Aidan responded, "I don't understand, Horse." His voice was calm, but he was ready to cut Horse's throat when the words of challenge came.
"I know where I saw you. You were in a 'Mech on the First Stage Training Ground. We fought. I had a demolition charge that you got rid of, but not before I almost beat you. You've changed, got stronger, shrewder far as I can tell. No, don't bother to deny it. I know. I know. "
Aidan examined the cloth, surprised that there was still so much residue from the bore on this, the umpteenth time he had pushed a cloth through. He was also evaluating which of the pieces on the blanket would most swiftly dispose of Horse if it came to a fight. Even as his muscles tensed to spring at Horse, however, his brain noted the serenity with which Horse spoke. When it came to freeborns and trueborns talking together, hostility was the norm, never serenity. "What do you intend to do, Horse?"
Horse shrugged. "Nothing, I expect. If you are so hot to become a warrior that you'll come train with a bunch of freeborns, then I think you probably should be a warrior. Why are you looking so strange?"
Aidan, now facing a clean cloth, put the bore down on his blanket. Everything was ready for Abeth's inspection. "I am confused by you, Horse. In a similar situation, a trueborn would do something, anything. Turn me in, fight me, strangle me while I was asleep."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because the code would demand right behavior."
"And what's right about strangling you in your sleep?"
"It would punish me."
"And you need to be punished?"
"When the code is violated, yes."
"Well, here, you take my bore, exchange it with yours. That way you won't get the points and I will. Is that sufficient punishment?"
"Probably not, but I agree to the exchange." As they switched bores, Aidan said, "Falconer Abeth might check to make sure we each have the bore we started with."
"No, she won't. Nobody inspects that close, not even Abeth."
And he was right. Horse received praise from Abeth for a job well done, while Aidan was told that he was slipping and better shape up.
Afterward, Horse said no more about the past incident. For a while, Aidan thought he might have to kill the freeborn anyway, in order to protect his secret. That, he knew, is what Ter Roshak had advised. Just calling Aidan trashborn, as Horse had done during the training exercise, would have been sufficient excuse at one time to do away with the young man. But now Aidan was too puzzled by Horse's laconic acceptance of him to want to kill him. He had to know more about- Horse and about freeborns, if only to maintain his own freeborn identity. Worse, he had begun to like Horse, a reaction he had never anticipated. He could not kill him. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was a clear danger to Aidan. He would not trust Horse because he could probably never fully trust a freeborn but he could, for the time being, spare him.
Two days later, the freeborns were in the midst of a marching drill, with Falconer Othy futilely, and in an erratic rhythm all his own, sending them back and forth on a parade ground, just to fill in time because the obstacle course, which had absorbed too much rain overnight, was presently impassable.
An orderly ran up to Othy, waving a paper in his hand. Because the paper was a light blue, Aidan knew it was a command-level communique. Othy scowled when he read the message, then he assembled the freeborns in front of him.
"The message concerns Falconer Abeth," Othy said in his flat voice. "She is dead. An accident in a hovercraft. It exploded."
"Somebody killed her," Aidan muttered, and as soon as he said it, he knew the murder had something to do with Ter Roshak. He looked up and saw the others, including Othy, staring at him. He had not realized he had vocalized his thought.
"What did you say, Jorge?"
"Nothing, Falconer."
"No, you said somebody killed her. Why did you say that?"
"Just an active imagination, sir. It was an accident then, a systems failure or some spilled coolant or something?"
"That is what the report says. But you know something, I can tell. Tell us."
"Really, I know nothing. I am ignorant."
"Come with me."
He took Aidan a few paces away from the others and spoke to him quietly. "Everything has been thrown out of kilter since you arrived here, Jorge. Even your arrival was strange. I cannot remember a case where a cadet was transferred into another unit after he became the only survivor of such a disastrous incident. Wherever there is a falconer alive in a unit, it does not matter if that officer or officers are in charge of only a single cadet. Except under special circumstances, the falconer stays with the group all the way, until it is completely flushed out or until it goes through the Trial. But your falconer was killed in that explosion, too. It was very much like a setup. Abeth told me two nights ago that there was something odd about you and she was checking you out. Now she is dead. Another suspicious accident like the minefield explosion. Does it not seem strange to you, Jorge?"
"Sir, there is nothing strange. Things happen. Things—"
"Things happen wherever you are, Jorge. Now I am in danger, too, quiaff?"
"Sir, you are imagining—"
"I am imagining nothing. I am not an imaginative sort. If Abeth had said nothing to me and you had not whispered that somebody killed her, I would have accepted her death as a mere accident. But now—"
Aidan became frightened. He felt bad enough about Abeth. She had seemed efficient, a worthwhile warrior.
But Ter Roshak was up to something, and it had to do with Aidan. That day when the Falconer Commander had come to see him, he had merely told Aidan that he had obtained a second chance for him that required assuming a new identity. The identity came from a freeborn cadet who had had an unfortunate accident. Aidan had believed that Jorge's death and those of his fellow trainees were the result of some kind of bungling on the part of those who set the minefield. But of course Ter Roshak had been responsible, just as—to protect the master plan he had hinted at—he would be responsible for the deaths of anyone else who got in the way. Like Abeth.
But he could not tell Othy any of this, even though the slovenly falconer was in danger. He could not even talk him out of pursuing his present thoughts. If he told him to stop, then Othy would know there was substance to his suspicions.
"Sir, I know nothing of this. Permission requested to return to my unit."
Othy stared at him incredulously, then he nodded and murmured, "Permission granted." Aidan could sense, without looking back, that the falconer was still staring at him. Othy was a dead man, Aidan thought, unless he came to his senses and said nothing to no one. He wished he could tell him to keep his mouth shut.
The mood in the barracks that evening was sullen and sad. Anyone who spoke got barked at by someone else. No one said anything about Abeth's death, no one expressed regret. But an aura of mourning hung over the barracks just as much as if a gray cloud had seeped in through all the cracks in the building.
The only mention of Falconer Abeth came after they were all in their bunks and Horse yelled out suddenly, "She was all right, Abeth!" The others muttered agreement.
Lying in bed, unable to sleep, Aidan decided he had to do something. He wanted that second chance at a Trial more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but it was not worth getting there Ter Roshak's way.
37
I was right when I decided to mastermind this second chance for Aidan, wrote Falconer Commander Ter Roshak. He has the grit, the tenacity, the bravery to become a good officer. He even has the guts to stand up to me!
He came to me tonight. I do not know how he was able to steal away from his barracks, how he made it past the innumerable Crash Camp guards to my quarters, how he even knew where my quarters were.
I was asleep, dreaming of, well, a young woman I knew when I was a young man. She has been dead for sixteen years, reduced to a charred mass in a 'Mech coolant accident, yet how vividly alive she is in my dreams. At any rate, I am sure I was tossin
g and turning with the disorientation of the dream when I woke up suddenly, knowing that someone was in my room.
Aidan was just standing there. He seemed to be staring at my prosthesis, which was lying on a table beside the bunk, where I had put it before retiring. I had an impulse to fit it on, but I do not like to display that particular weakness in front of others. With my good hand, I settled my pillow into a position against the wall and sat up.
"I could court-martial you just for being here," I said calmly. "How did you get in?"
He shrugged. "If you must do something, you find a way to do it. What happened to the real Jorge?"
Being careful not to remove my deformed arm from beneath its cover, I shrugged, too, if it is possible to shrug with only one shoulder. "He died," I said.
"I know that. You told me it was an accident."
"Yes, I did. I told you that."
"But it was not the truth."
I stayed silent. He was going too fast. I was not sure what he could know, what he should know. The look in his eyes was strange, unreadable. It is hard enough to read their expression when he is in a normal mood, but in an odd mood, they are impossible.
"You do not have to say, Ter Roshak. I know Jorge must have been killed on purpose, to make room for my identity. But why the others? Why the rest of his unit? Why his officer? Why Falconer Abeth?"
He caught me off guard with the last, and I am afraid I reacted guiltily to the mention of her name. She had unearthed most of the plot and brought the discovery to me, not knowing that the piece of information she was missing was my participation in it. I regretted having to kill her, but she was obviously the kind of officer to whom loyalty to the Clan was all-important. She would never have understood my motives. Killing her was expedient, and I admit that her death was the only one I wish had been avoidable. But, of course, I could not reason with Aidan about her disposal. I suspected he would not understand the necessity of it. He is too young to appreciate tactics.
"Why?" he asked again.
"There is no answer to that, Aidan. What is done, is done."
"But that whole unit—"
"Jorge's?"
"Yes. They were wasted just so I—"
"Forget them. They were mere freebirths."
"But they lived, they—"
"Do you mean to say you regard a freeborn as having the same right to live as we do, as does anyone created out of the gene pool and therefore superior to—"
"Yes, I regard their lives as valuable."
"Of value equal to ours?"
"I, well, I—yes, why not? They were here training to be warriors."
"Do you feel that a freeborn who succeeds in the Trial is therefore better than you, that he has caste status above you? Well, Aidan?"
"I do not know how to answer that. I am trained to think otherwise. But is it not true that the freeborn who succeeds at the Trial becomes a warrior of the Clan?"
"Yes, but only in a way. You rarely see freeborns on front-line duty. They are mainly useful in freeing up proper warriors for significant duty. They will never contribute genes to the gene pool and rarely earn a Bloodname."
"But at least they are warriors. I failed. I became a Tech. Yes, the warrior in the most unpleasant rear-guard duty is to be envied when you are back here as a mere Tech."
"Techs might argue that point, but I do think that you have been living among freeborns for too long."
"I have been one! I am one!"
"Do not get carried away, Aidan. Whatever you are and whether or not you have succeeded in the Trial yet, you are not a freeborn. No matter how much empathy you feel for one of that unfortunate genetic state, you cannot become one. At any rate, I trust that you will do well in your next Trial and all of this puerile discussion will be rendered moot. Why are you here?"
He seemed stunned, not able to speak. I had the sensation of my missing hand grabbing fistfuls of sheet and pulling at them.
"I—" he began, then stopped and took a breath. "I want to be a warrior, but I want no one killed to promote my success. If this killing is to continue, I respectfully request that you return me to the technician caste, and this time I promise to stay there."
The words came out in a labored way, and I had to respect his courage.
"There is someone else who knows about your background?"
His answer came too slow. "No, there is not." I knew there was.
"Aidan, I will return you to the technician caste if you will answer me just one question."
He scowled, puzzled. "All right."
"Do you want to become a warrior? Do you want it more than anything else in your life?"
"That is not fair! It is—"
"DO YOU WANT TO BE A WARRIOR?"
"YES! I WANT IT MORE THAN—"
"Then that is enough. I will not interfere with your progress further. You are completely on your own. I admit to nothing that has happened in the past, and you will never again accuse me. You agree, quiaff?"
I became instantly furious when he hesitated. Then he said, quietly, "Aff."
"Very well. You are dismissed. Return to your unit."
For once, I could read his eyes. I saw in them a thousand things he wanted to say, and his resentment at me for blocking them. What I felt at that moment perhaps corresponds to what fathers feel for their children at moments of crisis. But of course I could not become that sentimental.
He left, but traces of his presence seemed to linger in the air.
I had lied to him, of course. Anything I can do to facilitate his passing of the Trial, I will do. I will risk the consequences. But I must be more subtle, I suppose. I surmise that the person who has suspicions is the unit's other falconer, the one named Othy. But this one I cannot kill. I must arrange a necessary transfer, and then dispose of him later, after the Trial. It should not be too hard to manufacture his removal.
If he goes, then the unit is without training officers. Someone else must move into the spot. And I know just the logical candidate for the job. I feel the wheels turning. It is always exciting when the wheels are turning.
38
Their new training officer, a tough bird named Falconer Joanna, really dislodged the equanimity of the freeborn unit. Louder than the late Falconer Abeth and more demanding than the departed Falconer Othy, she was a martinet who suffered no excuses, forced a cadet to lick up any dirt he had not cleaned up, ran a quicker march, demanded better performance, and seemed to despise every freeborn in the universe. She was especially hard on Cadet Jorge, even though he proved time and again that he could do anything she could dream up for him to do. Indeed, she seemed to get special pleasure from finding new challenges for him.
Aidan thought Joanna was just being herself, and then some. When she first arrived and found an excuse to take him aside, she said: "Make no mistake about it, Aidan—"
"Jorge—I am Jorge now."
"I know that."
"But what if someone overhears?"
"If I say it, it does not matter if someone overhears." She glared at him, but he sensed that she almost smiled. "You understand that, quiaff?"
"Aff."
"Let us make this as easy as possible. I am not patient, yes? All right. As I was about to say, I am not happy about this assignment. I am here because Ter Roshak said somebody had to be, especially since Othy came down with that influenza."
"Did he then? I mean, he is all right, is he not?"
"If you call lying under a dozen blankets and delirious with fever all right, then he is just fine. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. Why do you so dislike being here? It is no worse than ordinary training."
"But it is. I cannot stomach being around freebirths all day. How can you?"
"It is not so bad. They are ordinary, friendly—"
She seemed shocked. "Of course they are ordinary. How can you stand that? But never mind. They disgust me, and I am only glad that my stay here will be a short one."
"Falconer Joanna, you should giv
e them a chance."
"Stop, I have heard such pro-freebirth talk before and I despise it as much as I despise them. I am going to hit you now. They are watching us."
She did not give him much time to think about it. With the back of her hand, she whacked Aidan hard on the side of his head, dizzying him for a short time. Then she bellowed an order and walked away. When he went back to his fellow cadets, they were all smiling. Thinking of what Joanna had said, and recalling warrior beliefs about freeborns, he wondered if he should feel so comfortable with them.
Several days later, Joanna rousted them out of bed before dawn with the announcement that they were marching to a special duty. The march was long and it was well after daylight before they reached their destination. Joanna handed rations around and told them they had been chosen to participate in the first stage of a Trial that would be held in this area in two hours. They would deploy with weapons in the forest a kilometer away and attack the cadets as they came through. The weapons were equipped with stun potential, as were the weapons of the cadets taking the Trial.
"It is a chance for you to observe a Trial in action and provide a valuable service for the trainees, sharpening their instincts and presenting them battle conditions before they reach their 'Mechs. Any questions?"
Looking around him, Aidan suddenly recognized the area. It was the same one where he had taken his own Trial. He could see the tips of the hills beyond the forest.
When Joanna was finished and the others were wolfing down their rations, Aidan approached Joanna. "Yes, Cadet Jorge?" she asked. "Permission to speak with you privately, Falconer."
She glared at him briefly. His request was against procedure, especially during duty, but she knew that Jorge was regarded with such admiration by the others that they would believe whatever explanation he invented.
Way Of The Clans Page 23
