"As you say, freebirth. You have no place questioning the honor of the trueborn."

"You're freeborn, too."

Stung by the reminder, Elson felt his resolve to avoid violence slipping. This honorless pup was insolent and needed to be shown the error of his ways. Shadd must have sensed Elson's shift of intent for he came subtly on guard. Elson held back, surprised; he had not expected Shadd to be so alert. The moment's delay and the opening of the door brought matters to a sudden halt. Out the corner of his eyes, Elson could see MacKenzie Wolf at the head of the arriving officers.

Elson took a step back, ceding the field. Shadd smiled, but there was the raggedness of relief in the breath he drew. Enjoy your little victory, Elson thought. It is only a skirmish, not the war. There will be other times, he promised himself.

"What's going on here?" MacKenzie demanded.

"Nothing, sir," Shadd replied.

MacKenzie's expression showed he did not believe Shadd's words. "Pretty loud nothing if I could hear it in the corridor."

"You say nothing's going on, Elson?"

"It is unimportant."

MacKenzie's eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "We're all Dragoons," he said, sweeping his gaze from Shadd to Elson. "You got that? Dragoons."

Elson felt MacKenzie's gaze linger longer on him than on the born-and-bred Dragoon. It was a sign of who had the power here, and another sign of how the Dragoons had drifted from the true path. But Elson understood honor, even if they did not. He endured MacKenzie's stare, listening compliantly as the officer continued.

"We're not thisbecause of where we were born, or thatbecause we trained somewhere else. We're Dragoons, first, last, and always. That's what you became when you put on the uniform. You're not Clanners anymore. You're not just hire-ons or sibkin. You're Dragoons." MacKenzie walked the room as he spoke, pacing back and-forth behind the holotank. "I don't care if your family has lived in the Inner Sphere since before the fall of the Star League, or if your ancestors shipped out with General Kerensky. I don't care if you're blood-born or sibkin. I don't care if you signed on after Misery or after Luthien. Young or old, greenie or veteran, you're all Dragoons and I expect you to act like it."

"They used to say that the Irish of Terra always fought among themselves because they could find no other worthy opponents. Such indulgence is something the Dragoons can't afford. We've got plenty of enemies, not the least of which are the Clans. They're sitting out there behind the Tukkayid line now, but they won't stay there forever. We've got to be ready. And we will be. The Dragoons will hand them their heads, because we'll be good enough. You'llbe good enough. If you forget what you were and be what you are. Dragoons!" He leaned on the holotank. "You got that?"

In the midst of the ragged chorus of "Yessirs!" Elson answered, "I hear you." He wondered if MacKenzie would understand the difference.

* * *

Jaime Wolf and I arrived in time for the end of MacKenzie's little speech. It seemed an awkward way to open the Wolf's first formal appearance since his injury. The strained atmosphere relaxed somewhat as the Colonel went around the room, greeting the officers and accepting their good wishes. We were settling into our places for the conference when the side door opened to admit a group of late arrivals, including Maeve.

I had seen little of her for most of the month since our night at the wombs, and then it had been only on business. She hadn't returned my calls. I warmed at the sight of her, then my heart fell as I saw that the rumor I had heard was true. Instead of her bodyguard leathers, she wore the uniform of the Spider's Web Battalion, MacKenzie Wolf's unit. Upon his return to Outreach, Mac had relinquished command to John Clavell, which moved officers up and opened a slot. Maeve must have requested the position, passed the command test, and won the slot. I had not seen the request in the usual communiques, so I could only assume that she had somehow arranged to keep it from me.

What had I done wrong?

I had no more time to ponder my problem. The Wolf called the meeting to order, and I was soon too busy running the feeds to the holotank and keeping the flow of information current and matched to his needs.

At his command, I opened a secret file on the OmniMech production facilities that Blackwell Corporation was administering on the other side of the mountain. I knew about the file but had never seen its contents. Ordinarily, I would have been as fascinated as the other 'Mech jocks to see the progress at the facility, but I wasn't paying any attention. My mind was on Maeve as she watched the display with an avidity I had dreamed she might hold for me. Somehow she had come to stand beside Jaime Wolf, a last chance to be his bodyguard, I suppose. Stanford Blake had to poke me when I missed the Wolf's cue to change the display.

Having opened with the good news, Colonel Wolf launched into his plans for the Dragoons' future. We had spent many hours preparing this pitch, hours I might have spent with Maeve if I hadn't been so obsessed with being a good comm officer. Colonel Wolf intended to integrate the disparate elements of the Dragoons into a new tradition, a tradition of and for the Dragoons. It was a good plan, although Stan had expressed some reservations about its feasibility in the face of the enemy. I believe the Wolf spoke eloquently, he always did. There might have been arguments; I don't remember.

I drifted in shattered hopes and fallen dreams. I vaguely remember MacKenzie chiming in to bolster his father's arguments, and sensing something shift in the flow of conversation. It bothered me, but not as much as my lost love.

There was a break in the meeting and Jaime Wolf took the opportunity to congratulate Maeve on her new command. I watched the two of them. The former bodyguard was of a size with the man she had protected, but the size of a pilot didn't matter when BattleMechs fought. It didn't matter at all now. She was going elsewhere, and someone else would have to protect the Wolf. Stupid considerations. That seemed appropriate; I felt stupid. Unable to think straight, I sat and did nothing. Somehow her eyes never looked my way. If they had, I would have . . . what? I don't know. I know I stared when she left with MacKenzie's executive officer.

Her DropShip was to launch in two hours. As the arguments started, I knew I wouldn't be able to leave before then. Someone wanted the allocation of OmniMechs altered, while someone else questioned the new organization for the regiments. There were protests about personnel assignments. Officers argued over the structure of the Elemental units, but everyone wanted Elementals attached to his command, whatever the level. The loudest arguments came over the new sibkos and the revised training regimens. It all flowed past me. Later I was able pick up many of the details by reviewing the tapes, but at the time I heard nothing but a mournful babble. She never said goodbye.

Part 2 3054

OLD FEUDS

14

Colonel Jaime Wolf had noted the dissension among the Dragoons, had noted that his reforms were not having the hoped-for effect. Factionalism was still growing and each faction had its own agenda. Sometimes it seemed that the Wolf and his closest officers were the only ones who viewed the Dragoons as a single entity.

And as always now, the threat of the Clans loomed on the horizon.

The original Dragoons had been strangers in a strange land, an odd-man-out effect that had bound them closer together than their military structure and on-campaign situation could have done alone. The trials they had faced in their wanderings through the Inner Sphere, especially the fierce fighting on Misery, where the Kuritans had nearly destroyed them, had brought the survivors even closer together. Those who had endured, whether Clan-born or spheroid, considered themselves oldsters now.