Other 'Mechs, armed and operational, stood waiting with their canopies open. Spilling down their chests like comical ties were rope ladders that allowed men and women to mount the huge machines they would pilot into battle. The Stingers,20-ton light 'Mechs often used for training MechWarriors, did not look any less deadly than the heavier 'Mechs scattered throughout the bay. The massive medium laser grasped pistol-like in each Stinger'sright hand seemed lethal enough for anyone's taste.

As Leftenant Redburn and Major Allard entered the bay, the 1st Kittery Training Battalion, including a hastily arriving Robert Craon, stood at attention in ranks. When Justin nodded approvingly to Sergeant Walter de Mesnil, the one-eyed MechWarrior turned to face his troops. "At ease," he rasped.

Justin cleared his throat. "This afternoon Leftenant Redburn and I will take you through an evaluation exercise. Please bear in mind that your 'Mechs are fully armed and powered. As always, we wish to minimize damage to the surrounding area. Target practice on livestock owned by the natives is discouraged and will be punished by immediate dismissal from the training program." Justin emphasized the word "native" so that his troops would note that he was not using the slang "indig," which most of his trainees preferred. "I know you think I speak of the people here as natives because I am half-Capellan, but you must learn that to accept them is to have them accept you. And that is a major part of our mission on Kittery." He turned to Redburn. "Leftenant."

Redburn nodded and accepted command. "Sergeant de Mesnil... Corporals ... form up your lances and conduct them outside." He turned to Weird three trainees—two men and a woman—and nodded to the largest man. "James, head out after Sergeant de Mesnil and wait for me to join you." He scanned the crowd and caught one Corporal's eye. "Hugh, Private Craon has been assigned shepherd duty, so your lance will run last. Dismissed."

The MechWarriors broke ranks and ran to their 'Mechs while the two officers walked over to where their own 'Mechs waited. Redburn swung up the ladder that hung from a Spider.Unlike the Stinger,this 30-ton humanoid 'Mech carried no weapons in its hands, but the twin medium laser snouts jutting from the center of its chest left no doubt about its battleworthiness. Reknowned tor its speed and the "jumping" abilities that allowed it to range behind enemy lines to wreak havoc, the Spiderwas the perfect Mech to ride herd on a company of trainees.

Justin quickly climbed up and into the cockpit of his Valkyrie.He strapped himself into the pilot seat and punched a button that reeled in his ladder and slowly closed the polarized canopy. As it shut, the cockpit became pressurized and Justin had to open his mouth wide to equalize the pressure in his ears.

He laced up his cooling vest and plugged the power cord into the socket to the right side of his command chair. After carefully pressing the adhesive monitoring discs to his upper arms and thighs, he fed the leads from them up toward his throat. Then he settled the olive-green neurohelmet pad over his shoulders, and threaded the monitor disc leads into their proper connections. Finally, Justin reached up and pulled the neurohelmet down over his head.

Justin shivered unconsciously as the helmet cut out all external noise and made his breathing rumble thunderously in his ears. He adjusted the helmet until the roughly triangular viewplate had centered itself in front of his face and he could feel the pressure of neuroreceptors in the proper places around his skull. He plugged wires from his 'Mech into the appropriate sockets at the helmet's throat and then spoke.

"Pattern check. Major Justin X. Allard."

Justin listened to the static crackling through his skull, then smiled as the 'Mech's computer replied, "Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Proceed with initiation sequence."

Justin's eyes narrowed. "Code check: Zhe jian fang tai xiao.Authorization code: Alpha Xray Tango Bravo." Now the computer was checking his codes against the vast list of authorizations and personal passwords stored within its memory. Unlike most 'Mechs, which responded only to the secret code locked into it by its pilot, training 'Mechs had to be able to accept numerous codes. Each pilot in the training cadre had his own code, which meant that anyone performing an irregular action—such as stealing a 'Mech—could be pegged by checking to see which code had last been used to activate the 'Mech.

Justin knew that it was unorthodox for him to have a personal check code in Capellan, but it ensured that none of these clowns would steal his machine. He laughed to himself. Even if they could figure out that his code meant, "This room is too small," none of them would understand the humor, nor would they be able to pronounce the words correctly. A sudden new thought sent a chill up Justin's spine as he realized that if his code ever did become known, it would only confirm the bigoted opinions about him. Stupid, Justin,he thought. Better change it after this exercise.

The computer's metallic voice knifed through his thoughts. "Authorization confirmed. Glad to have you aboard, Major." In response to the correct codes, the control console came alive with lights and flashing buttons. The heat scales on the internal systems monitor all sat low in the cool-blue range. The data readouts on the rack of long-range missiles housed in the left side of his 'Mech's torso and the medium laser that replaced the 'Mech's right hand both reported the weapon systems operational but unarmed. Justin caressed two buttons on the targeting joystick with the fingers of his left hand, and the systems armed themselves.

Other data displays told him that both jump jets on his Valkyrie'sback were ready to boost him up to 150 meters at a blast. The mechanism for reloading his missiles also reported itself ready to supply twelve full flights of ten missiles apiece, though Justin knew this included the brace of missiles already loaded into the launchers.

Justin drew in one last breath of cool air, then closed his eyes and flexed his fingers. He exhaled slowly, then cleared a radio link to Leftenant Redburn's Spider."Ready, Andy?"

"Yes, sir," rang out Redburn's reply.

"Good. Let's get out of here and see what these kids have learned."

2

Kittery

Capellan March, Federated Suns

27 November 3026

Justin stopped his Valkyriejust below the crest of a hill and turned back to watch the trainees straggling through the meadow below. The stark, snowy-white color of the 'Mechs made them a sharp contrast to the golden-brown of the dying summer grasses. A breeze swirled down into the valley's bowl and rode through the grasses in waves until it hit the wide swath of destruction made by the marching 'Mechs.

These kids are good. I suspect that after they get a battle under their belts, no one will doubt Prince Davion's wisdom in creating these training battalions—no one but the people running the military academies and the few bureaucrats who don't want their planets protected by such "green " troops.Justin shook his head. They're really pushing themselves so that their Capellan Major will see how good they really are. Excellent!

Justin glanced at his heat monitors. The levels still hovered in the blue range, but were nearer to the green of the next higher level. The day's warmth was not much of a danger, and none of the 'Mechs, with the possible exception of Craon's Stinger,should have cracked the green wall. "Andy?"