“This. It's good stuff, too. Axial flux patterns in fusion containment bottles, myomer stress reaction patterning.” She went on, becoming more and more intricate in detail. Lost in her technical world, the Tech didn't notice that Wolf just stood there watching her, his face hard.

“Bynfield, you're confined to quarters until further notice.”

“What!” She was shocked. It was clearly not what she had expected.

“You have jeopardized our position by disobeying orders. We agreed to pass that data over. All by yourself, you've broken our contract.”

Bynfield's mouth worked, but no wound came out.

“Can't we just turn it over now?” somebody else asked.

Wolf turned on him. “You haven't been studying your briefings. We're stuck. If anybody finds out about that tape, we're in trouble. I lose face for not having control over my troops.” His glance clearly indicated the “troops” in question. “Kurita loses face because he was generous in overlooking our little scene. Nobody wins.

“Kurita might decide we can't be trusted with anything. Then where are we? We sit out a five-year contract on garrison in the hinterlands. No combat bonuses. No loot shares. You all know that we can't afford that because the short contract with Steiner left us strapped.

“Besides, we have our reputation to consider. We're supposed to be the best, most reliable mercs in the Sphere. We break contract now and we start the slide down.”

Into the silence that greeted Wolf's words, Minobu heard someone suggest, “We could pack up and head for home.”

Wolf addressed his answer to all the Dragoons. “That's not an option right now.”

The silence fell again. After a moment, Wolf turned to Bynfield. “Bury it deep, Talia. For five years, it doesn't exist.”

Minobu could see her face reflect an inner struggle. An order to hide knowledge was obviously unpalatable to her. “Yes, Colonel,” she said finally.

As the impromptu meeting broke up, Wolf noticed Minobu watching and his eyes widened briefly in surprise. In those eyes, Minobu could see that the mercenary Colonel had forgotten the Kuritan's presence, and that meant he had spoken freely. The mercenary's speech had not been a staged performance. Minobu made Wolf a slight bow, and Wolf nodded before heading out of the vault.

Minobu pondered the incident. Wolf's command of Combine custom was correct, and his solution was as elegant as one could hope from a man who was not samurai. No one would expect Wolf or his people to commit seppukuover this conflict. Yet Wolf showed a genuine concern for loss of face, especially before Lord Kurita. Was it possible that a mercenary could be a truly honorable man?

In the few days Minobu had spent with Wolf's Dragoons, he had learned that many things were not as he had believed them to be. His stay with the Dragoons was going to be interesting, he decided. Very interesting.

* * *

Lord Kurita still found time to make a proper exit from Quentin IV. He bid formal farewell to the officers of the Dragoons whom he had met during his stay. He even found a word of praise for the exemplary work Senior Tech Bynfield had done in organizing the stripping of the Independence Weaponry complex. Before he boarded his DropShip, he stopped to speak to Minobu.

“You look much better now that you are back in uniform, Chu-saTetsuhara.”

Minobu bowed, unsure if he should respond. “Wolf's Dragoons could be a lasting benefit for the Combine. I expect good service from them.” Lord Kurita paused briefly, looking over the honor guard of Dragoon BattleMechs that had assembled for his departure. “Although a dutiful samurai should not expect it, a lord rewards good service.”

“Hai, Tono,”Minobu replied in response to the ancient proverb. He had heard that the Coordinator liked to couch his orders in such proverbs or in poems. He wondered if there were some special message in Lord Kurita's words or if his lord were merely stating a general principle.

Takashi Kurita turned then, indicating his intention to leave. Minobu bowed and immediately felt the heavy weight of the Coordinator's gaze on his back as he held the bow. All doubt about whether his lord had intended some special meaning vanished with Kurita's next words.

“Be a dutiful samurai, Chu-saTetsuhara.”

“ Hai, Tono.”

Takashi Kurita boarded the DropShip that would take him to his JumpShip. Before long, he would be back home in his Imperial City on Luthien.

13

Hoshon Mansion , Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

9 November 3024

The arrow thudded home two fingersbreadths from the previous shaft, completing the practice pattern on the fifth target. Minobu shifted his attention to the sixth target and selected another arrow. Fitting it to the string, he raised the bow above his head. He paused for an instant, then lowered the bow, bringing the arrow to full draw at the same time. He waited for the moment when archer, arrow, and target became one. He waited and ... “Husband!”

... the moment came—he released the arrow, letting it fly smoothly to its mark at the center of the target.

Now he could deal with Tomiko's interruption.

Minobu unstrung and racked the bow, then closed the cover to protect it and its fellows from An Ting's chill morning air. He turned to the house, shrugging his kimono on to his bare shoulders. In the doorway, his wife stood shivering in her robe.

When he stepped inside, she closed the panel behind him and reached to put her arms around his neck. “You are so cold, husband. Could you not practice your kyudoindoors?”

“If I did, I would have no need for you to warm me afterward,” he said, gathering Tomiko in his arms. Minobu found her lips while his hand reached for the tie that secured her raven hair at the nape of her neck. As he pulled her down to their futon,her hair fell free, bringing a new night sky to shroud their privacy.

She pulled back from his embrace. “Your aide, Captain Noketsuna, called. There is someone to see you.”

“Things are peaceful on the border.” He slid his hand down her neck, past the edge of her robe, and caressed her breast. “Let them wait.”

“He seemed concerned,” she persisted, though her voice was husky with the thrill of pleasure.

“Pity the poor samurai whose wife is more devoted to his duty than to him.”

She smiled teasingly as she poked him and slid free of his clasp. He returned her grin.

“If it is peaceful, there will be other times,” she said.

“Other times, eh? All right, I will be off to my duty.” A hint of mischief crept into his voice. “But I shall condone no complaints from my wife when I visit the pleasure quarter because she has no interest in me.”

He dodged the pillow whose fine cedarcine wood would have raised a serious bruise. It tumbled past him to strike harmlessly on the floor. When she did not join in his laughter, he saw that her face was serious.

“It is something to do with those awful Dragoons, isn't it?” Her words were more a statement than a question. “They will be your misfortune.”

“Most likely it is the Dragoons, but you should not speak of them so. Ever since I was assigned to them over a year and a half ago, they have been our goodfortune. As their liaison, I have been assigned this fine home, where we live in comfort. Our son Ito has been accepted for the spring term at Sun Zhang Academy. Could you ask for a surer sign of favor? It will guarantee him a post as a ‘MechWarrior.”

She sighed, unconvinced. “Sometimes it seems like an illusion. I worry so. You spend so much time with those ... mercenaries.”

Tomiko uttered the word with such distaste. Minobu wondered if his own voice had revealed the same scorn when he had learned of this assignment. If so, the scorn was gone now. He had learned much in his posting to the Dragoons.