A faint smile touched Minobu's face but it vanished with his attempt to stand. He swayed from the pain that shot through his leg. Shifting his weight onto his cane, he steadied himself. The knife-sharp pain subsided to an ache under the driving force of his will. “I have enough pains right now.”

Annoyance struggled with sympathy on Wolf's face.

“I apologize for my lack of courtesy. Come, have some tea,” Minobu said, gesturing with his free hand.

Minobu and Jaime moved out into the garden. Walking along the gravel paths, they passed miniature castles and carefully tended dwarf trees. As they reached the top of the bridge over the stream, Minobu halted.

“You have done what you could,” he said, picking up the earlier thread of the conversation. “If I am disappointed with the Ryuken's performance on Barlow's End, I should not take it out on you.”

“It was a bad break to have the Horsemen show up there. You couldn't have anticipated it. Problems like that can make even experienced units look bad.” Wolf's comment told Minobu that Jaime also had concerns over the outcome of the ill-fated raid.

“Kelly says your people were doing just fine until Satoh got hold of them.”

Satoh! Minobu frowned at the mention of that name. Samsqnov's pawn had been incompetent and unthinking—a dangerous fool! Minobu mastered his passion and relaxed the muscles of his face. There were more suitable topics for polite conversation. He would not speak of that man and what he had allowed to happen on Barlow's End, not even to Jaime.

“How is Major Yukinov?”

“I got him the best available. He's been back to duty for a week, limping a little though. The myomer implant didn't set quite right.”

Jaime's voice faltered as he realized that he had touched on a subject that was difficult for Minobu to face.

During the weeks in which he'd waited for his own surgery, Minobu had not seen Wolf. Kurita Brotherhood physicians had attended him and replaced the mangled arm and leg with artificial limbs. They assured him that he would be able to do everything almost as well as before the accident. The prostheses Minobu had received could not compare to the myomer substitution technology that Wolf had arranged for Yukinov, however. Minobu was grateful that he could still pilot a 'Mech, even if it was at reduced efficiency, but he couldn't help but feel some envy. Still, his kiwould help to overcome any remaining disability.

Jaime tried to revive the conversation by turning to business. “Kelly's busy whipping Alpha back into shape. Already I'm hearing gripes that they had it easy with J.E. in charge. Kelly runs a much tighter operation and doesn't allow the latitude Jamison gives Zeta's hellions. Alpha will be back in action soon.”

“Your losses were serious?”

“Serious enough,” Jaime said. Just as in the old days on Quentin, he offered no details, keeping his secrets. “We'll recover, though. We have our ways.”

“Ah, yes. Your mysterious source of supplies and troops that lies out in the Periphery. The greatest of the Dragoon secrets.”

Wolf stopped and stared up at his taller companion. “Look here, Minobu. What are you playing at with all this baiting?”

“Am I baiting you?”

“Unity! There you go again. I'm not one of your zen students to be answered with a question.” Jaime shifted to his drill-field voice. “What's the game?”

“If it is a game, it is not frivolous,” Minobu answered gravely. “There is tension, distance, between us today. I know my own concerns, but not yours. I do know you well enough to see that you're avoiding something unpleasant. Speak frankly.”

Minobu and Jaime locked eyes for a moment. Without signaling any surrender, Jaime said, “Let's cut the games, then.”

Minobu nodded.

“I came to talk to you about what's happening with the regiments,” Jaime began. “This Akuma bastard is still making trouble every time I turn around. It just keeps getting worse. I've got officers calling for his head. We're headed for a flash point.

“I smell Samsonov's hand in it. He's certainly letting Akuma jerk us around. We've also heard that he's been dropping hints all over the Combine that the Dragoons are out of control. That we are too strong. That we are a threat to Combine security. Youknow better than that!

“I think they're going to try to break up the regiments again.” Wolf's shoulders slumped. Having finally spoken of his problem, his energy seemed to ebb.

“Which you will never allow.” Minobu put his hand to his head. It ached again as much as in the first week after the accident, but it could not be from his injuries. Those headaches had stopped a month ago. “Why have you come to me?”

'The Dragoons are threatened,” Jaime answered softly. “And you will do anything, even use up your friends, to protect them.”

“Yes.” There was no contrition in Wolf's voice.

Minobu spent a long time gazing out across the pond. Jaime stood silent at his side. Wolf's admission brought a new light into their relationship. Each knew that Minobu's response would affect their friendship irrevocably.

“What would you have me do?” Minobu asked.

“You understand our situation and you know that the Dragoons are giving the Combine good, honest service. Talk them out of it. Tell them the truth and uncover Samsonov's lies. You were appointed by the Coordinator himself. You've got weight. I'm asking you to use it.”

“If I try to do as you ask, I can make no promises about results. And there are things I need to know.” When Wolf frowned, he added, “I am not asking for your secrets. I need to know what you will accept. What is the limit?”

“Bottom line?”

“Yes.”

Wolf wet his lips and drew a breath. “The bottom line is that each regiment must stay together. I won't have even one of them broken up, and I won't let the independent units be isolated from the rest. As long as we have An Ting, I'll keep up the rotations to the planet because I won't leave our civilians defenseless.”

“I would not think of asking that.” Neither man felt it appropriate to mention that others might request that very thing. Minobu looked out over the garden, weighing Jaime's words. “Your position is not unreasonable. Perhaps the Coordinator will listen.”

“But you expect Samsonov will be hard to argue down.”

“Yes. He is a Warlord. The failure on Barlow's End has given him reason to flex his muscle. The action of your troops there will be hard to deny.”

“We won't deny it,” Jaime said matter-of-factly. “We did what we had to do. I'll give you all the data I can—tapes, transcripts, sworn statements. Anyone with half a brain will see that we only did what had to be done.

“The Dragoon combat record is good, better even than most Sword of Light Regiments. We are valuable to the Combine. Takashi Kurita will surely see that my troops are worth more to him than satisfying some megalomaniac's ego.”

Minobu studied Jaime's earnest, imploring expression. The Colonel was calling on Minobu's loyalty to a friend and comrade in adversity. That would be enough for many men, but Minobu was also bound by other chains. Because he had saved Jaime Wolf's life, he was responsible for Jaime's actions. Under all laws, Jaime, as a commander, was responsible for his troops. That meant Minobu was also responsible for their actions. If the Dragoons acted against the Combine, Minobu would be responsible. He could not allow the Dragoons to be forced into unjustified acts of rebellion.

“Very well, friend Jaime. I will try.”

29

Hoshon Mansion , Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

1 December 3026

 

Michi opened the door to Minobu's study, expecting to see his mentor at work, but the room was vacant. In one corner lay the shards of several shattered vases, their delicate shapes destroyed forever. Curious, he stepped into the room. Near the workstation, he found traces of blood.