20
The lionroaches were making their way up my neck when the door slammed open and three more DCMS officers stamped into the basement. One was dressed in the same dark grey uniform as Zakahashi and his juniors but the other two were wearing the elegant all black tunic, trousers and jackboots of senior officers. As Japanese orders were barked I felt one of the lionroaches climb across my chin then begin probing at my lower lip with it's horrid flickering little pincers ... I bit hard and caught the thing's head in my front teeth.
By this time I was a struggling, sweating, screaming, bleeding mess and I could hear harsh protesting from Zakahashi as one of the newcomers; a black skinned
Chu-i, hurried over to me and tugged and flicked the lionroaches from my crawling skin, then crushed them most satisfyingly under his boots. I gasped my undying gratitude and looked up at him, he looked to be in his mid twenties and was not a particularly handsome man, having a wide, flat nose and thick down turned lips, but his brown eyes were soulful and bright with intelligence. He bowed his head briefly to me and it reminded me of the move made by the
Panther in the plaza, this then must be the Tetsuhara mentioned by Zakahashi.
He then turned and there followed a one sided discussion, the senior officer who was wearing the apple green insignia of a DCMS
Chu-sa, a Leftenant-Colonel, was speaking softly, yet clearly firmly to Zakahashi, who was obviously protesting the summary cessation of my torture. However I could tell Zakahashi was on the back foot with this newcomer, as to each of Zakahashi's bitter protests the
Chu-sa would simply say a few quiet words and each time Zakahashi clearly backed down some more.
The
Chu-sa was perhaps in his mid thirties or so, he was not wearing a cap so his close shaven dark hair was visible, as were his glittering dark eyes and a face dominated by a long thin nose, he was not a tall man but he had an amazing presence to him. I don't believe in all that mystical Kuritan nonsense, but I swear I could feel an energy, a power, practically pulsing from him.
The third fellow was a handsome and youngish looking
Sho-sa, who seemed very deferential towards the
Chu-sa, presumably being his aide.
I wasn't to know it at the time, but those three newcomers would in later years go on to change the structure of the DCMS in ways that would have seemed impossible back in '13, and in future decades I was to be pumped by the DMI for my memories about them.
They were
Chu-sa Yorinaga Kurita, cousin to the Coordinator himself and then commander of one of the Second Sword's battalions. Even then he was regarded by the Kuritans and our military analysts alike as perhaps the deadliest MechWarrior then serving in the DCMS. Of course he went on to command the Second Sword for the next three years, until his fateful duel with Morgan Kell, and then vanished into the back of beyond until '27, when he reappeared at the head of the Genyosha, in my experience and opinion the best 'Mech regiment to ever fight for the Dragon. The black skinned
Chu-i was Minobu Tetsuhara, who would go on to become the godfather of the Ryuken and close friends with Jaime Wolf. The
Sho-sa was Narimasa Asano, who had then just joined the Second Sword's Command Staff and was clearly in awe of his new commander, as you will be aware he would one day inherit command of the Genyosha from his hero Yorinaga.
I wasn't aware of any of this back then of course and was simply grateful that it looked like these newcomers were going to haul my fat out of the fire, so to speak. Eventually Zakahashi shut up, bowed from his waist stiffly and the
Chu-sa turned and walked over to stand before me. His bright eyes fixed on mine and I felt a strange calmness descend upon me.
"
Konichi wa, Davion
san. I am
Chu-sa Kurita Yorinaga, I command these officers and offer my sincere apologies for their actions. War sometimes makes men forget the path of honour and can lead to these kind of acts ...
shigata ga nai." His voice was low, rich and soothing. I've never met another man, before or since, who had such dignity, such economy of movement, such control of mind and body.
"You are a MechWarrior of the Fourth Regiment of the Davion Guards are you not?" I nodded mutely. "Good. Please confirm for me ... is the First Prince here on Mallory's World?" I nodded again and a flicker of emotion showed in his face, his eyes gleamed all the more and he actually allowed a smile to break that emotionless face. I noted the other officers in the basement also smiled like cats that had been told a fat mouse would be along shortly and it was at that moment I twigged that this was
that Yorinaga Kurita; the best MechWarrior in an entire nation of skilled MechWarriors, direct cousin to the Coordinator, undoubtedly the pilot of the
Warhammer that Hillnas had dubbed 'Target Number One' and the man who had killed Jacques Labroc.
I was still a little stunned as, at orders from Yorinaga, Asano and Tetsuhara freed me from my bonds and helped me out past the still furiously scowling trio of Zakahashi, Elgin and Crenshaw. As I passed them I noted Zakahashi's wicked eyes fixed on mine and realised if I ever crossed his path again I could expect him to continue what had been interrupted. Being the man I am however, I couldn't resist a little twist of the knife and so at the door turned in my rescuers arms and threw Zakahashi a mocking wink and wrenching my right arm free from Asano for a moment, flipped Zakahashi the bird. The door closed just in time for me to avoid catching their reaction, but I heard what sounded like a great crash as Zakahashi presumably tore down the book shelves in fury.
* * *
Yorinaga left me in the care of Tetsuhara, who had me placed on a stretcher, carried across the plaza and into what was apparently once Colterville's best hotel. It had now been taken over as billets by the Second Sword's senior officers and staff.
As I was carried under another of those evil blasted Dragon flags, I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered a pleasantly air conditioned and clean smelling foyer. Infantry guards slammed smart Kuritan salutes and clicked their heels together as Tetsuhara led us into a plush, gilt decorated lift, which even had piped in classical music. It was a recent local rendition of
Oedipus at Colonus by Atreides and the blasted theme brought ma'ma to mind. I wondered if I'd have died down in that basement at the hands of Zakahashi what she would have said at my funeral, or memorial? Knowing her she'd have, admittedly correctly, said I'd reaped the wages of years of sin.
Tetsuhara had his soldiers carry me into a tidy suite with tall windows, it was rather vulgar for my tastes; all plush red velvet and stuffed leather armchairs, however it was certainly one hell of a big step up from the empty broom cupboard which had been my previous accommodation. The grunts carried me on my stretcher through to the bedroom and lifted me onto a soft bed, with recently washed linen sheets and big fluffy pillows.
"I shall have a Physician sent in ... ahh ... not Brother Physician Larraby though I think." Tetsuhara said softly and followed by the two soldiers walked out. I didn't even have the strength left to check if he'd left guards on the suite doors, though he doubtless did.
I awoke to find another of the turquoise and yellow robed monk-like Brother Physicians beside my bed, this one was a plump, shaven pated porker who was, and I swear on my precious life this is one hundred percent true, dancing and singing. It was a strange, other worldly thing to wake up to after all I'd been through and for a moment I thought it was another nightmare. The tub of suet was hopping from foot to foot, while humming and singing a lilting chant, his belly wobbling in time with the jig. I glanced down my body to note I'd been thoroughly cleaned and my wounds salved or bound with clean white bandages. My nostrils were full of the reassuring smells of anti-sceptic and fresh sheets. Stopping his little song and dance routine fatso smiled down at me.
"Ahh you are awake. Good, good. I have finished purifying you now. You feel better yes? I have thoroughly spoken to your wounds and they are now healing properly. If you need further of the Dragon's healing magic you should ring this bell here by your bed ... yes?" I looked at the chubby madman and nodded in amazement, as he then packed up a large medical bag, bowed deeply several times and backed out of my new bedroom.
It may be hard to credit, but that's how DCMS military surgeons act. They seem little better than witch doctors to civilised people like you and I, but I have to say from personal experience they could teach those arrogant sawbones from the AFFS Medical Division a thing or two. Talking to wounds and singing and dancing to purify the patient, might not be approved NAIS practice but I was feeling most recovered within a day or two, so who knows maybe the Snakes are onto something after all.
* * *
I soon became quite at home in my new 'cell'; properly deferential civilian staff cleaned my suite and changed my sheets daily, whilst under the gaze of the DCMS troopers acting as my jailors, indeed the servants would bow and scrape so much that they reminded me of my family's Killarnees and I settled down all the more.
I was given a clean, tan coloured set of DCMS military fatigues with all insignia removed, to wear about my suite and received three square meals a day and I have to say the food was top notch, especially for Mallory's World, judging by my previous experience of the catering industry there. I assume the old hotel kitchens were still being run and I was receiving the same grub as the Snake officers who were billeted there. Like all top brass, in any army I've ever known, they ate well.
For breakfast I'd receive coffee, orange juice and hot buttered croissants and chocolate, or a full Federated made with fried chickaroo eggs, bacon, fried potatoes and sausages, with toast and marmalade on the side, or sweetened cereals if I preferred. For lunch a pretty little maid would roll in a serviette trolley laden with a steaming bowl of soup, cold roast chickaroo drumsticks, fresh baked bread, cheeses, redapples, oranges and other fresh fruit. Then for dinner I would sit up in bed to mouth watering concoctions; for example one evening I recall wolfing down a starter of buffalo mozzarella with tomatoes and pseudobasil, followed by scallops, pan fried beside my bed with a lemon and herb crust. I finished off with a lovely little fancy, that only after I'd finished it was I advised had in fact been 'Megant Honeycomb and Ice Cream with Caramel Sauce'.
Mind you I still believe that the Kuritan officer corps in the city were hogging the best wine, as all I could get were bottles of cheapo local house whites, which to my refined and trained pallet tasted like something a tabiranth had passed. Well the first few glasses did anyway, I always find that once you're into your second bottle, the finest Blake Burgandy might as well be Eau De Tabiranth, if you catch my drift.
There was a tri-vid player in the comfortable sitting room of my suite and I well remember spending one afternoon knocking back a, purely medicinal, bottle of the house wine while watching three Immortal Warrior 'vids I'd found in a cupboard, back to back. Half way through I realised my two ever present Kuritan guards were sneaking peeks from the doorway. So, in the spirit of interstellar relations, and because these two had not been part of the platoon that had so badly used me, by the end of the second 'vid I had 'em over sitting stiffly on the sofa, their assault rifles propped by their legs. It didn't take long before I then got them playing that drinking game where you knock back a gulp each time the improbably muscular hero kills someone and I have to say I was surprised by their lack of tolerance, as by the end of the afternoon they were pissed as farts.
Minobu told me later they'd both received a dozen lashes as a punishment for this lapse in discipline. I was a little put out by this as it had been a fun afternoon.
Anyway, this was all more in line with what I would hope to be the lot of a Davion Guards MechWarrior who'd been captured by the enemy in time of war and d'you know it took at least a day or two of this before I began to wonder what my ultimate fate would be. Even then I just assumed I was to be exchanged for a captured Kuritan MechWarrior, taken at some point by our side.
Only two things were to interrupt this very easy existence. The first being the continuing war raging outside my rooms.
The distant thunder of artillery fire rumbled constantly across the city and as the days passed there must have been at least four or five more assaults by our chaps on the city walls, as below in the central square I could make out great movements of Kuritan troops and armour. Also with each attack the sound of weapons fire increased and sometimes even made the windows shake, I recall on my third day in the old hotel room one of our
Stukas actually went down on the other side of the square and there was an almighty explosion that blew in my bedroom windows. Luckily I was on the toilet at the time and stayed there shaking and sweating, thinking the boys had finally broken through into the city and a battle must be raging outside.
It took me a good hour to pluck up the courage to venture out of the bathroom and I was soon ringing my little bell for someone to come and clear the glass off my bed.
This incident jarred my complacency a little I think, but I was sure I was a lot safer here than facing that hell outside the walls again and again. There was no way I planned to play Darius-Do-Right and try to escape, besides I was in the heart of a besieged occupied city, I had no map and no way of getting out of those massive walls even if I could reach them. I reasoned with myself there was nothing I could do, save sitting it out and awaiting liberation, ransom, or a prisoner exchange.
The second interruption to my easy captivity were twice daily visits from Minobu Tetsuhara. Not that he was an unpleasant guest per ce, it was just when he was around I had to make a pretence at being the nobly suffering, good little soldier who, despite my still not healed wounds, was itching to get back to my unit. I asked him initially several times what their plans were for me and he would simply state that decision was not his to make, so eventually I gave up asking.
I actually got to know Minobu fairly well over the course of those few days. He would always arrive quietly and would politely knock on the door before entering, I never saw him looking in the least bit ruffled or perturbed by the bloody fighting he must have been involved in shortly before. He always wore his smart dark grey uniform, black visored cap, polished boots, and sometimes a pig-sticker sword as well as his pistol.
The visits would always begin with small talk, like you might make were you dragged into visiting a sick relative in hospital. He would talk about his home in the Combine, which I recall was on a planet called Awano, located in the Benjamin Military District. I can still see him sitting at the foot of my bed, by the high windows, Colterville's red slate roofs clear behind him, with the distant plumes of presumably shelling damage, or buring vehicles, whilst he talked softly about how he looked forward to returning to that house near a high plateau, where the air was cold, clean and thin and smelt of Cryptomeria trees and flower beds.
On another visit he told me of his pretty wife and young son. She was called Tomiko, if memory serves and was, judging by holos he showed me of her, one of your haughty Kuritan noblewomen. All stiff neck and whispers. I've known the type in later life by the way and I have to say if you can crack that icy, disapproving exterior you're in for the ride of your life. I recall his son was still an infant then and looked like a little brown bundle of trouble.
I think, looking back, he was very subtly interrogating me during those chats, I'd grow so at ease from his free and open manner about himself, I'd find myself telling him stories about the family pile back on Killarney. I would recount tales of horseback riding on walladog hunts, on chilly spring mornings, the horns blaring over the vast hill country of our estates. Or of playing hide and seek as a child with my father in our hundred and three room mansion, getting lost in the old sealed off east wing, which dear old ma'ma had told me was haunted and crying under a dusty bed until nanny-Jane found me. Each time he would eventually bring the conversation around though to military matters and I undoubtedly and unashamedly provided him with stacks of data on the make up of the Fourth Guards, it's officers, it's positions around Colterville and what I knew about the Seventeenth Hussars.
One time he talked about his years at Sun Zhang and we got into a debate about the respective merits of the place as opposed to the Old Sak. Sun Zhang sounded like a hell-hole to me, being located on a waste-world named New Samarkand, where students engaged in live fire exercises through empty cities and had to dodge land pirate packs and robber bands. When I told him an edited version of my expulsion from the Sak, he looked appalled and stated that he would have felt compelled to commit suicide if he'd been given the boot.
It may have been during that particular conversation I finally plucked up the courage to grill him about something that had niggled at me throughout my time in the hotel suite.
"Minobu old chap, I need to ask you something." He sat in his chair by the window and looked out over the roof tops. I took his silence as acceptance to continue and so carried on.
"Well, okay. Look, it's like this, I can see you stopped that bastard Zakahashi from killing me out there because you thought I'd be able to give you information on the 'Bane ... but, well, I know a little about your culture's views on prisoners. Well, you tend to kill captives don't you. You're Sword of Light afterall. You've been very kind to me and ... well deuce it all ... why?" He sat for a long moment looking out the window and without turning to look at me he spoke softly.
"The need for military information is not the reason I demanded you were taken prisoner by
Tai-i Zakahashi and his company." He paused again as if deep in thought then, while watching a local red winged bird fly over the roof of a nearby house. "I did not wish to see you die an honourable warrior's death, because I do not believe you are in your heart either honourable or a warrior." I looked at him in confusion and he turned and smiled gently.
"I do not mean to insult you by saying this thing, which in yourself I am certain you know to be the truth, I merely answer your question as best I can.
I saw fear master you at the Battle of the Maglev Gate, you fled the field and ran from me through this city." I opened my mouth to protest this, but d'you know for once in my life I could not bring myself to lie, so lacking anything to say I hung my head in shame.
"I do not however think you will never be a warrior. In the old days a samurai's sword was his soul. It was a part of him, a channel through which his
ki, his spirit you might say, could flow. Today, we samurai of House Kurita carry our swords as symbols only, I have never drawn mine in battle. The BattleMech takes the place of the samurai's sword as the channel of our
ki. A MechWarrior enters his 'Mech and almost literally becomes one with it. It is a symbiosis that no samurai could ever achieve with his sword.
I have seen you in a 'Mech and you are a skilful pilot, but until you learn to accept death and conquer your fear of it I pity you, for you will never be a true MechWarrior. One of the duties of a Kuritan samurai is to bring promising foreigners to the light of wisdom, Yorinaga
sama has ordered me to find out more about you and make you comfortable while you are here." He then gave a slight shrug before adding.
"Death is a feather, duty is a mountain."
At the time I understood barely anything of what he'd said, except that he'd shrewdly pegged me for the spineless coward I was and I began stammering something about feeling ill, at which he quietly left. Bowing once to me before he went. I've pondered his words over the years since and d'you know I think he was paying me a kind of backhanded compliment in his way, based on his flawed philosophy that if one was a good 'Mech pilot they might become the same kind of fearless, selfless, fool he was. It's a notable fact, that by Minobu's logic, if I'd been a brave madman like Hillnas for example Minobu would have been first in the queue to cut my head off ... he only saved me as he didn't think me worthy of killing. Kuritans eh? They're a strange bunch and no mistake.
To me death is a mountain I hope never to climb and duty is a feather I tickle women's ass's with.
Still I was grateful to Minobu, whatever his personal reasons, for saving me twice. Once when he demanded I was taken prisoner for interrogation and the second time by going straight to the top, Yorinaga, when it came to getting me out of Zakahashi's clutches. Also, though he thought me a shameful coward, I genuinely liked the man and I think at bottom he liked me too.
I was not to see him again after that conversation for another fifteen years, but that's another story.
That last time I saw him on Mallory's World was, as best I've been able to figure out, on the twelfth of October and before he came back to visit again I was to be shaken from my rest and pitched back into the nightmare of the campaign.