The doctor pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. "I won't tell you that because I don't believe it's true."

Fury flashed through Justin's eyes. "Don't tell me about training programs and therapy, Doc, because I don't want any part of it. Without a 'Mech, I'm nothing. Imagine having to spend the rest of your life only being able to watch medicine instead of practicing it . . . not taking care of patients .. . just watching. Imagine all your friends and relatives trying to console your loss, pointing out all the silver linings in these dark clouds. By God, I'll find a way to get a 'Mech back under me."

Doctor Thompson smiled and nodded his head. "I told them over in Biomechanicals that you were the right choice for that arm."

What?Justin stared up at the doctor. "I don't understand."

"Does the expression 'lab rat' mean anything to you?" Thompson reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a device. It was a black plastic rectangle, about fifteen centimeters long and a centimeter wide, capped by a clear lucite section. The clear plastic cap fit flush onto the rectangle, but the upper face had been chiseled back diagonally to present a flat face toward whomever held the device. Justin turned it over and noticed an opening for a computer jack on the bottom side. "Do you know what this is?" the doctor asked.

Justin took the device and turned it over. "I think I've seen something like it before. It's a diagnostic tool used for checking MinerMech remote controls."

Dr. Thompson smiled. "Very good. As you know, most Miner-Mechs are run by remote control instead of by human pilots. A radio link is plugged into the command console below the left-hand joystick, and all commands to the joystick are delivered over tightbeam broadcast." Thompson pointed at the unit Justin held. "They use that thing to make sure remote units are relaying the correct information to the joystick control. That one's been modified to check for input into a BattleMech. We chose to model it on a Warhammerbecause of the various weapon systems that machine employs."

Justin nodded, then looked up, puzzled. "Why tell me this?"

The doctor reached out and took hold of Justin's artificial arm. He pulled the middle and ring finger back until they lay flat against the back of Justin's synthetic hand. The Mech-Warrior stared as though the doctor were a madman, then he heard a click at his metal wrist. He looked down and saw a small slit in the metal around his wrist.

The doctor released his arm. "Slide that panel back."

Justin did so, and by the time he'd slid it back a half-centimeter, a tighdy coiled ribbon cable sprang out like a striking snake. At the end of the gray cable was a light blue jack. He shifted the testing rod to his left hand, closed the steel fingers around it, and snapped the cable jack into the opening on the test rod's bottom.

Instantly, a riot of color swirled across the lucite viewer atop the rod. "Easy, Justin, relax. You don't want to burn it out," Dr. Thompson said calmly, sensing Justin's intense excitement. "Close your eyes and think about opening your left hand. Don't frown. You can still feel the nerve connections ... I know because I hitched the artificial neuroreceptors to them."

Justin exhaled slowly. Easy now, Justin. Be calm. Just feel your fist opening.Almost immediately, Dr. Thompson congratulated him, but Justin waited until he could harness the rising well of enthusiasm in his chest before he dared open his eyes. Slowly, almost like a child peeking through his fingers at a terrifying holovideo, Justin looked at the cube. All the light, except for a burning red dot in the center of the display, had died.

Dr. Thompson smiled. "O.K. Let's take this slowly. The boys over in Theoreticals would be dancing just to see you do that much." Thompson pointed at the dot centered on the display, and drew a line from it up toward the top of the viewing area. "You'll notice, as you think about having your hand manipulate a 'Mech's joystick that you get a red arrow on the viewing face indicating in which direction you're shoving the joystick."

The doctor gave a nod, and Justin slowly commanded his phantom arm to move the joystick forward. The dot flickered a couple of times as Justin false-started. He swallowed hard and concentrated. The red dot stretched and lazily unfolded itself into an arrow pointing at the top center of the display. Justin willed his hand to pull back, and the arrow reversed itself. He smiled broadly and looked up. "It's slow, but it's working."

Thompson laughed aloud. "Slow? I've got colleagues over at the NAIS who said you'd never be able to get it to move at all."

Justin, infected by Thompson's enthusiasm, laughed as well. "Should have had money on it, Doc."

"True enough."

Justin took a deep breath. My heart's pounding like an auto-cannon full open and firing hot.Then he looked up at Thompson, feeling like a child afraid to be told it was all a dream. "I can target things. How do I shoot them?"

"That's a warrior for you. I put you back together, and all you want to do is take other folks apart." Dr. Thompson licked his lips. "All right. A Warhammercontrol has three thumb buttons, as well you know. The center operates the particle projection cannon. Successfully pressing it will give you a blue light on the display. Left thumb is a medium laser and creates a green light. Right thumb is the button to launch SRMs and will give you a yellow light."

Justin nodded and tried imagining each position. Carefully now. Let's punch the center. Nope, dammit! Again ...His efforts met with meager success, but he did occasionally trigger one of the three large weapons. "What else? It's been awhile since I sat in a Warhammer,but I seem to recall two trigger buttons on the joystick as well."

Thompson shook his head. "Take it easy, Major. Men have spent careers building that toy you're playing with. Try one step at a time . .."

Justin frowned. "Doc, this is my life we're talking about here. Just let me know all the tricks this thing will perform, and then I'll practice."

The urgency in Justin's plea hit home. "Yes. I understand," Thompson said, patting Justin on the shoulder. "Now, the index finger triggers an orange light on your display, and that stands for a small laser. The last thing, which gives a violet light, is the machine gun. That's triggered through your middle finger."

Thompson watched as Justin closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. Each of the weapon system lights burst to life in sequence, and the doctor smiled. "Blake's Blood! I can't wait to get you on a monitor and have you do all this. Prince Davion's going to be handing out fellowships left and right for this."

Dr. Thompson shook his head as the lights danced through the lucite block. "Good Lord, Justin, give the device a rest. Remember, too, that this system only works for the left-side weapons. Your right hand will still have to operate the other weapons."

Justin opened his eyes and laughed. "I think I can trust it to do that, Doctor. I don't know how to begin to thank you." Justin extended his good hand to the doctor and pumped his arm warmly. "This gives me hope that someday I will really pilot a 'Mech again." He raised the test rod high like a trophy.

Before Dr. Thompson could reply, the Solarium door burst open, and both men froze. A pair of CID guards dressed in black and tan riot gear, with stun-sticks in hand and full visors that hid their faces, held the doors open and stood at attention. A small, almost cadaverously thin man with a wisp of hair curling over his high forehead marched into the room. Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, the man stared at Justin Allard with eyes full of hate. "Major Justin Xiang Allard?"