They were in a DropShip, on their way to challenge the Ghost Bears for the legacy of one of their warriors. It was apparently from a genetic line worth fighting for, although Joanna never took much interest in that sort of thing. A fight was a fight, and she was always up for it.
“Damn it, Joanna,” Lyonor said. “I deserved the chance at a Bloodname. Look at what I have done. Who is going, do you know?”
Joanna hesitated a moment, deliberately extending the silence. She had to admit to herself that Lyonor had certainly changed in her attitude about getting a Bloodname. The indifference to Bloodnames she had once professed had vanished.
“Tell me, Joanna.”
“Garvy, I think.”
Lyonor’s remarkable eyes seemed to have a fire blazing behind them. She was clearly ready to destroy anything she could reach. And she did reach. For Joanna. She pushed Joanna away, and Joanna began to laugh uproariously.
The laughter sent the anger right out of Lyonor. It was more of a shock than that of Garvy’s selection for the Bloodname ritual.
In between bursts of laughter, Joanna said, “I was—joking. Lyonor, it is a joke, quiaff? Garvy would not be selected. I have not heard who has, but it would never be Garvy. If that happened, I would simply challenge him to Trial. And he would lose.”
Lyonor lunged at her, but this time Joanna’s laughter drew a vaguely disreputable Lyonor smile.
And a half-day later, the Star was assembled to fight in a battle over the Ghost Bear warrior’s genetic legacy.
Ensconced in the cockpit of her Hellbringer, going through her weapons checklist, while the ’Mech’s lasers and PPCs were powering up, and the telemetry whirled and flashed in its activating of the ’Mech, Joanna had a brief thought of how odd genetic legacy challenges were. Yes, it mattered that her Jade Falcon Clan challenge for the nearly sacred ideal of a legacy. Yes, a warrior would have to fight for a valuable warrior’s legacy to the death. Yes, Joanna would never scale down her efforts under even the most doubtful conditions. Still—there was a part of Joanna’s mind that wondered if such a skirmish over a legacy really was a proper occupation for a warrior. Skirmishes were, in a way, just rituals to keep warriors in condition, hone their skills with an imagined goal. The true goals of a warrior were matters like defending a city or planet from attack, attacking another Clan with the purpose of destroying it, conquering new worlds. Many warriors, Joanna imagined, dreamed of all-out war. It was the forbidden fruit. And its taste would not come today.
This particular skirmish was being fought on a vast hilly plain spotted with abandoned archaeological digs. Joanna knew nothing about these archaeological digs or, for that matter, anything about archaeology itself. She knew that a lot of strange unkempt tech-caste people dug into mounds looking for lost artifacts from before the Clans, from the time of the Star League in Exile. Very few significant discoveries had ever been made in this region of Clanspace, but that could not stop archaeologists from trying.
The Clan Ghost Bear leaders may have chosen this area because they believed Jade Falcon warriors would be less effective in such a strange terrain. To Joanna this was not smart strategy. It was just another trick like those of her victorious opponents in her two melees. No matter how familiar they might be with this planet, where Ghost Bear maintained some storage depots, it was uncomfortable to have to take note of holes in the ground while mounting assault or defense strategy. Anything that distracted attention from the fight irritated Joanna, even though she had been trained in all possible terrains and practiced hundreds of tactical situations. Well, at least her Trinary had been bid into the skirmish and she was happy with that. As they touched controls, her fingers actually itched with the anticipation of the coming battle.
“You daydreaming, Joanna?” came Lyonor’s voice over the commline.
“Why do you say that?”
“You are standing still. We have been waiting for your signal for—well, for longer than I would like. Why do not we start?”
“There have been no orders from the Star colonel.”
“When have you been one to stand on ceremony? Or signals? Or even obeying a mere colonel, quiaff?”
“Aff. We will move.”
Soon Joanna’s Star was crossing the plain, up small hills, down larger ones, and skirting the archaeological digs, which were at least spread far apart. As the Star advanced, Joanna saw the Ghost Bear ’Mechs gradually appear in the distance. At first, the ’Mechs, strung out in an uneven line, looked like toys that were slowly being expanded as they came closer. And they were so far away that their advance seemed agonizingly slow. There were so many heavy ’Mechs in the line that they were slowing down the faster ones.
Joanna wanted to spring her own ’Mech forward, run right into the center of the Ghost Bear string of ’Mechs, wreak havoc on its orderly arrangement, then burst past them, turn and attack others from behind. It would instigate a grand melee, a free-for-all much like the one she was missing back on Ironhold. A doomed tactic, probably, but she was tempted, just this once.
Before she could think any more about the Bloodname, the Ghost Bears opened fire. Joanna and Lyonor, both of whom had bid for particular enemy ’Mechs during the prebattle Ghost Bear advance, responded first, sending a flurry of PPC blasts that knocked armor flying from the enemy each had chosen.
Joanna sent her Hellbringer lunging forward, zeroing in on an enemy Mad Dog. Her cockpit shook as the Mad Dog landed a glancing autocannon shot across her shoulder. She had control of the Hellbringer in a second, and rocked the Mad Dog with a
