"I am good enough." Elson paused. To me it seemed that he was going to add something more than the simple "sir" he tacked on as an afterthought.

"Very well, then." The Wolf nodded. "But we're not on Outreach today and I need a Trinary commander today, Brevet Captain Elson. Stick around. We have a briefing in thirty."

"I serve, Colonel," Elson said. He touched his fist to his forehead and, lowering his arm to waist level, bowed over it. The action was a formal, ritual acceptance, out of place in the relaxed atmosphere of the field command center.

Jaime Wolf returned his attention to the holotank. He was into his third replay of the day's action when Stanford Blake decided it was time to move on to other business.

"Colonel, the Hall has posted a signal."

"They know our availability as well as I do."

"They thought, and I agreed, that you might want to give this offer some consideration." Stan slipped a data disk into the tank's console. Contract specifications appeared in a window that opened over the miniature display of the battlefield. I couldn't read the words from my angle of vision, but I knew what they said. I'd seen the signal. Stan waited until the Wolf looked up. "As you can see, House Kurita is offering a contract for two regiments to go against the Nova Cats on Meinacos. The spec doesn't include their compensation offer. I guess putting a price on a military operation is some sort of violation of their samurai honor, but the Hall's got all the details. They're offering nearly double our usual rates and full salvage rights."

The Wolf was silent. MacKenzie spoke for him. "Tell them we decline."

Stan slammed his fist into his thigh. "Don't you think this has gone on long enough? I was there, too, but I'm willing to let it go."

"We're not," Mac said firmly.

"I thought we were going to run this operation economically, " Stan said angrily. "Kurita is offering double our standard rates. How can we afford to ignore that?"

Mac started to respond, but the Wolf held up one hand. The son deferred to the father. "Even if it weren't Kurita, it would be a hard-luck contract. Meinacos is close to the district capital at Pesht. There'll be hard fighting."

"The Dragoons never backed away from a hard fight before," Captain Winnie Harding said. She was an adoptee, a spheroid who had been deemed good enough to join the Dragoons after Luthien. A former battalion commander in House Steiner's Skye Rangers, she'd given that up to serve as a company commander in MacKenzie Wolf's Spider's Web Battalion. She was still learning her way around the Dragoons. "It's because it's the Snakes, isn't it?"

No one saw the need to answer her.

Stan sighed. "Jaime, this can't go on. For somebody who can turn his back on his heritage, you've got a strangely strong grip on the past."

"It's a practical decision."

"Practical! I'll tell you what's practical! Practical is living with the reality that we've got to support more military assets than any fiveplanets with the resources of one.We need well-paying contracts. You've just spent a year out of combat to heal the precious reputation of the Dragoons and preserve the Mercenary Review Commission's rep for impartiality. You've made a lot of speeches about impartiality and fairness. No favorites, you said. The Dragoons are for hire, to the best contract. What happened to equal and unbiased services to all Houses and all political units?"

The Wolf glared. It was a display of emotion he wouldn't have allowed himself if outsiders had been present. It was the same license that let Stan shout at his superior. Though we were among Dragoons, Jaime Wolf said nothing.

Stan turned to me and asked softly, "Brian, whose name is on the contract as sponsor?"

"Theodore Kurita."

Stan returned his attention to the Wolf. "You see, Jaime? Not Takashi, Theodore. The Kanrei, who you invited to Outreach."

Elson stepped forward, eclipsing one of the light panels. His shadow fell across the holotank, cutting between Stan and the Wolf. "Leave Wolf alone, Colonel Blake. This is feud."

"Feud be damned!" Stan turned on the Elemental. "This is business. We can't claim to be unbiased if we refuse a contract from one of the Houses. We can't afford to pass up lucrative contracts just because somebody connected to the customer has a history with us. Unity! If we did that all the time, we'd have nobody to work for."

Unimpressed by Stan's fervor, Elson shook his head slowly. "It is a point of honor."

"Look here, Elson—"

"Let it go, Stan."

"Jaime ..." Stan's appeal faltered as he saw the adamantine resolve in the Wolf's eyes. He paused a moment, then rallied, prepared to launch his appeal on a different tack.

"I said, let it go," the Wolf said softly.

The intelligence officer took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he shrugged and walked across the trailer to his console. Jaime Wolf returned to studying the local tactical reports. I looked at Maeve to see how she had taken the exchange, but she was disappearing beyond the massive bulk of Elson, heading outside. Elson stood passively, a thoughtful expression on his face. It might have been business as usual.

But I could feel the unresolved tension.

10

Most people think a warrior with a small build is worth little in a brawl, where the ability to inflict and endure punishment is usually paramount. The small fighter's lack of reach and mass are definite disadvantages in such a fight. If he's to survive, a small warrior must be fast and skilled. Maeve was that, especially the latter.

We were back on Outreach and I was just rounding the corner on Herrara Street in Harlech, when I came upon Maeve standing over an opponent, presumably the aggressor, who was on the ground. Downed he might have been at the moment, but he had four friends. The drunken laughter I had heard as I approached rattled down to an awkward stop.

"Tinspawn bitch," one of them growled.

"He asked for it," I heard her say. "Why don't you take him back to quarters and let him sleep it off?"

"Freeborns don't take orders from your kind anymore." The speaker's voice was slurred, but he moved fast enough.

Maeve ducked the punch, but her counterstrike was ineffective. Either the man was too drunk to feel the pain or else his big frame absorbed all the energy she could generate from her off-balance kick. He spun on her and she had to scramble to escape his grasp. One of the thug's companions clipped Maeve on the ear as she dodged. I saw blood spray.

I ran toward them.

All four were circling Maeve, but they were either too drunk or too absorbed to hear me coming. But Maeve had. She gauged my strategy and took advantage of it. Just as I came up, she struck out, opening herself up to the big one. Oblivious to me, he tried to grapple her.

I tucked into a ball as I launched myself into the back of the big one's knees. I imagined the surprise on his face as he got hit, and wished I could see his expression as we collided. We went down in a tumble, but I had enough momentum and he landed mostly off me. Wanting to slow him down, I cracked his knee hard as I pulled myself free from under his legs. When I was on my feet again, I saw that it didn't matter; he was heaving his guts up. We wouldn't have to worry about him for awhile.

Maeve had taken down her target, but had not taken him out. Unfortunately, he had dropped her to the pavement as well. Her attackers were closing on her as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. The thugs had their backs to me, their problem. As I went by, I kicked the woman. She whuffed and collapsed, groaning as she joined her big companion in decorating the sidewalk.