On the other hand, her own success as an officer was partly due to Nomad's efficiency. She could think of a number of close skirmishes where the makeshift battlefield repairs by Nomad and his crew had made the difference. An inept or indifferent chief tech could send his or her Star down the crater to oblivion.
"I am stuck with you, Nomad, quiaff?"
"Aff. We might as well be lovers."
"Do not blaspheme. I would not bed a tech, you know that."
"Yes. Warriors do not have sex below their caste?"
"Is that sarcasm? You know they do. I do not."
"A sense of ethics?"
"A sense of disgust. You are not appealing, Nomad."
The ironic look did not leave his eyes, but the remark silenced him. Joanna would have liked to continue the silence, but there was the ritual of duty to be performed.
She and her Trinary of fifteen MechWarriors were being rotated to Glory Station to replace the MechWarriors of Trinary Striker. Nomad made a daily check of the cocoons where their unit's 'Mechs were stored before reporting to her. Nothing, of course, would be wrong. It was routine duty, the kind that made Joanna's nerves edgy with boredom.
There were rumors that the invasion of the Inner Sphere would come soon. She hoped so. Clan warriors did plenty of fighting, it was true, but it was mere skirmishing, trivial battles over geographical territory or fights over genetic materials. It was a way to keep one's combat skills sharp, but had never been enough for her. She wanted the landscape of a major battle, the prodding to heroism. That was what being a warrior was all about. By the sacred name of Nicholas Kerensky, she vowed that she would not die in some minor battle or become cannon fodder like so many old warriors whose skills had diminished. She did not fear dying; she only feared dying for an inconsequential cause.
Joanna had initially tried to protest her assignment to Glory Station. If a significant war broke out or the Inner Sphere invasion began while she was on this remote outpost of the Clan empire, she could end up either out of the invasion altogether or summoned too late, when the really good fighting was over. It would take all her considerable manipulative powers to find a way out of Glory Station, but she was certain she could accomplish it.
She was about to give Nomad his orders for the day when the DropShip captain's voice came over the private intercom, the one that fed only into officer's quarters. "This is an All Officer Alert. Ensure that all troops are in combat readiness, then report to the bridge." The message was repeated, then the intercom went silent again.
"Down to the 'Mech bay," Joanna told Nomad. "It is time to prepare our 'Mechs."
The tech needed hear no more. He knew the meaning of an Officer Alert.
"Make sure the 'Mechs are secure," she shouted after him as he rushed down the corridor. Then she turned in the other direction, heading for the bridge. Coming to the corridor leading to it, she was not surprised to find it already crowded with other officers.
The DropShip captain, a sharp young warrior named Essel, informed the assemblage that a JumpShip from Clan Wolf had just appeared in the region and was sending out DropShips, all of them headed in the general direction of the planet Glory.
"No communication has come from the Clan Wolf ships, but we suspect that combat is imminent. Star Colonel Kael Pershaw has informed me that he intends to include this ship and the Trinary it carries in his defense. Please prepare your troops and await a General Alert. Return to your stations."
The adrenaline always came early for Joanna at the slightest prospect of a fight. She needed a good one to rid herself of her current frustrations. Taking it out on someone like Nomad, no matter how insubordinate the man became, did her no honor. She was a warrior, and only happy when functioning as one.
What luck that Kael Pershaw intended to use this ship and her Trinary. Joanna could not be sure whether this was genius or desperation on the Star Colonel's part because this DropShip was only a troop transport never intended for orbital assault. The move surprised her, but she could not help but admire the man's determination.
I hope we can get off this ship before combat begins, she thought. I would hate to sit this one out as an onlooker in orbit around Glory. I surely would.
3
Kael Pershaw indeed had no advance intelligence network to warn him of the Wolf Clan's intrusion into his sector. Clan Jade Falcon was not expecting any attacks, for what enemy would seek to invade Glory Station?
When the commtech brought him word that some anomalies at the outer rim of the sector might be ships, Pershaw was not much concerned. Perhaps these were only merchant ships arriving a month or so early, or even some pirates looking for a place to hide. If the ships were merchant, their captains would bring their deals planetside soon enough. If pirate, Pershaw would let them hide here, provided it was not in his hemisphere of Glory.
What really was on his mind was standing before him right now, looking calm. Star Commander Jorge's uniform was not even marked from his recent fracas. It was as if the clothing had smoothed itself down around his body even after having been severely rumpled. Jorge was the type who survived anything. A good trait in a warrior, Pershaw thought, but this particular warrior, skilled as he was, was only a repulsive freebirth.
"It seems we have just had this same encounter, Jorge," Pershaw said. "The last time you fought with Star Commander Bast, was it not?"
Jorge nodded. Pershaw glowered. This Jorge was a block, a statue, a grisly piece of work. He would have to crush him.
To Aidan, Kael Pershaw's face appeared calm, almost serene. That was a clue, he knew, to the man's actual wrath. The angrier Pershaw became, the less it showed on his face or body. Warriors said that when Kael Pershaw became insane with rage, he looked nearly comatose. At this point, Aidan realized, the base commander was nearing the comatose state.
He had stood up to greet Aidan. When their eyes met, Pershaw smiled hugely. Another bad sign. If the man laughed, Aidan would consider making out his last will and testament.
"This time, however, Bast is dead," Pershaw said, his smile and voice not losing even an ounce of good cheer.
"So it appeared when last I saw him," Aidan replied.
"You choose to be insolent even at such a moment?"
"No, sir. I merely stated a fact, sir."
"I know you, Jorge. You have a way of stating facts that is not a way of stating facts."
"I do not understand, sir."
"You do not understand, but you do. You are not ironic, but you are. You do not lie, but you do. Yes, you do understand. You certainly do."
There was something like a twinkle in Pershaw's eyes as he studied Aidan, looking him up and down as if measuring him for a burial cloth.
"Bast was not a bright man, as warriors go. But he had learned how to make his 'Mech think for him, something you, Jorge, will never do. He was a valuable warrior, and—however much he may have provoked your assault—Bast is a greater loss to me than your worthless freebirth self will ever be."
"I have served the commander well, I believe."
"And you are arrogant enough to point that out. Well, arrogance is a good trait in a warrior, and I will not fault you for it. There are times when you are almost like a trueborn in your manner, speech, and abilities."