At their head was Minobu Tetsuhara, deputized by the absent PSL officer. Following him was his aide Michi and Sho-saCharles Earnst, his second-in-command of Ryuken- ni. With them was Tai-iDela Saraguchi and a detachment of six of her security troopers. The group's grim faces cleared their path without the need to speak a word.

They climbed the long stairs at the front of the office building and passed into the shadows of the portico. As they crossed the line of supporting pillars, Minobu looked up at the fierce faces of the guardian Myoo into whose shapes the columns had been carved. The resolution there was unmistakable. Grant, oh great spirits, that my own resolve be as strong,he asked of them.

A quartet of Dragoon sentries stood by the door, their faces showing only puzzlement and concern. The Kuritans swept past them without acknowledging the ragged salutes.

The warm air of the lobby was an abrupt change from the temperatures outside. As he walked up to the desk, Minobu noted the modifications that had been wrought in the building since the Dragoons had occupied it. Gone were the inspirational posters showing Lord Kurita urging the government workers to productivity for the Combine. Gone, too, were the works of art set there to inspire the spirits of those same workers. The Dragoons had stripped the place for utilitarian efficiency. If they could have removed the Myoo without damaging the building, they probably would have.

“Where is Colonel Wolf?” Minobu asked the Lieutenant seated at the reception desk.

“The Colonel is in the middle of a session in the conference room, Tas-saTetsuhara.” The man was good at his job and showed no surprise at the armed security troopers. Maintaining his pleasant tone, the Lieutenant went on, “If you and your party will take seats in the waiting area, I'm sure he will see you as soon as he is finished.”

“Secure the desk,” Minobu ordered without looking at his men. “Noketsuna, take over the commnet.”

Before the Dragoon Lieutenant could protest, two of the troopers had him by the arms. The stunners in the hands of the rest of the Kurita soldiers stifled the captive's attempt to protest. Outnumbered and with no desire to experience the unpleasant effects of those weapons, he let himself be marched to the waiting area. As his captors led him from the desk, the Lieutenant could see the lone figure of Minobu striding down the interior corridor. It had all happened so quickly and quietly that the guards outside were undisturbed.

Minobu had no trouble finding the conference room. He had often been there in happier times. His PSL-validated keycard overrode the lock and the door hissed open. When Minobu entered the room, heads turned in his direction, and all discussion ceased.

He surveyed the faces. Some showed minor annoyance at an interruption. Others looked confused or surprised. A few revealed naked hatred. Minobu presumed it was not directed at him personally. His kisenses agreed that the ill-will was directed at his uniform. The Dragoons had been given reason to hate the symbols of House Kurita.

Seated at the far end of the table was Jaime Wolf. His face showed nothing of his thoughts, and Minobu could not sense the mercenary's emotions. Jaime was an enigma.

Natasha Kerensky broke the tableau. “You didn't get an invitation. What do you want here, Snake?” she hissed. Hers had been one of the openly hostile faces.

Minobu ignored her and addressed Jaime Wolf. “I have just received a communique from Warlord Samsonov. It is a matter that bears immediate discussion.”

“We are in the middle of a strategy session,” Wolf stated.

“It is your strategies that are at issue here.”

“Very well. Take a seat.” As Minobu moved to do so, grumbling rose around the table. “Damp it, people,” Wolf ordered. “We're going to hear him out.”

As Minobu approached the table, Colonel Shostokovitch rose and gestured for Minobu to take his seat. The big bear of a man then moved down the length of the table to stand beside Wolf. He seemed content to observe the proceedings, standing with arms crossed across his chest.

Minobu settled himself in the vacated chair, and placed a message flimsy on the table. He made no move to open it or to pass it to the Dragoons on either side of him. “The Warlord has sent me an account of last month's action on Udibi.”

Minobu waited for a reaction or an explanation from Wolf, but none came. Silence stretched uncomfortably. He tried again. “The Warlord states that Wolf's Dragoons have made an unauthorized incursion into enemy space. In response, he has filed a formal protest of insubordination with the Coordinator's office.”

“Not treason?” Colonel Korsht asked.

“No. Treason is impossible from mercenaries,” Minobu pointed out.

“But that's what he means, isn't it?” Korsht continued. “I am not privy to the Warlord's thoughts, Colonel. It is possible. In any case, the charge is serious.” Minobu's eyes passed across the faces of the other officers. “The Warlord has prepared a number of other charges as well, not the least of which is breach of contract.”

That excited a babble of protest, as Minobu had known it would. Just as Akuma must have known it would, too. Minobu wondered if the former Sworder had deliberately chosen him as a messenger in a move to focus Dragoon hostility against Minobu rather than himself. There was nothing Minobu could do about it. The Warlord had ordered him to take the place of the PSL officer on this mission, and he could not refuse.

“The Dragoons have taken no actions that violate the strict wording of our contract with the Draconis Combine,” Wolf said.

Minobu had hoped that his friend would deny the charge and offer proof to back up that denial. Instead, Wolf's words left Minobu with no doubt that the Dragoons had conducted the raid on Udibi, just as Samsonov reported. The carefully chosen wording meant that Wolf was relying on legalistic interpretations. A merchant's trick, not a samurai's solution. “Then you do not deny that the Dragoons have conducted a raid on the Federated Suns planet of Udibi.”

“As commander of the Dragoons, I will neither confirm nor deny anything until I see the specifications of the charges.”

“Very well, Colonel Wolf.”

Minobu thought he caught a flash of distress in Wolf's eyes at the formal address, but he could not be sure. Wolf sat today as master of his troops, not as Minobu's friend. There had been a bond between them, but it was strained and perhaps broken now. For the sake of what once was, Minobu felt compelled to speak.

“The wording in Warlord Samsonov's account of the Udibi action shows that he is furious. He is a man who does not take kindly to being embarrassed. As far as he is concerned, your success speaks against you in this. It has also been related to me, in private, that he has sworn the destruction of the Dragoons if they break faith with House Kurita. Regardless of your fidelity to the Combine, he seems to feel that your actions have touched his honor. A shamed man may take drastic steps. Even when such steps may not be in his own best interest, shame may drive him on.”

Wolf sat quietly for a moment after Minobu finished. He interlaced his fingers and ran them back and forth across each other. Still looking at his hands, Wolf asked, “Are you saying that he will try to destroy us anyway?”

“I am not sure what he will do.” Minobu took a deep breath. “He has warned me that he will have the head of any Kuritan who aids Wolf's Dragoons against the Combine ... or against him.”

“We don't need any help against that toad-licking slime snake,” Kerensky boasted. “The Dragoons can kick his butt to Aldebaran and back. If he tries anything, that's just what we'll do.”

Dragoons around the table chorused agreement. Out of the midst of the insults and complaints about ungrateful employers, Kerensky's voice rose again. “Let's cut them off now, Colonel. Unity knows they've asked for it.”