Instead of training in actual 'Mechs, they had been bombarded with more classroom lessons, more time in simulators that had become so unsatisfactory because they were not the real thing. At night the sibko's only topics of conversation were speculations about when the preliminaries to the tests would start and when would they get their first checkouts on neurohelmets.

Their days went from sunrise to sunset and sometimes into the night. Joanna led them on midnight marches through swampy territory, making them perform calisthenics whenever a temporary break threatened to become too long. Sleep became something they did when there was just enough exhaustion, and little beyond, to overcome them. Joanna now employed a Medusa whip to reinforce her orders and even more frequent sarcasms. It was another of the electronically doctored whips, like the one she had used on Aidan in the Circle of Equals so long ago. She cracked it incessantly. She also nicked it at the sibko constantly but was careful never to actually touch anyone with it. Now that they were at Crash Camp, she was forbidden to punish her charges. If she should lose her temper and forget that, she would be brought before a Warrior Council and disciplined severely. But that did not make the whip any less frightening. The sibko's tension grew every time she raised the Medusa.

The sibko had now grown almost completely apart. They did not speak to one another except when necessary during a classroom or field exercise. This lack of communication made Nomad's arrival welcome to Aidan. Not that the man proved easy to talk to. More often than not, he responded in grunts or with the least amount of words possible.

"Nomad?"

Grunt.

"Are we getting our 'Mechs soon? I mean is that why you are here?"

"Could be."

"Well, what good is a Tech if he has nothing to . . . to do his Tech job on?" Shrug. Grunt.

"Do you know when we will get our 'Mechs?"

"Mmmm."

Aidan was right. The arrival of the Techs, one to each cadet, did signal the assignment of BattleMechs. Without telling the sibko the purpose of the trip, Falconer Joanna took them to a tall building on the other side of the forest. After entering it through what seemed like a normal door, they emerged onto a walkway that stretched across a massive pit. Or at least it looked like a pit. They stood at a railing, and at Joanna's behest, gazed around them. The railing was hot from all the activity occurring in the mammoth chamber.

Way down below, jutting out through an opening in a tangled network of other walkways, machinery, complex repair devices, and hundreds of people, were a whole Trinary of BattleMechs, most of them standing tall with their heads a meter or so below the level of the walkway where the sibko stood. Techs swarmed all over the 'Mechs. Aidan recognized most of the machines as belonging to the SummonerClass, though a few medium and light 'Mechs were scattered among the huge heavies. His best view was to his left where he could see a Summoner-Aturned toward him. It had the typical hunchback look common to all the models in the class. Its LRM-15 rested on its high shoulder like some cylindrical, many-eyed animal. Both arms seemed held at the ready, the right one threatening with its extended-range PPC, the left one functioning as a persuader with its deadly accurate LB 10-X autocannon. Both weapons had been praised often by their instructors for being controllable and energy-efficient. "In a Summoner,the heat sinks seem more like an afterthought," Dermot once said. "That is, if you have employed them properly all along."

"It is an impressive fighting machine," Aidan said to Nomad, who stood indolently at his side. "What do you think, Nomad?"

"It's a fine machine."

"Careful. You used a contraction there."

Nomad looked in no way concerned. "Always did have lowdown habits," he said.

Nomad used both contractions and slang mercilessly, as if to annoy Aidan. But Aidan was not easily annoyed, especially by Nomad. He liked the man. It struck him now that Nomad was the first person outside the sibko for whom he had ever felt that sentiment.

Joanna took them down to ground level on a large platform that served the installation at many levels. "We call this a howdah," she said, "based on an old Terran word for a basketlike device mat allowed riders to be lifted onto elephants. Sometimes a smaller platform is used in battle situations and is called the field howdah."

Joanna conducted them on a tour of the installation, but Aidan later recalled little of what she told them, so rapt was he at the spectacle of the vast chamber. From this angle, looking up, he could see the 'Mechs swaying slightly as they were worked on. Techs stood, sat, crawled, hung, threw tools among each other, backed off from sudden sparks, rattled recalcitrant parts to make them work, climbed in and out of cockpits, cleaned the skin and innards of mighty weapons, ate food indifferently while continuing to stare at the various nuts and bolts that constituted their current challenge. The smell of the place was all oil and heat; its taste was bitter. The noise varied from spot to spot. In areas where Techs worked with power-driven tools, it could be deafening; in other areas, where Techs treated their jobs as a painter did his current masterpiece, Joanna's narrations seemed rude and intrusive.

Aidan could tell by the intense look in Marthe's eyes that she was as fascinated with the 'Mech installation as he was. Seeing how she clenched and unclenched her hands, he knew that she, too, was eager to get inside one of the Summoners,so much heavier and more battle-ready than the light machines in which they had been training, and show what she could do with it.

At the end of the tour, Joanna answered the question on all their minds: when would they operate one of these 'Mechs? "After you have been fitted with a fully operational neurohelmet, we will begin the final phase of your training. You will be operating fully functional BattleMechs and put through a course designed to prepare you to join an operational combat Star. After that, you will have one week to become familiar with the 'Mechs you will take onto the Trial terrain. At the end of the week, you and all the other eligible cadets will undergo the Trial of Position. If you are blessed, you will become a warrior of the Clan. If not, the honor of contributing to the Clan travels with you to some other caste."

Aidan could see in the faces of his fellow sibkin that they, like him, had no intention of being relegated to any other caste. At the same time, the tension of anticipation threatened to envelop him completely.

14

At first the neurohelmet seemed heavier than it was. His neck muscles strained at its weight, and he felt an odd discomfort in the various places where the neurohelmet touched him. And so heavily did it make his scalp perspire that he wondered if it would soon cause a short circuit that would damage the functions of both his brain and the neurohelmet.

From the headgear's built-in commlink, he heard the voice of Falconer Alexander, the instructor for this particular phase of training. Alexander's voice was flat, un-involved, with none of the clipped harshness so common to training officers. He was giving a rundown on the neurohelmet's capabilities, all of which had already been drummed into the cadets' minds ever since the early days of training.

Aidan glanced back at Nomad, who was slouched lazily in the other seat in the testing chamber. The Tech was there, Aidan knew, to disconnect the helmet quickly if he panicked or something went wrong with the equipment. He derived some confidence from the fact that Nomad appeared to think neither possibility was likely.