"The past only lives in the mind."

"And the heart, adopted father. I sometimes think you forget emotions."

"I never forget them, adopted son." Subhash chuckled. "I merely control them and put them to use. A skill you must practice, if you wish to succeed me as director."

"I shall," Ninyu said, laying his hand on the back of the powered chair. "I have the strength."

Subhash frowned. "The director rules by his wits, not his arms or his legs."

"I'm sorry, adopted father. I did not mean to . . ."

"It is forgotten," Subhash said, amused by his protegees honest embarrassment. "You are not at fault for the weakness of my body." He wheeled the chair out from under Ninyu's hand. "I am still director. No one will take that away from me."

"Not as long as I live, adopted father."

"Is your commitment to the Combine as strong, adopted son?"

"Stronger."

Subhash sensed his heir's sincerity and was pleased. There would be a sure hand to guide the Combine after he was gone. Takashi had already agreed to the papers of appointment. It was only a matter of time before Theodore did. How could he refuse to accept his old battle comrade, one of his shitenno?

But the directorship of the ISF meant nothing if there was no Combine to guide and to perfect. And should the Combine fall, the strongest force for order in the universe would disappear, a result totally abhorrent to him. And so Subhash would continue to do what needed to be done, as he had all his life. As long as he still breathed, he would fight to see the Combine endure against all enemies, internal and external.

"Your concern is obviously for Takashi," Ninyu said. "Is the Coordinator's instability increasing?"

"That is still unclear. His lapses become ever more difficult to cover up."

"We will do what must be done."

"Yes, we will. The Combine must be strong and unified in this time of trial." Subhash felt Ninyu's resolution. That was good. Strong and implacable resolve would be imperative. But a journey could only be made one step at a time. "How is the Coordinator's new kendopartner doing?"

Ninyu seemed hesitant to speak, reluctant after the earlier reference to Subhash's failing body. Subhash had once been Takashi's kendopartner. Their sessions had offered the director many opportunities to influence the Coordinator, but now Subhash had to discover other such opportunities, making his influence on Takashi less than it had once been. Still, the kendowas good for Takashi and Subhash made a point of arranging only the best partners. Before they were coordinator and director, they had been friends. They were still friends, when being coordinator and director did not get in the way.

"The Coordinator says he enjoys his matches with Homitsu -san," Ninyu said. "He also says that he thinks Homitsu is holding back, but he is confident that Homitsu will prove challenging once he understands that the Coordinator does not wish to be coddled."

"Very good." Subhash smiled. He truly hoped Takashi was enjoying the matches; there was so little joy in being a leader. "That is most satisfactory."

8

Each of the Hiring Hall's towers stood twenty stories tall and the domed central area was itself ten stories. Its architecture was bold and open, the better to serve the image of Outreach as a planet where anyone could come to hire mercenaries. The Hiring Hall is, deliberately, the most prominent building in Harlech, the capital and principal city of Outreach. It was a public relations decision to make it tower over Wolf Hall, the multiacre complex that served as command headquarters for the Dragoons. We might be the best, but Jaime Wolf's program required us to demonstrate, rather than lord, our superiority over the others in our trade. And proof was saved for where it counted, on the battlefield.

I spent a lot of time at the Hall.

As the months wore on I became accustomed to my place at the Wolf's side. He must also have become more accustomed to me for he called me William less and less frequently. I was pleased, feeling that I was carving out my own place. But I knew I had yet to face the real test. Combat is only the briefest part of a soldier's life, but it was where I would truly prove my worth.

The Command Lance was busy even though we were not in action, which, I suppose, made the Wolf's suspension from combat less of a trial than it might have been. It was harder for Hans Vordel and his Bodyguard

Lance. In the old Dragoons, Hans had been the Wolf's bodyguard, a member of the Command Lance. Though an excellent warrior, he showed little aptitude for anything beyond BattleMech combat.

When the Dragoons first came to Outreach in 3030, we were in bad shape after the Fourth Succession War. Many feared that Takashi Kurita would take advantage of our weakened condition to mount a strike that would destroy the Dragoons completely. Meeting in council, the Dragoon colonels had demanded that Jaime Wolf form a Bodyguard Lance. The Wolf had insisted that such a move was unnecessary, but the colonels had overridden him in the vote. Hans had been detailed to select the best warriors, and he selected them from among several ageframes, on advice from Stanford Blake. I suppose the idea was to create a continuity of experience, balancing the faster reflexes of the younger generations with the battle experience of the older. Whatever the reasoning, the team consistently garnered superlative scores in testing. Hans worked hard to maintain his lance's edge.

I believed that the combination of different age-frames had an additional benefit, but I'm afraid it was a personal rather than a professional one. For the newest member was of my ageframe and, like me, the product of a sibko.

Her name was Maeve.

If I tell you of her alluring beauty, her midnight hair, her slender, feline grace, you will think me besotted, thrall to a young man's hormones. No one, you will say, could be so fair. Perhaps you would come to distrust anything I tell you. So instead, I will speak only of her prowess as a MechWarrior. That can be verified by the records; though her selection for the Bodyguard Lance should be proof enough of her skill. There is also documentation of her accomplishments as a commander later in life. Additionally, I can also attest to her sharp tongue and quick wit, and also be found honest. There are recordings. Any one of those areas would make her stand out, so accept my evaluation that she was exceptional. She was my first love.

To her, however, I was simply the comm officer, a mere fixture in her military life, only taking on importance when messages were to be given or received. My tongue betrayed all my efforts at casual conversation, so our exchanges were strictly business. Somehow, I was able to speak to her when she was just another Dragoon, but beyond that I was hopeless. I hadn't been so backward with my sibs. That was how I knew I was in love.

I remember clearly her first day on duty. She had drawn late shift along with Sergeant Anton Benjamin and so had joined the Command Lance near the end of our standard duty rounds. The Wolf was completing some business at the Hiring Hall, a subcontract for the Black Brigade. When he was finished, we met our new lancemate outside the conference room, where Maeve and Anton waited to relieve Hans and Shelly Gordon. I know I heard Maeve's name, but after that not another word of the introduction registered in my brain.

I was too busy trying to think of some way to talk to her as soon as I went off duty, but my thoughts didn't want to work. We all left the building together, Stan placing himself between her and me. I thought about how near the command lounge was to the Wolf's office. The bodyguards often relaxed there when Jaime Wolf was busy in residence. This slowly forming plan suddenly slipped from my grasp at a shouted call.