SUDDENLY, THEODORE SENSED THE PRESENCE OF A BLACK-CLAD FIGURE.
It was very near and he cursed himself for having missed it till now. Soon a hand snaked out of the gutter to snare his ankle. Before he could react, he was toppling to the pavement. Rolling as soon as he hit the ground, he caught a glimpse of a manhole cover blowing into the air. A shadow followed the disk, erupting like a demon from the nether hells. The dark figure landed lightly on the street and snaked by, turning in a rustle of black fabric and the glint of polished steel.
As he faced his opponent, Theodore realized he had been hit because there was blood on the other's blade. The wound felt small, a tiny cut just above the left hip. He. hoped his body was not lying to him, concealing the awful truth of a mortal wound. He had no more time to wonder. The other was moving and Theodore must defend himself. ...
BATTLETECH
08618
HEIR TO THE DRAGON
Robert N. Charrette
ROC
Published by the Penguin Group
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Published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc. Previously appearedin a fasa edition.
First Roc Printing, September, 1996 10 987654321
Copyright © fasa Corporation, 1989 All rights reserved
Series Editor: Donna Ippolito Cover art by Bruce Jensen registered trademark—marca registrada battletech, fasa, and the distinctive battletech and fasa logos are trademarks of the fasa Corporation, 1100 W. Cermak, Suite B305, Chicago, II 60608.
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. books are available at quantity discounts when used to promote products or services. for information please write to premium marketing division, penguin books usa inc., 375 hudson street, new york, new york 10014.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
This one's just for you, ERJ
The author wishes to thank all of those who helped in their varying ways and degrees, especially Donna Ippolito, Jim Musser, Boy F. Petersen, Julie Guthrie, Eric Johnson, and Anthony Pryor.
Prologue
Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
3 February 3004
Subhash Indrahar seemed a solidification of the night as he stepped between his minions and into the bedchamber. His black ISF duty uniform was immaculate from the high collar to the soft, split-toed boots. Unlike the men who preceded him, he had made no sound while crossing the nightingale flooring of the porch between the room and the private gardens.
The Assistant Director of the ISF swept the room with his eyes, swiftly filing away a mental picture for later reference. His own Internal Security Force men took up strategic positions, discreetly covering all exits. None of the five showed any reaction to the blood-spattered corpse sprawled on the sleeping mats at the center of the chamber. Four of the other five men in the room were Otomo, the vaunted bodyguards of the Coordinator. They shifted nervously, showing the proper amount of fear and respect at Subhash's entrance. The fifth man was Takashi Kurita, his long-time friend.
Takashi stood still, his back to Subhash. The younger man was looking down at the body lying at his feet, the corpse of Hohiro Kurita, Takashi's father and Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. With the murder of Hohiro, Takashi succeeded him as the head of House Kurita and ruler of the star-spanning Draconis Combine.
Indrahar found Takashi's lack of emotion mildly disturbing. Briefly, he wondered how much more the Otomo must fear this calm acceptance of death. The bodyguards, having failed in their duty to protect their master, waited anxiously for Takashi's reaction. They had been entrusted with protecting the life of the Coordinator. Indrahar's arrival was a reminder that they would have to answer for their failure when the ISF questioning began. No one kept secrets from the watchdogs of Kurita society, save by taking those secrets to the -grave. Some of the bodyguards were doubtless contemplating suicide to expiate their shame, assuming they were not executed for the failure.
Silently, Takashi knelt by the body, heedless of the pool of congealing blood that began to soak sluggishly into the knees of his tan military fatigues. He reached out his right hand to lay gentle fingers on the cheek of the face ravaged by the sword stroke that had split Hohiro's skull. Takashi remained so for several minutes, ignoring Indrahar, who stepped closer.
"The circumstances surrounding my death will not matter to me, for I will be on my way to heaven," Takashi said softly. Subhash recognized the words as Hohiro's own, spoken by the arrogant lord just two years ago. "Is it so, Father?"
Subhash remembered something further the late Coordinator had said. "It is only those I leave behind who will discuss the matter." Subhash knew that discussion of this night's "matter" would soon begin, for the murder of the Coordinator would shake the Combine.
Abruptly, Takashi seemed aware of Subhash's presence. The ISF man bowed and said, "The Otomo have captured the assassin near the tea house, Takashi -sama."
Takashi grunted acknowledgement. Starting to rise, he slipped on the fouled mats. As he reached out his left hand to steady himself, it fell into a puddle of blood, splashing his sleeve and sliming his hand. Takashi stood without further incident, oblivious to the bloody picture he presented.
Subhash fell in behind his friend and they headed for the garden. Throughout the room, Otomo and ISF men bowed to the new Coordinator.
The two friends entered the garden, stepping out into the starlight and shattered peace. Around them, the palace churned with reaction to news of the night's disaster. Handheld lanterns bobbed among the cryptomeria trees as servants and minor officials scurried about asking each other for information concerning the disturbance. More Otomo and ISF agents stood scattered among the bushes and rocks, silent and still as the stone and bronze statues that graced the gardens.
Before the two men were halfway to the teahouse, the slap of bare feet on the wood of the garden's drum bridge caught Subhash's attention. He turned to speak to Takashi, but found him already looking in that direction. Coming toward them was Takashi's wife, Jasmine. She wore a hastily wrapped evening kimono and her long black hair was still tangled from sleep.
"Husband!" she cried, relief flooding her voice as she recognized Takashi's familiar, stocky silhouette. She slowed her run to a more sedate walk. "I awoke to find you gone and heard the guards running. I feared something had happened."