended up on his odyssey with the Clans.

The hooded, charcoal gray cloak Phelan wore was just a shade darker than his leather garments and enamel mask. The cloak's wolf-fur trim broadened the shoulders of his silhouette and gave him a more imposing air. The mask, whose jutting muzzle and bared teeth resembled the head of his

Wolfhound,made him look truly ferocious. None of his escorts got too close, not did they speak to him unnecessarily.

As for Phelan, he spoke not at all.

He had disguised himself according to Natasha's suggestion because he relished the idea of fooling Tor Miraborg. Yet on the way down to the planet and after being met by lesser officials, his outlook on his mission changed. Were he there only to take revenge on Miraborg, he would have done anything to shatter the man.

I would have treated him as Vlad treated me.

That was the realization that struck Phelan just after stepping from the shuttle Carew had piloted down to the Gunzburg. While greeting Miraborg's envoys, he saw their unmistakable terror. All paid him great deference, continually apologizing for what they feared might be Tor Miraborg's hostile reaction to him. As one explained, "Well, the Varldherre is a military man, jalYou will understand him and his ways, jaT

Suddenly Phelan's little game took on great importance. Not only must he win Gunzburg's surrender for the honor of the Wolves, fie also had to win it for the people of Gunzburg. Should he fail and the mission fall to Marcos to complete, Phelan knew the Crusader would stop at nothing for a quick victory. Nor would Marcos shrink from acts of brutality if he thought they could redeem him.

First, I win the planet's freedom, then I make the Iron Jarl pay!

When a civilian official opened the door to the Iron Jarl's office, Phelan felt as though his last time here was only hours before, not years. Seated in his wheelchair behind a massive mahogany desk, Tor Miraborg still looked every bit the strong leader a world like Gunzburg needed. His silver hair was trimmed short and shaved at the temples as though he were planning to strap himself into a 'Mech when the invasion came. The stripes of dark hair in his white beard still tugged down at the corners of his mouth, reminding Phelan of a badger's striped fur.