"A few? The Deathtrap has had more pilots than—"

"Stop, Horse! I need no statistics quoted at me. I know them as well as you. And the truth is that many pilots have survived this Timber Wolf."

"Most of them with crippling injuries or lost in madness."

"Now you exaggerate. At any rate, I will take the Timber Wolf,and that is the end of it."

The two fell silent as they watched the techs working around the Summoner.It reminded Aidan of a story from his secret collection, the book that told of a human who landed in a strange land peopled by beings so small that they could swarm like ants over the stranger's fallen body. The techs were larger in proportion than those lilliputian literary creatures, but the effect was similar.

"Oh," Horse said suddenly, threading his fingers through the beard, "I almost forgot the purpose that brought me here. The reinforcements we requested have arrived in-system and should be landing at first light this morning. Just in time to miss the battle, as it happens. Do you want to greet 'em and brief 'em, once they are down?"

Aidan felt weariness and pain all through his body, the typical aftermath of a fierce battle. He wanted to lie down, like the Summoner,and sleep straight through the next two days. But duty was always of the utmost importance to him, even routine duties like inspecting a new contingent of warriors.

"All right," he said, straightening his shoulders and lifting his head proudly. "Wake me two hours before their arrival. Shall I give them the abandon-hope speech?"

"I hope not. That might be like something you read, but it definitely would not be Clan."

"No it would not. Anything I should know about these reinforcements?" Aidan stopped suddenly, puzzled. "Why did your mouth fall open, Horse?"

"You are sometimes uncanny. It's not the first time you seem to read mymind. Yes, there are things you should know. First, a number of freeborns are in this lot."

Aidan shrugged. "No problem there. We are experts on freeborns, you and I."

"You speak of me as if I, too, were trueborn."

"I do forget. I do."

"Anyway, I know these freeborns will be trouble. A lot of anti-freeborn resentment has developed among our Cluster, and that could lead to disputes and fights. In a war zone, we cannot afford to lose personnel to stupidity."

Aidan nodded. "And if I seem to support the freeborns, the trues will be against me. If I support the trues, not only the frees, but you, will resent me. A dilemma, but I can handle it."

"I am sure you can," Horse said drily, "but I am not so sure you can deal with my other piece of information."

Aidan said nothing for a long moment, but let his gaze sweep the once-green Quarell landscape, which was now battle-scarred with scorched trees and long, deep gashes in the land. Then he turned to face Horse once more. "Well?" he said finally.

"It seems that this replacement pool includes a Star Commander. She is, well, an old warrior. She was one of the Falcon Guards who dishonored us on Twycross. In fact, this warrior is one of the few survivors of that debacle."

"I did not think you cared so much for abstractions like the honor of the Clan and such."

"I do not. I am merely presenting the situation the way most of your trashborn warriors will see it. The defeat on Twycross has shamed the Jade Falcons deeply. Anyhow, this new Star Commander carries that dezgrawith her. She was formerly a Star Captain, but has been retested and reduced in rank to Star Commander."

"Ah, Horse, perhaps I understand you now. This dezgrawarrior is none other than our very own Joanna, quiaff?"

"Aff."

Aidan frowned, the lines forcing his expression into something unfamiliar. The Star Colonel so rarely showed emotion that even a frown looked fresh on his skin.

"This is bad news, Horse," he said. "Very bad news indeed."

2

As always in battle, Diana faced her adversary with a stare as grim as it was threatening. It was a pose she had developed long, long ago, even before becoming a warrior. She had assumed this look in her early childhood games, which she had tried to model on her mother's tales of her warrior father. Diana always played her father's part, pretending pots and other utensils were parts of a BattleMech. Then, with proper battle shrieks, she would run after the other village children. Diana always won, for most of the children had neither her ambition nor, for that matter, her tenacity.

Those childhood games had borne significant fruit. Diana knew she would never be satisfied with any caste less than warrior. Even though she was not trueborn, she knew she must become a Clan warrior. It was that fierce conviction that had taken her with ease through training and her first warrior assignments. Unlike many other freeborns, she simply accepted her inferior rank in Clan society, easily ignoring the cruel remarks the trues often hurled at her. The word freebirth,a curse among warriors, did not ordinarily inspire her to seek retribution, as it did so many other freeborns.

She had two goals in life: to be a fine warrior and to find her father. Her skills in the first she had already proven time and again. As for the second, Diana was content that she would achieve it in time.

Now she stood poised in an improvised shipboard Circle of Equals, facing off against—of all people—another dedicated freeborn warrior. The several trueborns who had joined the observers at the outer rim of the circle seemed amused by the sight of two frees going at one another. They shouted encouragement now to one, now to the other warrior, always peppering their cheers with scornful insults. As usual, Diana noticed the condescension, but did not let it affect her. If she were a trueborn standing outside the circle, she would be shouting the same insulting remarks.

Her opponent, a stocky, muscular warrior named Trader (the nickname deriving from his origin as the son of a merchant), growled at her in the traditional manner of honor duels. His challenge had come over the right to pilot the Warhawkthat had become available when its regular pilot took ill during the interstellar journey to the Jade Falcon corridor of the invasion of the Inner Sphere. The 'Mech assignment would normally have fallen to Diana because the Star's new commander had claimed her Timber Wolf.

After hearing the assignment, Trader had stepped forward to claim that his seniority and longer battle record made him more deserving to pilot the Warhawk.While acknowledging privately that Trader's fighting prowess was enviable, Diana could not, as a Clan warrior, merely acquiesce and back down. No, the two of them must battle it out for the 'Mech.

The new commander had insisted that the contestants bid their way into the Circle of Equals. Diana had cut off the batchall immediately with her bid that she would meet Trader with no other weapons but her gloved hands. The bid drew some admiration because the tall, slim Diana seemed no match for the shorter but definitely more muscular Trader.

At the signal to begin, Trader gave a great yell that seemed to bounce off the DropShip's walls, then charged like a wild boar straight for Diana. He landed the first two blows, one to Diana's midsection, knocking some of the wind out of her, and a punishing punch to the left side of her face. That one drew immediate blood and sent her reeling backward. Her low kick in response was ineffectual, connecting with nothing. If anything, the effect was comical.