He had always been a stern and distant figure, a source of authority, discipline, and rare praise. Now he had left the reviewing stand and come to stand before me. I went to rigid attention as his eyes swept me from head to toe and back again before he spoke.

"I greet you, Brian Cameron. You have earned an Honorname. Earn honor for your name."

His speaking the ritual greeting made it real in a way Jovell's words had not. This was my commander speaking; his voice was authority. I could only whisper, "Seyla."

The grim visage softened. "You so resemble him that it's almost like seeing a ghost."

I knew I resembled my Honorline's founder, but then all my sibs did to some degree. I had never thought the resemblance especially remarkable. I knew that age and memories can cloud eyesight, so I only smiled and bowed my head, acknowledging the colonel's remark. When I raised my head once more, I realized that the shock of having Carmody come to address me directly had blinded me to the two other Dragoon officers accompanying him. I could say that I was too excited, but that is no excuse. I should have noticed them at once, for I knew both by sight although I had never spoken to either. They were the Camerons.

The older warrior was Major Alicia Cameron. Though not the first to earn the name hallowed by our founder William Cameron—that honor had gone to Malcolm, who had died on Luthien—she was the line's eldest, having earned the name in a replacement contest held after Malcolm's death. The younger, Captain Harry Cameron, was the second-generation Cameron. He had held his name since the first contest for his ageframe, beating William Cameron's own blood son. Though he had been a Cameron longer, he deferred to Alicia.

"I greet you, Brian Cameron. My brother Malcolm and I welcome you to the family."

I had to lick moisture onto my lips before I could say, "I am honored."

She smiled, but it was not like the warm smiles of my sibs. "You have shown yourself capable of the honor. You have not earned it yet."

Harry chuckled at her remark, then said, "I greet you, Brian Cameron. I welcome you to the family."

Fearing another blow to my newfound pride, I tried what I hoped would be a safer reply. "I thank you."

He chuckled again. Something had changed in his attitude, but I couldn't read him clearly. I would have to learn, though; they were my family now. I suspected that they would be reserved toward me for some time, for although they knew my scores, they didn't know me. I felt that I was not done proving myself.

Colonel Carmody broke the awkward silence by demanding my codex. I took the tags from around my neck and handed them over. He inserted them into the reader that he wore at his belt and tapped in some instructions. He nodded as he read the screen.

"Very well then, MechWarrior Brian Cameron." He snapped the reader closed and handed back my codex. "A Dragoon must always be ready to move. Have your gear to Pad Twenty-two by 1730." I was surprised. New MechWarriors get a furlough, but it usually took place on Outreach. Did earning the Honorname rate an offworld vacation? "Why, sir? I-"

"You have orders, Mech Warrior. You are to report to Colonel Wolf aboard the Chieftain.You have been assigned to his staff as an aide."

I must have stammered out another question, but I really don't remember. I do know that Colonel Carmody said some more, but I don't remember his words, either. They were meant to be encouraging, I think. My memories of the next few hours are equally jumbled, a whirl of congratulations and celebration. Carson and Lydia made sure I was at Pad Twenty-two by 1720.

After they left, I stared up at the giant DropShip Chieftain.Its huge ovoid shape screened half the stars twinkling in the sky of Outreach's chill winter night. I can still recall the awe I felt. And still feel the dread that colored it. It was not the OverlordClass DropShip that stirred those emotions, though. It was what awaited me inside.

I was to serve at the side of Jaime Wolf, legendary commander of Wolf's Dragoons. He was known throughout the Inner Sphere as the finest—a consummate MechWarrior, strategist, and tactician who for years had confounded his enemies and been a boon to his friends. He had led us through the fire and out again more than once, always keeping the Dragoons not just alive, but ready to fight. He had made us the premier mercenaries in the Inner Sphere. We sibs called him the Wolf because to us he was the archetype of the fierce ruler of a pack, at once a father, a guardian, and a leader.

If I did my job, I would be noticed. Immediately. And even more immediately, if I failed. Thoughts of Founder William flashed through my head. He would be proud—as long as I didn't botch up. If I botched in the Wolf's sight, there would be no honor for me. I'd disgrace the name, and the family would petition for my displacement. I would lose the right to bear the Cameron Honorname. Then where would I be? No one in the Dragoons would want to take in a disgraced no-name.

To be a warrior is to know fear and, knowing it, to press on. Though I was not so anxious to meet fear and laugh in its face, I shouldered my duffle and walked unfalteringly up the ramp.

2

Once, so I am told, the Inner Sphere believed Wolf's Dragoons to be simple mercenaries. The spheroids knew that the Dragoons had sources of supplies and materiel beyond those of ordinary mercenaries, but most pundits ascribed the Dragoons' bounty to control of a secret cache left behind after the fall of the Star League some two and a half centuries ago. A secret Star League cache. Many merc companies had found just such treasure; it was assumed by most that the Dragoons had been even luckier and uncovered a major find. Of course, everyone now knows that there was no cache.

The Dragoons had never been simple mercenaries. When they made their entrance into the annals of Inner Sphere history nearly five decades ago, they were on a mission of reconnaissance and evaluation for their masters among the far-distant Clans. Their Clan fellows would probably have considered the Dragoons' vintage equipment merely second-rate, inferior cast-offs good only for barely acceptable warriors, those of insufficiently pure genetic heritage or too wild for their fellows of the ruling caste. To the militaries of the Inner Sphere, however, the Dragoon supplies and equipment were pearls of technical treasure the like of which had not been seen since the golden age of the Star League.

Jaime Wolf and his Clan brother Joshua were the leaders of that mission, having been promised legitimacy as a reward for success. Their assignment was to learn the strengths and weaknesses of each of the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere, signing on to serve them, one by one, as the mercenary regiment Wolf's Dragoons. The Great Houses, or the Successor States, as they had become known after the collapse of the Star League, were the mighty star empires that ruled over human-occupied space.

At first, the Dragoons met with success, both as warriors in the Inner Sphere's battles and as spies for the Clans from which they had come. Somewhere along the line, loyalties and sentiments began to change. Dragoon records are not specific on the point, but I believe that the change directly resulted from Joshua Wolf's death at the hands of a rival faction within the House of Marik, rulers of the Free Worlds League. From that time on, Jaime Wolf served as sole leader of the Dragoons, contrary to the dual command structure the Dragoons had inherited from Clan Wolf. Though still hiding their origins, the Dragoons continued to operate in the Inner Sphere, earning a fearsome reputation as the best, most honorable warriors since the time of the Star League.