I miss war and I do not mind admitting it, in the privacy of this journal.

But my fighting days are over and I have to live vicariously through these cadets. I am hard on them because my orders so require; I am even more rigorous because they are my enemy now. An odd thought, that. I had never perceived the cadets in that way before. With their innocent ways and their frequent ineptitude, they constitute all the obstacles to be overcome. I hate all their failures, want more from them when they succeed.

When the sibkos have been winnowed down, I then focus on the useful material—that is, the cadets who definitely could become warriors. Potential waste (in terms of warrior potential) has been eliminated and reassigned to worthwhile roles in the society.

Digression. Digression. Looking back over what I have just written, I seem to subscribe to what might be called an excremental view of history. Nevertheless, a control of human and nonhuman assets is essential to a successful military operation of any kind.

Which is not to say that I am overwhelmingly dedicated to saving everything. I will dispose of even human lives if the objective is reasonable. I will sacrifice a 'Mech if it means demolishing other 'Mechs. In the battle that cost me my arm, I had to send one Star on a suicide mission, and I still remember every single one of its members.

I pile digression upon digression. It is time for me to try to sleep, though I will probably be unable to. In three days the present sibko will fight its Trial of Position, and I think about that constantly. For the three who remain, I have ordered that they undergo the Trial together. I prefer that only two go out at a time, as is the declared custom, but when the number is odd, I reluctantly order three out against nine. Joanna is excited by the prospect, seeing the Trial as a kind of battle royal. She is a bit bloodthirsty, that woman. I think she would not mind if all the cadets were defeated. She has no sense of economy.

It is a pity that we lost one cadet so close to the Trial. When that happens, it is always a minor tragedy, not so much for the cadet who is killed, but for the loss of a warrior at a time when more warriors are needed.

16

It might have been better, more meaningful, if Rena's corpse were not so twisted and bloody. Aidan definitely wished her eyes were closed, and would have closed them himself if Falconer Joanna did not stand between him and Rena's body. Joanna's face was emotionless, looking at Rena as if she had not known her for so long, taken her through so much training. Aidan edged closer, sensing Marthe and Bret also moving in a step or two behind him. He had seen Rena fall, seen the dark spots appear on her fatigues before he realized that she had been hit.

"She was aware this was a live-ammunition exercise, quiaff?"Joanna asked.

"Aff," Bret replied.

"And she stood up suddenly, quiaff?"

"Aff."

"And there was no reason for her to stand up, quineg?"

"Neg. No reason."

"Then it is clear she was not meant to be a warrior. She was, like all cadets who do not succeed, a fool. She should have died that first day, sparing me the time I spent training her. Dispose of the body, the three of you."

Joanna walked away without looking back. None of the cadets made a move to obey her directive.

As Aidan looked down at Rena, he wondered if he should remember something significant about her, perhaps make some sort of valedictory before she was carted off to the medical facility, where her usable organs would be extracted and stored, and the rest of her cremated. The leftovers. That was what faced most of them, unless they were lucky enough to be disintegrated in battle and rendered not worth dissecting or burning.

In idle moments, in classrooms or alone in bed at night, he had been able to call up all kinds of childhood memories, but now with the sibko itself almost a memory, he could think of nothing specific about Rena. No immediate image of her alive in pre-cadet days came to him. For that matter, he could remember nothing about any of them. All those memories he used to cherish about him and Marthe were, for the moment, denied recall. (Later, in his bunk, looking ahead to the Trail and back to the sibko, such incidents flooded his mind.)

Marthe touched his arm. At first he thought it was a renewal of the old friendship, but then it was obvious she was pushing him aside.

"We have a job to do. Bret, you take her feet. I will carry her by the shoulders. Aidan, you go ahead and make the arrangements."

Aidan took a step in the direction of the medical facility, then he turned back and addressed Marthe: "What happened? Why did she die?"

"It is beyond us as warriors to consider weighty abstractions, unless required for strategy."

"I did not mean that! I mean what specificallyhappened? How did she come to stand up? All of us knew better. Sheknew better."

"I suppose she could not have, considering that she did what she did."

With Bret positioned at the body's feet and Marthe at its head, they picked Rena up at Marthe's signal. As strong as they were, the carrying of a body required no strong effort.

"Unless she killed herself intentionally," Aidan commented.

"That is not possible. Rena was a warrior. Warriors do not kill themselves. Go on to the medical facility, Aidan."

"Are you sure? That is only classroom talk, as far as we know."

"You doubt what we are told?"

"No it is not that, it is just—I do not know what I mean. Forget I spoke."

"That would be easy."

"You sound more like Falconer Joanna every day, Marthe."

She turned and glared at him.

"And you sound like one of your hawks, squawking and growling at every chance. You complain too much, Aidan."

"I speak my mind."

"Whatever you call it, it is a bad habit."

He started again on the path toward the medical center. Marthe called after him: "You say I sound like Falconer Joanna. That is a compliment, Aidan. A compliment."

Then why, he wondered, had she been so angry when first he said it?

After they had delivered Rena and her body was on its way toward eventual dissolution in flames, the three remaining cadets returned to the exercise in which they had been engaged when Rena was killed. All passed the test with high scores.

In the midst of the maneuvers, with the heat of the fusillades descending on them like quick storms, Aidan did not think again of Rena. For him and his fellow cadets, her passing was like the departures of their fellow sibkin, sharply noted but easily forgotten. That night Aidan had his few moments of memories, but then he turned his attention to the important time ahead, when he would finally fight a real battle with a real 'Mech against real opponents. In spite of the Clan idea of utility, he itched to turn an attacking 'Mech into useless scrap.

17

The site of the test was kept secret from the cadets until the actual day of the Trial. In a rare speech, Falconer Commander Ter Roshak explained that the Jade Falcon Trial differed from simpler Trials used by other Clans such as the Clan Wolf. In contrast to those, he said, the Jade Falcon Trial of Position intended to recreate actual battle conditions, where warriors had to fight in unfamiliar terrain and with looser rules of engagement. All the cadets would know beforehand was contained in a map of the terrain and a brief "Recon report," both documents issued an hour before the Trial.