"Colonel Wolf!"

Much to my annoyance, the Wolf stopped and turned at the sound of his name.

The man approaching us was short, but not so short as the Wolf, or even Maeve, for that matter. Despite the coolness of the weather, he wore only a Mech-Warrior's cooling vest and shorts. Perhaps he wished to show off his muscular build. I wondered what Maeve thought of him. Spheroids were often impressed by such macho posturing, but I hoped that a Dragoon would have higher standards. The Mech Warrior thrust out his hand as he stepped up to Jaime Wolf.

"Colonel, I wanted to say thanks. I just found out that it was your word that cinched it with the St. Ives contractor."

"Captain Miller, isn't it?" Wolf said as he shook the man's hand.

"That's right. Call me Jason."

"Glad we could help. I always like to see a reliable unit get a contract. Too many defaults give all mercenaries a bad name."

"Don't they just." Miller grinned. "We all have to stick together or the Houses will eat us alive."

Grinning back, the Wolf said, "I'll count on you the next time Takashi's on my tail."

Miller looked startled for a moment. Apparently deciding the Wolf was joking, he laughed and said, "You got it! The Twelve Pack and the Dragoons against the Snakes. Done deal!" There was an awkward moment while everyone stood looking at one another. "Well, I just wanted to say thanks."

"You have, Captain. I wish you success on your contract."

They shook hands again and we proceeded on, leaving Miller on the steps of the Hall. The Wolf dropped his jovial manner as soon as Miller turned his back. I watched Maeve's brow furrow. When we were far enough away that her voice wouldn't carry, she said, "I don't see why you do it, Colonel Wolf. I mean; helping other mercs get contracts. These other guys cut into our business." She tossed her head back, sweeping an errant lock out of her eyes. "They'll never be Dragoons."

"Some might," Jaime Wolf smiled indulgently. "Some have. There was a time when we needed warriors and we took in Inner Sphere mercs. We couldn't get soldiers fast enough any other way."

"But we took only the best," she said defensively.

"We tried."

She was clearly still unsatisfied. "But this business with the Hiring Hall and all these other mercs. The Dragoons are at full operational strength." The Wolf's eyes narrowed slightly at that comment and I knew he didn't agree. I had thought we were up to strength as well. Maeve didn't notice. "We don't need anybody to take up the slack."

"Not every contract is a Dragoon's contract."

"Agreed. But I checked the board today. There were at least three suitable openings and we weren't bidding on any of them."

The Wolf looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "There were other outfits that needed the work more."

"Are we a charity?"

Stan answered for the Wolf. "Don't forget, we get a cut of any contract made through the Hall."

"We're not merchants!" Maeve shouted, real passion in her voice. She must have come from one of the more protected sibkos.

Yelling at Stan was as bad as yelling at the Wolf. It was no way to start a tour of duty. I didn't want to see her transferred out just when I'd met her, so I was relieved to see that the Wolf was feeling indulgent.

"Aren't we?" he asked. "We sell our services, and fighting isn't the only thing we do. We'll take our money where we can find it."

Maeve screwed up her face and looked away.

"Listen, Maeve. You're too young to have been there and the teachers don't always give the sibkos the hard facts. So listen up; I don't want this kind of display in front of the customers."

Her voice was small. "I understand, Colonel."

"No you don't. But I want you to." He waited until she looked at him again. "The Dragoons started helping other mercs find contracts just after the Fourth Succession War, when we were in too bad a shape to accept any contracts of our own. Besides, the Dragoons had always done some subcontracting, hiring other mercs when we didn't have available forces. I don't think there was anyone in the Inner Sphere who didn't know that we had been mauled in the fighting. We didn't have the military resources to guarantee anything. All we had was our rep for knowing who was good. The Dragoons needed to rebuild, and rebuilding costs money. We had Davion's promises to make good our losses while under contract to him, but that wouldn't have brought us up to strength, even if he had come through with all the money he promised."

"The text says we lost over fifty percent effectiveness on Misery."

The Wolf nodded somberly. "A cold evaluation, but true. Money could replace the machines, but the warriors were gone forever."

"We were hard up," Stan added. "We played on what rep we had. By brokering good contracts, we made a lot of friends among the Inner Sphere mercs."

"Why not just take in the best mercs we could find and patch together a provisional regiment to be hired out?" Maeve asked.

"A patchwork regiment wouldn't have been able to keep up the rep," Wolf said, shaking his head. "And we didn't have the strength to put together a pure Dragoon regiment. We were all too tired. Even if we had gone out selling our services, who would have protected Outreach and the families?"

"But we had Davion to protect Outreach," Maeve protested.

"The political situation was still in turmoil. We couldn't rely on Davion, only ourselves. As soon as things settled down a bit and we had a chance to catch our metaphorical breaths, Natasha Kerensky took the Black Widow Battalion into the field."

Benjamin spat. "Bloodnamed bitch!"

"I will have none of that kind of talk, Mister," the Wolf snapped. Benjamin mumbled an apology, which the Wolf ignored. "Natasha followed her conscience when she left us to return to Clan Wolf. We had chosen our own way long before. We're on our own."

"Is it true that they put Natasha on trial and found the Dragoons innocent of treason to the Clans?" Maeve asked. "If they did, we could go back."

Stan snorted. "There's more to life in the Clans than legal verdicts. We made our choice when we ignored the ilKhan's last summons."

The Wolf nodded agreement. "We've seen other ways besides Clan ways now. We can't go back. It just wouldn't work. At best, we'd all end up dead in trials or be declared bandits. We're better than that."

Maeve wouldn't let it go. "What's to keep us from ending up as somebody's lap dogs like the Horsemen?"

"Only ourselves. As long as I have any say in it, the Dragoons will never be anyone's bought dogs," the Wolf said with steady conviction. "We will make our ownway here in the Inner Sphere. Even if it means submitting to questioning from junior officers."

Maeve had the good grace—and the good sense—to keep her mouth shut after that. We proceeded to Wolf Hall and, unfortunately, the Wolf had a full night's work for me. Hans and Shelly were back on duty by the time I stumbled bleary-eyed from Jaime Wolf's office. I went to my bed and dreamed of Maeve.

9

Near the horizon we could see the BattleMechs of the Spider's Web Battalion racing over the ridges. MacKenzie Wolf, Jaime Wolf's blood son, was leading his unit against the flank of the Jade Falcon position. From our over-watch position on the slopes of Ziggilies Mountain, we listened to the soft thunder of explosions and watched the distant flashes of manmade lightning.