Dan stopped short, his breath taken away by what he saw. Standing across the wide ferrocrete aisle stood a BattleMech. It was as tall as its fellows, but the ferocious leanness of the 'Mech immediately suggested capability for great speed. Its left hand was fully articulated, but the muzzle of a heavy laser replaced its right. Painted in the black and crimson colors of the Kell Hounds, it looked like a nightmare beast. From a Kurita nightmare . . .

Three medium laser ports dotted the 'Mech's chest left, right, and center to form three corners of a triangle pointing up toward the 'Mech's head. Dan's smile seemed to match the lupine grin on the 'Mech's head. Reminiscent of ancient Terran-Egyptian portrayals of gods, the 'Mech's wolf's-head design gave it an aggressive, fearsome aspect. Dan saw immediately that its ears served as sensor and communications pick-ups, and he mentally congratulated the designer for the way he had perfectly melded form and function.

Dan turned toward Morgan. "I've never seen anything like it."

Morgan smiled openly. "It's a brand new design, Dan. It's a Wolfhound.It's yours."

Dan shook his head. "Mine?"

Morgan nodded solemnly. "For what you did for Patrick." Morgan looked at the Wolfhound,then pointed toward the hangar doors behind. "Go on. Try it out. Your lance is waiting for you out there. They're in four Panthers . . .See what you can do."

Dan saluted smartly. "Yes, sir, Colonel!" He grinned. "With pleasure."

22

Arc-Royal

District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth

3 March 3028

Dan eased the lever bar down across the hatch and felt his ears pop as the Wolfhound'scockpit became pressurized. He knelt beside the hatch and smiled to see the dim outline of the control couch by the light of the hangar leaking in through the 'Mech's polarized eyes. He reached over the door and flipped a switch that fired up the 'Mech's fusion engine.

A sturdy thrumming began under him in the Wolfhound'sheart, and the energy lit bank after bank of switches, buttons, and monitors throughout the small cabin. Reaching out, he punched a glowing green button on the 'Mech's command console. The radio crackled to life.

"Clovis, do you read me?"

"Roger, Dan." The smile Dan visualized on the dwarf's face came through over the radio. "Impressive, isn't it?”

“Affirmative."

Clovis coughed lightly. "O.K. The first thing you're going to want to do is change into a cooling vest and other appropriate garb. You'll find a small locker built into the back of the command couch. It should have all you need."

Dan swung around and opened the narrow locker. From inside, he drew out a quilted vest made of a lightweight goretex designed to pull sweat away from the body. Threaded through the garment were flexible tubes of coolant that would protect the pilot somewhat against the tremendous amounts of heat a 'Mech can produce in battle. The tubes ran beneath the layer of ballistic cloth body-armor that formed the vest's outer covering. A power cord meant to be plugged into the command couch dangled from the vest's left flank.

Dan frowned as he stripped off his jacket and shirt. "Clovis, it occurs to me that this locker occupies the same space normally used for the ejection rockets." He peered deeper into the locker and winced. "I like having all this survival gear in here, as well as a change of clothes, but I think I'd like to be able to blast out of my 'Mech so I could use it."

Clovis's laughter echoed through the cockpit. "Cat bet me twenty ComStar bills you'd ask that question right off the bat. Dr. Banzai incorporated the Hatchetman'sunique ejection system into the Wolfhounddesign. The whole cockpit assembly comes away. No canopies to blow only half-away or cockpit walls to knock the command couch off course."

Dan winced as a twinge of pain lanced through his left shoulder. Remembering the collarbone broken when he bailed out at Styx, Dan laughed. "I think I like this design."

"Roger. Let me know when you've plugged in, and I'll run you through the ignition sequence."

"Roger." Dan slipped into the vest and tightened it down. Finding two adhesive sensor pads in a small drawer of the locker, he stuck them onto his bare upper arms. Then he quickly removed his dress trousers and boots and replaced them with shorts and a pair of plasteel boots that covered his legs to the knees. He pasted two more sensor pads on his body—one on the outside of each thigh—shut his clothes up in the locker, and slipped around into the command couch.

Dan used switches on the couch's right arm to raise the back and lower the feet until he felt comfortable. After plugging the cooling vest cord into the socket on the side of the couch, he popped open a panel on the couch's left arm and pulled out four cables. He snapped he clip-ends of the wires to the electrodes centered in the sensor pads, then threaded the wires up through the loops on the cooling vest. Letting the plugs hang down at his throat, he then belted himself into the chair.

Dan reached up behind his head and pulled the neurohelmet down from its perch. After settling the heavy metal and plastic headgear onto the cooling vest's padded shoulders, he plugged each of the sensor wires into the sockets at the helmet's throat. Dan adjusted the helmet until he felt the neurosensors press against the correct spots on his head, then centered the wedge-shaped faceplate so that he could see all the command console's sensor monitors without any difficulty.

Dan punched a button and toggled the radio receiver, then adjusted the volume to eliminate the static hiss. After keying his mike, he said, "All strapped in, Clovis. Give me the rundown."

There was pride in Clovis's deep voice. "It would normally take about two days to have you matched to that monster, but we pulled some readouts from the salvaged Pantheryou used on Northwind. I've also added a program with a feedback loop in it to your computer."

Dan punched the radio's visual feed on to the auxiliary monitor. Clovis smiled at him. "The program monitors your performance and checks it against what's considered your normal mode of operation and your best and worst past performances. It reallocates power and processing time to assist your weak points, and augments your abilities if you're dead on during a particular battle."

"In other words, your program will fine-tune the Wolfhoundinto me?"

"Right," said Clovis. "The double-checking also allows the computer to shut down the 'Mech if the performance profiles vary too wildly from the norm. That way some hotshot using a chip-base EEG filter can't come in and steal your 'Mech."

Dan's chuckle echoed through his helmet. "Beautiful, but let's get this monster on the road. What's my check code?"

Clovis' voice became somber. "No greater love ..."

Clovis's words recalled to Dan the sacrifice Patrick Kell had made on Styx. No greater love hath one man for another than to lay his life down for his fellow man.Dan swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. Such old words, yet with so much truth to them . . ."Thank you, Clovis. Well-chosen."

Dan hit a button on the console. "Pattern check: Captain Daniel W. Allard."

A low hum rose in Dan's helmet, then formed itself into computer-synthesized speech. "Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Proceed with initiation sequence."

Dan spoke around the thickness in his throat. "Code check: No greater love."