"Sounds great. How easy is it to get to Glory Station?"
"It is something like traveling through hell in a paper 'Mech."
"At this moment we do not need colorful warrior phrases. Why do you not put Nomad down somewhere? He is able to use his legs, after all."
After Aidan had set the tech down, Joanna ordered Nomad to walk a short distance away so she could talk to Star Commander Jorge in private. It was obvious Nomad wanted to comment that there was nothing so vital it had to be kept from him. But caste was caste, and even he had to obey its rules.
"I had not expected to encounter you here," Joanna said after Nomad was sufficiently far away.
"No. It is not the way of the Clans for old comrades to keep in communication."
"Do not be sarcastic. I get enough of that from Nomad. And I am sure he is much better at it than you. Report to me on the composition of your unit, its personnel and firepower."
"What need have you to know that now?"
"If I am to take command,I must know what—"
"Take command?"
"I outrank you, quiaff?"
"Aff. But I have a mission to—"
"You still have that mission, Star Commander. And it is mine as well. I must assemble what has survived of my Trinary in order to join the combat over the Pershaw genetic legacy. Do you chafe at obeying me? Respond honestly."
"Yes, I do. This is my Star and you—"
"In battle conditions, rank is all, you know that. Step into the light."
Aidan walked into the thin shaft of light. Standing there felt like being on a stage in the harsh brilliance of a spotlight.
Joanna nodded. "I thought so. I saw your uniform was decorated, and we know warriors do not go into the field wearing battle citations. I suspected it must be the dark band. So you have not changed much, eh, Star Commander Jorge? You were obstinate as a cadet, and a troublemaker into the bargain."
"Is it obstinacy to fight for—"
"Silence, filth. You should not even be speaking to me unless I give you permission."
"With all due respect, Star Captain, I do not think that dark-band protocol applies during rescue missions."
"Oh, they do, Jorge, they do. And I will enjoy applying them."
"Joanna, I—"
He had not seen the whip she held in her right hand. She flicked it out lazily, just missing the side of his face.
"That is enough, Star Commander. We will restore proper discipline. You will address me only as ordered. We must respect the dark band. Nomad will instruct you in repairing the damage to your 'Mech's foot. He is quite good at that. Then we will proceed."
Aidan glared at her as she shouted for Nomad to return. She had arrogantly turned her back on him, and he wanted nothing more than to jump her, perhaps grab her neck and snap it, just as he had done to Bast. But, no, even if the way of the Clans and the dark band had not restrained him, he knew that he could not overcome Joanna so easily.
Nomad inspected the damage to the Summoner'sfoot. Following the tech's instructions, Aidan pulled a few charred pieces out of the long streak where Joanna had made hits. Nomad had him twist a couple of wires together, then alter something on a microprocessor board. Then the tech pronounced the 'Mech foot usable again.
"Jerrybuilding, but should work," Nomad commented. "It's something like pulling a thorn out of a lion's paw."
"There is a Terran legend—"
"So I have heard."
Because Nomad could not climb into Joanna's Hellbringeron his own, she climbed up to its cockpit with him on her shoulders. Aidan watched them ascend in silence, then he got into his own 'Mech.
"Star Commander Jorge, you must provide me coordinates for the probable locations of my Trinary survivors. Respond."
In a flat voice, Aidan gave Joanna the information she required.
"I do not know the names of your personnel," she said next. "I do not need to, for undoubtedly they are all freebirth filth. Like yourself." Since Joanna was one of the few who knew Aidan's true genetic identity, her insult was carefully calculated. Waves of long-forgotten but deep resentment surged through his body. Though he had not seen her in several years, the hate was fresh, unchanged. When the dark band was off, he knew now which particular warrior would be his adversary in the Circle of Equals—if Kael Pershaw ever restored the Circle.
"Star Commander, one of your warriors must travel as point, clearing the way. I will follow, then you and the other two 'Mechs behind me, quiaff.Respond."
Aidan felt as if he were back on Ironhold, having to do Joanna's bidding in her role as his training officer.
"Aff, Star Captain. Horse, you take the point."
"Yes, Commander."
Aidan watched on his monitor as Horse forged ahead of Joanna. On their private channel, Horse said softly, "Jorge, what is going on here? That arrogant bitch is bossing you around like a—"
"She has the rank, Horse."
"But she has never been on Glory before. Any sensible officer would defer—"
"She has the rank."
"You are capitulating too easily. That is not like you. Something is wrong. Is it the dark band? It is, isn't it?"
"Do your job, Horse."
"I did not know the dark band turned its wearer into a coward."
Aidan felt like screaming at Horse, but he kept his voice calm. "Do as you have been ordered, Horse."
Horse grumbled, but he began to lead the Star, restored temporarily to the full five Points, out of the clearing and into an area of jungle that seemed darker and more threatening than anything they had seen so far.
11
With every unit in which she had ever served, Joanna immediately became notorious for her cool indifference. No disaster, no tragedy, no death of a comrade could break through her wall of ice or rock. However, the wall broke down often enough to terrify her subordinates. She could become angry, even wrathful, in the face of incompetence and stupidity. Too many such eruptions had, in fact, kept her in rank for too long. And a certain strategic carelessness had led to her many failed attempts to win a Bloodname.
Her famed indifference was severely tested in Glory's jungle, as she and Aidan's Star came across one piece after another of crash debris. She saw Battle-Mechs so damaged they could never be repaired in time for the current struggle with Clan Wolf. She saw warriors of her command lying dead amid tangled wreckage or barely able to walk forward to greet her. She saw blood in pools and streaks, blood as dewfall from leaves. The scenes were enough to draw a tear or a sigh of regret from even a Clan warrior. She heard gasps over the commlink from the warriors in Aidan's Star, her Star now, but of course they were freebirth filth and could not be expected to maintain proper decorum. Still, even Joanna had to admit some inner pangs of revulsion. Not that she would display them physically or verbally. Even more than revulsion, she felt anger at the sheer waste of it all. Once she had had a Trinary to command. Now she was reduced—at least temporarily—to a Star of freebirth filth. And the few operable 'Mechs from the Trinary that were able to rev up and follow her Star. She nearly smiled when she thought of the phrase. Follow her star. That was an old saying, was it not, one that probably dated back to Terran history. In villages she had occasionally heard people say, "Follow your star and success will be yours." Villages were good places to hear useless conventional wisdom. Freeborns could buttress their lives with the most regrettable apothegms and catch-phrases. Warriors did not need them. For a Clan warrior, the only gains were those achieved personally. One succeeded at the Trials, one was victorious in war, one achieved a Bloodname, one contributed to the sacred gene pool. There was no need to follow a star or rely on faith or trust in fate, as lower castes often did. A warrior was his or her own reason for faith, his or her own director of fate.