The thunder rolled across us again and the moon came down from the sky. But it was no moon; it was a gigantic DropShip. The vessel hovered between the contending forces on pillars of flame while aerospace fighters buzzed around it like angry protective angels. More fighters swept between us and Zeta, furrowing the ground with their energy weapons. All comm channels were blanketed by the same message from Fleet Captain Chandra.

"There has been enough dying. I take upon myself the role of Loremaster and arbiter. The challenge is over, the decision made." She paused. I think no one on the battlefield breathed while we awaited her next words.

"Welcome back, Colonel Wolf."

53

Colonel Wolf spent the first night and day after the battle making sure that all fighting ceased and all casualties were picked up. He got no sleep that night. Neither did I, but I was able to do my own job with an easier heart when Maeve arrived with the remnants of her Command Lance. Once we got confirmation that hyperpulse messages had gone out to Alpha and Delta telling them that everything was settled, the Colonel ordered me to get some sleep. I disobeyed him, of course; my reunion with Maeve did more to refresh me than mere sleep.

When the evening shift changed, Schlomo came to the command center. Though primarily a research specialist, he had been using his medical skills to assist the overworked regimental surgeons. Like the rest of us, he was tired almost beyond exhaustion.

"Colonel Wolf?"

"Yes, Schlomo."

"He's awake."

"His condition?"

"Bad, but stable. His kind are tough. He might re-. cover."

Schlomo was referring to Elson. The Elemental had been found in dysfunctional armor and brought in nearly dead. The Colonel had left orders to be informed when and if Elson regained consciousness. The fact that the man had rallied at all made it seem that the Elemental must have battled death even harder than he had fought the Wolf.

The Colonel nodded to his staff. There was no need for words; all the words had been said in the heated conference with which we had brought up the sun. Commanders from both sides were there. The challenge was over, and the results of the Trial overturned. Now was the time for healing the wounds. Chandra, Jamison, Nichole, Atwyl, Grazier, Maeve, young Tetsuhara, and Graham of Special Recon Group fell in behind us as we headed for the recovery ward.

The officers trailing us were serving as an emergency council for the Dragoons, serving as extensions of the Wolf in the grueling business of picking up the pieces. It was an unusual procedure, and only partly defensible by Dragoon custom. Though the Colonel could make decrees as commander and expect them to be obeyed, orders went down smoother with a council of officers backing him, especially when those backers included some who had recently opposed him. The emergency council was a makeshift arrangement, but a lot of what the Dragoons would do for some time would be makeshift.

The formal Dragoon council was, of course, in shambles. Several members had died, and the Colonel had not yet approved replacements. Fancher was among the dead, leaving Beta Regiment without representation. Gamma Regiment was in a similar position, although Parella was classified as missing, not dead. The offworld members would be coming to Outreach as soon as their contracts permitted. Until they did and the formal council was reformed, the Colonel would operate with the counsel and approval of the emergency team.

The main complex of the Tetsuhara Proving Ground was a hive of activity. I had thought it busy before the battle, but now it was more so. Cratered and battered BattleMechs and tanks were parked in haphazard arrangements, while techs scurried about dragging or driving repair equipment from one repair job to another. Damaged battle suits were stretched out on repair racks, being fussed over by the armorers.

But machines weren't the only casualties of the fighting, and they were certainly not the most important. The gigantic FortressClass DropShip that had arrived to end the fighting now pumped power to the hospital and operating chambers to ease the drain on the complex's facilities. The warship's shadow shaded the operating wards where the doctors fought to save the injured. To deal with the influx of wounded, the field hospital that had been serving our forces had quadrupled in size. Buildings that were normally barracks had been pressed into service as convalescent and recovery wards. Schlomo led us toward the one where Elson had been taken.

I glanced around as we went, seeing the color blue everywhere I looked. No one had given the order to do so, yet everyone seemed to be wearing the blue Dragoon coveralls, even the civilians. Many of the Kuritans had acquired coveralls, too. I wasn't going to object; they had proved themselves.

I know that for some, wearing the normal Dragoon undress uniform was a physical relief. I certainly was glad enough to be free of my cooling vest and the sticky biosensors of its feedback system. Others, I believe, wore the coveralls as a sign of solidarity, a statement that we were all Dragoons again and not loyalists or rebels or whatever fast-talk slang one faction had favored to designate the other. Some, especially those who had fought for Elson and Alpin, were probably grateful for the anonymity the ubiquitous blues provided.

When our little cavalcade reached the entrance to the former barracks, Maeve stepped up to open the door. The handle pulled away from her hand as someone inside tugged on the door. Dechan Fraser nearly knocked her from her feet as he rushed out. Catching her arm to keep her from falling, he apologized in Japanese. At least I assume it was an apology; it sounded like one.

Colonel Wolf stepped up to Fraser and said, "I was hoping to see you soon, Dechan. We have much to talk about."

"I'm not here to see you. They told me this is where I could find Jenette."

"Ward Three," Schlomo said. "This is Ward Two."

"We can talk later," the Colonel said.

"Yeah, sure." As Fraser looked around the people in our group, he forced what was obviously an uncomfortable smile. "Looks like a lot of changes, Colonel. I suppose I can at least stick around for introductions. I've been away for a long time and if I'm going to stay, I'll need to know these people. You might even introduce me to your daughter."

Rachel wasn't with us, and I was momentarily confused. When I realized that Fraser was looking at Maeve, I suddenly saw what he did. The Colonel and Maeve were of a height. Both were compactly framed. He was wider across the shoulders, but not by much. They had the same gray eyes, the same dark complexion, and her hair was as raven black as his had once been. I remembered that Maeve was of a mixed-line sibko and did not know her parentage. But everyone knew that the Wolf had always refused to donate to the sperm banks, maintaining that his blood family was all he needed. It felt like I'd taken a PPC shot to the brain.

While I stood there stunned, Maeve was introducing herself. "Colonel Wolf's daughter is working at the hospital with her mother. My name's Maeve. I'm acting commander of the Spider's Web," she said.

Fraser looked confused. "The Thunderbolt!"

"Mine."

Schlomo broke in with, "Captain Rand is in Ward

Three. I can take you there if you wish." Fraser shook his head like a man starting awake from an unwanted sleep. "This way," Schlomo said, giving him a tug on the arm.

I watched Schlomo hustle Fraser away while the rest of us entered the ward. I'd never seen the old man so pushy, and I wondered if he knew something he wasn't telling.