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Instead of training in actual 'Mechs, they had been bombarded with more classroom lessons, more time in simulators that had become so unsatisfactory because they were not the real thing. At night the sibko's only topics of conversation were speculations about when the preliminaries to the tests would start and when would they get their first checkouts on neurohelmets.
Their days went from sunrise to sunset and sometimes into the night. Joa
The sibko had now grown almost completely apart. They did not speak to one another except when necessary during a classroom or field exercise. This lack of communication made Nomad's arrival welcome to Aidan. Not that the man proved easy to talk to. More often than not, he responded in grunts or with the least amount of words possible.
"Nomad?"
Grunt.
"Are we getting our 'Mechs soon? I mean is that why you are here?"
"Could be."
"Well, what good is a Tech if he has nothing to . . . to do his Tech job on?" Shrug. Grunt.
"Do you know when we will get our 'Mechs?"
"Mmmm."
Aidan was right. The arrival of the Techs, one to each cadet, did signal the assignment of BattleMechs. Without telling the sibko the purpose of the trip, Falconer Joa
Way down below, jutting out through an opening in a tangled network of other walkways, machinery, complex repair devices, and hundreds of people, were a whole Trinary of BattleMechs, most of them standing tall with their heads a meter or so below the level of the walkway where the sibko stood. Techs swarmed all over the 'Mechs. Aidan recognized most of the machines as belonging to the SummonerClass, though a few medium and light 'Mechs were scattered among the huge heavies. His best view was to his left where he could see a Summoner-Aturned toward him. It had the typical hunchback look common to all the models in the class. Its LRM-15 rested on its high shoulder like some cylindrical, many-eyed animal. Both arms seemed held at the ready, the right one threatening with its extended-range PPC, the left one functioning as a persuader with its deadly accurate LB 10-X autoca
"It is an impressive fighting machine," Aidan said to Nomad, who stood indolently at his side. "What do you think, Nomad?"
"It's a fine machine."
"Careful. You used a contraction there."
Nomad looked in no way concerned. "Always did have lowdown habits," he said.
Nomad used both contractions and slang mercilessly, as if to a
Joa
Joa
Aidan could tell by the intense look in Marthe's eyes that she was as fascinated with the 'Mech installation as he was. Seeing how she clenched and unclenched her hands, he knew that she, too, was eager to get inside one of the Summoners,so much heavier and more battle-ready than the light machines in which they had been training, and show what she could do with it.
At the end of the tour, Joa
Aidan could see in the faces of his fellow sibkin that they, like him, had no intention of being relegated to any other caste. At the same time, the tension of anticipation threatened to envelop him completely.
14
At first the neurohelmet seemed heavier than it was. His neck muscles strained at its weight, and he felt an odd discomfort in the various places where the neurohelmet touched him. And so heavily did it make his scalp perspire that he wondered if it would soon cause a short circuit that would damage the functions of both his brain and the neurohelmet.
From the headgear's built-in commlink, he heard the voice of Falconer Alexander, the instructor for this particular phase of training. Alexander's voice was flat, un-involved, with none of the clipped harshness so common to training officers. He was giving a rundown on the neurohelmet's capabilities, all of which had already been drummed into the cadets' minds ever since the early days of training.
Aidan glanced back at Nomad, who was slouched lazily in the other seat in the testing chamber. The Tech was there, Aidan knew, to disco