When he came close to the staggering Mad Dog,Horse addressed its pilot formally over the open radio channel. "I am MechWarrior Horse of Bravo Star, Trinary First Garrison, Glory Station Cluster. Do I address an honorable warrior from Clan Wolf or Clan Jade Falcon?"

The voice that responded sounded bleary, or perhaps there had been damage to its 'Mech's communication system. "MechWarrior Enrique, from Charlie Star, Hades Surats, Clan Jade Falcon. We, uh, I come with Trinary. Trinary rotating to Glory Station. On DropShip. It crashed. I, uh, I do not know where I am. Is this Glory? Where is Glory Station? I have been wandering ever since my cocoon hit . . . crashed . . . whatever it did."

Horse responded to the wandering pilot softly, told him where he was. Aidan brought his Summonerforward and addressed Enrique. "Warrior, you will never get out of this swamp by yourself in the condition you are in. And your BattleMech is badly in need of repair. We must get you to Glory Station as soon as possible, since we will need both you and your 'Mech very soon. MechWarrior Nis!"

"Yes, Star Commander?" Nis's soft voice belied her fierceness as a warrior.

"You will lead MechWarrior Enrique out of the swamp. He is too disabled to make his way alone."

Nis sounded disappointed as she affirmed the order. Like Aidan or Horse—for that matter, like all Clan warriors—Nis did not want to be left out of a fight or a mission. But she was a loyal freeborn warrior, able to take orders as well as stand up against the insults of a trueborn. She would guide Enrique patiently back to Glory Station. Not only that, she had some tech abilities, and once the two 'Mechs were clear of this part of the swamp, she could find some high ground and work out field repairs for Enrique's Mad Dog.She would save both pilot and 'Mech, but in return would probably get only surliness from Enrique once he discovered she was a freeborn.

Enrique's short-ranged TBS system was the only part of his communications system still in operation. Nis was able to verbally transmit a general route that they would follow, but could not directly download into Enrique's navigation system.

"Did you come across any others from your Trinary after you crashed?" Aidan asked Enrique.

"One. 'Mech smashed, pilot with crushed chest. Still alive, but not for long. She could not talk."

"She? It was not your leader, was it?"

"Star Captain Joanna? No. With a crushed chest, she would be up and walking."

"Farewell, Enrique. May the spirit of Nicholas Kerensky guide you both."

The two 'Mechs quickly disappeared into the thick mist. Although Aidan had left open the channels between his 'Mech and theirs, the radio was soon filled with earsplitting static. He switched it off and signaled to Horse.

"What was that spirit of Kerensky stuff?" Horse asked.

"Simple good wishes, Horse. Simple good wishes."

"I knew the dead warrior would not be Joanna. She is much too evil to die so easily."

"You hardly know her."

"I have seen her often enough. And there are your stories ..."

"Treat them as stories. They are meaningless."

"You shared her bed."

"And that was the extent of it. There was no intimacy, no sharing. It was sex with a dragon, no more, no less. Was that laughter I heard?"

"You amuse me, Star Commander Jorge. Sex with a dragon. What a picture!"

"Let us leave it as a picture. We have a mission and we are one-fifth diminished."

"I wonder if any of the others from the incoming Trinary have survived?"

"If the swamp does not claim us, we will find out soon enough. Star!"

Horse and the others responded to the command summoning, and the four 'Mechs continued to lumber through the swamp, walking blind, using their sensors to find their way through the maze. Aidan thought how strange they would look, had anyone been able to actually see them. Four powerful, dangerous Battle-Mechs slogging along like oversized children playing in puddles. But no puddle had ever presented the overwhelming dangers of Blood Swamp.

9

Joanna's Hellbringerwas standing now, its head just below an overhanging branch. The branch was thick with leaves that sometimes bent down in the stiff breeze to brush the 'Mech's head.

It had been hard getting the Hellbringerupright, but Joanna, with Nomad's sideline help, had been able to manage it. The machine was not battle-ready, however, nor was it certain that Joanna could get it moving very far without further repair.

It was bad enough working on the 'Mech, doing the jobs Nomad normally would have done if not injured. Using his tools, she had spent hours getting an electrohydraulic servo-motor functioning, more time finding the right bypass for the hip actuator, and making sure all weapons were functional. She was lucky the damage to the machine was so slight, but that was no surprise. Clan 'Mechs were the best-manufactured BattleMechs in the known universe. Or at least Clan warriors thought so.

Now she stood outside her 'Mech and looked up at it. She recognized many of its battle scars. Though the techs removed most damaged parts during post-battle repairs, a few charred areas always remained— perhaps a groove in the metal, even some chips in armor that had been glancingly hit. Ordinarily it was not practical to replace a whole armor plate, for example, when only a fragment was missing or to replace parts that could be rebuilt and reconditioned. The warrior society of the Clans dictated that all its 'Mechs should be in top condition, but, as always, economy was the watchword, particularly when it came to technical repairs. According to the manual, any parts that could be restored to full function must remain on the 'Mech in a restored state.

Nor would warriors give their 'Mechs glamorous re-furbishings designed to produce a breathtaking and radiant BattleMech whose purpose was more to impress than to fight with efficiency. Though 'Mech pilots of the warrior caste were expected to be arrogant and difficult, excess pride was discouraged because it did not encourage combat harmony. Somewhere in The Remembrancewas a passage about a prideful warrior doomed to defeat, while the shrewd, realistic warrior won. All life was a contest and a bidding to win it, the poem stated, and of all the forces most expendable was pride, which the true warrior must learn to bid away. What remained at the end of the bid, the lowest reasonable bid, were intelligence, skill, and devotion. If one of these were sacrificed, defeat inevitably followed.

"There's a bad sound in the upper body rotating ring," Nomad said from his perch on a rather large tree root.

"How can you tell so much from a sound anyway?"

"Sounds are the key to the flaws."

"And you say there is a flaw in the rotating ring?"

"Might be, might not. I just hear a sound I don't normally hear."

Because their medkit had not survived the fall, Joanna had devised a makeshift sling for his bad arm. Tearing up an old uniform she had stored in the 'Mech cockpit, she had also tightly bound Nomad's injured wrist. He said he felt better and frequently offered to do the work himself. It was obvious he did not enjoy someone else doing his job anymore than Joanna liked doing it. But worse than the work itself was taking orders from Nomad. It was a humiliation as bad as being advanced in years without having acquired a Bloodname.

"Well, what should I do with the rotating ring?"

"Nothing. You have no access to it. We need to get to a proper maintenance area."