MechWarrior: Scorched Earth "Enemy at the Gates"

[Steve]

MechWarrior: Scorched Earth
"Enemy at the Gates"


In War, the moral is to the physical as three is to one." - Napoleon Bonaparte


Prologue


DropShip Barbarossa
Nadir Recharging Point, Wolcott
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
29 July 3059 Local
28 June 2039 Earth



The latest dispatches from Outreach were arrayed as projections on the holographic display that dominated the DropShip's wardroom. A map of North America was prominent there; the blue representing the United States of America, a republican government that was just about as ancient to those in the room as the Roman one was, showed a dangerous cancer of red reaching up from its southern border. Major cities were marked out along the line: Phoenix, Denver, Minneapolis, St. Louis, Memphis, New Orleans. The markers for all but a couple were glowing red, indicating the reports had shown they were being contested.

"Marik's 7th Free Worlds Legionnaires continue to hold the city of St. Louis from Jaguar forces." The report came from the senior figure present. Clad in ComGuard fatigues and sporting an eyepatch over his lost eye, Precentor-Martial Anastasius Focht - Commanding General of the Star League Defense Forces - moved a hand over the projector. "The Clans' native allies have also been forced back across the Mississippi River by American forces acting independently of our own. With the Wolf Dragoons holding New Orleans, the eastern continental front in North America remains static."

He turned his lone eye to one of the room's occupants. Clad in the gray leathers of the Wolf Clan, Khan Phelan Kell noticed the cue he had been given and spoke up. "Along the west, my 16th Wolf Guards have checked the Falcons' Sigma Solahma Cluster at the city of Phoenix. Though the emblem flashes, my own reports from Star Colonel Fetladral state the city itself is not contested. The Falcons are content to hold back from fighting in a major urban center."

"I can't help but imagine your forces are planning to go on the attack, Khan Phelan," Focht stated.

"Aff... Yes, Precentor-Martial." Phelan's face slid into a grin. "We've been hoping for a chance to rip into the Falcons. Their solahma will have to do for the moment, unfortunately, as the Falcon 1st Dragoons have slipped away from the front. The only forces the solahma have aiding them are the Mexican national forces, and our reports are that they are not up for a fight."

"Yes. WolfNet has long ascertained their government's alignment with Armand Giuseppe's Earth Union is unpopular, and increasingly so now that they are at war." Focht looked over a piece of data. "Clan forces continue to threaten the cities of Denver and Colorado Springs. This is of particular importance to the Americans; their Cheyenne Mountain complex is near the front."

Noting the symbol of the House unit closest to the Denver marker, Focht looked to the shortest figure in the room and his senior aide. Prince Victor Ian Steiner-Davion, ruler of the Federated Commonwealth - though in effect only ruler of the Davion Federated Suns portion of it - had his arms crossed over his chest. "Your Davion Light Guards had difficulties, as I recall?"

"Because of logistic constraints on deploying them, they had to go in by company and battalion," Victor answered. "We lost half of the first company to one of the non-invading Clans. The Horses, I believe?"

"Hell's Horses," Phelan said. "They are one of the stronger Home Clans, though they suffer from being in a rivalry with the Ghost Bears."

"The Light Guards acted a little too enthusiastically, believing they were fighting a Clan solahma unit due to the presence of armored vehicles. It appears they were wrong."

"The Horses use armored vehicles in all their units, even frontline," Phelan explained. "And their Delta Galaxy is a good second-line unit, nearly front-line in quality, and would have been eager to prove themselves worthy of fighting the Inner Sphere."

"So they proved." Victor moved a hand up to the marker. "The entire RCT is mostly in place now. Hopefully that will be enough."

"The Horses have had to re-orientate their forces to face our 5th Army," Focht answered succinctly. "Their forces facing Denver are thankfully reduced now. But I suspect this will not last for long. Reinforcements are inevitable, and we know that just as we have provided BattleMechs, industrial machinery, and advisors to the Americans and their allies, so too have the Clans aided the nations aligned with Giuseppe. We have already seen Giuseppian 'Mechs in action in the battle for Memphis. The key will be here, I imagine."

Focht zoomed the projection in to the northern front. The city of Minneapolis was prominent from its glowing name, and the Jaguar salient toward it. "The city of Minneapolis is crucial to America's territorial integrity. Lacking a real DropShip fleet and with only limited aircraft transport by our standards, they are still reliant upon roads. Minneapolis is the last major road hub linking the eastern and western halves of their nation; if the Clans seize it, the United States will be effectively severed into two pieces." Focht placed his hands on the projector to lean against it. "I have positioned two of my divisions to hold the line, but they have already seen some combat. And the Jaguars, we have learned, are reinforcing their units taking part and permitting Clusters from the other Clans to take part."

That drew an amused laugh from Phelan. "Lincoln Osis must be chewing solid titanium," the Wolf Khan cackled. "If he is reduced to allowing other Clans in to ensure his victory, he is getting desperate."

Focht silenced the laugh with a stern look. "Be that as it may, Khan Phelan, his desperation may yet harm our allies. The American lines are thin trying to hold their vast front. Their Army is reeling from the losses in manpower and material, not to mention key facilities in Texas and Kansas. If the Clans concentrate enough, they can take Minneapolis, and its fall would be grave. I would ask for more units to be sent in..."

"But you know that is not possible." A new voice joined the conversation; Hohiro Kurita, heir to the Dragon Throne of the Combine and leader of its elite Genyosha 'Mech Regiments. "The Inner Sphere has mobilized its JumpShip fleet to support our war here, and what reserve we have left is occupied in sending the material aid to Earth and sustaining our troops moving to protect the region."

"As always, the logistical needs of war remains our restraint. We have taught the Clans the importance of this, but it is a leash on us as well." Focht looked over to the last man at the table.

Kai Allard-Liao noticed the look he was getting and voiced his thoughts. "The spatial rift is at Outreach," he pointed out. "Why not supplement the forces we have sent with a mass hiring of mercenaries?"

"I have tried that approach," Victor answered. "But there aren't many merc units willing to fight the Clans. And once you tell them that salvage rights aren't absolute, most of the rest are opposed too."

"Jaime Wolf has laid plans to respond to a fall of Minneapolis with an immediate counter-attack with his Epsilon Regiment, but even if we retake the city upon its capture, I have no doubts that the Clans will be wise enough to destroy its bridges and roads, and the effect will be the same as its permanent loss."

"There is Task Force Serpent," Kai said aloud, though by his expression he knew that this matter was moot. "We assigned them a permanent fleet of DropShips and JumpShips. They can be sent in to recover the situation."

Focht frowned. "They could, and if it appears necessary to save the Earth from complete Clan conquest, it will be. But the units of Serpent are needed for a more vital role; destroying Huntress, and with it the Smoke Jaguar Clan. Remember, gentlemen, why we are here. There are six billion people on this Earth, but here in the Inner Sphere trillions live under threat by the Clans. We must balance both needs, and consider what will accomplish the most good." Focht manipulated the projection to show a globe of the world. Though many countries flashed the red of Clan-held or aligned or the gray of neutral, there were blue flashes. "Even if North America falls, there are other nations that we can support. China, Australia, Brazil, all of these nations remain opposed, to one degree or another, to the Clans and the nations under Giuseppe's control or influence." He pointed to the vast land that was toning mid-spectrum between gray and red. "Russia is another potential counter-attack point; its current government is Giuseppe-friendly, but its populace is not."

"The reports I read indicated they were also rather opposed to China as well, however," Victor answered. "If we side openly with one then the other could swing over to Giuseppe and the Clans." His thoughts went to those reports. They actually had a nuclear war. It might not have collapsed their civilization, but it still killed millions in both countries, and many thousands in others that were hit in some way by the general exchange. It's no wonder so many of our troops have taken to calling the planet 'Scorched Earth'.

"Yes, which calls into question the First Lord's decision to send troops to aid China even with no Clan invasion having occurred." Focht spoke rather carefully of their official leader, Sun-Tzu Liao. The ruler of the Capellan Confederation, he had been elected First Lord of the new Star League by his peers, though in truth as a result of manipulation and reaction by a far more dangerous House Lord (to the minds of those assembled at least); Victor's sister Katherine, known popularly as "Katrina Steiner" and ruler of the seceded Lyran Alliance. "Regardless, however, the point remains; while certainly vital to our efforts, the reduction of the United States will not inherently doom the planet to overall conquest, though it will certainly make a counterattack more costly depending on how much of it we can save. And as such, we cannot justify shifting Marshal Hasek-Davion's troops from their vital role simply to prevent the fall of Minneapolis. Instead, we must rely on another source."

Focht brought up new data on the screen. It was a roster of names. Victor didn't recognize any of them, but he wouldn't expect to. "The Dragoons have released the first cadre of American trainees to return to their planet, with 'Mechs assigned and ready for combat. The Americans now have their own 'Mech striking arm with which to fight back. And unlike the training battalions, the Dragoons provided these MechWarriors with modern machines depending on their effectiveness score, including the fruits of their own Clan production capability." Focht noticed the looks among the others and continued. "I am aware their training has not been much longer than those of the Training Battalions, but as you have all trained at one time or another with the Dragoons, I believe you know just how effective even a short period can be?"

The others exchanged looks. With the exception of Phelan, all had trained together on Outreach in 3051, during the lull in the Clan Invasion caused by ilKhan Leo Showers' death. That training had forged bonds amongst them that transcended the rivalries between their Houses, and prepared them for the resumption of the Invasion.

Seeing their looks and guessing at the thoughts, Focht continued with his own. "A hundred MechWarriors may not seem like many to you. But remember that before you were born, and before the technological renassiance that followed the last Succession War, a mere thirty to fifty 'Mechs was considered a sufficient garrison for entire planets. This was, I admit, due to their rarity, but it is still fitting..." Focht looked over the roster himself. "The fate of their entire world may rest in the hands of these few, these hundred young MechWarriors."

[Steve]

Chapter 1


DropShip Minobu Tetsuhara, Approaching Earth Orbit
Earth Solar System
1 July 2039 Local
1 August 3059 Inner Sphere



The Overlord-class DropShip was on the final hour of its thirty-nine hour trip from the Outreach rift to Earth. Had the vessel been a civilian liner, it would have presented a beautiful sight to those traveling, but as a military transport vessel the Tetsuhara was not so accommodating. Instead, the passengers were finishing up the securing of their belongings as they prepared to return to their homeworld.

All save Alex Penton.

The twenty-eight year old American was seated at his berth, bags already mostly packed, an open laptop in front of him and the keys clacking as he typed. He was a well-built figure, about six feet three inches in height with close-cropped brown hair, and months of intense training on Outreach had given him a toned physique, though not a largely muscular one. He quietly breathed the words he was writing to himself. "...is clear that the text of the formal agreement with the Star League rigidly defines the limit of the House units' authority to their basing. As such, the case of Prince Victor Davion vs. the State of Illinois is clearly in favor of the defendants, as the FedCom personnel were off-base and under the jurisdiction of the City of Chicago, and thus the State of Illinois, at the time of their offense and of their arrest..."

His concentration was broken by a loud "Hey!" shouted from another berth. He looked up into a pair of gray eyes that did a lot to showing their owners' propensity for mischief and hell-raising. His red-haired friend, a six footer on the lanky side of having a strong build, plopped himself down on Alex's cot beside him. "More lawyer shit? Hey, Alex, you're not JAG anymore, you know?"

Alex looked over at him with a glance partly born of amusement mixed with annoyance. "Just as you're not Army Aviation anymore, Eddie."

Edwin Dane shrugged. "Eh, fuck the choppers. You know if it wasn't for my eyesight I'd be Air Force."

"And you'd probably still be on Outreach, training with the Dragoons to fly aerospace fighters," Alex answered. "But at least you've got your commission." He pointed to the single silver bar on Edwin's duty jacket.

He made a face. "Honestly I thought Galvariz would get it. I'm not really command material." Smirking, Edwin added, "But I probably shouldn't say that to my commanding officer, should I?"

That brought a chuckle from Alex. As a JAG lawyer he was already a commissioned officer, and had made Captain a few months before the Smoke Jaguars' DropShips first showed up near Earth. But he had found that his history hobbies, military and otherwise, had translated quite well when on Outreach in unit-level trainee exercises. Apart from his high MechWarrior scores - he'd been the second highest-scoring MechWarrior out of the first hundred, which is why the Dragoons had given him a Mad Cat OmniMech - he had been among the highest scoring officers in the simulated and live exercise unit command exercises. As a Captain he was already at rank for company command, but he had not only gotten it but been placed near the top of the list to command the next frontline 'Mech battalion the United States Army would field. "Ed, you think you have it bad? I thought Major Barsdale was going to vomit when he heard I was getting Alpha Company. He and the other combat arms officers certainly don't think I'm command material. At least not for combat."

And they might be right, he added ruefully to himself. The Dragoons had certainly wrote some glowing reviews of his performance in the exercises, and Colonel Sinclair - the highest ranking of the trainees on Outreach and the commander of the as-of-yet-unorganized 1st US BattleMech Regiment - had echoed them. But exercises were just that; exercises. Real war was something he only knew of from video documentaries and written materials. Now I have to be ready to tell Ed here, or any of the 'Mech pilots in my company, to go die, if it comes down to it, he thought. I have to be willing to die too. The thought was... terrifying.

"Eh, fuck 'em." Edwin slapped him on the back. "You spanked everyone in the exercises. Hell, you and Sinclair even beat some of the Dragoons. The Clanners won't know what hit them."

Alex tried to smile back. "Yeah..."

A voice came over the intercom. "Attention all passengers and crew. We are now thirty minutes from final approach. Please secure all items now."

"Well, guess we're home," Edwin said while Alex, dutifully, saved his document and stowed his laptop away in a reinforced case. "Don't they have you meeting the trainee battalion MechWarriors being assigned to us when we get there?"

"Yes. And so will you, XO," Alex answered. "So make sure that we make a good impression."




At her own bunk, Rachel Galvariz finished stowing the bags of things she'd brought with her to Outreach and waited patiently for the signal to strap herself in. Clad in her duty uniform - which she preferred over the tighter, more revealing MechWarrior jumpsuits issued on Outreach - she laid back on her cot and took in a breath. So this is it. I'm a soldier now. She absent-mindedly played with the single brass bar on her collar, marking her a 2nd Lieutenant.

Normally being an officer would make her the commander of a lance - platoon she corrected herself - she had been a little behind the scores of other command-candidates on Outreach, such that she'd been assigned to Captain Penton's command lance. As a company commander he had to be free to give orders to the others, leaving her to direct the two other MechWarriors as needed if he was distracted. She was alright with this; Rachel didn't know if she could fight in combat, much less command during it, having earned her officer's commission as a linguist working in signal intelligence.

Rachel reached down and took out a heart-shaped locket. A memento given to her by her maternal grandparents, it had belonged to her mother, and showed her and her father when they were newly-wed. Rachel had been conceived five months after their wedding. But she had only been a newborn, being babysit by her grandparents, when a drunk driver had slammed his large pickup truck vehicle into their compact at high speed, killing her father instantly and fatally wounding her mother. Rachel had thus grown up with two sets of parents who constantly moved her between San Francisco - the home of her maternal grandparents, the Vallejos - and Grandma and Grandpa Galvariz's home in Orlando's Winter Park neighborhood. Though her grandparents were both Hispanic (one Mexican, one Venezuelan), her Grandma Vallejo had been Greek while Grandma Galvariz was Italian. As a result, she grew up in a pair of households where English, Spanish, and either Greek or Italian were used almost interchangeably. She spoke all four languages fluently by the time she was ten; middle school's offer of French was almost laughably easy as a result, and in high school she became so bored with the offered German (and considered taking Italian just to have the easy A) that she enrolled in summer college courses for Russian and Chinese. And with full time college beckoning and tuition bills that would strain her grandparents' savings accounts, the gentleman from the United States Army offering her free college in exchange for joining ROTC had been awfully tempting....

Oh God, I'm going to die was the thought that went through her head. She'd be piloting a Thor due to her high scores as a MechWarrior. It was an impressive war machine, but lightly-armored for its mass, and the Dragoons had been brutally clear that the biggest weapons would kill a MechWarrior instantly if they landed a direct hit on even an un-harmed head module. She tried to fight the terrible fear gripping her stomach and freezing her heart. I'm not going to cry again. Not again. Blinking back tears from that fear, she turned in her cot and found herself staring across the way from Alex Penton. He saw her looking his way and, whether from reading her mind or just some innate friendliness, gave her a friendly smile and nod.

She nodded back and tried to smile. It occurred to her that his friendliness might stem from attraction, and she'd be lying to say she wouldn't return it. At least he was tall, handsome, and a complete gentleman, unlike some of the men on Outreach - Spheroids and her fellow Americans - who had leered at her and made suggestive comments. That she was attractive was something she couldn't deny, but that didn't mean she wanted horndog mercenaries and sexually open ex-Clansmen in the Dragoons propositioning her on the spot.

Rachel had started to nod off when the fifteen minute warning went off. Obeying the officers commanding the Tetsuhara, she left her cot, locked it in place, and found a secured chair to sit in, next to a Japanese woman - Yumiko Sakata - and Alex Penton. She fastened herself in and, for a brief moment, looked over toward Alex, just to see he was deep in thought.

Hopefully he's thinking how to not get me and the rest of us killed, Rachel thought ruefully as the ten minute landing warning came over the intercom.




ComStar/US Army Bivouac
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


A loud warbling of a military bugle ripped Corporal Rebekah Shameel from what had been a tender sleep to full wakefulness. Her brown eyes snapped open as her brain sleepily protested being awoken after only five hours of rest. She saw the time flashing, shouted "Oh shit!," and went to slip out of bed.

Doing so caused the weight against her to shift. Becca didn't turn to face her bunkmate as she went to the closet and the duty uniforms inside. "Come on, Dani! We've only got ten minutes!"

The bugle alarm had stirred her partner and "wingmate" as well. A pair of frustrated green eyes flashed sleepyness and wrath at Becca as Dani slipped out off bed as well. She was a solid six-one, very tall compared to Becca's five-seven height, though Becca was just as lithe and athletic. Seeing Dani stumble over to her own closet space, and the duty uniforms within, brought a blush to Becca's face as she found herself admiring Dani's figure. If only we weren't in combat all the time..., was her wistful thought. When she told people she and Dani slept together, she was being very literal, and unfortunately sleeping was about all they did. I just had to fall in love in a war, didn't I?

"Hurry up, Becca!", Dani cried out, buttoning up her duty blouse. "Major Pierce will have our heads if we're not there to meet our company!"

Jostled out of her thinking by Dani's reminder of their CO's demand that they finally show a sense of military punctuality - put at risk by their oversleeping again - Becca finished buttoning up her own blouse and reached for her uniform dress. Dani picked the dress as well - which was good as all her pants had been ordered a size too small and made Becca very distracted whenever Dani wore them - and immediately after she put them on started fitting her hair into the mandated bun. She's really taking this seriously, Becca thought, remembering Dani's preference for a pony-tail as she fit her own bun on.

Taking care to put their handful of ribbons and their name tags in place, plus the newly-commissioned "BattleMech" branch insignia - a humanoid BattleMech figure with crossed cavalry sabers in scabbards, with a brass disk for them as enlistees - as well as their Silver Stars (Awarded to them two months ago for their adventure in capturing the Clan OmniMechs they now piloted) and the couple other medals given to them for their service in the fighting.

Once fully dressed Becca almost had to run to catch up with Dani, cursing her partner's longer legs as she struggled to keep up with Dani's brisk pace. In the recent weeks she'd noticed Dani getting more and more tense and directed, a far cry from the "care-free, shame-free sensual lesbian" she'd been when dragooned by the US Army into the 1st 'Mech Training Battalion. Like Becca, Dani had been a civilian who had tested high for having an excellent and conductive nervous system - a marker for being a natural 'Mech pilot - and like Becca she had been drafted as a result. She'd become an ongoing annoyance to the disciplinarian military officers and sergeants she'd been forced to obey, and Becca had found herself aiding with that, even if it meant enhanced PT or visits to the brig as disciplinary measures. They had been little rebellious acts to reinforce the individuality the military was trying to strip from them, and which they were so unwilling to see taken.

But then the war started, their friends and fellow trainees got blown away in the fighting in and around Kansas City, and now..... now the invaders were almost to Minneapolis, Dani's home city. And Becca could see it was driving the woman she loved near-mad with fear and anger.

They left the confines of the building. Summer was in full swing now, and the air was hot. Becca was familiar with heat - her family had spent vacation summers in Florida at Orlando and West Palm Beach - but unlike Florida, Minnesota had no Gulf Stream seabreeze to provide relief from the temperatures if they became sweltering, and right now they were grasping for ninety degrees. Sweat was already collecting on Becca's brow as she drew closer to Dani and, beyond, the group of people waiting for the arriving DropShip. She saw Major Pierce there, standing beside a ComStar Demi-Precentor, and saw him look over and flash them a surprised grin that made her blush. Of the other figures present she recognized Sergeant Jack Hoffman and Corporal Micaela Lupo, two of the survivors of their company in the 1st Training Battalion.

Hoffman was a cocky figure, a tanned Caucasian maverick who kept his dirty blond hair dangerously close to reg limits. Becca knew him as a major ladies' man - with her and Dani having both been hit on by him at times - who could usually cash the checks his mouth wrote. He flashed them wide grins; not out of any lecherous intent, but genuine respect, as he had praised them for "having the balls" to go toe-to-toe with Clan frontline machines and for actually managing to steal them after being shot out of their own.

Beside him, Micaela Lupo cut a good figure. Her uniform blouse was a size too small in Becca's opinion, though she wasn't going to protest it very much given how it worked in emphasizing a curvaceous, lithe figure that rivaled Dani's in attractiveness. She had opted for pants as well, tight ones that flattered her and in doing so showcased her own devil-may-care tomboy streak. Becca actually felt a tad jealous toward her; piloting one of the US' new "Trainer" BattleMechs in Kansas City, "Micki" had actually downed a light Clan BattleMech before being shot out of her own far-inferior machine. Until Becca and Dani had started claiming Clan machines with their stolen OmniMechs, Micki had been the only one who had earned a kill marker for her machine.

A ComStar Acolyte handed out earplugs, and for good reason. Even with them, and with the DropShip landing pad a distance away, the roar of the massive ship's engines was audible to Becca. She watched the ovoid vessel settle onto the prefab landing pad with struts extended. The 'Mech bays opened and columns of BattleMechs exited, adorned with the white star used on US-assigned machines. Becca saw a few were Clan designs, though most were Inner Sphere 'Mechs of varying designs, including some she didn't recognize.

A set of 'Mechs, led by a looming machine that made Becca swallow as she recognized it as a Daishi, stomped over. They came to a stop in front of the waiting group and, one by one, their hatches opened and figures climbed down from them. The lead figure who came out of the Daishi was African-American, a balding head covered by his officer's cap, and the eagle insignia of a Colonel on his uniform jacket. He had a Major with him, as well as three Captains and three 1st Lieutenants. Becca and Dani gave obedient salutes as these figures approached, as did Pierce and the others present. The Colonel, who's nametag read "Sinclair", returned it, as did his subordinates.

"Major Scott Pierce, sir", Pierce said. "I'm here representing Colonel Fisher."

The other colonel nodded. "Yes. I heard about what happened at Leavenworth. He's a good man, he'll pull through." He looked to the others. He was first introduced to the ComStar Demi-Precentor, Brian Callero of the 467th Division's Level III unit "The Trumpeters". After a couple other officers were introduced, Sinclair came to Becca and the others. "So this is the cream of the crop?"

"Yes sir," Pierce said, looking to them. "Sergeant Hoffman and Corporals Lupo, Verdes, and Shameel. We had about twelve other survivors who are still fit for service, but these ladies and this gentleman have been our stars."

"So I've heard." Colonel Sinclair looked to them. "I'm Colonel Charles Sinclair, commander of the 1st BattleMech Regiment. Or, rather, what passes for it." He allowed himself a grin. "You four have been selected to be transferred to our 1st Battalion."

Becca bit back the bitter thoughts she had. She knew, deep down, that all four of them should have gone to Outreach; they had consistantly outperformed the others in the Battalion, as had a couple others who'd been killed (fruitlessly!) in trying to stop the Clans from taking Kansas City and Fort Leavenworth. Now these fresh bodies were here and would lord their advanced training over them. And probably steal our hard-earned 'Mechs!

"You've been assigned to Alpha Company of the 1st 'Mech Battalion," Sinclair explained further. He indicated two of the men with him, a tall and fairly well-built man with captain bars and a lanky redhead with a silver rank bar. "Captain Penton and Lieutenant Dane will be your company commanders."

"Sergeant, Corporals." Penton shook hands with each of them, as did Dane. She could already see she'd prefer the latter; Dane had a mischievous streak obvious in his look, but Penton looked like a typical military officer. "Alex Penton, and this is Edwin Dane."

Each said "Sir" as the handshakes were had.

Sinclair, meanwhile, introduced the other company command officers, as well as Major Allen Hall, a Gladiator pilot and CO of the 1st Battalion. With the introductions settled, Becca spoke up. "Sir, if I may? Are you going to be moving Dani and I to different machines?"

Pierce shot her a look. Sinclair waved off his imminent protest with his hand and looked toward her. "If I had better pilots for the ones you've got, Corporal, then yes. But I was reviewing your testing scores and confirmed actions while we burned in from the Outreach rift. You and Corporal Verdes are doing well in your machines and have acclimated to the configurations you've been put in. So I'll be keeping you in them, unless your company commander believes a reorganization is needed."

Seeing he'd been cued to respond as well, Captain Penton shook his head. "No sir. I've been reviewing their combat records too, all four. I've already decided to keep them in their current machines. Corporals Verdes and Shameel will be joining my platoon, in fact."

Becca and Dani gave each other looks, neither knowing what to expect.

Before anything more could be said, however, a shrieking came from all around them. Demi-Precentor Callero shouted, "Air Raid!"

Everyone ran for cover, and not too soon. Overhead Clan Aerospace Fighters were coming in, laser fire and PPCs spraying deadly light everywhere. The ComGuard anti-air personnel manned their guns and emplacements and returned fire, filling the air with the sharp cracks of autocannon fire and roaring missiles. Dani grabbed Becca and began pulling her toward one of the buildings.

They each stopped as a missile crashed in front of them, finding a military car that in turn exploded. We're dead! was the thought that ripped through Becca's mind in the instant before a powerful force knocked into them from behind, sending both women down and protecting them from flying debris. The weight lifted and Becca looked up to see Captain Penton had been the one to jump on them. His right shoulder was bleeding, a piece of shrapnel showing through the torn fabric and flesh with blood welling up through the wound. "Get to cover!" There was an intensity in his eyes as he pulled Becca up while Dani, being more limber, got to her feet on her own. They continued on, around the burning car.

Powerful beams of emerald and azure light played above them, joined by the brief sonic booms of Gauss Rifle fire. The Tetsuhara's weapons were engaging fully, joining the air defense emplacements in swatting the Clan machines from the sky. Finally finding cover in one of the 'Mech bays, they squatted down together. Becca looked back to Penton, his wound now fully obvious to her. "Thanks," was all she could say.

Grimacing and finally seeming to notice the piece of metal in his shoulder, their new commander gave her a brisk nod. "You're welcome," he said. "And in times like this, call me Alex."

Becca nodded. "Then I'm Becca." She put a hand on Dani's shoulder. "And this is Dani."

"We need to get you medical attention," Dani said.

"Yeah, well, we'll wait until the Clans let off." Alex's hand moved up, as if to rip out the metal. Becca grabbed his wrist to stop him. "What?"

"Don't. Not until a medic is here," Becca urged him. "You might tear yourself up more and increase your blood loss rate." She pulled off a shoe and the sock beneath, which she pressed against the wound. He snarled and hissed at the action, but did nothing else. "God, we really need to get you help."

"Yeah, I think so too," Alex gasped. When silence answered him initially, he smiled despite the pain. "I think we chased them off."

"They'll be back," Dani grumbled. "They like to annoy the fuck out of us like that."

"Well, Sir..." Becca smiled. "I hope you're ready for life here on the front. It's going to be a lot more of this."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Alex groaned.

[Steve]

Chapter 2


Kiowa, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


The town municipality of Kiowa had once been a national leader in growth, until the Second Depression froze everything and shifted the demographics of America. Nevertheless it had remained a fairly decent town with a low-key history, full of anecdotes of the Wild West days, that lay near the Denver area.

Then the Clans came. Now the town was abandoned, its shops and homes and buildings reduced to broken frames by PPCs and lasers and LRMs from the Horse push months ago. The sight was one repeated across the United States, once known as an inviolate land that had not known an invading army in centuries (indeed, even counting their own civil war, one had not stepped foot through the heartlands of the nation since the 1860s), and now its small towns and major cities alike were blasted ruins from ferocious defensive fighting and callous rules of engagement. Even now, with the town abandoned, the fields to the immediate west of it saw battle.

Lieutenant Josh Roland's Thor rocked from the impact of short range missiles blasting away armor from the hip and torso. The Shadow Hawk 'Mech in front of him had a different profile from those he'd seen on Outreach, marking it a Clan variant. Snarling, the Marine veteran spit crosshairs on the lighter machine and triggered his energy weapons. Twin ruby beams sliced armor from the enemy 'Mech's flank while the lightning bolt that erupted from his right arm PPC obliterated the flaming horse insignia on the 'Mech's chest, destroying a couple of the SRM launchers in the process.

The Shadow Hawk pilot responded with lasers, drilling away at Roland's armor. One set of ruby darts played over the muzzle of one of his torso medium lasers, melting it and wrecking the focusing lens within. The weapon status went red on his display. "Fucking Clanners!" Roland hit his jump jets and flew backward to open up the range. "Barker, switch!"

"Roger!" Keisha Barker piloted her Goshawk away from the Griffin she had been chasing down and turned toward the Shadow Hawk. Roland twisted his Thor around as missiles blasted armor from Barker's 'Mech. As he hit the ground his crosshairs centered on the Griffin and the displays confirmed the optimum range for his main weapon. His index finger squeezed and the Thor shuddered, its arm-mounted Gauss Rifle throwing a supersonic round at the Clan medium machine. Armor blew away from the impact point and the Griffin began to stutter from a gyro hit.

Before Roland could finish it off, heavy shells slammed into the back of the machine and broke through its weaker rear armor, finishing off the gyro he had damaged and sending the machine plunging to the ground. He could see reinforcements rushing in from the distance; a company of refitted M1 tanks. "Armor's here, kids, let's clean up!"

Barker's Goshawk was exchanging short range missiles with the Shadow Hawk when the latter 'Mech suffered an attack from behind from Schulter's Wraith. A lightning bolt erupted from the Hawk's chest from Schulter's ER PPC blasting a through-and-through wound in the machine, devastating the gyro in the process. Parker's pulse lasers finished the enemy machine off.

That leaves one, Roland thought, and he found him a moment later; Corporal MacGruder's Starslayer in a fight with a trio of Horse tanks that had emerged from a nearby wooded area. Their turreted autocannons blazed away at him, battering the Starslayer intensely. His computers confirmed them as von Luckner tanks. "Keep your range, MacGruder! Get too close and those things will blast you away."

PPC discharges played over one tank as Schulter and MacGruder focused their main weapons on it. The Horse crew within continued to move forward to chase the latter. Roland noticed that MacGruder's heat signature was spiking; the kid had taken a hit to his heat sink systems, and his 'Mech was starting to resemble a combat range dummy. "I said keep your damn range!" He brought his crosshairs up on one of the tanks and triggered both his big weapons. The PPC's blue lightning blasted through the armor on the skirt and melted the forward treads; an armor-piercing supersonic slug stripped away huge chunks of armor from the main body.

Barker swooped in with her jump jets, entering close range from behind the advancing Horse tanks with their autocannons still pointing forward. One turned to face the threat, but not before her weapons hammered one of the others. Pulse laser fire drilled into the rear of the Clan tank, opening up holes that four SRMs exploited to blast through the engine shielding off the machine's extra-light fusion engine. The tank came to a dead, smoking stop and the hatch flew open. Figures began to jump out, hands holding sidearms, which prompted Barker to open up with her machine guns. It was a death-trap for the Clanners manning the tank as each was, in turn, cut down by Barker's guns in an impromptu fire squad.

The second brought its autocannon around as Barker hit her jets again, lifting into the air. Her 'Mech was getting hot now, making it a risky thing to do, but it gave MacGruder time to get his battered machine further out of the danger range. A pair of SRMs found his shoulder and did their worst, blasting away the right arm and his laser with it. Before it could finish off MacGruder, Schulter reminded the Horse tank it had other worries by striking its glacis plate with another ER PPC blast that melted away large portions of armor. The crew inside opted to turn toward the greater threat, their autocannon blasting. Depleted uranium slugs sprayed along the front of the Wraith, joined by a flight of fifteen LRMs that crossed the distance rapidly and pounded Schuler's machine. Nothing critical was hit, thankfully, but the barrage unbalanced Schuler's 'Mech and it tumbled over.

Roland kept his crosshairs on target for the damaged vehicle he'd struck earlier, now tracking Barker as she came in for a landing. Before he could fire a barrage of LRMs erupted from the tank's missile launcher; ten found Barker's 'Mech and took off armor on her legs and torso, but her Goshawk made a good landing despite the mid-air battering. Not willing to let the murderous autocannon on the Horse tank carve up his pilot, Roland's finger squeezed the trigger for his energy weapons, sending heat in a wave through his cockpit. His strikes hit home; azure lighting blasted off the machine gun and flame-thrower on the turret as well as much of its armor. Twin ruby beams from his torso lasers cut into the weakened armor, which sacrificed itself to prevent the beams from cooking the crew inside. This did them little good, however, as the M1 refits had gained the range and a good firing angle. A pair of tank rounds found the Clan tank and turned it into a twisted metal sarcophagus for whatever remained of the crew inside. Heh, the REMFs they send out for salvage duty are gonna hate finding Crispy Clanners, was his thought.

The last tank, bringing its autocannon to bear again on Schuler's fallen Wraith, never got a chance to stop him from standing; the PPC on MacGruder's Starslayer speared it seconds before the M1s blasted it into a piece of metal even more twisted than their first victim.

"Enemy platoon eliminated," Roland said over the radio. He swept his gaze out over the plains near the charred remains of Kiowa. "No more Clanners in sight."

The reply was from his company CO, Captain Westen. "We've got orbital confirmation, Charlie Platoon. What's left of that Horse company pulled out when they realized we had reinforced the local 'Mech units. We've just slammed the door in their faces." She laughed a little. "You're clear to head back for repair."

"Hell of a first day," Roland said. Keying his platoon's frequency, he went into his "Marine sergeant" voice. "Okay, kids! You did good today, but don't let it get to your heads. We're heading home to rearm and repair. And MacGruder, I'm going to PT your ass into the ground for getting your machine shot up like that. BattleMechs don't grow on trees, son!"




Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States


A couple hours later, Roland was back in uniform. His uniform, the BDUs of a United States Marine, which set him apart from the various drafted 'Mech trainees like Schulter and many of the others. While Air Force and Navy personnel who tested high in neuro-aptitude were service-transferred to the Army, the Corps had gotten around that by simply announcing any Marines who tested high would be given in-service transfers to Army command for "joint operations". And the Army agreed, of course. Don't want us jarheads slipping into their ranks and changing them on the inside, even if it'd make them better.

His "kids", after their after-action debrief, were off doing kid things. But part of the responsibilities he'd been given since getting a commission had been doing the "officer things" that he'd made jokes about for twenty-seven years of Marine Corps service. But though he wore the bar of a 1st Lieutenant on his uniform now, at heart he still had the chevrons of a Gunnery Sergeant, and he just wanted to get this over with.

It was a meeting of the battalion officers. Major Barsdale was in command, and Roland loathed the man. He bragged about being "combat branch", and was foremost of the officers who mocked giving command to transferees from REMF branches - like that JAG lawyer who got a company in 1st Battalion - but Roland had seen the man on Outreach and knew even the lawyer was a better commander. To Roland Barsdale was in because his uncle was Secretary of Defense and his Dad a lobbyist back in the Beltway; the kid couldn't fight his way out of a piss-soaked paper bag. Captain Westen at least made up for her lack of combat experience with some real promise as a tactician.

But then again, to Roland, all of them were wet behind the ears. All had gone to Outreach with him before the invasion started, but he'd actually seen battle; fighting Taliban in Afghanistan and Pakistan, Shi'ites in the Third Iraq War, going ashore with the 1st Regiment in the Cuban Intervention (what a fucking mess that was!) and being in the relief force for the embassy in Caracas. Granted, by then the Marines were spent, the military in shambles from budget cuts, and Roland had barely made the cut to stay in when the alternative was being thrown out into the cold of a civilian economy where you either had a job or you ended up homeless or a burden on family and friends. But he still had the ribbons and medals and service jacket to show he'd seen the elephant. He was the Real Thing.

"The Horses have been moving around to face ComStar's 5th Army, so we've been given an opportunity here, gentlemen," Barsdale said. "The 2nd Armored is going to push ahead. As you know, we're assigned to the division as 'Mech support, so we'll be taking point. Our goal is to drive the Horses back and put Denver and Colorado Springs out of reach."

"What kind of resistance are we looking at, sir?", one of the other platoon commanders spoke up.

"Two of their regimental units, their 'Clusters'," was the reply. "The Star League units will be hanging back as our reserve, just in case the Horse resistance is fiercer than we expect. But with the Clans focusing on Minneapolis, it's been deemed imperative we launch at the flank to take pressure off."

"Sounds like we're being asked to fight while the Spheroid nobles sit back and sip champagne," one disgruntled voice said, and Roland deftly acknowledged it with a nod.

"It's part of a coordinated effort," Barsdale continued. "The enemy near Phoenix is going to be hit soon as well, and there the main force will be Spheroid."

"You mean the 'good' Clanners, Major?"

"Yeah, the 'good ones'."

Roland snarled. Even though the Dragoons on Outreach had given him and all the other trainees a rundown on Clan history, and that the Wolf units in the Southwest represented a faction of that Clan opposed to the others, deep in his gut he couldn't trust them. Not entirely. After all, what if they decided the other Clans weren't so bad after all? The thing about traitors is that you couldn't trust them not to betray you. Regardless of what the Dragoons said about "Clan honor" and "Warden philosophy".

"Keep your people sharp," Barsdale continued. "The counter-offensive begins very soon."



For Corporal Calvin Schulter, the best way to deal with stress was a workout. He dabbled in both the traditional and exotic for a Midwesterner like himself; weight-lifting, aerobics... and t'ai chi.

With his long, sandy blond hair kept in place by a bandana, he went through his motions, letting it focus him and keep his body limber. On Outreach he'd found that it helped him especially after a long day in a 'Mech cockpit, preventing the stationary nature of that job from tightening him up.

He'd about finished the exercise when he laid eyes on Sergeant Barker. She was a bit over his age; 28 to his 25. Normally Sergeants required more service time, but her scores on Outreach had recommended her to be a "lance sergeant", as the Inner Sphere called them, and so she was now Roland's number two woman. It was a prickly thing, though; Roland himself was an enlisted man, from the Marines, who still thought of himself as a sergeant, and often said the things she was generally supposed to say as the senior enlisted MechWarrior in the platoon.

He found there was a lot to admire about her, though. Born in a rough and tumble inner city neighborhood, Keisha had survived the gang war shootouts and social disruptions that existed due to the 2nd Depression and the "Tea Government" of the teens and early 20s. She was not very pretty and was on the short side, but she was muscular and tough in build and had a strong constitution, being one of the most successful boxers and fighters on Outreach and always topping scores at physical training, outrunning, outmuscling, and even outwrestling the others. One of the gigantic battle armor infantrymen in the Dragoons had once commented, openly, that her genetic material would be valued in an Elemental breeding program.

Schulter turned back to his exercises and allowed his mind to refocus. He was to be interrupted, as this time Barker came up to him. "Doing that Chinese sh, stuff again?"

Noticing, and not commenting on, her near slip into the "ghetto talk" she usually criticized herself for, he nodded. "It focuses me and lets my body loosen up from being in a BattleMech all day."

"Ah. That's what I have the obstacle course for," she answered. "Though today I had to make sure MacGruder went through the full thing like our jarhead commander demanded."

"Ah, don't be too hard on the old Marine," Schulter answered. "He just wants us to stay alive. And really, MacGruder should've known better than to close with heavy tanks like that."

"It's the MechWarrior arrogance that the Dragoons warned us about," Barker thought aloud. "Makes you feel invincible. Like nothin' can hurt you, you're da big bad dog on the whole block." She grimaced as she realized her language and accent had slipped. "Guess you can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the girl. I'm trying to stop talking like an inner city ho."

"It's about attitude more than language. We talk like what we grew up around."

"Which is why you talk like a pasty-ass white farmboy," Barker cackled.

Schulter laughed. "Yeah, exactly."




Roland had decided to go out on a jog himself, having dealt with the hated officer job of paperwork, and was now nearing the point on the perimeter where he saw Corporal MacGruder trotting along. The kid had a tan, undoubtedly improved by the baking his damaged 'Mech gave him, with his dark hair cut very short - almost as short as Roland's favored haircut. Roland hadn't known him that much on Outreach, but did see that he'd gotten in better shape. Hell, under the Dragoons even I trimmed up a bit. "What lap are you on, son?", he said aloud to the kid, coming up alongside him.

"Fifty-nine, sir," was the answer, with Roland able to tell the kid was winded. "Sergeant Barker had me do sixty after the course."

Roland almost, almost, countermanded that. But he stopped himself. You've got bars now, no going over the head of your Sergeant. You never tolerated that from a bar, butter or otherwise, and you're not going to start now dammit. "Keep going at it, Corporal. Maybe we can make a Marine out of you yet." He nodded to him and continued on.



But I'm not in the Marines! was the protest MacGruder considered issuing as he watched the hardass dickhead he called a platoon commander move on. Some of the actual army guys in the other platoons had actually told him how sorry they were for him; he had a mustang officer who still thought of himself as a sergeant as a CO and a "hardass black bitch sergeant" as his number two.

Boot camp had been bad enough. Before everything went crazy MacGruder had not really bothered with intentionally trying to keep in shape, and the Army had rectified that and left him with sore muscles, a flatter stomach, and ringing ear drums from the abuse of irate drill instructors. He'd taken it, though, not reacting with rebellion like others did, and he got rewarded by being sent to Outreach, or as he liked to call it, "Boot Camp Part 2: It Got Worse". The Dragoons made his drill instructors look like soft-spoken old ladies.

Though, in retrospect, it wasn't all bad. He hadn't scored very high, but being in the 25-50 percentile had led to him getting a medium BattleMech of Inner Sphere design; the Capellan Starslayer that was now blasted up and in the 'Mech repair bay. And now that he was fit he found that getting chicks was a lot easier. A technician on Outreach, and here one of the draftee girls working as a yeoman in the HQ. And at least he was here in Colorado, on the quiet Western Front, where he could actually get three square meals a day for now and have some down time instead of sleeping, eating, and doing everything else in his 'Mech.

Yeah, being in the north would really suck, he thought to himself as he finished lap 59 and began the final one, looking forward to a shower, a change of clothes, and some time with the cute brunette from Colonel Hallworth's office.

[Steve]

Chapter 3


US Army Field Hospital
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
2 July 2039 Local
2 August 3059 Inner Sphere


The prior day's excitement for Alex had ended with medics, a visit to triage, and having a ComGuard medic anesthesize him for surgery. He woke up in the field hospital, a converted local medical center, with the sun dawning outside. A quick glance under the hospital gown showed his shoulder was intact and healing.

Great. My first day home and I'm on the casualty list.

A nurse came into the room far too soon for it to be coincidence. "How did you know I was awake?", he asked.

Smiling, she pointed to the small wires coming from the bed, showing what appeared to be an advanced EEG system. "Would you like some breakfast?", the nurse asked. "Normally we serve everyone at the same time, but I can get you something immediately if you're hungry."

"Oh, I'm famished," he answered, feeling a rumble in his stomach already. He almost considered tellling her not to bother, but instead let her get him something while musing on the fact that rank, indeed, had its privileges.

It was a couple hours later when he finally had a visitor. He had expected either Major Hall or Edwin, but was surprised to find it was Rachel Galvariz. She was wearing the new cooling suit commissioned by the Army, a full body jump-suit with coolant lines running around the torso and legs. She had a folder of papers and a laptop computer under her arm and looked at him with something of a smile. "I see you're enjoying some early leave time."

The joke made Alex laugh, which was good because he would rather not dwell on just how beautiful Rachel was. "Just finding out how things go on around here," he replied. "Catch a ride here?"

"Not exactly." Rachel motioned out the window, where Alex saw her Thor 'Mech across the street in a field-stop kneeling position. "We're not allowed to use personal motor vehicles this far up, especially with the air raids. It was either this or waiting for the Army shuttle."

"Probably shouldn't have bothered," Alex remarked. "The shoulder is healed, I'll probably be out today."

"Knowing doctors, it'll be late today." Rachel found a seat and handed him the laptop. "I got it out of your things. I figured you'd need something to relieve the boredom of a hospital bed."

Nodding in appreciation, Alex opened it. He took out the power line and went about plugging it in to preserve the battery. "I guess that's my paperwork?"

"Of course." Rachel's smile appeared again, this time with a mischievous tint to it. "As your aide I figured you needed to get started. And it saves me from having to do it."

"What about Ed?"

The smile grew. "Like he's going to do paperwork, sir."

That prompted a loud laugh from Alex, who accepted the folder from her. "Point taken, Lieutenant, point taken." Arranging it on his bed under the laptop, he drew in a sigh. "First day back and I get wounded."

"Luckier than some, sir." Rachel's smile disappeared. "We lost Major Hall."

Penton's stomach twisted up. "Oh my God, I didn't know."

"Major Pierce is being assigned to command the battalion." Rachel stood up. "I should go now. We'll be out on maneuvers today. Rumor is the Jaguars have been massing for a major attack, and they want us out and about should it come. When you get back I'm afraid you're heading straight to your 'Mech, so enjoy the bed while you can."

"I'd rather be in my 'Mech right now, I hate hospitals," Alex sighed. He gave her a nod goodbye and watched her go.




ComStar/US Army Bivouac (Camp Jurgens)


The morning meeting Sinclair had called had a pallor cast over it by the death of Major Hall. He looked out at the assembled officers. "Our scouts and partisans have confirmed that the Jaguars have consolidated their forces near Rochester," Sinclair said. "We can expect an attack any day."

Demi-Precentor Marshall, an aide in the 5th Army, nodded and spoke. "We believe the Jaguars are going to employ two fresh Clusters in the battle, given their recent DropShip traffic. Yesterday's battleROMs from the air raid confirmed the Jaguar unit is a newly-encountered one, though it has all the marks of being a solahma unit."

"It's going to be hard to hold the city if we're being attacked repeatedly by Jaguar air units," Sinclair pointed out. "I was under the impression the ComGuards had securied air superiority?"

"We have, generally, sir," Marshall answered, with an air of tried diplomatic patience. "But you can never underestimate the mentality of a Clan solahma. They are aged warriors to the Clans, on the verge of being tested out as no longer sufficient to the Clans' needs, and desperate to secure the use of their genes in their Clan's breeding program. The only sure way is to prove themselves in battle even if they die as a result, so it drives them into suicidal risks to prove their worthiness. This was the genesis of yesterday's rather foolish attack."

"One that saw us suffer a dozen casualties," Sinclair answered darkly, "as well as damage to vehicles and structures."

"Yes, and the 5th Army is intensifying its air patrols to thwart any further attacks." Marshall gave him a reassuring smile. "I can assure you, with the Blessed Blake as my witness, that you will not suffer any further Clan air raids."

That was the moment the air raid siren wailed.



Dane had been looking over his Loki when the warning sirens wailed. Oh hell no, not again! Without further remark he jumped up on the rope ladder and scaled it into his cockpit. Outside he could hear the defenses engaging, though with no DropShip present anymore they weren't going to see it swatting the attackers out of the sky.

The Dragoons had drilled rapid start-up procedures into all the trainees, and it was with that methodical speed that Dane fired up his 'Mech's fusion engine, hooked up the medical sensors for his cooling suit to the machine, and retrieved his neurohelmet. "Begin rapid startup procedure. Lieutenant Edwin Dane."

"Voiceprint verification complete, state checkphrase."

A smirk crossed his face. "Hail to the King, baby."

"Checkphrase confirmed. Let's go kick some ass."

Hearing the bland, feminine computer voice try to state his emphatic line made Dane chuckle in the seconds before he brought his weapons online. He moved his 'Mech out toward the hanger entrance, but stopped short of it. Yeah, come to Papa.

His systems identified the attacking fighters as Visigoths, giving him a display of their loadout; all pulse lasers. Nasty bite, but the pilot has to volley his shots or get cooked. He raised his PPC-carrying arms and crouched his machine.

One Visigoth apparently decided to come in for a firing run on the hanger, and noticed too late that the Loki was waiting for it. Not minding his heat level Dane fired all four of his energy weapons. His lasers carved into the nose and wing of the enemy fighter, cutting off armor; the slower bolts from his PPCs resulted in a single miss and one successfull hit cutting into the wing. Before the fighter disappeared above the roof of the hanger, Dane could see it start to spin.

"What crazy son of a bitch just shot from inside the hanger?!", an irate voice called out.

"This crazy son of a bitch!", Dane laughed, waiting to see if any other fighters would move into position.



Rachel had been almost home when her targeting sensors identified the approach of Clan fighters. She felt a sick feeling in her gut, realizing they'd cut her to pieces in this open countryside. Okay, think, think think think... they're raiding the base. Don't worry about them for now, just let the base handle it while you find some cover.

She scanned around her; this was all farmland and wide open, but to her southwest, away from the base, was a small patch of trees that might offer some cover. She turned her Thor and began pushing it toward the trees, forcing the 'Mech into a hard-to-control sprint that broke the 100 km/h mark. Distant streams of light and contrails came from where the enemy fighters - at least 10, she thought - were hammering away at Camp Jurgens.

She brought the 'Mech's speed back down carefully - trying to dead stop from a sprint was a sure-fire way to send herself down - and slipped it into the trees.




The air defenses had been joined by ComGuard aerospace fighters reacting to the incursion, with Dane still waiting patiently in his cockpit for another chance to open up.

Behind him, his platoon had taken their cue and suited up. Hoffman and Lupo had their new 'Mechs, a Clan-built Rifleman and a Bushwacker, ready at the other door. Sakata's Nightsky was tromping toward the entrance beside Dane. "We're going to make some awfully big targets out there," Hoffman said in a grumble.

"And any Clanner who lines up for a strafing run makes himself a sitting duck to the ComGs," Dane answered. "So let's make the best of it!"

He stomped his 'Mech out and began searching the skies for a target. On the opposite end he saw the pulse lasers on Hoffman's Rifleman open up, spraying emerald darts of light up toward the Clan fighters. LRMs from Lupo's Bushwacker found another Visigoth, though they didn't bring it down.

To his side Sakata brought her left arm up and poured green and red light into the sky at another approaching fighter. Dane tracked her target and let loose with both of his PPCs. The one that hit sheered armor from a wing and sent sparks flying from where it blasted away a pulse laser emitter. Dane smirked as his fingers pulled on the laser triggers, sending twin spears of ruby light intto the damaged Visigoth. As he did so, a stream of sapphire pulses erupted from the head of the Nightsky, striking the other wing and - with luck - the pulse laser housed in it.

With the fighter in range his SRMs locked on, but his attempt to fire failed; the Streak system verified an impossible hit and didn't waste his ammo. It proved unnecessary in the end; LRMs fired by a ComGuard fighter battered the wing that Dane damaged and sent the Clan aircraft spinning to the ground.

Dane flipped on the radio for an open call. "Come get some, Clanner assholes!" Seconds later an angry "Lieutenant Dane, cut the chatter!" cut through, but he was too busy tracking another target to care.




Rachel felt her gut twist when a Clan aerospace fighter flew overhead. Her computer identified it as a Sulla. It was a lighter machine than her's, but as an aerospace fighter it enjoyed the skies and a higher speed, making it extremely difficult to land any kind of hit even with the sophisticated targeting systems in a BattleMech. They were, at best, evenly matched - her cluster rounds in her autocannon could shred its wings and systems if she got a solid hit.

For the moment she was instead just hoping it didn't see her due to the trees and her partial shutdown, but her sensors showed it coming about and she knew she'd been spotted. Trying to contain her fear and the adrenaline rush of imminent combat, Rachel made herself think. Her ER PPC was a Clan make, making it a deadly weapon that could critically damage the fighter with one strike, and her autocannon was a special LB model that let her fire cluster rounds loaded with submunitions. Both weapons gave her a chance, if she could land a hit.

Panic was swelling inside her as the Sulla completed its turn. As it did so the ER PPC in the nose lashed out. The azure bolt passed right over her head and made her jump with fright; if it had hit she'd be dead. She fought with every ounce of will against the freezing terror that threatened to hold her in place, pulling her joysticks and letting her sense of balance tilt the 'Mech's torso backward. For a moment the crosshairs pulsed gold and she fired, spraying cluster rounds into the air with her own bolt of man-made lightning. But in the microsecond it took her finger to pull the trigger, the fighter moved out of position, and her shots missed.

It passed overheard and, yes, it was coming back around. Rachel took a breath and felt her body's fight-or-flight impulse taking over, demanding she run as fighting was clearly not working. No! It hasn't worked yet, but it will! She suppressed her instincts and made herself think, a desperate idea coming into play as she saw the fighter begin another low pass.

This time the fighter threw everything it had at her. The Thor rocked from the PPC, fired low, raking her leg of armor. Two spears of emerald light sought out her 'Mech's heart, but aside from the armor they melted off they took nothing from her. The loss of a quantity of armor, two tons in all, unbalanced her Thor, but she kept it standing regardless. Her feet hit the jump pedals and propelled the Thor upward. Her crosshairs centered again on the Sulla and with desperate energy Rachel's fingers pulled all of her triggers.

Autocannon submunitions sprayed the Sulla as it tried to pull further up, perforating its armor and knocking out the deadly ER PPC in its nose. The lightning from Rachel's own PPC sprayed over the left wing and sheared all the armor off, while the sapphire beam from her torso laser sliced into the laser on the other side and knocked it out as well. As a final success, her Streak systems confirmed a lock and spat six powerful missiles at the fighter. It was arguably doomed already - her PPC had badly damaged the wing, and the autocannon's cluster rounds had blasted off armor and damaged the central fuselage - but the three SRMs that managed to remain locked on finished the job. One found the damaged wing, blasting a chunk off, while the others blasted armor from the rear and hit the engine. The Clan fighter began to corkscrew wildly.

Rachel was careful on the way down, using the jets to land her 'Mech as gently as possible. It still rocked her about in her seat when her 70 ton machine found solid ground again. Thanks to her configuration the extra heat sinks in her Thor quickly dissipated the heat she'd built up from firing everything, though it wasn't the heat that was causing sweat to drop into her eyes as she watched the Clan fighter spin toward the ground. The canopy blew open and a figure was pulled free.

I did it, she thought. I won! I'm alive! Regaining her breath, Rachel keyed her radio. "Camp Jurgens, this is Lieutenant Galvariz. I confirm one Clan bogey down, northwest of camp. We'll need a unit out to retrieve the pilot."

There was a long pause, in which she feared that comms were down, but she finally got a reply. "Roger that, Lieutenant. Colonel Sinclair sends his congratulations to you. You're the first American MechWarrior to shoot down a Clan OmniFighter."

If only I can survive the war to enjoy that, she thought bitterly, but trying to sound confident she answered, "Tell him thanks for me. I'm on my way back in."




The base was being cleaned up again after the attack, and Major Pierce and Demi-Precentor Marshall were meeting with Sinclair in his office. "Fewer casualties this time," Pierce said. "Our people were mostly inside for this one."

"Thank God for small miracles. What about Alpha Company's platoon taking part? Should I be having a talk with Captain Penton and Lieutenant Dane?"

"Dane's engagement was mostly proper," Marshall said, though he coughed as he continued. "But firing from within the hanger itself was... questionable."

"If necessary," Pierce added. "He would have gotten picked off if he left alone at that time."

"Well, give him a reminder on the dangers of firing inside the 'Mech hanger," Sinclair ordered, "and leave it at that. And then we have Lieutenant Galvariz's victory over a fighter, one-on-one. Confirmed?"

Marshall nodded. "Yes. We have battlerom confirmation from her Thor. She did quite well, using her jump jets to gain a better angle of fire that gave her more time to engage."

"And the National Guard caught the pilot." Sinclair gave a nod. "I'm recommending the Lieutenant for a commendation. But the pilot brings us other concerns." Sinclair fixed a look at Marshall. "You said the Jaguars were the only Clan we had to worry about here, right? That no other Clan would become involved in the push for Minneapolis."

Marshall clearly sensed something was wrong, but nevertheless nodded. "Yes. It is from how the Clans bid their military campaigns. From what we gathered, the Jaguars won an invasion corridor into North America that puts Minneapolis in their zone, they would not permit another Clan to join them unless forced to, and as their Khan is now ilKhan it is doubted he would permit other Clans to undermine his own."

"I see." Sinclair turned his monitor screen around. "Then explain this."

Marshall bent over and looked at the image. It had BDU-clad American soldiers securing a thin, large-headed male in an aerospace cooling suit. But he knew immediately the coloring was wrong for a Jaguar pilot; it was green, not gray.

And prominent on the insignia was the emblem of Clan Jade Falcon.

"It appears the Jaguars aren't so unwilling to get help after all," Sinclair said, "and we might have a bigger fight on our hands than we're prepared for."

[Steve]

Chapter 4


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
2 July 2039 Local
2 August 3059 Inner Sphere


The whole trip back to Camp Jurgens had been tension filled for the requistioned Army truck carrying Alex Penton and a couple other recovered personnel. At any time it seemed the driver expected a Clan aerospace fighter to swoop down and start shooting at them, and Alex felt similar apprehension himself. There were certainly more ComGuard aerospace fighters in the air now than before. Which is probably the point, he considered to himself. Wear our side out before the big punch.

Alex stepped into the 'Mech bay and fidgeted with his shoulder. ComStar had used advanced skin patches to heal the wound without needing extensive stitches, otherwise he suspected he'd be in for a period of desk duty before being cleared to get back in his machine. Instead, of course, he now had to get his people ready for combat, and deal with the most obvious issue in his unit; integrating the training battalion transferees into his Outreach-trained 'Mech pilots.

Most of them were waiting now. The four Outreach trainees who made up his recon platoon, led by Lieutenant Anthony Tsukara, were standing in a group, but the other two platoons weren't quite as complete. Yumiko Sakata was standing beside Rachel, her slender and toned figure a contrast to Rachel's more solid, filled out lines. The quiet Japanese woman was the only expatriate from a nominally-Giuseppe-aligned country who had been sent to Outreach in the first batch, courtesy of her high neuro-aptitude scores and, from what Alex knew, a rigorously-vetted background that made any potential of her being a plant to be highly dubious.

Despite being split into two platoons, the four TBers were together. Alex wasn't surprised, and knew that he had to try and get them more interested in their new platoon-mates. He stepped up toward them and returned the salutes that came when he was noticed. "This was a meeting meant for yesterday, but which was postponed for obvious reasons," he remarked, noting the understand smiles on Becca and Dani's faces. Hoffman and Lupo also seemed less apprehensive about him today, undoubtedly in recognition of his saving their friends' lives. Well, at least this dull ache in your shoulder got you something, And just where is Eddie? He couldn't help but notice his friend's absence - nobody could, to be honest - and wondered what could be going on. He would have heard if Dane had been a casualty...

"I'm not going to bother with beating around the bush. The Clans are coming. As scuttlebutt has undoubtedly revealed to you already, the ComGs got it wrong and the Jaguars are letting other Clans back them up." Alex saw the smiles vanish, and Dani especially seemed to go further on edge. It took him a moment to remember her personnel file and that she wasn't just fighting for her country now, but to protect her hometown. "We don't know how much of the enemy will be coming. Intel thinks two Jag Clusters are prepared to attack, but if other Clans are coming in there's no telling what we'll ultimately face."

With his own fears paramount, Alex forced himself to ignore the gnawing doubts he had and to try and get his people focused. "We have to hold Minneapolis. If the Clans take it, even if we take it right back, the wrecking of our road network will cut America in half. Our industries in the east will be isolated from the resources we still hold in the west, and the voices advocating surrender will be strengthened."

He could see scowls on many of the assembled faces. Though Denise Saunders herself had proclaimed her support for the "war of national defense", some of the radicals who used to follow her insisted that the Andrews Presidency was in "the wrong" for turning down Tyagri's pre-contact offer of membership in the Earth Union. In their eyes the economic catastrophe had been the fault of American capitalism and the consumerism it promoted and that Giuseppe's pan-global ideology was the cure to this ill. If America was defeated substantially in the field, and it looked like the country couldn't hold, he darkly wondered how many people might support a "peace push" by the radicals even if it meant abject surrender.

"If we're going to hold," he continued, "then we have to fight as a unit. I understand that those who went to Outreach are proud of passing the Dragoons' training regimen, and that it's easy to see yourself as the cream of the crop. But not all of us went to Outreach, and while those of us who stayed didn't have to accept four hours of sleep a night with classroom studies and field exercises and physical training crammed into the other twenty, the training battalions had their own harsh school to master." He looked pointedly to Hoffman. "In the end we have to look past any divisions amongst ourselves on who went to Outreach and who didn't, otherwise we're going to get each other killed out there, and we're going to let our country down."

Before Alex could continue, he saw eyes looking around him. He looked over and saw Dane coming up, his expression a defiant one that told he'd just gotten scolded. "Lieutenant?", he asked, not mentioning Dane's tardiness.

Dane went to open his mouth, but before he could Dani stomped out from amongst the others and up to him. For the briefest moment it looked like Dani was going to punch him, but before she could do Becca shot up and got in his face. "You arrogant fucker!" The entire company was taken aback, especially Dane, by Becca's sudden fury. "Did you think you were fucking macho out there, trying to goad the fucking Clans?! 'Come get some'?! You fucking dickhead!"

"Corporal!" Alex's voice echoed in the hanger as he stepped between them. Seeing she was still livid, and that attention from across the 'Mech bay was being brought onto them, he asked, "Are you trying to get yourself court-martialed?!"

"We had over half our battalion wiped out by the Clans!" Becca didn't back down, while a stunned Dani lowered her clenched fist and took Becca's arm as if to pull her back. "And this asshole has the fucking balls to say stupid macho bullshit like that just because he shot up a couple fighters!"

"Becca, calm down!" Micaela came up between Becca and Alex. Hoffman moved up too, and each looked ready to thwart Becca should she lash out at Dane.

With a very dark glare, Dane finally answered. "I don't think I like your tone, Corporal."

"And I don't like your fucking attitude, Lieutenant," Becca shot back. "We've been fighting and dying while you were playing games on Outreach! And we don't need you getting us fucking killed because of your fucking mouth and ego!"

"Becca..." Dani drew in a breath and pulled her closer. In her eyes she seemed to realize what had just happened; her own intention for physical violence, obvious to Becca, had prompted Becca to throw herself at the mercy of the UCMJ to keep Dani out of trouble. Her lip quivered at the realization that she was going to be split up from her soulmate.

Still glaring at Dane, Becca let Dani pull close to her, the latter stifling a sob as her unspent rage wasted away inside her. She looked over to Alex, who was standing by Dane and Patrick Wu, the Raven pilot in Tsukara's platoon. "I'm sorry, Sir. Do what you have to."

Alex took in a breath and looked around. With the situation calmed down, Lupo and Hoffman had taken clearly supportive stances with Dani and Becca. Aside from Rachel and Yumiko, the others stepped up toward Dane. Great, they're taking sides right along factional lines. All of my words for...

Suddenly Rachel and Yumiko did move, and they did so by walking over to join the TBers. The others didn't avoid noticing this, and Alex took in another breath as he saw Rachel's expression. Yes, she would sympathize with them. And if Ed was trashtalking openly to the Clanners...

In the midst of this a squad of MPs came in. The corporal in charge looked to them and to Alex. "Sir, we heard reports of shouting." His eyes settled again on Dane.

Alex found himself at a curious impasse. The lawyer in him was screaming for him to present the facts; such would see Becca arrested and charged with disrespecting a superior offficer. Even if Ed dropped the charge - and that was no guarantee - the Army could pick it up anyway, and either way there'd be a psych eval in there which would undoubtedly find Corporal Shameel mentally unfit for combat duty. And on the eve of the most important battle in the war thus far, he'd lose one of his proven pilots. And so, as a result, his newfound sense as a combat commander was telling him to avoid that, to not play up the incident and to let it go.

Before he could speak, Dane cut in. "Eh, a minor disagreement between MechWarriors, Corporal. I made fun of her Vulture's Clan-default loadout. It's nothing major."

With a disbelieving look the MP looked to Alex. Yeah, he doesn't buy it. But he doesn't have to. "Nothing wrong here, Corporal, I'll have it handled," he assured the man, trying not to sweat. And now I'm obstructing justice. If Leah and the others were here they'd flay me. He stood and fretted while the MPs queried the others present, including those outside his company. None would directly confirm what Becca did, but they didn't deny it either.

The MP finally went back to him. "Sir, perhaps you should speak with Colonel Sinclair about this?", the Corporal suggested in a tone that made it clear what would happen if he didn't.

Yeah, I am in trouble.




Alex watched in apprehension as Sinclair seemed to mull over being told what happened. "So, Captain..." Sinclair stood up, hands behind his back as he looked to the whiteboard behind him. "As a sworn officer of the United States Military Courts, you state completely that there was no violation of Article 89 of the United States Code of Military Justice by one of your enlisted personnel?"

Swallowing, Alex decided that since he'd gone in with the penny, he was in with the pound, and gave a stiff nod.

"And Lieutenant Dane will confirm he was not verbally disrespected by Corporal Shameel?"

"Yes sir."

Sinclair allowed a pause to hang in the air. "I understand, Captain, that as you are the only commander who has an appreciable number of the training battalion survivors in your unit, you have a particularly difficult task in crafting your company into a fighting unit. You have your Outreach-trained MechWarriors, and these four who didn't get to go, who learned a few things the very hard way and undoubtedly think very little of you and your Outreach comrades."

"I believe that an accurate statement, yes," Alex offered.

"You're also aware that right now my superiors are divided on the wisdom of letting you have a combat command at company level," Sinclair continued. "I have had General Palmers imply to me directly that you should be transferred to the reconstituted 1st Battalion to train others. Your performance in the coming days, on and off the battlefield, will undoubtedly determine whether I am compelled to heed his advice. And that includes preventing any further... incidents with your TB survivors."

Alex swallowed and nodded. "Yes sir, I understand. I won't let you down, Colonel."

"Given how well you did as my aide during our Outreach exercises, Captain, please see that you don't," Sinclair stated plainly. "You are dismissed."




Alex found Dane waiting at the entrance to the officers' quarters. Everyone was going to be quad-bunking now due to damage to some of the enlisted quarters area by the bombing raid. "So, just like back on Outreach eh?"

Dane smirked. "Yep. Just don't try to keep me up all night with the light from your laptop."

"Oh, won't be doing that now. Doc's orders, have to rest when I can." Alex tapped his wounded shoulder. "Besides, with all the air raids, who can sleep?" Alex came to a stop, prompting Dane to do the same. "Oh, and thanks."

"Oh?"

"Thanks for letting Corporal Shameel's comments go,"

That brought a nod from his hot-headed friend. "Eh, I could see why they'd be pissed. I was letting myself get carried away as usual, she was right to be mad. If anything it makes me wonder if I should get a transfer."

"To my platoon, in the place of Galvariz?" When Alex's question was answered with a nod, he continued. "You'd never last, Ed. She's technically my aide at this point, which means she does my paperwork. And I know you hate paperwork."

"Do I ever," Dane confirmed with a smirk. "Besides, if she's your aide, you get to keep her closer, yeah? Hot piece of ass there, man."

Alex shook his head. "Eddie Eddie Eddie... you really are something."

"No, seriously, I..."

They walked into the company commander quarters that were to be Alex's, though now to be shared with Dane and two others as the living quarters were re-arranged to accommodate the roomless enlistees. He could quickly see that the other officers of their company had been bunked with them. Anthony Tsukara was laying out his cot near the head, while near Alex's bed a cot had a sleeping man wearing ComGuard fatigues. A third and final cot, un-made, was by the closet for Dane to sleep in.

"Well, that disappoints me," Dane sighed. "I was used to having a room with two hotties back on Outreach. The Dragoons know how to berth people, you know?" He went toward the untaken cot. "I'll see you in the morning."

Being tired himself, Alex plopped down into the bed and realized that this might be the last night's sleep he was to get in a long while.... or his last period.




By irony, it was the quarters Dane shared with Tsukara that Dani and Becca ended up sleeping in, with Lupo and a girl MechWarrior from Delta Company as their roommates. The latter was quietly writing in her journal and the former was asleep when Dani curled up behind Becca as she usually did. They'd rigged their cots together in order to sleep side by side, as they'd done since their close brush with death near Beverly in the final days of the fight for Leavenworth. Dani, tired as she was, stroked Becca's arm lovingly and placed an affectionate kiss on her neck. "You did that so I wouldn't hit him," she said.

"If you'd hit him, Dani, you'd be in the brig, and you wouldn't be coming back," Becca answered. "I had to stop you."

"The arrogant bastard would've deserved it," Dani insisted. But she had no energy to argue further. "I can't take much more of this," she said lowly.

"We'll stop them, Dani," Becca assured her, using her own hand to reach back and give Dani a re-assuring pat on what ended up being her hip. Her reward for this was another kiss to the neck before the two women settled into sleep.

[Steve]

Chapter 5


Nu Galaxy Command Headquarters
Rochester, Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
North America, Earth
4 July 2039
4 August 3059


The Jaguars had converted a local school into their command HQ, turning classrooms into barracks and offices and setting up holotanks, projectors, and command equipment in the gymnasium. Standing beside a projection showing the nearby region, Galaxy Commander Forbes Weaver glowered. She was on the lithe side of a standard MechWarrior build, fiery red hair pulled back into a braid with her temples kept shorn in a standard MechWarrior's haircut. Her dark brown eyes glared at the preening Falcon in front of her. If Alex Crichell was worth anything as a warrior, he would be in the Inner Sphere, not here tempting me to a Circle of Equals, she pondered angrily. Damn the Khan for letting the Falcons join our conquest!

Like her, Crichell was a newly-promoted Galaxy Commander. The homeworld forces of the Invading Clans had been undergoing reorganization ever since the discovery of the Earth rifts, as the Homeworlds now faced the specter, however remote it was to Forbes, of an Inner Sphere invasion.

Impatiently Forbes waited for Crichell to examine the expected enemy forces. Two ComGuard divisions were known to be opposing them. Now a new force of enemy 'Mechs had been detected, a Cluster's worth of machines that appeared to be piloted by natives of Earth. Forbes thought little of this force, considering them barely-trained freebirths who would easily be swept aside, and she showed that with her bold opening bid of 3 Clusters with a Supernova of aerospace and infantry support.

Crichell raised a curious eyebrow. "You think little of the new forces our enemy has gathered, quineg?"

"Ha!" Forbes' harsh laugh echoed off the rafters. "I do not fear barely-trained cubs that any of my House's sibkos could trounce in a day's work. ComStar is our main foe, and I look forward to avenging our defeats in the Inner Sphere in the broken carcasses of their 'Mechs."

Crichell said nothing, but he did operate his control. He met her bid by cutting a Cluster down by two Trinaries but with one detached aerospace Star kept in. This drew a snarl from Forbes at her enemy's timidity. She answered by dropping half her supporting Supernova and undercutting his bid by a further Trinary.

After thought Crichell answered her bid by removing the Supernova entirely and the detached aerospace Star. She countered by trimming one Trinary and a Star, effectively making her bid two Clusters and a 'Mech Star. This left her disadvantaged by most Clan bidding conventions; her opponent only needed to undercut her by one Star and he'd be at the cutdown, which is what she expected him to and which is what, after about fifteen seconds, Crichell did. "It appears I am at the cutdown," he announced. "Do you wish to risk your battered Clan's forces more or will you give me the first attack?"

Forbes paid his jibe about her Clan's defeats against the Inner Sphere no heed. Nor did she concern herself with the cutdown figure. Her staff had figured two Clusters was the minimum force necessary, but that was because her staff was made up of timid, unblooded surats in her view; the ComStar units had been depleted by weeks of attrition with the PGCs she had pulled back for garrison duty, and she expected to defeat them with less than two Clusters. The local MechWarriors were shams; save for a couple piloting stolen Clan OmniMechs, they were easily dispatched.

With an eager smirk on her face, Forbes cut into her second Cluster, bidding away two of her fifth Trinary's Stars, including an Elemental Star. She saw the surprised look on Crichell and let her smirk grow. "So, Falcon, will you show any bravery or cede me the first attack?"

Crichell and the Star Captain acting as his aide exchanged whispers. "Bargained well and done, Galaxy Commander Forbes," Crichell finally said. "I grant you first attack."

"Excellent. Let us prepare our forces for battle, then, and the glory of the conquest to come."



After he and Star Captain Alec were out of the gym, Crichell broke out into harsh laughter. "That stupid Jaguar," he said to his astounded aide. "Let her have her first attack. She will shatter her forces against the ComGuards and leave me to win the glory of conquering the city."

"And this new unit?" Alec's expression showed his intrigue. "They fought well against our pilots, damaging many aircraft. Pilot Carmelo was shot down by one of them."

"Luck and inherent skill can join together to create many wonders, like a freebirth defeating a trueborn warrior in one-on-one combat. But I do not fear luck, Star Captain." Crichell looked at him darkly. "If these new warriors try to fight us, we will remind them of their place."



Earth Union Defense Force Headquarters
Geneva, Switzerland, Earth National Union
Europe, Earth


Over a hundred years after the dying League of Nations erected the Palace of Nations in Geneva, the building once dedicated to the peaceful brotherhood of nations had given way to a militaristic offspring, the singular vision and forceful imagination of Armand Giuseppe and his followers. In the view of the Giuseppian movement, the League of Nations and later the United Nations had failed due to a lack of willingness to fight for their beliefs and to deal decisively with "nationalism" and "imperialism", the United States trumpeted as the chief offender (though China, Australia, Israel, and other countries were on the list, their presence determined ultimately by their willingness to support Giuseppe).

And so the Covenant of Woodrow Wilson gave way to the Stadium Oath of Armand Giuseppe. The olive branches of the UN's seal gave way to the shield and crossed swords under the globe of the Earth National Union, with its declaration in Latin of "Unity Above All Things". UNESCO and UNHCR lost importance; instead there was the Earth Union Defense Forces, the Earth Union Military Development Commission, and most feared of all, the Earth Union Security Commission, known primarily through their enforcement arm: the dreaded Verteidiger der Ordnung - "Defenders of the Order".

The Palace of Nations now stood as home to this expansionist, defiant outgrowth of the original UN concept. Their executive and legislative bodies called it home, and a new building built in 2037 housed the military and security arms' highest bureaucracies. From here, Armand Giuseppe and his followers could plan their enforcement of the New Global Order on the resistant and defiant, aided as they were now by the technology and BattleMechs of the Clans.

It was in this structure's grand strategic war room that a war council had been convened. A Clan-tech holoprojector hovered above the gathered leaders of the Earth Union's military (and indeed the leaders of the Union itself), showing the status of the war in North America. Union troop formations were marked with blue, the Clans in a lighter blue, while known enemy forces were in shades of red.

Taking a seat near the head of the table, well-dressed in his business suit, Chairman Armand Giuseppe surveyed the map and the progress shown in bringing the world's remaining superpower to its knees. For the balding, dark-haired Tuscan, it was a delicious thought. For twenty years the United States had vexed him with its grasping imperialism and unmatched contempt for the international institutions that he had deemed essential to the recovery of the world and the rise of mankind to unprecedented prosperity. Now, with the aid of the Clans, he would bring them prostrate before him.

Sitting beside him was his closest advisor. With his close-cropped blond hair, only starting to gray at the temples, Reinhardt von Krager fit the popular image of a calculating, shrewd German aristocrat. He served officially as Director of the notorious Verteidiger der Ordnung, while unofficially he was the foremost official in constant contact with the Clans and had been the first negotiator for the alliance with them. As a result of his success, von Krager had been vaulted beyond all rivals in the organization and had his worth confirmed for Giuseppe. He was, as always, well dressed in his pseudo-military uniform - complete with a well-crafted Japanese blade kept to his hip - and his cold brown eyes peered at everyone intensely.

Von Krager's presumptive assumption of a military-style uniform earned him the scornful look of Field Marshal Georg Berssach. The head of the Earth Union army, and the architect of its brilliant victories over the nationalist Russian army during the Russian Emergency, Berssach was nevertheless not a popular man in Giuseppe's government for his devotion to Germany's government under Chancellor Burchardt and his opposition to the invocation of the Emergency Protocols. He cut a good figure as well, more that of a good military man than the autocratic bearing of Giuseppe and von Krager.

"Our garrison forces continue to aid the Clans in securing order in their occupation zones." Von Krager lifted a hand to move through the hologram of the northern front. "I have already allocated the detachments that will secure order in Minneapolis upon its fall to Clan forces."

"I would not expect victory so easily, Director." Berssach tapped his fingers on the table framing the holoprojector. "The Clans are at the extent of their lines, I doubt they have the forces to hold what they have from a determined enemy counter-attack, which will certainly come if they are held up in their attack on Minneapolis."

"The prize of Minneapolis is too great to be cautious now," von Krager replied, no hint of irritation in his voice. "The US trans-continental road network is already strained by our conquests. This will be the deathblow."

"I know well your caution, Field Marshal," Giuseppe added dismissively. "You also believed a US counterattack in the south would save Kansas City. But none happened. The American people do not agree with their nationalist Republican leadership and our victory in Minnesota will be the decisive end to the reactionary Andrews Presidency."

"The Americans in Tucson, Midland, and Tulsa would seem to have felt otherwise, Mister Chairman."

Von Krager watched with amusement as the German officer's blunt reminder of those three ruined cities made Giuseppe glower. "Those cities were aberrations," the Chairman insisted. "Affected by the local nationalist cadres before our VdO troops could remove them."

Berssach glowered at the remark and nodded stiffly. "We shall see, Chairman, if your view into the American mind is as accurate as you believe it to be. On another matter..."




When the briefing ended, Berssach left with other military officers while von Krager and Giuseppe retired to a sound-proofed private briefing room. "I cannot wait until we are able to dispense with these false, pseudo-democratic constraints," von Krager began. "Then I shall gladly have Berssach shot, as well as his patron, that insufferable Burchardt. Surely the VdO could be employed successfully in..."

"You and I both know that nationalist's death would undermine those of Germany loyal to the Union," Giuseppe stated. "No matter whom your agents framed, his supporters would blame us, and elect an even stronger nationalist to undermine the Union. No, Burchardt must be untouched. For now."

Von Krager smirked and put his hands behind his back. "What do you think of the artistry in Chaumont's death, Chairman?"

"Blaming the nationalist partisans of Tucson, yes. It was a good maneuver." Giuseppe's expression betrayed the true extent of his pleasure, for the French journalist Andre Chaumont had been a voracious critic of the Union in France. "And it prevents the exposure of the nationalist undermining of the Mexican army, as was proven in their conduct at Tucson."

Ah, Armand, so hypocritical, von Krager thought. The Mexican nationalists are our allies, after all. Their desire to undo a two century-old war has proven our boon so far.... Nor, of course, were they the only nationalists to aid in some way the Union, with von Krager pondering those secret alignments while looking down at his katana and the dragon and archery bow insignia on the pommel, a reminder of some of those links. Not wishing to pay too much attention to this element, von Krager thought it best to change the subject. "Our facilities outside the city of Austin continue to prove fruitful. The Clans' narco-interrogation methods have intriguing long-term effects that are in line with Doctor Smiege's objectives."

Giuseppe nodded stiffly. "A fitting fate for my enemies, then, is at hand."

"Indeed it is."

"And do you truly believe that Berssach is wrong? That Minneapolis will fall?"

"I believe, Chairman, that after many decades of being able to blatantly defy the views of the rest of the world, the United States will soon be at such ends that they can never defy the world again." The words, couched in terms that he knew Giuseppe would approve of, earned von Krager a nod and grin of satisfaction. Internally, he calculated quite differently. The battle, due to the foolish Clan method of bidding, might be tight after all, and the Dragoon-trained American MechWarriors were an unknown quantity.

I shall have to lay plans carefully, he considered quietly to himself.

[Steve]

Chapter 6


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
5 July 2039 Local
5 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Alex ignored the looks from the various officers, many of them his detractors, as he led Rachel, Dane, and Anthony Tsukara into the officers' briefing for the battalion. Major Pierce had slipped into Major Hall's vacant spot fluidly, inheriting his staff and enjoying the confidence of Colonel Sinclair. He stood in the new MechWarrior BDUs, doubling as their cooling suit, while behind him an old-school projector with slides depicted the front. "I hope you're all ready for action," he said aloud. "The front has gone quiet since the 3rd, and we can only surmise the enemy is preparing for their big blow."

"Any final intel on what we're facing?" Alex's question beat all the others, earning him some looks.

"We know the Jags have three or more fresh brigades, or what they call Clusters," Pierce replied, giving a nod to Alex. "Elements of Falcon forces have been detected, but the enemy is moving a lot of DropShips around, and the traffic is getting confused given the Horses' activities as well. We have no firm picture of the number of Falcon units."

That prompted another voice to ask, "So we might be facing six or more of their Clusters?"

"We can't be sure. The ComGs think that with another Clan taking part, the Jaguars had to bid with them on who gets to attack the city first. Both sides might have reduced their force levels as a result."

"The ComGs also said the Jags would never allow another Clan in," Dane pointed out testily. "The Blakie-Flakies could get this one wrong as well."

"Let's hope they didn't," Pierce remarked tensely. "Otherwise I can't see how we'll keep them out of the Twin Cities."

Alex felt his gut knot at the thoughts of losing here. The country would be cut in half - only a couple smaller trans-continental roads would still exist, nowhere near enough to maintain the links of the Eastern US to the Western - and if Duluth fell they'd only have the Canadian highways 11 and 17 left, which spent 100 miles as a merged road and would be unable to keep both countries connected.

"You've been out in the field for most of the last few days. But with the 467th taking up advanced positions to our south, you'll be spending your nights on standby. Get your rest as needed; we need you sharp when the fighting begins."

He was answered by grim nods, after which the briefing turned to dispositions and the arrangement of their battalion staff.




As a junior officer JAG lawyer Alex had not enjoyed his own office, but a joint one with another Captain. Now, however, as a Company CO he merited his own small office, in which the requisitions paperwork to keep his company supplied and active had to pass through for his double-checking and signature.

He noticed, and signed with glee, the commendation for Rachel to get a Silver Star for downing that Clan Sulla - Sinclair had initiated the commendation proceeding but the paperwork was still his to sign off on - and put it into his pile for scanning and filing with the Army bureaucracy. Next was an authorization to allocate the very precious reserve of Clan spare parts for the energy weapons that Dani Verdes' machine was configured with. Her 'Mech was all energy weapon due to ammo constraints; he suspected Becca Shameel's Vulture would soon enough have to be configured the same way.

The door opened and Alex looked up. Staff Sergeant Alejandro Perez, the Sergeant of Charlie Platoon, entered and gave a firm salute. An eighteen year Army man, Alejandro was one of the highest ranked enlisted men in the company, formerly of the Armored Cavalry before contact. His haircut was impeccable and his solid figure kept Army trim by a good diet and use of base obstacle courses. His testing score on Outreach had won him one of the newer Inner Sphere machines, a Talon. "Ah, Sergeant, thank you for coming," Alex said. He returned the salute and added, "At ease."

Perez lowered his arm, but his posture only relaxed slightly. "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Alex set down his pen. "I'm having to set up our company staff. We need a 1st Sergeant for the company. You have the seniority and the experience, Sergeant, and I'm prepared to give you the position."

Perez remained quiet for several seconds. "I'm honored, Captain, that you'd think of me. But I think that for the good of the unit, you should pick Hoffman."

Alex leaned back in his chair. He scratched at his chin, as if thinking. "Any reasons, Sergeant?"

"Yes sir. You need to give our non-Outreachers a vote of confidence, a reason to work with the rest of us. I'll be the second enlisted man and make sure Hoffman gets good advice."

Mulling it over, Alex realized Perez was being reasonable about the needs of the unit. "Thanks for your advice, Sergeant. I'm going to call Hoffman in to give him the news."

"It's been the job of Sergeants to give their junior officers good advice for centuries, Captain," Perez pointed out. "Don't sweat it."




Becca, Micaela, and Dani were sitting in the mess hall with dinner and sodas. They wore matching cooling suit BDUs, though Dani and Micki had unzipped the suits enough to reveal the halter tops worn beneath. Becca wasn't quite so bold, of course, but she did put hand on Dani's hip without concern. "I hate this waiting," Dani finally said.

"We all do," Micki answered. "I think the only one I saw that was good with the waiting was Carson. Remember him?"

Becca blushed deeply while Dani laughed. "You kissed me and Becca just to mess with him."

"And I enjoyed every moment of it," Micki assured them. "Being bi has its perks. Watch out, Dani, or maybe I'll take Becca for myself."

"What, my Becca?" Dani grinned mischievously. "Only if I got to join in." Looking over to Becca and her deep blush, Dani broke out giggling. "My cute conservative Jewish girl, unable to fathom the fun of a good threesome. We have so many things left to do to corrupt you hopelessly."

"So many," Micki agreed with a grin. "Starting with appreciation for a BLT."

Ignoring the jibe for her obedient following of the Jewish "no pork" dietary law, Becca smiled and used her arm to pull Dani closer. "Is it any wonder that they put the three non-straight girls in the same unit in the end?", Becca asked, enjoying the closeness she now had with Dani.

"Helps them keep an eye on us," Dani said cynically. "Or so Jake used to say about being in our company in the 1st TB."

"Jake is gay?", Micki asked incredulously.

"Oh yes," Dani laughed. "And he loves throwing off everyone's gaydars too."

"I wonder how he's doing back East?" Becca saw her companions frown. Jake Wallace had been shot out of his Jenner during the retreat from Kansas City. The canopy hadn't blown away cleanly and the glass had nearly ripped his legs off as well as cutting his torso and face. Coolant poisoning and blood loss nearly killed him before the ComGuard medics could stabilize him, and he was facing a long convalescence and might never pilot a 'Mech again.

"Probably telling everyone about how he defeated a Clan Kodiak," Micki said. "An exaggeration, because Jack and I kept the thing busy while he brought down that high rise on it."

"Yeah, and then the dickhead combat engineers claimed the kill because they set the charges!", Dani growled. "That should've been your kill!"

"Got one anyway," Micki crowed. "And I was in that piece of shit TB-1X when I did it!"

A round of giggles and laughter broke out. The memories of the blocky humanoid 'Mech, the first American-produced one, made it impossible to do otherwise. "I remember Becky Rogers always had trouble with the gyro in her's. Thing was faulty, she couldn't keep it standing." Chuckles at humorous memories regarding this abounded, but they were tempered by the knowledge of Becky's fate, dying inside her flawed TB-1X in Kansas City in the same engagement where Micki got her kill.

Drawing in a breath and fighting to keep a smile on her face, Micki raised her soda. "To Carson, Becky, and the others. We gave the Clans some good smacks to the nose."

We gave them smacks and they wiped us off their boots afterward, Becca thought bitterly. Carson and Becky were gone, along with thirty other of their fellow trainees. She could remember his boisterous laugh, his friendly flirting, and found she missed it all. And you'd think we didn't exist given how everyone talks about the Outreachers, was her next bitter thought.

Hoffman came up behind Micki with a tray of chow and a drink. She scooted down and let him get on the bench. "So, ladies, anything to say to your new First Sergeant?"

The three women looked at each other with awe and surprise in their expressions. "Really? The lawyer made you the company's First Sarge?", Dani inquired, incredulous.

"Something of a shock, yeah. I figured Perez would get it and I'd be, at best, a Staff Sergeant. But no, I'm getting the nod." Hoffman began to stick his spoon into what passed for mashed potatoes. "Guess this is the Captain's way of putting his money where his mouth is."

"That, and other things," Becca said quietly. She'd been called into Major Pierce's office the other day and reminded of what Article 89 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice entails. The fact that she wasn't getting yanked from the unit after her explosion at Dane was still something of a shock to her.

"If you're meaning your putting that idiot gloryhound in his place the other night, I wanted to punch the dickhead," Micki said. "And Jack and I have to actually serve in his platoon!"

"Hey, ladies, as your First Sarge I'm supposed to stop you from badmouthing your officers," Hoffman pointed out.

"Look, Jack has a promotion and he's already acting like an Outreacher," Micki said teasingly.

"I'm not the only one around here who's getting promoted." Hoffman looked across the table. "Captain Penton showed me the official paperwork, it got delayed by the air raids and cleanup and such. As of the 1st of the month, Dani, Micki, you've both officially become Sergeants."

"Congrats, Sarge Dani!", Micki cheered, offering her stunned friend a high five.

Dani took a moment to accept it, stunned as she was. Just the other day I was about to get myself sent to whatever prison replaced Leavenworth by slugging that macho dickhead Dane, now I'm getting promoted instead! She saw Becca smile at her and allowed herself one as well. "When does Becca get the promotion? She helped me steal those 'Mechs, and she's been saving my bacon since then with well-timed missile strikes."

"Probably not for a while, Dani," Hoffman answered. "And if she does get the promotion, she'll probably get transferred out of your platoon. Maybe even to another unit entirely."

"Which I don't want," Becca insisted. "Dani and I need each other."

"Unfortunately, it's the Army, Becca," Micki said. "If they decide you're needed more in a 3rd Battalion or whatever, you get transferred. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"But that hasn't happened yet, and right now we've got more important things to think about," Hoffman pointed out. "Like stopping the Clans. So I need you three to be on your best behavior and to get along with your platoon mates, alright? Let the Outreachers talk. They'll come around when they've actually had a Clanner start making postmodern art out of their 'Mechs."

There was a chorus of affirmative replies. Everyone focused on their dinner afterward, given the hour and the reveille they expected in the morning. Soon Becca retired, and then Hoffman. Dani and Micki looked at each other for a while. "So, we're Sergeants now," Micki said incredulously. "I can just see Sergeant Lansing's jaw hitting the floor when he finds out."

"Yeah." Dani seemed to stare off into space, but before Micki could ask her anything she spoke up again. "Becca almost got in trouble due to me. She saw I was going to hit Dane. And I was going to. She started screaming at him to get between us and stop me."

Micki nodded. "I thought so." She drew in a mournful sigh. "She's a keeper, Dani. And she's completely in love with you."

"I'm in love with her too," was Dani's reply. "Oh God am I in love."

"You're very lucky to have each other." Micki looked to Dani expectantly. "Have you two...?"

"No," Dani said, able to sense the end of that trailed off question. "We've been too tired."

"You could die tomorrow, Dani. Why don't you go now? Find Becca and just... Carpe Diem, girl! Carpe Diem!" Micki let out a laugh. "Though God knows where you two could get enough privacy around here."

Dani let herself laugh. "Becca and I want it to be special, Micki. We want the first time to be special. We're not going to get that in a hard Army cot with two other women sleeping nearby. No, for now we just kiss and hold hands and wish each other good night. And then she turns on her side and I cuddle up next to her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear until we fall asleep."

Micki shrugged. "Your choice Dani." She obviously thought, but did not speak, on the sad fact that in waiting for a chance to "make it special", Dani and Becca were opening themselves up to never getting to experience it at all, and to living lifetimes of regret due to that. "Well, this Sergeant needs to go get some shuteye."

"Yeah, me too." They both stood up and took their empty trays to the cleaning racks before heading out of the mess.




Rachel's assigned officer quarters had been cleared of the enlistees by the repairs to their barracks, allowing her to return to her bunking with a fellow junior officer. Tamisha Hawkins of Chicago was a thin, wiry African-American girl of only 20, given her commission by merit after the Outreach training and assigned to Charlie Company as Captain Brubaker's platoon second. She was writing her own letter, to her grandparents back in Chicago, as Rachel mulled her own to each set of grandparents.

She always varied them. Grandma and Grandpa Vallejo, showing their backgrounds as academics, preferred she write intelligently and crisply, focusing on the facts of her experiences and accomplishments. They cared about her feelings, certainly, but they were rationalists, and they wanted to see their granddaughter's rational mind at work. The Galvarizes, on the other hand, had no pretense of academia in their background. They wanted her to express what was going on with passion and emotion. They wanted to know what their dear grandchild was feeling. And so she always wrote two letters, keeping each in language and expressions she knew would best fit the expectations; the Vallejos wanted to know the state of her mind, and the Galvarizes her soul.

But she found it was hard doing that now. Even her most rational thoughts on the battle with the Clan fighter found the feelings of that dreadful moment leeching in. Battle had not been a rational, scientific thing, she found; it brought to the forefront all sorts of sensations that could not be divorced from it. As she crumbled up another failed letter, it occurred to her that it was time to break her habit. She would write one letter, addressed to both families, and it would have everything. Her thoughts of the battle, her memories of it, the terror and dread in he stomach when that Sulla had started strafing her and the fear that she'd felt even as she launched her Thor into the air to get a better shot.

Lights out sounded as she finished the letter, noting that Colonel Sinclair had submitted her name for a Silver Star. She found it too much, really, but knew the scope of the accomplishment would demand such a reward when her country was in desperate need of heroes. And that's what I'm becoming to them now, she thought as she settled onto the bed. A great American heroine...

That thought didn't bring her any comfort, though. She was instead reminded that heroes, very often, became martyrs. And it was on those thoughts that Rachel drifted to uncomfortable sleep.

[Steve]

Chapter 7


2nd BattleMech Battalion HQ
Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth
6 July 2039 Local
6 August 3059 Inner Sphere


MacGruder looked up at the Starslayer he was assigned to and breathed a weary sigh of relief. It no longer bore the signs of being battered by the Horse tanks in the battle from earrlier in the week, with the arm replaced and everything. As it was an Inner Sphere design the damaged parts had already been replaced and fit in, and he should know; Barker had assigned him to work with the tech team to fix his machine up with a shout of "You broke it, you fix it!"

Two days of hard work and missed dates later, he'd completed it and learned enough about 'Mechs in the process to know he'd prefer fixing them to piloting them. He'd seen the others start to get "MechWarrior Disease" - a feeling of innate superiority and invulnerability that made them all cocky wiseasses - but found himself immune to it. After all, the Dragoons had made it brutally clear; even the hottest MechWarrior will die instantly if someone nails his head module with an ER PPC or Gauss round, and a 'Mech hit with Infernos could get the pilot roasted alive. And then there was the prospect of Elementals smashing their way into your cockpit and setting you on fire with their flamethrowers or machine-gunning you...

"Hey, Jack, how are you doing?"

MacGruder was jolted out of his depressing considerations of how to die by Cal Schulter's question. The well-built Midwesterner made MacGruder self-conscious of how lanky he was, and he wondered just how many girls Schulter might get from his appearance. "Finally finished helping the mechanics put my 'Mech back together," he answered. "Now I have to go report to Sergeant Barker and hope she lets me go on further extra duty."

"Oh, I think she will," Schulter said. "You've suffered enough. Time for me to bring you out of Purgatory."

MacGruder followed him to the doorway leading out of the 'Mech hanger and toward the next building over. "You Catholic?"

"Oh, not at all," Schulter confessed.

"Ah." Thinking of his own lapsed Catholic background, MacGruder gave a nod. "Well, I imagine I'll be lucky to get into Purgatory. Got so much sin on my soul I figure I end up burning."

"Hey, always time to make it right with the man upstairs." Schulter gave the younger man a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Anyway, before you go chasing that brunette and indulging in the cardinal sin of lust, Lieutenant Roland wants to have a little chat with all of us."

Schulter led MacGruder through the myriad offices around them and to a multi-purpose room. The diagrams drawn on the whiteboard confirmed it was being used to educate mechanics on BattleMech repair, but the only occupants were Roland and Barker. "Ah, Corporals. Good of you to make it. We've got some talking to do."

"All ears, sir."

"Now, I'm not a god damned officer at heart. I'm not giving you any pretty horseshit speeches about solidarity and camaraderie and how we have to pull together. My view is that you should know this shit anyway and if you don't I'll gladly kick your asses until you do." Roland stepped up in front of them. "Our last fight got a little out of hand. I'm new to this officer stuff and I'm used to supervising butterbars, not being one, but I'll not make excuses. I fucked up, and we got hit harder than we should've. Not gonna happen again."

"Sir, with all due respect, this is starting to sound like a horseshit speech about pulling together," MacGruder pointed out bluntly.

Barker and Schulter gave him horrified looks before looking at Roland, who quietly began to walk up to MacGruder. The latter, to his benefit, seemed to realize he was in a lot of trouble, but before he could give an apology or otherwise try to undo his error Roland cracked a grin. "Son, I think you might just make a good Gunny one day, provided we can teach you to keep your trap shut when it needs to be."

"I apologize, sir."

"Don't apologize, MacGruder, it's a sign of weakness. Now, I'll give you some assignments to deal with your big mouth, but for now we're heading out on a patrol with the company. They've got us working with the Davion Light Guards. Now, these Light Guards are supposed to be hot shit in the Inner Sphere, but I aim to prove to them that their blue blood ain't worth shit in this Marine's US of A. So let's go saddle up, people. We've got some work to do."



Davion Light Guards RCT Field HQ
Camp Corcoran, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


With his close staff in tow, Major General Adam Palmer entered the field HQ vehicle that was the nerve center of the Davion Light Guards. As commander of the 2nd Armored Division Palmer theoretically had a unit of equal size and complexity, but in truth Jonathan Riffenburg's Light Guards were a superior unit, mixing armor, infantry, air, and 'Mech assets into one combined arms whole. Only ComStar had a higher level of combined arms focus than the nations of the Federated Commonwealth, an appreciable quality for Palmer. And when our artillery enjoys their technology...

Visions of Clan forces being eradicated by hyper-accurate ToT barrages had to be put aside for the moment. Respecting the other man's higher rank, a five-star equivalent compared to his own two, Palmer saluted to him first. Riffenburg, a centenarian, was surprisingly spry in returning it. He looked to be more akin to a seventy year old than someone over 100, showing the benefit of medical science in the Inner Sphere. "General Palmer, good to have you over," Riffenburg said. He motioned to a woman who looked to be anywhere from 35 to a very spry 55. "This is Leftenant General Jessica Quarles, my aide."

Almost by habit, Palmer went to refer to her as "sir", equivalating her rank with the US rank of Lieutenant General, one star over his own. But he recalled at the last minute the peculiar alteration to the Western rank structure that the Inner Sphere had undergone, with the ranks of Major General and Lieutenant (or "Leftenant") General being reversed, and referred to her simply as "General" in a tone that noted their equality.

"General," Quarles answered nicely.

"We asked you here to discuss this offensive your Army is to undertake." Riffenburg gestured to the holoprojecter showing the local front. "We've been asked to serve as your reserve, but I have reservations about holding the Light Guards back, General."

Palmer wasn't surprised to hear it. The Light Guards were, given their name, not a unit predisposed toward defensive tactics, and he imagined they wanted to race around on the Great Plains right alongside his tanks. "It's a just in case measure, sir. We intend for VIII Corps' attack to be a probe more than a determined attack, something to make the Clans take notice of their flank and get some heat off the forces at Minneapolis."

Riffenburg didn't seem contented by the explanation, and Quarles shook her head. "General Palmer, the Clans are not a unitary force. The Falcons and Jaguars will not spare Minnesota to help the Horses fight us."

"Even if it means allowing our forces to collapse the Horse flank and open up their own?", Palmer asked pointedly.

"General, please, let us dispense with the excuses," Riffenburg spoke up. "Your Army is commencing this attack against the advice of myself and every other military commander the Star League has dispatched to this planet. The only reason you are doing so is for national pride, and that pride is going to get thousands of your soldiers killed and put this front at risk."

Palmer gave a careful look to the old Davion Field Marshal and his aide. "With all due respect, Field Marshal, we're trying to save one of our large cities from becoming a battleground. We've already lost several of our major cities and have more that have been damaged or nearly razed by being on the front. Denver has, luckily, been untouched for the most part, but if we don't push the enemy away from the city it might not be that way much longer."

"I understand the concerns of you and your superiors, General, but I cannot with any conscience sign off on your operation," Riffenburg insisted. "You might not think much of two second line Clan Clusters, but that is still sufficient force to break you if your refitted units and new MechWarriors suffer any setbacks."

"We intend to outmaneuver those units out on the Plains. Our armored columns and 'Mech units will break their landline communications to the rest of their forces, isolate them into pockets, and let our artillery do the rest," Palmer informed them. "So don't worry about us throwing our green forces into a grinding frontal assault."

"General, please, reconsider this," Riffenburg pleaded. "We'll be able to go on the offensive soon enough. Our forces are doing well in mopping up the Jaguars in the Inner Sphere, give it another nine months and..."

"Nine months, Field Marshal, for the Clans to turn their entire occupation zone into Tucson?", Palmer asked bitterly. "For millions of Americans to die being worked to death in Clan forced labor or to be whisked away from their homes to the Clan homeworlds as slaves? Nine more months of Denver, Colorado Springs, and the millions here to be living under the threat of another Clan attack?"

Riffenburg let out a weary sigh. "I shall appeal to Marshal Hasek-Davion and Prince Victor for a quicker timetable for more troops," the venerable man promised. "But again, I plead with you to go to your superiors and cancel this 'probing offensive', or at least reduce it in scope. You need to get your new MechWarriors used to combat before you employ them in large-scale operations. Perhaps if you were to provoke a Horse Trinary out and reduce it with superior force..."

For what it was worth, Palmer felt no animosity toward Riffenburg and his people. He was thankful for their efforts on his nation's behalf, and it couldn't be denied that the sons and daughters of their Federated Suns had shed their blood defending American soil. But nor was he open to amending this battle plan. America needed a victory, and one wrought by American arms, to give hope to the populace that the war could be won without indebting the country to the Inner Sphere. Nevertheless, in deference to Riffenburg's reasonable arguments and his age, Palmer gave a nod. "I'll take it up with General Tolen, sir."

A sad look passed over those ancient features. "And knowing Tolen, he will snarl and refuse to even fathom it."

Palmer, who was not the greatest fan of his bigoted and smug superior, could only shrug. He opted to end the fruitless argument here and turned to discussing the particulars of the battle plan.



Áfter Palmer left, Riffenburg gave a forlorn look to Quarles. He liked the younger officer, and had long groomed her to be his replacement as CO of the Davion Light Guards RCT when he retired in the coming year. As such he knew full well her thoughts. "I suppose we should not be too surprised, Quarles. Their nation teeters in the balance, and I think they almost fear us as much as they do the Clans."

Quarles had a terrible frown crossing her expression, showing her agitation. "I've lost good men and women protecting these people, I don't want those sacrifices thrown away. I request permission to launch a pre-emptive attack on the Horses."

"Denied," Riffenburg said sharply. "We need to keep the Light Guards where they are, ready for renewed combat. They'll be needed to pick up the pieces."

Before Quarles could protest, a Leftenant called out to them. "Sirs! New reports from the northern front, directly from the ComGuard 467th Division."

Riffenburg looked to the junior officer silently, the sick feeling in his old gut already telling him the likely content of the incoming messages.

"The Clans are on the move again, Marshal," the young woman confirmed. "They've resumed their march to Minneapolis."

[Steve]

Chapter 8


White Rock, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
7 July 2039 Local
7 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Acolyte Keith Lumumba felt his Guillotine strain to stay standing under the barrage of the Smoke Jaguar BattleMechs rushing up from the south. The Jag secondline units had long dispensed with zellbrigen against Inner Sphere forces, decreeing them unworthy of Clan honor strictures, and they had brought up 'Mechs utilizing long-range missiles to pound his unit. Against the predawn sky the missile barrage was lighting up the Smoke Jaguars' 'Mechs as they lifted off while their explosions upon impact also created brief flashes of visibility in the rural darkness.

His Level II unit, part of the Level III Battalion "The Trumpeters", now found itself trying to fall back across the farms of southeastern Minnesota as missiles rained down on them. The tanks were better off, in prepared positions hull-down that absorbed some of the LRM strikes, but his Guillotine and the other 'Mechs were exposed. And as a 'Mech meant for closer-range combat, the only effective weapon at this range was his extended range large laser.

Not one to let the enemy pound on him without a retort, Lumumba spit his crosshairs on a distant Crossbow Prime, his 'Mech's magscan and IR sensors making night fighting little different from doing so during the day. He pulled the trigger controlling his large laser and watched emerald light stab out into the darkness, scouring armor from the humanoid machine's shoulder. It ignored him completely, finishing a salvo of LRMs that crashed down around the position of a Level II of tanks.

He wasn't entirely ignored, however. From around the ranks of the Clan fire support 'Mechs came Clan BattleMechs and Elementals. Lumumba heard Adept Addicks speak into their command frequency, ordering them to engage from position and at will, and found a suitable target; a sixty ton Thresher that gave up ten tons to his Guillotine. The Clan 'Mech was going to be tough in short and medium ranges with its array of medium lasers, SRM launchers, and the dangerous ten-shot autocannon mounted on the torso; his own 'Mech was at least no slouch at such range with its own torso-mounted SRM launcher and four medium lasers.

He opened up on it with his large laser, but the Clan pilot was a good one and side-stepped as he pulled the trigger, causing the shot to go wide. Ruby darts of light retaliated, chewing into his hip armor, after which a laser beam sliced armor from his left arm. Lumumba's fingers tensed on the triggers for his left arm lasers and twin spears of red light played over the torso of the Thresher, scouring armor. It didn't hit the autocannon muzzle as he'd been hoping, though.

He paid for that when the muzzle began flashing. Powerful rounds began ripping away the armor on his Guillotine's torso, creating a jagged line of burnt, broken armor as the ultra autocannon raked fire across his chest. Lumumba felt his 'Mech struggle to stay standing from the barrage and fought hard to keep it level. He succeeded, but his attempt to retort with his two torso-mounted lasers failed with shots that went wide with the unbalanced 'Mech.

The Thresher got no further. Adept Addicks saw him in distress and came to his aid, using her Highlander's long-range firepower on the Thresher. A Gauss slug tore into its hip and lodged into the hip actuator, killing the Clan 'Mech's mobility. Seventeen missiles battered it further, striking the arms and torso and blasting away more armor. One missile knocked out a heat sink, sending coolant spilling to the ground like blood, and another struck and took out the left arm's SRM launcher. Unbalanced from all the hits, the Thresher began to pitch over. Its Clan pilot was struggling to keep it up against the battering, leaving him open to Lumumba's large laser again. This time the emerald light was right on target, slicing into the autocannon housing and the ammunition bin supporting it. Hundreds of autocannon rounds blew up in a spectacular explosion that tossed shrapnel over the charred countryside. Only the cellular ammunition storage the Clans used saved the 'Mech from complete destruction, but the blast was sufficient to disable the right arm and gut the Thresher's right torso, including damaging the engine. The Thresher's heat began to spike uncontrollably.

Lumumba would have finished off the crippled Thresher, but he had other worries. Beside the stricken Jaguar 'Mech a Clan-model Rifleman moved forward, sporting four deadly large-scale pulse lasers. Its pulse lasers opened up and drilled into his shoulder and torso. An indicator light went red to show one of his torso medium lasers had been hit and its focusing lens melted, reducing his weapon complement. He saw Acolyte Allen's Nightsky collapse and couldn't help but notice that the rain of Clan missiles was starting to take their toll on the vehicles and entrenched infantry. Grimacing, the ComStar MechWarrior returned fire on the dangerous Rifleman and found himself hoping like hell they got help soon.




Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, North America



To the surprise of everyone, news of the new Jaguar attack had not been followed by air raids on the Camp Jurgens. Reports were that the Jaguar force, having bid away some of its aerospace assets, was focusing what was left on bombing attacks on the positions of the ComStar 467th Division and 166th.

The morning was dawning and the fighting was reportedly fierce. Two Jaguar Clusters, fresh to the invasion, had thrown themselves against the defenses of the two depleted ComStar divisions. The ferocity of the Jaguar attack was such that the weakened units were giving ground; the 166th had established defenses in Cannon Falls and the 467th, having been displaced from the villages of White Rock and Belle Creek, were attempting to establish themselves as a solid defensive line along the Cannon River.

With the dawn light creeping over the 'Mech hanger, Alex emerged into it to find his entire company rousted and ready. Everyone was in their cooling suits and looked as fresh as they could be. He opened his mouth to begin trying to encourage them before remembering something Perez had said to him about 'meaningless officer speeches', and so he turned to something more visceral. "The Jags are on the move. We're heading out to shore up the failing ComGuard defenses. This is what we've trained for, and something some of us are already familiar with." He gave a look to the four TBers, who had actually fallen in with their platoons this time. Well, they know this means business I guess. "Let's get out there." And with that he started stepping up toward his 'Mech.

The Mad Cat that the Wolf Dragoons had awarded him had been painted in field camo colors. He presumed it was mostly psychological, since 'Mechs showed up easiily on infrared and magscan without anything to give interference, and found himself bizarrely missing the black and red paint scheme of the Dragoons that had been on it when he was first awarded the machine. It was an iconic BattleMech, one of the first Clan OmniMechs observed in the Inner Sphere, a swift 75-ton killing machine that had 27.5 tons of weaponry. His 'Mech had a special configuration; the left arm was the traditional dual-laser one, large and medium extended range models, and the right arm held an ER PPC, all of it Clan-make. Most of the lasers favored on the torso were gone save for a single ER Small Laser for giving Elementals trouble. With his pick of Clan weaponry to use, Alex had selected a devastating twenty-shot "ultra" Clan autocannon to be mounted in the right half of the torso. The weapon was so heavy that even with his reduced heat sink complement, he could still only pack 2 tons of ammunition for it. Still, its a good complement toward the 'Mechs used by the rest of my platoon, I think.

He looked over to where his platoon-mates were heading to the step ladders placed up to their machines. Dani's Mad Cat, the spoils of battle, was arrayed according to logistic constraints with available Clantech, with shoulder-mounted ER PPCs and the standard Prime arms like his left one. If she went all-out her machine would likely roast her even with the cooling suit, but as she had no ammunition that might explode she would be equally capable of devastating attacks on any enemies. Her girlfriend Becca's Vulture was in the identifiable Prime configuration, of course, with the arms bearing large and medium pulse lasers and the torso having 20-salvo LRM launchers. If I have to employ my autocannon it means we're well and truly in the thick of things.

Alex went up the stepladder and, with some difficulty given his above-average build and size, slipped into the cockpit compartment. He found the fusion reactor master control with ease and pulled the lever until it clicked in position and started the fusion plant buried in his 'Mech's torso. The Dragoons had altered the Clan cockpit to include the amenities that the Clans, devoted as they were to quick and violent combats, usually denied their MechWarriors. To aid in long battles he had a mini-fridge loaded with bottled water and Gatorade and his ration packs, and for things coming out the other end, the "fusion toilet" linked to the 'Mech's reactor that provided so much material for Dane's potty humor back on Outreach.

Ignoring these things for now, Alex recovered the neurohelmet from its compartment and the medical sensors within. The technicians had taken off the actual adhesive patches that an Inner Sphere or Clan MechWarrior would use, putting ports at the end of the medical sensor lines that were color-coded to the medical sensor ports on his suit's arms. He carefully put them in by their color coding before he hooked up the coolant lines to the cockpit's coolant circulators and put on the harness to hold him in his command couch. With all these steps complete, all that was left was bringing his machine to life.

While the computers were starting up and all the status screens coming to life, Alex checked out his targeting joysticks. The right hand controlled his three main energy weapons; thumb trigger for the ER PPC, index and middle fingers for large and medum lasers. The left hand joystick had the autocannon triggered to the thumb and the small laser to the index finger. A second thumb trigger, set up by his request, worked as the "Alpha Strike" key should he feel the need to unleash every weapon on his machine at a target in the same salvo. It had a warning yellow-and-black base as a visible reminder that it was not to be used lightly; the resulting heat spike would risk having his autocannon ammo subjected to combustible temperatures.

With the computer startup complete, the security measures came into play. Alex had set his 'Mech up to give him a unique one, as some MechWarriors were known to do, and so he was treated to the feminine, digital voice inquiring, "I am the Law, the instrument of Justice. Who stands before my Court?"

"Captain Alexander Penton."

"Voiceprint confirmed. Identity confirmed. Present your argument to the Court."

Alex imagined, for a moment, that if anyone ever heard his startup sequence it would confirm their prejudices about him being a "lawyer staff weenie". "'Without the Law, there can be no Freedom, no Justice, and no Peace'," he announced.

"Checkphrase confirmed. The Court recognizes you as its Officer. Proceed."

Freed from its security protections, Alex's Mad Cat finished powering up. The hanger personnel waved orange guide wands to ensure nobody piloted their machines into each other. Alex found himself waiting for Rachel's Thor to move past before he was guided out. Dani and Becca followed up behind him.

The unit gathered in the open plains near the camp. Bravo and Charlie Platoons were quick to join them. "We're being ordered to the heights at the Welch crossing over the Cannon River," he told them. "The ComGs are trying like hell to keep the door closed, but if the Jags get through them by the time we get there we have to be the ones to slam it closed. So let's get there so we can take the high ground." Alex looked to his area display and found the intended point for his company to come together, on the forested ridge lines overlooking the Cannon River. He found the route to take and began following US 61 toward the fight.




Rachel was following closely behind Alex's Mad Cat, keeping nervous eyes on all of her readouts as they approached the ridgeline overlooking the Cannon River at Welch Township. She was getting the same command updates Alex was and knew that the Jaguars had broken through parts of the ComGuard lines, exploiting the damage the 467th Division had suffered during the final retreat from Rochester.

They found their position, standing on top of the ridge and looking over the tree tops down at the Cannon River and the land beyond. In the distance smoke was visible. She looked up, worried about attack, and was relieved to see two ComGuard fighters moving overhead; at the very least they were keeping the air contested.

This is it then. Rachel drew in a breath. Oh God, God help me. I don't know if I can do this!

She noticed that a private radio channel was picking up an incoming signal and switched over to it. "How are you doing over there, Rachel?" Alex's voice came in clearly.

"Sir?"

"Save the 'Alpha 1-Alpha 2' stuff for the open lines," he answered. "I was just checking on you."

"Oh." Rachel blinked and tried to think of how to answer. Opting to do so honestly, she said, "My stomach feels like its doing somersaults and I feel this powerful need to turn this thing around and get the hell away." When she was answered by silence, she cursed to herself. Good going, Rachel! Tell your commander you're a coward!

Suddenly an answer crackled over. "Me too." She had just enough time to be sure she heard Alex admit that before he continued. "I guess this is what they mean when they say courage is feeling like running away but not doing so."

"Yeah." Rachel swallowed. "Alex?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to die, Alex," she admitted. "Please?"

After a short pause, she got an answer. "Me neither, Rachel, me neither. I'll do my best to keep you and all the others alive."

"But you know you can't," Rachel answered. "You've got to follow your orders and complete the missions they give us. And some of us are going to die."

"Yeah. I know. But I'm going to do my damndest to prevent it anyway."

For some strange reason, Rachel found Alex's words soothing. Her gut quit clenching quite so tightly and she found her breath easing. Before she could answer, though, her sensor systems began showing red icons in the distance. And here they come...




Alex hoped his words had reassured Rachel, finding himself with the sentiment, perhaps inappropriate, that out of all his people she was the one he was most determined to keep alive. He might have dwelled on this more had his instruments not indicated that they had company.

Nine Clan 'Mechs were stomping toward the Cannon River, mostly heavies or assaults. He could notice the profiles of well known machines like the Warhammer and Marauder, as well as a Rifleman. A pair of Crossbow Prime 'Mechs stood out as dangerous long-range bombardment machines, though one was missing an arm and thus a launcher. "Company, engage targets. Focus fire on the long range machines first." Through the radio he got confirmations from Rachel, Dane, and Tsukara.

Alex's joysticks focused both arms on one of the Crossbows. His crosshairs pulsed gold to confirm he had a good shot and prompted him to pull the appropriate triggers. A lance of green energy sliced into the old Clan Omni's torso and sent molten armor pouring to the ground, where the slightest touch of it set small fires in the grass. His PPC bolt grazed the shoulder of the machine, blasting away armor with the partial strike but leaving the shoulder actuator intact.

The ridgeline above Welch erupted in green lasers and azure plasma bolts, the PPCs and large lasers of Alpha Company lashing out at the enemy units. Hits were recorded that blasted, melted, or simply vaporized enemy armor. One of the Warhammer 'Mechs collapsed under a barrage from Dani and Rachel, who put three PPC bolts into its chest that savaged its engine. Dane also surpassed his fire and claimed the aggressive pilot's first kill, a decapitated Thresher.

Before he could ponder having to pay up for Dane beating him to an official 'Mech kill, Alex watched the Clan forces return fire with vengeance. Lightning crackled over his 'Mech's torso, savaging armor, and his arm recorded heavy damage as a Gauss slug blasted into it. Laser, PPC, and Gauss Rifle fire struck at his command with a vengeance, the Clan pilots striking with higher accuracy than his own had managed. LRMs descended down upon his lance personally, blasting armor away from Becca's Vulture and Dani's Mad Cat. One impacted just over his 'Mech's foot and it took a glance at his monitors to reassure him he hadn't just been hobbled.

And just like that, one of the icons on his unit indicator went dark. He looked just in time to see Marshall Stewart's Wolfhound crumble, its head sheared off from what looked to be a direct hit by a Gauss round. His pledge to Rachel was broken.

The Clan force had lost two 'Mechs, buit they'd taken one of his and given his unit a hammering. He cursed the fact that he'd overlooked the usefulness of having at least one 'Mech mounting a Gauss Rifle, though given the general rarity of the weapon getting his hands on a couple would be hard.

Nobody stopped to mourn Marshall; a fresh salvo of PPC bolts and laser beams, now including the pulse lasers on a few of the 'Mechs, provided a solid retort to the Jaguars. The Grizzly that had killed Marshall went down beneath its pilot from the PPCs of Tsukara and Perez. Hoffman's Rifleman pounded a similar machine on the other side, emerald darts stitching their way across its chest and obliterating its insignia. Some of Micki's LRMs blasted free the right arm of the machine.

This time Alex's aim was excellent; his large laser finished opening a terrible wound in the Crossbow. Its pilot tried to respond with a maneuver, but Alex's PPC shot hit home through the wound and blasted the 'Mech's gyro. Looking to take advantage of his success Alex opened up with his medium laser, but the ruby beam only managed to slash armor on the humanoid 'Mech's side.

Nevertheless the Crossbow died; Rachel's PPC lashed out and took off the 'Mech's head. "Good shooting, Alpha 2," he annonced into the radio, but he got no reply.

With another pair of 'Mechs down, the remaining Jaguars decided to pull back. None presented their thin back armor as they stepped backward in good order. Another barrage was fired, this one less-carefully aimed and doing no more than taking armor off on some of the larger, more visible 'Mechs in Penton's unit.

"Sir, let's go after them," he heard Dane argue. "We've got the Smoked Kitties on the run!"

Our orders are hold this line and prevent enemy forces from approaching Hastings, Alex pondered. But taking out a couple Stars worth of Jaguar 'Mechs might be worth a little risk. "I'll take my Platoon and Charlie for a pursuit. I need you to hold here."

"But...!"

"They're still heavies and assaults, Bravo Leader. Your platoon is heavy and medium, mine is all heavy, and the light elements in Charlie can maneuver into their rear. Besides, I want to know where any of their light units are. If those things got through, the faster machines should have too." Alex brought his machine forward and began to tromp down the forested hillside. "At the first sign of trouble, call and we'll double back."

"Roger that, sir," was the unhappy response he got.

There was no point in further discussion for Alex. He just kept his 'Mech's speed up as he, and the six other 'Mechs accompanying him, moved to cross the Cannon and pursue the retreating Jaguars.

[Steve]

Chapter 9


Welch Township
Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
8 July 2039 Local
8 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Micki watched the seven 'Mechs of Alpha and Charlie Platoons cross the Cannon River and found herself frowning. Sure, it was nice seeing the backsides of the Jaguars for once, but actually pursuing the Clanners was something that struck her more as glory-seeking stupidity, if not overcompensation. It did occur to her that for Captain Penton, aggressively pursuing the enemy and looking to inflict losses on him might be way to overcome the 'staff weenie' rep he held among, well, pretty much everyone.

Wishing she could wipe the sweat from her forehead and fix the lock of brown hair that was tickling her cheek, Micki forced herself to focus on the displays for her 'Mech's status. Her Bushwhacker's low profile had made it less prominent a target for the Jaguars. One PPC bolt had wrecked some of her armor on her left arm, but other than that her 'Mech was at a hundred percent.

More than I can say for Stewart, she thought to herself bitterly, looking down at the headless Wolfhound. A quick look at her unit showed that they'd taken a couple hits like she had, but nobody was missing a limb or showing severe damage.

Micki had just about settled herself down from the combat high when her scanners picked up contacts from the southeast, coming in fast. "Anyone else seeing this?", she asked into her radio.

"Yeah, I see 'em Bravo 3," Dane answered. "Jaggie Star coming in fast. Lights and fast Mediums from the look of things."

Hoffman cut in. "They're not entering range either, no clear shot. They might bypass us completely if we don't move to cut them off."

"We're supposed to stay here and hold the ridge," Micki remarked.

"We're also supposed to keep the Jaguars south of the river," Dane replied. "Can't do that sitting here. Everyone fall in, let's go skin us some smoked kitties."

Micki briefly considered protesting, but reconsidered. He had a point, unfortunately. Instead she took a different tack. "Then we should radio the situation."

"Doing that now." Even as he said so, Dane's 'Mech was tromping down the hillside. Micki followed Hoffman's lead in joining him.




"Bravo Leader to Alpha 1, we are moving to pursue a fast enemy Star on the west approach."

When these words came over Alex's radio, he was otherwise occupied. A Gauss Rifle round from a Galahad had just trashed his left arm, leaving the limb intact but unmovable. He retaliated with PPC and saw the azure bolt blast its way through the Galahad's left shoulder. The modified enemy 'Mech - its left arm bearing two PPCs instead of a Gauss Rifle like normal - shuddered at the loss of the limb.

"Dammit Ed, I told you to stay in position," Alex growled, but he had other concerns at the moment.

The five enemy 'Mechs had turned around to resume the fight a few miles beyond Welch. Here, on the open plain, Alex's faster units had the advantage, and he had already gotten Tsukara and Perez behind the enemy (Wu's Raven, lacking its fire team partner with Stewart gone, has being kept behind them). Now he just had to finish them off.

The Galahad might have brought its remaining weapon to bear on him again, but it entered the path of Rachel's autocannon. Submunitions from the "automatic shotgun cannon" peppered the battered Clan heavy 'Mech and its remaining arm. The small charges hit home, striking the capacitor for the powerful coilgun and causing all of its stored energy to be released in a single explosion that blew the arm cleanly off. This tipped the Clan 'Mech over and sent it into the dirt, where Becca's pulse lasers finished it off with a barrage of emerald and ruby needles into its weakened torso.

Alex watched a PPC bolt wash over his torso and remove most of the armor he'd had left there. His attacker was the Clan Marauder, bearing a marking indicating it housed the Star Captain in charge of the unit, and it still had all three ER PPCs it came armed with, making it a supremely deadly opponent, and it demanded his full attention.

He nevertheless bellowed, "Return to the ridgeline, Bravo Platoon!" into his radio as he spit his crosshairs on the Marauder and returned fire.




Dani let out an angry curse as her 'Mech rocked beneath her, the heavy damage from two direct hits by a Warhammer's PPCs blasting scorched chunks away from her 'Mech's torso and arm. Her left arm medium laser went dark on her display from the PPC bolt that had scoured the arm down to its bone, said attack having destroyed the capacitors for the weapon.

She brought her crosshairs up on the machine and, mindful of her heat, let loose with her right and left arm large lasers. Twin beams of emerald light melted into the larger war machine's hips and torso.

The Warhammer, instead of retorting with its recycled PPCs or pulse lasers, changed its attention toward Becca in a belated attempt to rescue its friend. Becca noticed him coming and maneuvered to avoid the firepower of the Clan machine. Twin bolts of particle lightning lashed out, one missing her and one scouring a remaining arm to its titanium bones. The Warhammer's pulse laser armament sprayed deadly ruby needles all over the Vulture, drilling holes into Becca's armor. One stream, well-aimed, struck directly into her head module.

Dani cried out as the Vulture wobbled. "Becca!" echoed in her cockpit and over her radio channel, her control lost in the heat of the moment. But her worst fears proved unfounded as the machine remained standing, meaning that the pilot was still alive inside and had righted it . Her terror turning into rage, Dani spit her crosshairs over the Warhammer and hit every trigger she had.

The heat turned her cockpit into Hell itself and nearly overwhelmed her full-body cooling suit. Her displays flickered and snowed as the electronics reduced their intake of electricity to avoid burning themselves out. Finally they died altogether, her machine's emergency shutdown triggered by the unsafe heat levels.

Her 360° holographic display vanished, but through the cockpit glass beyond Dani could herald the results of her desperate fury. Her ER PPCs had scoured the war machine of torso armor and, given the location, obviously blasted a bit of engine shielding away. Her remaining medium laser had entered the side of the wound and enlarged it, melting chunks of the gyro in the process, giving the Warhammer a tilt from the pilot struggling to right his machine. One of the large lasers had missed, unfortunately, due to her arm damage, but the other had melted through the armor covering protecting the machine's right arm PPC and melted some of its parts, rendering it inert. As if that wasn't enough, the entire right side of the 'Mech had become a gutted ruin from where her small laser, of all things, had hit and found the missile magazine for the six-shot short range launcher.

With all this damage many pilots would be unable to keep their machines standing, succumbing instead to the combination of gyro damage and lost mass. But her opponent, a veteran solahma, did so anyway, and his surviving left arm PPC was coming up to strike at her inactive, overheated machine. Dani looked nervously to her mechanical heat monitor, which showed she hadn't reached restart threshold yet, and realized she'd left herself very vulnerable.

Before the Warhammer could strike, however, two streams of emerald needles pierced its weakened left torso armor and found the engine. Light erupted from the torso wounds of the 'Mech as the damage temporarily freed the heart of the miniature star that powered the machine, plasma seeping through these wounds and melting much of the remaining torso. The plant reacted to its mortal wounding by cutting its own fuel supply; robbed of a source of energy to sustain itself, the sun within died, and with it the plasma that was now setting fire to the field grass.

The thermometer went below the safety threshold a couple seconds later and Dani's 'Mech came back to life. She spoke into the radio, "Thanks, lover."

That got her a laugh in response. "Technically we're not lovers yet, you know," was Becca's amused reply.

Oh, just wait until we get back, Dani thought to herself. Micki's words from the other night came back to her and reinforced themselves with the image in her head, still strong, of that pulse laser raking Becca's head module. "I intend to correct that as soon as I can," Dani whispered. "I'm not sure how, but I'm going to."




In the time that Dani and Becca were finishing off their enemy, Alex had found himself forced to deal with the Marauder and its trio of deadly PPCs. He kept his 'Mech at a good jogging speed, twisting the torso to follow the slower machine and avoid the deadly fire. The Marauder pilot's response was to try and back up to keep the range open and, of course, to fire when his heat level permitted him.

The prior battle damage, and the work of the Marauder, had certainly reduced Alex's beautiful Mad Cat to a walking piece of modern art. Jagged pieces of remnant armor and damaged ferro-titanium bone jutted here and there. His left arm remained locked in place from the actuator damage it'd taken. One more solid hit on his torso by any of the Marauder's main guns and he'd likely suffer severe engine damage.

Things might have gotten bad at this point had it not been for Tsukara and Perez. He noticed them come up behind the enemy unit's remnants and knew the battle was his. The two focused their fire first on the Guillotine menacing Rachel, while the third remaining 'Mech tangled with Dani and Becca. This left him alone to fight the Marauder.

Or not so alone. Ruby light played over the back of the Marauder, followed up by three SRMs crashing into it. Wu's Raven had darted into range - rather against his orders - and gave the Marauder something else to shoot at. The Clan pilot noticed the danger to his rear and began to twist toward Wu and bring up an arm, carrrying a deadly ER PPC, to return fire.

Alex brought his right arm up and fired his own PPC. The lightning bolt struck against the weakened armor of the Marauder's arm and bled plasma right through, wrecking the weapon within. As the Marauder turned back toward him, Alex's thumb came down on his autocannon trigger.

He could feel the rumble through his 'Mech as a 150mm cannon began to fire like a machine gun. Round after round ripped into the Marauder, at least until the recoil-compensators were overwhelmed, sending shells into the distance and eventually into the flat plains beyond. He'd fired from outside the terribly short, recommended range for a full burst to hit, causing only armor damage, but it was armor damage the enemy could ill afford.

The Marauder pilot, caught between two fires, attempted to refocus on the enemy with the stronger guns and to keep his damaged back from being wrecked by Wu. The Jaguar didn't seem to care that the tactical situation, given Perez and Tsukara having come in to the rear, had turned badly against him. Alex tried to persuade him otherwise by triggering his left arm lasers, but both beams missed despite his best attempt to line up his non-functioning arm by moving his torso. The small laser he'd had mounted on the left torso stabbed its sapphire light ineffectively at the intact right knee of the Marauder.

A red indicator on his scanner screens disappeared; the Predator that Dani and Becca had been fighting went down, though given the shape of both 'Mechs he'd done his share of work with his twin autocannons. Dani and Becca were both overheating, the former from a lost heat sink and the latter from slight engine damage.

He didn't have time to check up on Rachel and the other lights, as the Marauder's other arm pointed toward him. Alex, without thinking about it, brought his thumb down on the alpha strike button. Again his left arm lasers fired ineffectually, while his PPC raked the Marauder's leg and fused its left knee actuator in place. The small laser sliced more armor from the Marauder.

This time, the full autocannon burst struck home. Shell after shell ripped into the Marauder's torso, blasting through weakened armor and the protective titantium structure surrounding the fusion engine and gyro. The shells ripped into both, critically damaging the gyro and blasting away shielding for the engine that would condemn the Marauder to overheating.

His desperation maneuver left Alex in a dangerous spot, as his heat spiked into the dangerous red range. He half expected his autocannon ammo to ignite and gut his 'Mech, but there was no explosion, just the warning klaxons and the uncomfortable heat.

The Marauder was in no condition to exploit his situation, though, and barely survived long enough to try. Another series of SRMs slammed into the 'Mech's rear, followed up by a pair of ruby beams that sliced into the very guts of the Marauder. It crumbled, lifeless, to the ground. "That's a kill," Wu stated over the radio.

Alex looked around and was happy to see it was all over. The Guillotine was a gutted ruin, Rachel's deadly shotgun-autocannon having found its SRM magazine. He'd not lost another 'Mech from his unit, and had the annihilation of what was left of a Heavy Trinary to show for his efforts.

"Bravo Leader, I'm on my way back," he said into the radio, triumphant. "Sitrep."

As Alex sent his 'Mech moving back to the north, there was no immediate response. He was about to call again when he finally got a reply. "Alpha Leader, this is Bravo 2," Hoffman's voice called out. "We're in big trouble."

[Steve]

Chapter 10


Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
7 July 2039 Local
7 August 3059 Inner Sphere


"Return to the ridgeline, Bravo Platoon!"

Dane heard Alex's voice through the radio, but didn't take the time to reply. At the moment he had a Hellhound BattleMech peppering his damaged 'Mech with pulse laser fire. An indicator flashed to show his upper arm actuator had taken a hit, reducing his ability to move the Loki's left arm.

"Lousy fucker," Dane answered in irritation, firing his ER PPCs in tandem at the lighter machine. The arm damage caused one to miss wide but the other struck home, scoring almost all the armor off one side of the Hellhound's torso.

He needed to take a moment to let his heat go down, and that allowed the Goshawk accompanying the Hellhound to rake his own pulse lasers over Dane's machine. The Jaguar force, obviously not obeying zellbrigen, now seemed to turn their attention on him, with the Clint in their Star sandblasting his Loki with its cluster rounds.

Before he could call for help, autocannon shells hammered into the Clint's right side, stripping away armor in chunks. Lupo's Bushwacker followed up by putting six LRMs, out of ten fired, into the Clint's right quarter, blasting armor off its limbs and torso.

As her large laser sliced into the internals of the machine, Dane triggered his three medium lasers. A trio of red beams lanced into the Clint's chest and melted away large quantities of armor and internal skeleton. The machine became unbalanced from the sheer damage, but might have remained standing had his Streak missiles not acquired. Six flew out and, thanks to his aim, all hit. Two missiles found the Clint's gyro and sent the machine down for good.

Dane turned his attention back to the Hellhound, which put another burst of pulse laser fire into his 'Mech and caused his right hip to seize up. Two beams of red light from the Clan machine's medium lasers found the torso armor damaged by the downed Clint. His 'Mech rocked terribly as an explosion ripped through the torso, the result of the fuel and explosive charges in his unused SRMs being exposed to laser fire. Dane's brain felt like it was on fire as he fought to keep his gutted machine standing, but even the gyro reacted slowly now, part of its delicate machinery reduced to slag by the ruby light.

As he fell, Dane forced the crosshairs to stay over the Hellhound and squeezed off a defiant shot with his left arm's PPC. The lightning bolt that erupted gave him the vengeance he desired, blasting straight into the head module of the Hellhound. With its pilot vaporized, the fifty ton machine collapsed lifelessly.

The impact of his machine slamming over on the ground knocked Dane around in his cockpit. Gonna have a bruise there he thought from the pain of the jostling. He brought down his left arm and began to try and push his machine up with it.

That was when a sudden fiery pain filled his head and he lost all consciousness.




Hoffman directed his Rifleman away from the smoldering remains of a Vixen and toward Dane's fallen 'Mech just as the Goshawk put down the Lieutenant's 'Mech for good with a pulse laser to the damaged gyro. Whatever he thought of the hotshot he'd been saddled with as his platoon CO, Hoffman wasn't one to let a squadmate go down unanswered. With a careful eye on his heat levels he unleashed three of his pulse lasers on the other machine.

The pilot had apparently anticipated his maneuver and maneuvered enough that his right arm large pulse laser missed entirely, but the two on his left arm hit home. The right arm of the Goshawk absorbed the hit. This was not a good thing for the other pilot, as one of Hoffman's shots sent emerald energy into the capacitors for his own large pulse laser, rendering the weapon a six ton paperweight for the Goshawk.

The Clan pilot turned fully to face him, which left him open to Sakata. The quiet Japanese woman descended from the sky on the flaming plumes of her jump jets, her Nightsky's right arm a blur as the hatchet within was brought down on the Goshawk's left torso. Her small and medium pulse lasers drilled through armor, knocking out one of the left arm machine guns in the process. The Clan pilot was unnerved enough by the physical attack that his reaction was to fire his own jump jets and try to get away from Sakata.

She brought her left arm up and fired at the Goshawk as it rose up. At that range Sakata almost couldn't miss, and her shot was straight on. The pulse lasers went straight into the exhaust plume of one of the jump jets. The jet winked out and the Goshawk began to wobble in mid-air a little.

The shot was wild, but Hoffman decided to put his all into it, and fired everything he had. While heat flooded his cockpit, four streams of emerald needles and a single sapphire spear stabbed out at the Goshawk. His head-mounted small laser sliced some armor off its hip, and due to the tough angle his right arm pulse lasers missed entirely. But the other two shots were dead on target.

Two more jump jets took hits as the Goshawk reached the apex of a controlled jump. Deprived of the thrust needed to land safely, the machine landed hard and stumbled over. This exposed his back armor, which was soon reduced to nothing by the pulse lasers on Sakata's torso.

Before either could finish off the downed, wounded Goshawk, an emerald beam sliced into its unprotected back and cut into the fusion plant within. A brief plume of plasma erupted from the wound, melting and incinerating everything it touched, before the plant died. Hoffman's three-sixty holodisplay revealed Micki's Bushwacker. It was missing the shoulder-mounted five-salvo LRM launcher now, but was otherwise not badly off, which was more than one could say for the smoking carcass of a Clan Jenner behind it.

Looking at Dane's fallen 'Mech, Hoffman keyed his radio. "Camp Jurgens, this is Sergeant Hoffman, Bravo Platoon Alpha Company. We have a man down and need him evaced. Log present coordinates."

"Confirmed."

Looking back to the others, and pleased to see they'd escaped mostly intact - Micki's missing LRM launcher notwithstanding - Hoffman took a moment to contemplate the fact he was in command now. A part of him was happy to not have Dane around, but he tried not to dwell on that. He's probably unconscious from a gyro feedback. Not bothering to contemplate whehter it'd be a good thing if said feedback was crippling to the hotshot pilot, Hoffman turned his machine back to the Welch ridge and prompted the others to follow.

At full speed they were soon in firing range... and found a storm of LRMs coming down on them from the hills. Hoffman's Rifleman shuddered as four made impact on his chest, another four slamming around Micki while five blasted away armor on Sakata's hip and chest. He zoomed in his display on the Welch ridgeline and saw the offenders; a Star of Clan Baboon 'Mechs mixed with another one that his systems marked as a Cheetah.

"Pull back," he ordered to the others, trying to bring them to cover in a forest thicket nearby. Damn, this is why we should have stayed put. The Jags pulled a fast one on us, and from there they have a foothold over the river. If they airlift in arty, Hastings will burn.

His thoughts were interrupted by Penton's voice on the radio. "Bravo Leader, I'm on my way back. Sitrep."

Well well well, it's our fearless leader, the lawyer. He sounds happy. Hoffman scowled and gave a sharp answer. "Alpha Leader, this is Bravo 2. We're in big trouble."

"Bravo 2? What's happened?"

"Bravo Leader led us after a Star of lights and mediums that got across the river on our flank. We took them down, but they brought his machine down too. Now we've got a Star of LRM-toting Clan lights on the ridge, able to pound anyone who comes in range."

There was silence. "Flash me your coordinates," Penton finally answered. "We'll rendezvous with you."




Alex looked over the three gathered units of his command. He was down two machines, but he had to consider that he had three - Dani's, Becca's, and his own - that were not in optimal shape for a renewed fight. I shoudn't have pursued the Jaguars, he thought ruefully, cursing himself for giving in to that temptation.

He looked to Becca's torn up Vulture. "Shameel, how many salvoes you have left?"

"Two."

"So four shots overall if you volley fire your missiles. Take that firing stance then, 40 missiles on a light is overkill. Considering your engine damage, I want you to give us fire support after we begin pressing for the ridge." Alex checked the map again. Approaching from either the west or the east would give some forest cover, but either way they were likely to be subjected to an effective LRM barrage before they could get to it. "Tsukara, take your units to the west and come up through the woods. Be quick about it. We'll keep them distracted."

"Got it."

Alex watched the three light machines head off southwest. He turned his attention back to the direction of the hilltop that the Clan lights had occupied. The three Baboons could salvo fifteen missiles apiece off their shoulder-top launcher. The humanoid Cheetah 'Mechs were laser-wielding machines from what he could tell, but he had issues getting a firm lock on them; the electronic gear built into the machines' feline heads appeared to include an ECM system. From this distance the enemy had little reason to open up on him and to expend precious ammunition that they could not easily replace out here in the field. But the moment he began moving in, that would change.

Bravo Platoon was in the best shape to begin to charge, but Hoffman would have trouble pushing his Rifleman to a speed to keep up with the others if it came to a sprint. And the last thing Alex wanted to do was get his command shot up even more. He looked to Rachel's Thor and almost called her by name before remembering com discipline. "Galvariz, are you good for a diversion charge?"

For a couple seconds there was no answer. Alex almost called to her again, but before he could she spoke up. "Yes sir."

"Then come up alongside me. We'll take point. Lupo, Sakata, you come up behind us. Hoffman, I'll leave you with Verdes and Shameel. Their machines aren't in decent shape for this."

"With all due respect, sir, neither is your's."

Alex gave his status display a worried look and voiced his agreement. "That's true, Sergeant. But I'm an extra target for them and I can still move and shoot." Besides, this is my mess and I have to clean it up.

"Understood, sir."




"Galvariz, are you good for a diversion charge?"

Rachel's first instinctive response was to yell "No!". Charging headlong at a hill held by LRM-battery 'Mechs was not something she considered a wise choice, and she furthermore had the thought of Are you trying to get us all killed?!. But she caught herself from expressing such and, after a moment to steel her courage, answered with a compliant "Yes sir".

The rest of the conversation went by, but she paid only peripheral attention to it. She tried to reassure herself that the enemy units couldn't focus too much firepower on them before they could retaliate, and if they moved fast enough they might be able to prevent the LRMs from getting hard locks. And if "Tony Tsu" came through on time....

She heard Alex finish his plan to the others and saw him move his damaged Mad Cat forward. You're going to get us both killed! was the thought in her head, but she held it back as she keyed him privately again. "Alex, do you know what you're doing?"

"Maybe. Either way, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, alright? I promised you, after all. Don't worry about anything but getting to that ridge."

Rachel didn't quite know how to react to that. A brief surge of irritation made her see it as him being a "chivalric male" toward her, which was more condescending than flattering for Rachel, but that didn't seem right.... she nevertheless forced herself out of these considerations and answered, "I will, and you do the same." She cut the direct line and waited for him to start.

Moments later, Alex's Mad Cat was bounding forward. Rachel came down on her pedals and pushed her Thor into motion behind him. They moved into the open fields and toward the high ground that the Clanners held.

Soon enough masses of missile contrails came from the height, bright sparks against the day sky leaving ominous white trails. Rachel reacted by pressing herself forward faster, forcing her 'Mech into a sprint of over 100 kilometers an hour that was taxing and difficult to maintain. She didn't look to see if Alex had kept up with her and didn't try; it took everything to keep herself steady.

Her efforts were rewarded by the lack of hits. The LRMs made a downward trajectory, just to find that their internal calculations were now wrong due to her increased speed. They instead blasted out the soil around them, setting fire to the grain fields that Rachel was racing through.

Her crosshairs pulsed gold over a Baboon, but at her speed the shot was far off and missed, sending the lightning of her PPC into the sky. With sweat dripping into her eyes from her hard efforts, Rachel found her vision beginning to blur a little, but didn't let herself slow down just yet.

She had to as she reached the foot of the hill,, which is just as the first laser beam cut into her 'Mech's chest. One of the Cheetah 'Mechs had turned its weapons on her, and she did so in kind. Again, her speed thwarted her, robbing her Streak systems of a lock and sending her cluster rounds off the mark. A ruby beam stabbed into her 'Mech's thigh, nearly hitting the knee actuator, but ultimately only melting away armor.

Having closed the distance and brought all her weapons into desirable range, Rachel turned to one of the Baboon 'Mechs and let herself slow down. Her PPC shot still missed from the Clan pilot's skilled agility at handling his machine. Not taking the time to curse, Rachel began to circle him and fired again, this time with her autocannon and small laser.

The autocannon submunitions did their job, blasting away at the 'Mech's thin armor to remove much of it. Her small laser sliced into the left shoulder actuator and rendered that limb dead. With a lock confirmed her Streak missiles raced out, even as the Baboon turned toward her. This subjected its LRM launcher to two direct hits from her SRM battery, the other four missiles blasting away armor on the torso. The entire right "shoulder" of the Baboon, stacked as it was with LRM launchers, disintegrated in a fiery explosion that left the light 'Mech dangerously gutted and, now, unarmed.

Rachel turned her machine back to the Cheetah as it fired again, its large laser scouring her right shoulder of much of its remaining armor while its smaller arm-mounted laser spat red light across her hip. She triggered her ER PPC and watched the azure bolt it created blast its way into the heart of the Cheetah. Her small laser fired next, and even its weaker sapphire light was sufficient to melt away the protective shielding of the 'Mech's reactor. It didn't kill the machine, but it did make it susceptible to overheating.

Suddenly a bolt of energy sliced through the back of the machine. Plasma erupted from its ruptured engine before it died and the machine slumped over. Behind it, Perez's Talon was emerging from the trees, his medium lasers already firing. The shots barely missed one of the other Baboons.

Said Baboon found itsedlf under Rachel's guns, and didn't survive the encounter. Her cluster rounds ravaged the machine's torso, damaging the gyro and one of the LRM launcher sections. Her Streak missiles again acquired a perfect lock and battered the machine so perfectly that it began to fall over from gyro damage and the loss of much of its armor. Her PPC was an immediately fatal blow, blasting away the head canopy and the MechWarrior inside.

The other two Clan 'Mechs didn't shy away now that the battle had turned against them, and continued firing. The remaining Cheetah fired its large laser at her, spearing her damaged arm and wrecking the shoulder actuator. Even with her ER PPC in a fixed, unusable position, however, she still had autocannon and missiles, and both blasted away entire chunks of armor that left the Cheetah vulnerable to a rear attack from Wu's Raven. Twenty LRMs, obviously from Becca, came down on and around the machine, literally blasting it to pieces with critical hits to the shoulders and torso.

The remaining Baboon had fired its only functioning LRM launcher at a distant target, leaving it helpless to prevent the PPCs on Tsukara's Firestarter and Perez's Talon from gutting it entirely. Rachel saw the last shot from the Baboon fly through the air...

And that was when she heard Hoffman's irate voice boom painfully in her ear. "EJECT YOU IDIOT, EJECT!"

Her attention, back toward the tracks she'd made in her sprint across the countryside, led her to Alex's Mad Cat. The machine was horribly battered from multiple LRM hits. The left arm had been blasted free entirely due to prior battle damage and the right dangled uselessly from an upper arm actuator hit. The single step she saw him take showed that he had one hip actuator out, turning one leg into dead weight. And smoke belched freely from armor and structure wounds in the left side of his machine, showing his engine - and likely his gyro - had been hit.

The LRMs hit home on the Mad Cat. Armor and structure flew away in chunks and the left arm was again damaged. But Rachel wasn't paying attention to that; she only saw the missile that landed home at the 'Mech's head compartment, which erupted in flames. She screamed Alex's name as the Mad Cat collapsed dead.




Go Rachel, go! was the thought on Alex's mind as he saw the Thor sprint past him. Rachel's 'Mech thundered across the wheatfield with reckless abandon, LRMs coming down behind it and blasting wheat and soil instead of her fast-moving machine.

He was another story; he didn't quite have Rachel's talent to push 'Mechs into engine-straining, myomer-challenging sprints, at least not in the skillful fashion she did. LRMs crashed down around him, blasting away his armor where they managed hits. Some struck Lupo, Hoffman, and Sakata as well, but it was clear that the enemy was focusing its LRM fire squarely on him.

Even as Rachel lashed out at the enemy, and the Cheetahs in turn began to track her, Alex was able to spit his crosshairs on one of the Baboons and open fire. The Clan pilot narrowly dodged his shot and retaliated with a barrage of LRMs that pummeled Alex. He felt his 'Mech rock and his head hurt and realised he'd suffered a gyro hit; even worse, another missile took out the hip of his right leg. The two hits together were nearly enough to make him topple and made Alex work to keep his Mad Cat up right.

Alex triggered his PPC again. The azure bolt lashed out across the distance and struck home, blasting away the top-most LRM launcher on the Baboon's right shoulder. But it wasn't enough to spare him further attack. The Baboon's pilot put its remaining two launchers to devastating use. Seven missiles crashed into his machine and its depleted armor proved insufficient. A blast snapped his laser-mounting left arm clean off and another missile found his right arm's upper arm - or "elbow" - actuator and wrecked it, causing his ER PPC to dangle uselessly.

Before the Baboon could let off another shot, a salvo of twenty LRMs came down on it, courtesy of Becca and her Vulture. Tough some of the LRMs missed, nearly half hit, blasting off armor and hitting the right hip to hobble the light machine. Far more importantly, two LRMs crashed into one of the remaining launchers and it, too, was out of commission, leaving the Clan pilot just one five-salvo launcher.

As the Baboon fired again, PPC blasts converged on it and annihilated it. But the five missiles were already airborne, and heading straight for Alex's immobile, battered 'Mech. He heard Hoffman shout "EJECT YOU IDIOT, EJECT!" and instinctively reacted, reaching for the yellow and black striped manual eject rod and pulling it with all of his might. He could feel the vibration as the head module blew the charges that kept the canopy in place and his cockpit's ejection rockets fired. His command couch and the attached survival pack blasted free, and just in the nick of time. A missile slammed into the vacant head module right where his cockpit used to be, sending a wave of heat upward toward him from the resulting detonation.

His module exhausted its rockets seconds later, when he was still hundreds of feet in the air. Parachutes released that would bring him back down to earth safely and, he hoped, in friendly territory. From this high he could see the smoke and flames of the distant battles at Cannon Falls and elsewhere. ComStar was holding the line fiercely, and he had just helped to slam the door in the Jaguars' faces.

Or so he hoped.

Well, Alex, so much for your first combat mission, he thought, as a gentle breeze carried him slightly northward and toward friendly territory. You got one of your men killed, another might be in bad shape, and your unit's been pummelled from having to retake the land you got for free at the very start of this mess. And to top it off, you've had your 'Mech turned into modern art. He smiled ruefully. But at least you're alive, right?

That thought made him chuckle to himself, harshly. Yeah, I'm alive. For now...

[Steve]

Chapter 11


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
7 July 2039 Local
7 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Rachel found their reception back at Jurgens to be something of a surprise. Relieved of their Welch position by Bravo and Delta Companies, Alpha had been ordered back in for repair and refit. Now they returned to find American support personnel cheering at them all the way into the 'Mech hangers.

Working speedily to remove herself from her Thor, Rachel was trying to resist the temptation to run straight for the infirmary and find Alex. The image of the missile plowing into his head module still made her gut clench, even now that she knew he'd ejected safely. I was sure that was it, that he was dead...

Of course, Marshall was dead, and Dane was wounded. And that was just in her immediate company, as Charlie Company had also taken losses shoring up the faltering ComStar battalions in the east. And all this on their first day in action... and she found herself worried mostly about Alex. It was a peculiar thing, and it made her wonder about her feelings.

Once out of her 'Mech Rachel joined Tsukara on the hanger floor with the other pilots. With Alex and Dane not around, he was the head of the unit for the moment, and she was the only other remaining officer. The others were accepting the warm congratulations of other Americans working as "techs" under Com Guard supervision. A few patted her on the back and offered handshakes that she accepted without thinking, all as she made her way with Tsukara toward Sinclair.

The older man appraised them very quietly as they got through the gaggle. "Welcome home, Alpha Company. You've made quite an impression."

"Sir?" Rachel realized she'd asked the question a moment before she got a look from Tsukara.

Sinclair showed the barest hint of a smile. "Three 'Mechs down, and you took out more than six times that many. That's the kind of performance that is going to see morale go up, and we're going to be needing it if the Clans throw more troops into the battle."

"Any news on Captain Penton and Lieutenant Dane, sir?", Rachel asked.

"They've been recovered and are in the infirmary." Sinclair gestured toward the corridor behind him. "Let's go share the good news with them."

On the way Rachel found herself unable to say anything else. She was still occupied with her reaction to Alex's near death, and why she had reacted the way she did. The sheer intensity of her experience was almost frightening, even moreso than her own mortal fear in battle.

The infirmary was not yet fully busy, with only lighter casualties present. Major cases would go to the local hospital after being stabilized at the field hospitals. As such it was far from the bloody pandemonium Rachel expected it to be, though no less busy as the handful of medical staff supervised the care for those present.

Dane and Alex had been put in beds by each other. Dane was still out cold, with EEG machines confirming his brainwave pattern was stable. Alex was completely awake, though, and sitting up in his bed as a nurse finished checking his vitals. He saluted to Sinclair and prompted an "at ease" from the Colonel. "Can you tell the doctors I'm perfectly fine? I ejected cleanly, there's not even a bump."

"Sorry Captain, but regs are regs," the nurse answered cheerfully. She flashed him a sympathetic grin. "You eject, you get a complete checkup for injuries."

He let out a sigh before looking toward Rachel and Tsukara. "No more trouble?"

"It turns out the Jaguars were only able to get two Trinaries through the hole in the line before air support from the 5th FedCom helped close it," Tsukara told him. "We scored 19 kills for three 'Mechs down, all three of them salvageable. A number of our kills are too, which will probably make the suits over at R&D very happy."

"Given they undoubtedly had a cow when Major Pierce kept the 'Mechs that Verdes and Shameel pilot..." Alex looked to Rachel and, in the moment his brown eyes met her's, she felt a bit of a jolt. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"

"Um... yes," she lied. "I thought that missile had gotten you for a moment."

"It probably would have if Hoffman hadn't gotten me to eject," Alex admitted. "My first combat mission and I have to bail. Not a good start for this staff weenie, is it?"

"Your performance will be discussed in debriefing," Sinclair noted to him. He looked to the nurse. "And what about Lieutenant Dane? Does Doctor Trevelayn have a prognosis for him yet?"

"Trauma from gyro feedback is what it looks to be, and not severe looking at his EEG readings. If he doesn't wake up by tonight we'll transfer him to Regina to run tests. Anything else, sir?"

"That will be all." After she walked away, Sinclair nodded to Alex. "Captain, as soon as you're cleared, report for debriefing."

"Yes sir."

Sinclair left, leaving Tsukara and Rachel alone with Alex. "Good to see you made it, sir," Tsukara said respectfully.

"I'm sorry about Marshall, Anthony," Alex said, and through his use of Tsukara's first name signaled his desire for skipping military formalities. "He had promise."

"Yeah, but Gauss Rifles don't really care about that," Tsukara lamented. "I'm just glad we didn't lose more. Not a lot of replacement pilots in the pool yet."

"They'll have to reassign someone from the TBs, I imagine."

"I'll go start up my AAR for you to turn in." Tsukara turned and left.

For the moment neither of them said anything. "It's odd," Rachel finally admitted.

"What?"

"That I was actually more scared that you were dead than that I would die," she admitted.

Alex's expression seemed to show some... surprise? Interest? Rachel wasn't entirely sure. When he finally reacted, it was by giving her a confident smile and saying, "Well, I'm just glad I got to keep my promise."

"Which you shouldn't have made," Rachel said as she took a seat in the vacant bed across from him. "The war's only just begun, and anything can happen. There's no way you can effectively keep your promise to keep me alive."

To her surprise, the response from Alex was a determined expression, as if he didn't give a damn about the odds and intended to follow through. "I'm not taking it back, Rachel. I am going to make sure you get out of this war alive. You and as many of those under my command as I possibly can."

"But me specially?", she asked, her tone inquisitive and a bit challenging. The idea that her life was more important than others felt obscene to her, and more than a bit selfish.

Her question seemed to have gotten to Alex, who was visibly lost in his own thoughts. "Do you think that's selfish of me?", he finally asked.

"I think it's questionable in a man responsible for a couple dozen people, yeah," Rachel remarked. "Even if it's terribly flattering."

"Oh, for the love of God, just kiss already!"

The very cranky, very blunt remark came from the bed behind Alex. Dane began to sit up gingerly, clearly in some pain. He put a hand into his wavy red hair and felt the EEG sensors in place. "Did anyone get the number of that train?", he quipped before looking over at Rachel and Alex. "God fucking dammit, my head feels like an entire fucking DropShip just landed on it."

"Language, Ed?"

"Fuck the fuck off, fucker," was the retort. "That damn Clanner nearly fried my fucking brain. I hope Hoffman put the fucking asshole down."

"He did." Alex looked to Rachel, and her rather shocked expression at what Dane had said, before saying, "And it's good to see you came out of it. You and I were the only ejectees today."

"Really? The others came out of it?" Dane frowned deeper. "Except for Marshall. Man, he was a cool guy."

Rachel could see pain in Alex's face as he nodded. Is he going to blame himself every time one of us takes a Gauss slug to the head? she asked herself before terror began to well in her, as the thought reminded Rachel that she might be the next one to go down like that.

"Three 'Mechs for nineteen," Alex told him. "We'll have to see if that offsets the fact that we left our assigned position."

"Whatever, we fucking killed a lot of Jaggies today," Dane scoffed. He looked over to them and smirked. "And seriously? I was starting to wake up when Sinclair was here. You got to know each other a bit on Outreach, and here we are fighting for our lives... are you two seriously going to dance around the fact you've got some hots for each other? I'm not saying you're fucking Romeo and Juliet level of crazy love, but come on..."

There was nothing Rachel could do to stop her instinctive reaction, which was to blush bright red. Alex blushed too, but the look he gave her struck right into Rachel's soul. There's some truth there, isn't it? But she gave no such opening for a reciprocation. They were in the middle of a war for personal and national survival, and she wasn't looking for anything like this to happen.

"I think I'd better go prepare the requisitions we'll need to get the unit back up and running, sir," Rachel said, no, proclaimed. "Let me know how the debriefing goes, Captain." Without further ado she stood up, gave the best salute she could, and asked, "Permission to be dismissed?"

There was silence from both for a moment. Whether Dane was as stunned by her reaction to his "insight" or if it was just his condition, she didn't care. She wanted to see how Alex, how Captain Penton, reacted. And it took him a couple seconds, but he found his voice and gave a nod. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Without further ado, Rachel stomped out of the infirmary.



An hour later, with a clean bill of health, Alex entered Colonel Sinclair's office. He had a preliminary AAR he'd drawn up while waiting for a doctor to clear him, in which he took full responsibility for the temporary loss of Welch Township and the damage to machines incurred in retaking it. Left unsaid was Dane's abandonment of the position after he began his pursuit, which was not technically his fault, but the last thing Alex wanted to do with his first AAR was try to shift blame from himself for command decisions.

After the customary salute and being told to stand at ease, Alex slipped into the plastic chair that Sinclair directed him to. "First things first, Captain," Sinclair said. "Through the skill and bravery of you and your pilots, you've won an important tactical victory in the defense of Minnesota. The Jaguars' attack is blunted, and even if they might press us for the next day or so, it's rather clear they lack the mass or power to break our defenses through direct assault. The Cannon River line will hold them from the city."

Before Alex could thank him for his compliment, Sinclair thumped a hand on the table. "And in the process, Captain, you abandoned your defensive position - which you were ordered to hold above all else! - and seperated your unit, leaving it open to being picked off by coordinated attacks. You failed to control your subordinates, you allowed your position to be taken by an enemy force, and it's a damned miracle that the only cost of driving a missile unit off those heights was your Mad Cat. And it's with that in mind that General Tanner asked me to assign you to my personal staff."

Alex drew in a sigh. And that's it for my glorious career as a MechWarrior and field commander... While in peacetime a staff position was a lucrative one, permitting the chance to get connections and influence that could translate to faster promotions and inevitably high-paying civilian sector jobs, in wartime it also meant being an REMF, a "fake veteran" who would likely gain a strong stigma outside the circles of the staff itself. And Alex honestly didn't want to end up like that, he didn't want to be safe behind the lines when his country, when everything he believed in, was in mortal peril.

"The only thing keeping you in command of Alpha Company, Captain, is this." With a quick motion Sinclair triggered the flatscreen TV on the wall.

It was set to CNN. He could see battle footage from embedded journalists. In a moment he realized it was his machine he was watching, as it pummelled the Jaguar Marauder with autocannon fire. "A journalist embedded with a ComStar unit had his cameraman capture everything from one of the farmhouses," Sinclair explained. "And now we have this."

He unmuted the TV and the reporter's voice, a high soprano, came over. "...a major turning point in the war. For the first time, fully-trained American 'Mech pilots have faced the Clans in a major battle, and the results were a clear American victory. Reports are still sketchy at this point, but American losses may have been as low as two pilots and four machines compared to the destruction of twenty Clan 'Mechs. This is a success that the American people have been longing for since the invasion began, and it's been given to us by an unlikely source; former Army lawyer Captain Alexander Penton, whom we have confirmed to be the officer who commanded..."

Sinclair muted it again and looked at Alex. "Looks like you've become a war hero, Captain. And nobody, not even Tanner, is going to put their necks on the line to bench you at this point."

Alex was still stunned to hear his name mentioned on a national news broadcast. It took a couple seconds for him to realize what he was being told. "In other words, the only reason I'm keeping my field command is because CNN just made me a household name?"

Sinclair's expression was a smile that was more pity than warmth. "That is about it, Captain."

"Wonderful..."

Sinclair didn't let him complete the thought. "They'll be bringing your machine in tonight, but the preliminary field report isn't good. From all appearances it looks like your Mad Cat has suffered such extensive damage to its engine and gyro system that it will take a week to repair, and we simply don't have that kind of time."

"So I'm out of action anyway?"

"No. As it turns out, Major Hall's Man O'War has gone unclaimed. I'm going to authorize you to pilot it until your machine is back in action. The Techs will swap the code modules today. As for the rest of your unit, repairs are being rushed."

"And Corporal Stewart's replacement?", Alex asked candidly.

Sinclair shook his head. "There aren't any to give you for now. The TBs are all on other fronts, so it'll take too long to get you promising pilots. And we've got another three weeks before the Dragoons graduate another class. I'm afraid you'll have an odd man out for now, until I have someone to shift over."

You mean until another unit gets so pasted you have single survivors to send to me, Alex thought, though visibly he only gave a nod. "I'll talk with Tsukara about it. I might attach Wu to my platoon provisionally for the time being."

"I'll leave your arrangements to your discretion, Captain. You are now dismissed."




Dani endured the process of the company debriefing as best as she could, looking over at Becca repeatedly throughout. She seemed remarkably calm given how close she'd come to being killed in her cockpit by a pulse laser, but Dani could see that she was fairly shaken, and hoped to deal with it as soon as they could get private time.

She gave the rest of the unit a bit of attention as well. They'd done well in their first fight. Three machines in exchange for nineteen? Usually that was the Clan ratio, and it felt good to reverse it. Corporal Stewart's death was unfortunate, obviously, but Dani had lost many other friends and fellow pilots over the course of the fighting, and had become somewhat hardened toward it now. Except, of course, when it came to Becca.

Something she noticed now was the distance that suddenly seemed to exist between Penton and his aide. Lieutenant Galvariz now spoke very formally to him, as if they'd not known each other on Outreach at all, and he spoke the same way to her. Given how she reacted when it looked like an LRM had gotten him, this is pretty weird, Dani pondered.

Finally Captain Penton released them all. Everyone dispersed to go do one thing or another - check out repairs on their 'Mechs, enjoy some quick downtime before the next inevitable sortie, get chow - but Dani was quick to intercept Becca. Becca didn't stop Dani from leading her to an unlocked maintenance closet, but her eyes widened as Dani planted a firm, passionate kiss on her mouth. Dani was persistant and the two soon were kissing fully, as they sometimes did when they had quiet moments, but when Dani took a new step and reached for the zipper on Becca's suit it caused the kiss to be broken. "Dani?", Becca asked, looking at her inquisitively.

"I almost lost you today, and I don't want to trust in chance anymore." Dani put her hands on Becca's face. "I want to make love to you."

"Here? In the broom closet?!" Becca shook free. "Dani, we were going to make it special! This isn't special!"

"I know..." Dani moved toward her, but Becca resisted another kiss. "Please, Becca, I almost lost you today."

"And I've almost lost you before too." Becca reached up and gently touched Dani's cheek. "Dani, love, I know you're scared about what might happen. I am too. But we can't let that rule our lives. When we consummate I want it to be something special, something good, that we can remember and laugh over even after we grow old. I don't want to be telling our daughters about how our first time together was a stolen minute in a broom closet."

Seeing the resolve in Becca to stay true to what they'd dreamt about, Dani felt her insistance melt away. Sometimes she forgot just how strong and unyielding Becca could be, given her usual demeanor (her blowup at Dane notwithstanding, as that was meant to save Dani from trouble more than anything). Great, I got myself worked up and now I'm going to need a cold shower, Dani mused to herself.

Before she could say anything, the door swung open and Hoffman looked in. "Far be it from me to deny you two some hot lesbian sex, but I'll point out the janitors will be making their rounds in five minutes, and I really don't want to have to fetch you out of the brig for being caught in the act, you know?"

"How did you know?", Dani asked him.

"I'm your First Sergeant, it's my job," he answered coyly. "And while I'd gladly vote for your first time together to be somewhere I can record it, right now I have to be the mature sergeant and tell you to keep it in your pants."

Despite everything Becca laughed. "We don't have anything to keep in our pants," she pointed out, after which she led Dani out of the closet and into the hall behind Hoffman. Dani let Becca take the lead here, allowing herself to smile and enjoy their time together.




Alex was alone in his office, finishing off the thrice-damned paperwork he had to put up with, when Rachel returned. She'd not said a word to him since the infirmary, and her help with the paperwork had been delivered while he had stepped out for dinner (and intentionally so, he imagined). Now she looked at him with an expression mixing apprehension and, maybe, some shame. "Lieutenant?", he inquired carefully.

"I'll let you go back to first name basis if you can agree with me on something," she said.

"On what, then?", he asked.

"Well, first off, let me confess something. I was a bitch today in the infirmary," she said in an apologetic tone. "I... I normally don't act like that, I don't want to act like that. But what Ed said was... I thought it was out of line."

"It was fairly blunt," Alex admitted.

"Honestly, sir, whether or not there's any accuracy to what he said... we can't let anything happen from it. It's important that you and I remain strictly professional, if friendly. I'm your aide and the second for your personal command platoon. Letting ourselves get mixed up in some kind of romance..."

Alex held his hands up. "Don't worry, I'm in agreement with you on that, Lieutenant. We have a war to fight." He almost added the thought that had come to mind - A beautiful woman telling me she just wants to be friends? Nothing new there. - but stopped himself from doing so.

"Then take back that stupid promise."

He looked at her for a moment. So that's still bugging you. Finally, drawing a sigh, he said, "I'll retract it, sure."

"'Retract' it?" Rachel crossed her arms. "Okay, now you're sounding like a lawyer on me, sir. I don't want you to retract anything. I want you to take back that stupid promise about keeping me alive."

At that, Alex shook his head. "I can't."

"Then maybe you really do want to be more than friends," she shot back.

Smart, beautiful, and underneath that rational bookworm exterior she's got passion. Why wouldn't I want more with the practical definition of my 'type' of girl? That was the thought Alex had, but he was damn sure not going to verbalize it. "Rach... Lieutenant, please understand. As a general rule, I don't take back promises, even if I'd rather do so. Especially not when I don't want to. I want to keep you alive. Is it because I feel love for you? Not at all. Even if I didn't have the slightest spark of interest in you, I want you to survive the war. You've got far too much potential for me to not be deadset against seeing you killed."

Rachel waited for him to finish speaking. "Okay then. But I'm not the only one with potential. If you won't take back the promise, that's your deal, but I insist that you treat me as no more important than other members of your unit. Because we've all got potential, and I don't want you getting others killed out of some boneheaded promise to me alone."

She's got you there, Alex. Time to plead the case out and take your lumps. Alex smiled thinly. "I'll do that, Rachel, I'll do that."

"Glad to hear it... Alex." She gave him a small smile and nod, then looked to the piles of paperwork laying around his desk. "So, let's see about organizing this paperwork better before we have Major Pierce's staff ready to staple you to death."

[Steve]

Chapter 12


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
8 July 2039 Local
8 August 3059 Inner Sphere


With the sun rising, Dane had finally managed to check out of the infirmary with a clean bill of health. His brain, as it turned out, had suffered no ill effect from the gyro overload, which was a relief since it meant he'd be going back in action.

Looking overhead and seeing the contrails of patrolling aerospace fighters, he felt a strong pang of regret. His neuro-aptitude was pitch perfect for 'Mech piloting, but there was a part of him that wanted to be up there, flying fighters and racing across the sky. He didn't particularly care about the "space" part of flying - well, okay, he was a geek enough to care about the awesomeness of flying in space, but that was a general thing - but he loved the thought of soaring above the clouds at supersonic speeds.

His Loki was at a crouching rest in the hanger bay. ComStar and American techs were checking it out, rebuilding wiring and myomer and structure where necessary. The job was going to take all day, he was told, due to the workload they were facing and the inexperience of American techs. Just have to hope the Jaggies don't come calling again.

The next berth over was partly empty. A salvage rig was busy moving Alex's wrecked Mad Cat out, to be taken to Camp Hodgkins north of the Twin Cities for rebuilding work. It was a shame, as the design was a lot more pleasing than the humanoid, ugly Gladiator that had been meant for the late Major Hall. And it didn't rely on a MASC system to maintain the 86 kilometer per hour speed that most of the other machines could maintain.

A shadow appeared beside his. "Hey Alex, good morning."

"Good morning, Ed." Alex looked at his wrecked machine and shook his head. "Damn shame, huh?"

"Yeah, you get twenty extra tons of stompy goodness now," Dane pointed out. "One of the, what, three Gauss Rifles in the entire unit?"

"Yeah, and one is built into Corporal Gooden's Hollander, which is pretty much built around having that big damn gun and nothing else." Alex drew in a sigh. "It's a great machine, though. ER PPC, twin medium lasers, twin six salvo Streak launchers, targeting computer... I can even spot for artillery with a lightweight TAG. And it'll run cool."

"But it's not your's."

"Yeah, it's not." Alex drew in a sigh.

Dane took in a breath and looked to his old friend. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For not raking me over the coals in your AAR," Dane answered. "I abandoned the hill line to go chasing Jaggies, and that's how they took it. By all rights I'm the one to blame, not you."

"You made a judgement call. Had I not gone chasing those heavies, we'd have been able to intercept the medium Star and hold the hill from that light unit." Alex shrugged. "Things turned out well enough, I guess."

"You mean you became America's newest hero MechWarrior," Dane laughed. "And made every other combat branch officer in the battalion begin hating your guts."

Alex shook his head. "If not for that CNN reporter, Ed, you'd be getting a new company CO soon enough, and I'd be pushing paperwork."

"Never been happier to have the journos meddle." After that declaration, Dane smacked his friend on the shoulder. "Let's go get some grub. We'll need it if the Jaggies try again today."




Colonel Sinclair and Major Pierce had joined Demi-Precentor Marshall in the camp's spartan planning room. A single holoprojector showed the condition of the front. ComStar's units, aided by US forces, had restrained the two Jaguar Clusters and were keeping them south of the Cannon River. Cannon Falls had seen some combat over the night when a Star Captain had attempted a night-time attack, but artillery fire and well-prepared defenses had held the Jaguars at bay.

"The Jaguars have brought a couple more Stars up to the line, but nothing more." Marshall pointed out a couple of Clan daggerstar indicators. "We believe that this represents the bid of the Falcons for the attack. They will have to approve the Jaguars applying more forces, and that I am not sure of."

"And when will the Falcons attack?"

"Not until the Jaguars have failed, I imagine," Marshall stated. "The Jaguars won the bidding, so the Falcons will be bound to let them fulfill their attack before mounting any of their own." He looked to the map and furrowed his brow. "Though... I wonder..."

"Demi-Precentor?"

"I admit to some caution now, Colonel," Marshall remarked. "The Clans are behaving differently now. The Falcons being allowed to join in the attack on Minneapolis is proof positive of this. Only on Luthien have two invading Clans cooperated on a single major target."

"What about Tukkayid?", Pierce asked.

"No, even there the Clans bid amongst themselves for sole targets and landing times, and they did not cooperate even on a strategic level." Marshall looked back to the map. "We have indications that the Falcons are amassing west of the Jaguar front, behind the defensive forces maintained there. If the Clans are changing their methods to deal with the unique circumstances on this world, they might attack against our weaker western flank."

Sinclair nodded and frowned deeply. "IV Corps is in position there, but they have almost no upgraded tanks, and some of their units are still incorporating replacements from their losses in the Nebraska retreat. The one upgraded unit to the west are the British expatriates in the Royal Tank Regiment, but it'll take them time to shift east after their recent repulse of Jaguar raids over the Minnesota River."

"Nevertheless, it is a move that will need to be made," Marshall noted. "As the Royal Tank Regiments are under your unified command structure with Canada, your side will need to bring them over. Elements of 5th Army will make the necessary positional adjustments to cover any holes in the front."

"I'll speak with General Tanner. And the quicker we can get our damaged units back in action, the better this battle will go."

"Yes, especially your battalion's Alpha Company," Marshall remarked. "Even accounting for the Jaguars' prior battle damage, Captain Penton's unit managed an excellent victory yesterday with their kill ratio."

"He also attained that by abandoning his strategic position," Pierce pointed out in a defensive tone. "By all rights the man should be taken off the field for his conduct."

At that, Marshall smiled in a highly condescending fashion. "But of course, doing that to your country's new war hero is beyond the question. And honestly, his destruction of enemy assets was far more important to us. That was one Star of heavy and assault machines the Jaguars won't be bringing back into the field after a couple of days in the repair yard."

"Killing enemy units won't do us any good if he leaves our lines wide open in doing it," Pierce retorted.

"Gentlemen." Sinclair's voice took on a hard tone. "No bickering here. I've already made his mistakes clear to Captain Penton. I do not expect a repeat."

Marshall shook his head sadly. "I only hope, Colonel, that in doing so you have not hobbled a man who might just be the best commander you have on this front."




Alex watched from his borrowed Gladiator as the other remaining machines of his unit filed out. Repair work had been enough to put Dani and Becca back into action, though they would need some further armor replacement before their machines were 100%, but he was still missing Dane from his unit. For the moment he'd re-organized everyone, putting Hoffman and Micki into his platoon as an extra fire team and having Sakata become Wu's new partner. This six 'Mech unit formation was more akin to ComStar's than either IS or US standard, but it was a temporary fix until Dane's Loki was back in action and he could replace the late Corporal Stewart.

He had to admit his new machine was a step up. The Gauss Rifle gave him good long range punch, and the missiles would be punishing closer up. He'd already gotten a stern look from the battalion quartermaster when remarking on his loadout, telling him that the logistics people were Not Happy with it. But they're never happy with heavy use of ammo. If they had their way, we'd be using all energy loadouts, he pondered.

Today wasn't likely to be a combat mission. They were returning to Welch, but the Jaguars were well south of the Cannon at last report. Their failed push into Cannon Falls and a ComStar counter-attack were bringing the lines back toward what they were pre-attack. But one never knew with the Clans, and he'd be ready if it became more.



Nu Galaxy Command Headquarters
Rochester, Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
North America, Earth


Weaver was scowling at the holo-display confirming her losses. The ComStar units had put up the stiff fight she had expected, but they had not stopped her forces from getting across the Cannon.

But her plan fell apart there. Instead of capturing the town of Hastings and the adjacent military facilities, the reduced Cluster she'd gotten through, about three Trinaries worth, had been checked and destroyed. The new American 'Mech forces had proven particularly effective, eliminating almost four Stars of 'Mechs and an Elemental Star. It made Weaver burn with disgust at how they'd manhandled her forces; those were genes no warrior would ever want to claim descent from.

And now revulsion and dread filled her as she waited for Alex Crichell to respond to her call. The preening Falcon did soon enough, appraising her closely with his small eyes. "I have heard about your reverses, Galaxy Commander. I take it you are calling to ask my permission to employ your original bid?"

"Aff," Weaver said sourly.

"Seeing the performance of the Americans, I doubt the Cluster and Supernova you intend to commit will do much more than get some of your warriors killed," Crichell remarked dismissively. "Nevertheless, I will agree to allowing you to use your maximal bid on the following conditions."

"Name them, Falcon."

"First, you will grant me permission to employ the maximal bid myself at a time of my choosing. Second, you will not recommence your attack until I give the signal."

Weaver snarled. "You mean to use us as a distraction for your own forces, and your first term violates the very spirit of our traditions!"

Crichell smiled serenely and folded his hands together. "Galaxy Commander, you have one of two choices. Accept my proposal and see the Jaguars participate in a victory won by my Clan, or reject it, which will see me hold my forces back and allow our enemies to grind up what's left of your two Clusters, which will be yet another Jaguar defeat in a year brimming with them. So you can either have a rare victory for your Clan, where glory and honor can yet be shared, or lead your forces to a defeat on your own. Let me know when you have made your decision." His image disappeared, and Weaver could only scream in rage at the quandry she had been placed in.



Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


With operations to commence the folllowing day, Keisha Barker had decided to personally conduct a pre-battle checkup on her Goshawk. It wasn't that she didn't trust her mechanics - well, okay, she didn't entirely, given how green they were - but it made her feel better to know that she'd personally checked every bit of her 'Mech to make sure it was working.

She had clambered up on one of the shoulders to check the armor repairs, and this gave her a good vantage point for the arrival of Lieutenant Roland. The Marine veteran looked over the bay and zeroed in on her machine, noticing her a moment later. He walked up and shouted, "Don't trust the mechanics, do you Sergeant?!"

Leave it to Roland to shout that in a bay full of 'em, Keisha thought to herself. Stupid cracker. She grimaced a little on the inside for letting a racial slur slip into her thoughts, remembering her comments to Schuler on trying to "de-ghettoize" herself and how impossible it sometimes felt. Satisfied with the armor job, she went back to the ladder and began climbing down. "Just doing some checks myself, Lieutenant," she said aloud, hoping she wouldn't have to take any crap from upset mechanics due to Roland's complete lack of tact.

"Good idea, since we'll be seeing action soon," Roland said. "Used to check my M16 every night before a combat patrol."

"BattleMechs aren't exactly M16s, sir," she pointed out on getting to the ground. She tapped the cold armored hide of the Goshawk.

"Yeah," Roland lamented. "World used to be more simple."

Keisha put her hands on her hips. "You mean when the damned Tea Party was in control and we had weekly food riots in the inner cities?"

"No, I mean before Queen Saunders took office and tried to kill the Corps, among other fuckups, leaving us in the sorry state we're in today," Roland retorted. "Though I'll concede that the jackass teadrinkers in Congress wore us down by not funding us either."

That drew a smirk from Keisha. "Well, I'd expect a lifetime military man who had government benefits to not really understand why a poor inner city girl like me would like the woman who actually gave a fuck about how we were starving and almost homeless."

"Doesn't excuse..."

There was the sound of a clearing throat, and both looked to see Schulter looking at them, amusement visible in his blue eyes. "Do we really have to talk about politics?"

"Had a Sarge when I was a young kid out of boot who'd remind us about ol' von Clausewitz," Roland answered. "War and politics are one and the same, kid. Always been that way."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean we have to revel in it," Schulter pointed out. "And get upset at each other for thinking differently."

"Farmboy's right," Keisha said. "Got to respect one another's opinions, know what I'm sayin'?"

Roland smirked. "Hey, I'm all for that. But I still think Denise Saunders was a terrible President, and we wouldn't be here today if not for her."

"And I'd probably be dead or starving if not for her," Keisha retorted, but she turned away instead of continuing the argument, intent on finishing the checkup of her machine.

Schulter let out a sigh. He didn't say anything to Roland, who shrugged and walked off, but he did look back to Keisha. "You really letting that get to you?"

"When I was a little girl I had to watch my crappy neighborhood become little fuckin' Zimbabwe," Keisha answered. "And the rest of America still voted in the fucking Tea Party 'cuz they were 'making jobs' and 'keeping taxes down' and all the other horseshit that middle class white people think is important. President Saunders actually helped us, and people keep whinin' about her because rich assholes can't afford to buy a new sports car every year no mo'. So sorry, farmboy, but this inner city girl is going to defend Mrs. Saunders against anyone."

Schulter shrugged. "Hey, I can see why. Her programs helped out a lot of people. But not everyone."

"Oh?"

"The new tax code that she got passed, and the crash in food prices? That wiped out my parents' farm. The family farm had been in our family for generations, one of the few to survive through the 20th century. Now it's owned by those same rich assholes you bitch about, and it's all because Saunders' tax policies went after more than just the rich." Schulter let out a sigh afterward. "God knows what my folks are doing now since St. Louis is a war zone. Goes to show that no matter who's in power, someone's going to get screwed over."

"And now we gotta go fight and die for those dickheads," Keisha muttered.

At that, Schulter shook his head. "No, don't think of it like that," he insisted. "They might profit too, but we're fighting so we don't have some bureaucrat in Geneva or Clanner off on whatever planet it is deciding how we should live our lives."

It was Keisha's turn to shrug. "Doubt it's too different. I mean, I'm gonna fight anyway. You and Jack, even the Lieutenant, you're my people now. My dawgs. A homegirl has to be ready to fight for her people, y'know what I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah." Schulter smiled softly. "I know what you're saying."



Jade Falcon Omicron Galaxy Headquarters
Owatonna, Minnesota, United States
Earth, North America
9 July 2039 Local
9 August 3059 Inner Sphere


It was not yet dawn when Alex Crichell was roused from his slumber by his aide, who reported that Forbes Weaver wanted to speak with him. Trying not to smile too widely, he went straight to the nearest holographic-capable communicator and allowed the snarling woman to appear before him. "Very well, I will accept your terms," Weaver remarked sullenly. "But only if you pledge to attack within the next three days."

"You are in no position to dictate to me, Jaguar," Crichell answered testily. "But it is fortunate for you that your demand coincides with my intentions. I intend to attack tomorrow, in fact, in the early morning hours."

"Then I will agree to you using the maximum bid and will hold my own troops back at your discretion." Weaver looked like she would rather be negotiating with a merchant than Crichell.

"Bargained well and done, Galaxy Commander Weaver." Crichell permitted his smile to grow. "You and I shall win much glory for our Clans, and the city of Minneapolis will be our prize."

[Steve]

Chapter 13


3rd Army Headquarters
St. Paul, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
9 July 2039 Local
9 August 3059 Inner Sphere


The Xcel Energy Center, a fully modernized arena, had been selected by the military to serve as HQ for the US 3rd Army and ComStar's newly-arriving 4th Army to take advantage of its pre-existing communications capabilities. Sinclair walked into the converted suite serving as the personal war room for General Tanner in the company of his immediate chief of staff and a couple other officers. The HQ was a hodgepodge of the new and old. A LCD flatscreen here, a holoprojector there, while aides in US Army fatigues and ComGuard robe uniforms manned stations and looked over PDAs and even the occasional raw piece of paper. A couple had their own brand of colors on their fatigues, the fist-and-sunburst emblem of the Federated Commonwealth visible to mark their nationality.

General Tanner was standing with a couple of ComGuard Precentors and two FedCom officers, a Hauptmann General and Lt. General. She was a slender, tough woman, a career Armored Cav officer who represented some of the last real combat command experience the US Army possessed. Dark blond hair was cut almost boyishly short on her head and hidden under her cover. Sinclair was constantly surprised to see only some gray along her temples, knowing the general to be older than him by quite a few years. Saluting, he announced himself and his staff as present.

"At ease, gentlemen," Tanner said. She introduced the two ComStar Precentors, Alexander Durbin and Stephanie Lavelle. The FedCom officer was General James White, CO of the 5th Federated Commonwealth RCT, with his aide Annette Leyland. Sinclair considered his presence a proof positive indication that the 5th RCT, having long been held in Illinois to prevent breakouts over the Mississippi, was being shifted to their defense. "I called you here, Colonel, because we need to hear directly from you how ready your present battalion is for major combat."

"They've done well already repulsing the Jaguar attack over the Cannon," Sinclair answered. "We have only a couple casualties and most of our machines are ready for continued action."

"Good, because you'll be getting it." Tanner motioned to the holoimage hovering above them.

Sinclair recognized the ovoid shape of military transport DropShips. The Jade Falcon emblem was prominent on all of them. 'Mechs and Elementals were filing out of the ships. And from their appearance, Sinclair knew they weren't just any normal Clan 'Mechs, but OmniMechs.

Frontline OmniMechs.

"They're bringing in their frontline units?" Sinclair forced the question out, knowing that the answer might very well spell doom for their defensive efforts.

"Unit identification claims that two of the Clusters are the 1st and 3rd Falcon Dragoons. They are newer units, raised from frontline warriors taken as bondsmen from other Clans." Showing a slight frown, Durbin moved his hand through the holo-display. "I had brought two divisions hoping to pull our damaged ones out for needed refit time, but if we are to hold the enemy back we're going to need to keep those units facing the Jaguars."

"There are heights south of the city that should give us some advantage." Sinclair looked to White. "If your forces are taking part, that will make our defensive job easier."

"The RCT is being moved up to act as a reserve for a counter-attack," White answered. "We'll hit the Falcons from the western flank if they get deep into the city."

"That is, ultimately, where your people will come in, Major, General." Durbin looked from Sinclair to Tanner. "We need American forces to be ready to make any entrance into Minneapolis a costly one. I understand your forces still aren't entirely armed for 31st Century combat..."

"We've learned some bitter lessons from Kansas City, sir," Tanner answered. "We know how to use even 21st Century firepower to its best effect."

"Yes." Durbin flashed a slight grin. "And your artillery has proven its value so far. And we're going to need even more of it before the week is out. The longer we hold the Falcons and Jaguars in place, the better our chances with our planned counter-attacks."

"3rd Army is dug in and here to stay, Precentor," Tanner answered. "The only way the Clans will be pushing us out of the Twin Cities will be by bulldozing our corpses out of the way."

"A bit of a macabre boast, General," White remarked, "but hopefully your spirit will rub off on our's."

There were some uncomfortable looks amongst those present. Sinclair thought of the scuttlebutt going around about chronic morale problems in the 5th FedCom. It made him feel skittish about trusting in the unit to save their bacon.

Taking another look at the Falcon OmniMechs in the image, it occurred to Sinclair they might not have a choice in that matter.




Near Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Alex was finding the Gladiator to be quite a different ride than he was used to, and the necessary familiarization exercises were a greater strain than usual piloting. It would take several more hours, at least, for the internal systems to become attuned to his specific brain instead of the late Major Hall's, and in the meantime he had to put up with a low intensity headache whenever the machine was relying upon his personal sense of balance.

They were just to the south of the camp right now, on an active patrol given the continued fighting further south. Rachel's Thor was in complete repair now, and the mechanics had finished all but a few touches on Becca's machine. Dani's Mad Cat still bore some damage, with the mechanics insisting they'd finish the repairs the moment they got back.

"Enjoying your new ride, eh?" Dane's Loki was freshly repaired, the replaced armor not even painted over yet.

"Cut the chatter, Bravo 1," Alex answered, remembering Sinclair's admonitions about keeping command over his subordinates. "That said, not really," he added immediately.

"We can always trade," Dane offered. "Cutting the chatter..."

Good Eddie, good, Alex thought. He looked over his instruments again and saw that, just as it was five minutes ago, everything was nominal. I hate this antsy feeling... I just wish the Clans would make their move and let's get it over with.

It then occurred to Alex that he'd be regretting that thought soon enough.




Eastern Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


At dawn the guns had begun to thunder. The artillery assets of VIII Corps opened up with a synchronized bombardment on Horse defensive positions on the flanks of the two Clusters, pummelling them with smart shells and rockets and all other forms of ordnance. As had happened several times already in the war, 21st Century artillery was proving its deadly effectiveness even against war machines a thousand years ahead of them. But far from making the Horse units softer, it only seemed to make them fight harder when VIII Corps finally went into motion. Indeed, the Horse resistance was about as fierce as Roland had expected; which meant, of course, that they were putting up a far stiffer fight than the idiots at HQ thought would happen.

Around his Thor the plains of Colorado were covered in the remains of destroyed tanks and 'Mechs, a depressing number of them American. Broken forms of vehicles belched smoke into the daylight sky as the fires that burned within incinerated the slain occupants. And with a pull of his triggers, Roland added to their number, spearing a Horse tank with his medium lasers and killing the crew within.

Another tank exploded after emerald darts from Barker's pulse laser bored through its armor. A Horse Koshi collapsed nearby after being ripped open by MacGruder, though his 'Mech showed signs of damage from the Koshi Bravo's SRM batteries that showed the Clan light had gotten in some hits.

Seeing Schulter was engaged fully with a Shadow Hawk IIC, Roland brought his right arm up and triggered his PPC. The bolt of plasma blasted into the enemy machine's mutilated chest armor and scourged the gyro within, causing the machine to limp. Schulter's medium lasers finished the machine off.

But there were more Horses. There always seemed to be more. Even with the other 'Mechs in their company alongside them, and with supporting armor, Roland felt exposed and alone with all the Horse units ahead of them. And we're supposed to 'pocket' these guys? Roland watched an Abrams come to a dead stop as it took a direct hit from a Gauss rifle (he didn't even want to think of what the crewers inside looked like now...) and tracked the target that fired the deadly round. He found it a moment later; a "Point" of Horse Von Luckner battle tanks.

Roland spit his crosshairs on one and fired, but it was too late. Its Gauss Rifles erupted one by one, sending their deadly supersonic projectiles toward his unit. Barker's Goshawk took the first hits. Her left arm was sheared off by a direct hit on the battle-damaged shoulder while a glancing blow tore off armor from her 'Mech's hip. She stumbled over in mid-stride and hit the ground.

The other tank battered MacGruder's Starslayer. A gauss slug smashed into the medium 'Mech's chest and embedded itself into the machine's gyro. But this damage proved superfluous given the accuracy of the Clan gunner; his other shot blasted the 'Mech's head clean off, sending debris - including what was left of Jack MacGruder - all over the countryside.

God dammit! Roland saw that his own coilgun had not done any major damage, which preoccupied him for the moment from thinking on MacGruder's sudden death. He saw the 'Mech turning its turret toward him and let loose with lasers and PPCs. Heat spiked temporarily in his 'Mech as his weapons scoured the offending tank. It lost a tread to one of his lasers, but that did nothing to stop it from firing on him. Roland maneuvered his Thor sharply to try and avoid being hit, but he was only partly successful. A slug ripped some armor off his left arm with a partial hit and a full hit lodged into his 'Mech's side.

Schulter's PPC lashed out and this time the tank crew wasn't so lucky; the azure bolt played right over one of their Gauss rifles. The weapon's capacitors exploded, damaging the other rifles fixed to the turret and thus disarming the machine. "Good shooting, farmboy," Roland said to himself (conscious not to say so over the comm lines). He spit his crosshairs on the other tank and fired before it could finish Barker off.

It took a few extra seconds for the Gauss Rifle to fire, given his energy weapons' power drain, but it served the coup d'grace on the tank, the way opened by his PPC and lasers removing much of the glacis armor that was left. The round plunged straight into the crew area and killed the Horses inside in a rather messy fashion.

That one was for the kid, Roland growled inwardly. But he only allowed himself that one thought before focusing on combat. Their fight wasn't over, and he figured it had only just begun.




4th Army HQ
Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


A flatscreen display showed the progress of individual brigades and battalions of VIII Corps as they struck out eastward into the Horse lines. General Paul Tolen, commander of 4th Army, a stoutly-built man with stress lines marking his aged face, was observing with a stern eye the behavior of his aides as they coordinated reports on engagements and the progression of the attack. Palmer was present as requested by Tolen, which was not entirely appreciated by him as he felt he should be in his division HQ overseeing his part of the probing attack.

On the screen the attack was unfolding as expected. Armored formations, supported by the companies of the 2nd 'Mech Battalion, were engaging the Horses on their flanks while a holding force kept their center in check. The artillery bombardments had softened the Horses up and with their numerical inferiority, it was clear that they could not hold. Palmer was suspicious of how their lines were beggining to bend backward, though; it felt like the Horses were refusing their flanks more than actually being pushed back.

"This, gentlemen, is how American warfare is waged," Tolen declared, not paying attention to the indifference on the faces of the Davion and ComStar liaisons present. "Artillery, armor, and mechanized infantry, the backbone of real military forces."

The emphasis on "real" brought a sad shake of the head from the ComGuard Demi-Precentor and a bit of a smirk from the Davion Colonel. Palmer himself tried not to sigh. Tolen had already held forth in command meetings on how BattleMechs were only to be employed as a stop-gap, until America's war industries could fully replicate the technology needed to fight the Clans. Then they would "dispense with the walking targets" and fight "as Americans should". Tolen had been vocal in his views that no American who served long as a MechWarrior should ever be permitted more authority or influence, as they were potential sources of Inner Sphere subversion of American society.

Being more appreciative of their allies, and of the loyalty of the Americans who had gone to train in using these new weapons, Palmers like to think Tolen was in the minority in his views, but as more of the Inner Sphere's political makeup and background became known in America, he knew there were more and more people who weren't so sure about having a MechWarrior corps anymore. Not when they seemed to go hand-in-hand with the aristocratic elitism of the Inner Sphere's upper classes.

He focused on his unit. Brigadier General Pauline Jenkins was left in charge with him at Army HQ. She seemed to be doing well enough, as the 2nd Armored was making good progress. The company of 'Mechs assigned to support them had already lost three machines, with one pilot confirmed dead. Again he remembered Riffenburg's pleas and felt a shudder go down his spine. The US had already lost dozens of prospective MechWarriors when the Training Battalions were unwisely committed against enemy forces, and there were no replacements yet for these trained men and women. If they got severely mauled, even annihilated, the effect it'd have on further development of the US 'Mech corps (and national morale)....

"It also appears that your rogue forces' little unauthorized stunt hasn't been worth the trouble," Tolen added, looking squarely at the Davion liaison. "I don't appreciate having to extend my forces to pull them out of enemy territory, Colonel."

Palmer ignored the reply from the Davion officer. He was too busy looking at the larger map, and known Horse unit positions. He felt a cold sweat come over him as he did. They're in excellent positions to flank us if we're not careful.

Something Tolen said appeared to have finally gotten the ComGuard officer to break his silence. "It occurs to me, General, that the true measure of success for this attack will be if it prompts the Falcons and Jaguars to break off their attack on Minneapolis."

Tolen laughed. "Demi-Precentor, I assure you, the Horses are going to be crying for help once we have those Clusters in a pocket. Just keep your forces in the line to threaten their's and they'll have no choice. The Jags and Falcons will have to abort or risk seeing us break into their supply lines."

Something told Palmer that the Demi-Precentor wasn't nearly as confident in Tolen's assurances. And he had to admit he wasn't very confident in them either. I have a bad feeling we'll be regretting not taking Riffenburg's advice, he thought to himself.




Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
10 July 2039 Local
10 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Oh no, not again.

Hoffman felt the thought go through his head as he found himself in an empty hanger. It wasn't Camp Jurgens. He knew it wouldn't be. This was Leavenworth again. He could see that from all the older Inner Sphere 'Mechs marked with the 2nd Training Battalion's insignia, virtually every one of them wrecked completely.

He was having the dream again. The same damn dream.

"Hey Sarge."

He turned and faced a pretty young girl, short-cut blonde hair and a ready smile. A blocky TB-1X with a blown out chest and head module was standing behind her. "Becky," he said plainly, recognizing Private Rogers.

"Do you know how much it sucks being dead, Sarge?", she asked pointedly. "And it was on your watch too."

"And you point that out every time," Hoffman grumbled. "I did what I could, Becky. I'm... I'm sorry."

"Not so much the maverick in here, are you?" The new voice made him turn. Unsurprisingly it was Carson, or rather what was left of him. His arms and legs were missing, sliced off by the jagged glass of his shattered canopy, and his neck was covered in shards that had sliced open his carotid artery amid other things. His wrecked Locust stood behind him, the wounds from the Clan weapons that had ripped it apart visible. "Always played the hotshot rebel to make us feel part of the team. Fat lot of good it did us."

"So, when are the other girls going to join us?", Becky asked. "Only a matter of time."

"Yeah, they're the only ones left from the old unit," Carson pointed out. "Lucky they made it this far, eh?"

"Shut up," Hoffman grumbled. "I'm not going to let them get killed."

"Just like you stopped the Clans from getting us?" Carson's mutilated remains laughed. "Sure, Sarge, sure. I'll be expecting them soon enough, I guess. I miss Micki, actually... always had the hots for..."

Usually the dream went on for longer, with all the other dead TBers, but Hoffman found himself jolted away from the phantoms of his dead friends and awake again. The sirens that had woken him were still screaming and his roommates were jumping out of bed already. And this wasn't the air raid siren either, but the even more dreaded one. A look out the window to the west confirmed the thought that formed in his head, as the sky lit up in the distance.

The Falcons were on the move.

[Steve]

Chapter 14


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
10 July 2039 Local
10 August 3059 Inner Sphere


The attack siren had jolted Rachel out of a fairly pleasant sleep, or at least the most pleasant she'd had since the low-stress last night on Outreach. Knowing just what the use of the siren meant, Rachel wasted no time in getting into her cooling suit. Her roommate Lieutenant Hawkins finished getting into her's just a second later and the two raced out of their room. The way to the 'Mech hangers became increasingly busy, though not congested, as they merged with the traffic of other MechWarriors on the way there or other camp personnel moving to duty stations.

There would be no briefings this morning. Everyone was loading into their 'Mechs the moment they got to the hanger. Rachel watched Major Pierce climb into his Axman and then looked further down. Alex was standing beside his borrowed Gladiator, in a position to intercept her as she approached her own bay. Rachel decided not to try avoiding him and walked in a straight line, avoiding mechanics as she did so. He didn't intercept her so much as hold up a hand. "Be careful out there, Rachel," he said to her.

"You too," she answered. "And remember your new promise, if you want to remember the promise at all."

He nodded in acceptance. "I'm going to do my damdnest to bring everyone home." And the look in his eye showed that he knew he'd fail.

Just don't let someone die for my sake, was the thought in Rachel's head, one that a selfish part of her hated. She didn't know if she could live with herself if she survived only because someone else had been abandoned to die. But deep back there in her mind, a scared voice thought, I'd rather have a chance to try though!

With her spine chilled with terror every step of the way, Rachel forced herself to walk up to her Thor. She'd survived two battles in it so far, and currently stood as the leading "ace" on the front (at least among Outreachers; she was third behind Dani and Becca due to their longer time on the front with better machines). But such luck couldn't last forever... could it? No, of course not. Eventually she'd... no, no, she couldn't think like that. Not without making her impulse to flee even stronger.

Rachel climbed up the rope ladder to her Thor's hatch and got in. She went through the usual ritual of switching the machine on, hooking her suit up to sensor and coolant ports, and pulling on her neurohelmet. Once in her command couch she put on her harness and went through her startup sequence. She hadn't personalized her machine like others had, keeping only the basic inquiries in use. Her checkphrase was simple: "I love my grandparents". What would throw off anyone who guessed it was that the phrase was spoken three times, in Spanish, Greek, and Italian.

With her machine come to life, Rachel waited in nervous tension for the enlistees in the hanger to direct her out. They put her behind Alex's Thor. Dani's fixed up Mad Cat was behind her. Steeling herself and working up her courage, Rachel followed Alex out of the base and toward the lit up sky to the west.



The 1st Battalion was being committed as a whole unit, and for good reason. The Falcons were attacking in force, using three full Clusters and a combined arms "Supernova" Cluster. IV Corps was staging a fighting retreat up the I-35 corridor toward the city, and from what Alex knew of their material situation and that the "fighting" part of that phrase was pretty much in name only. ComStar had shifted their two available fresh divisions to try and contain the breach and the 5th FedCom RCT was being rushed up by both land and DropShip to serve as a final line of defense. But Faribault was already in enemy hands, and the defenses outside Northfield were crumbling fast.

Their position was not far from I-35, in the rural areas outside Lakeville, on one of the hills that lined the area. Everyone present was hoping, beyond hope, that they could hold the Clanners here, because if they didn't that would mean the fight entering the populated areas of the city, areas where the diehard and the desperate had not evacuated and where even those willing to go were still waiting to find out where they could go. Cities of 3 million people didn't evacuate easily even in the best circumstances, and when the military's hogging the roads and rails and airlanes... then it became a slow and laborious process.

Kansas City, St. Louis, Memphis, New Orleans... Now it looks like Minneapolis will be added to the list. Alex tried to imagine the cities he'd called home in his life - Portland, Orlando, Jacksonville - joining this list of destroyed and war-ravaged American cities as well, and had to stop the thought before the horror choked him.

"We have confirmation from General Parkinson," Pierce said over the combat comms, referring to IV Corps' commander. "We've got at least two Trinaries on the way, 'Mechs and Elementals."

Let's hope it's just that, Alex thought. Even if they were numerically "larger" and on the defensive, the firepower of Clan machines had to be taken into account, especially since most of the unit was outfitted with Inner Sphere-quality weapons, not Clan.

Overhead the contrails of artillery rockets were streaking actively toward the south. American artillery represented the one weapon system that the Clans' BattleMechs and Elementals had to respect. But there were only so many artillery pieces, and even with rockets and shells being driven in daily from new factories in Madison and Milwaukee and Chicago, they never had quite enough artillery ammunition to satisfy everyone's needs. Fire support wasn't something they would enjoy in spades, not when ComStar and the rest of IV Corps would be calling for it.

Alex was in the middle of drawing a breath when he saw the red icons move onto his sensor display. In the distance his holotank showed approaching Clan machines. He could make out what was clearly a light Star and his IFF systems marked the enemy units with Inner Sphere designations. He swallowed at seeing the names Koshi, Dasher, and Uller. All Omnis. Not a single non-Omni among them. These guys are all frontline pilots.

There was more than this light Star, however. The names of various Clan mediums and heavies began to flash into existance over their distant profiles. Many of them were also OmniMechs.

Alex spit his crosshairs on one of the Ullers, which was carrying what looked to be a Gauss Rifle given the range. His targeting systems flashed to show he had a partial lock and he reacted by triggering his PPC. A bolt of lighting erupted from his 'Mech's arm and, given the range, missed. Not just missed, actually, but was completely avoided, as the Clan pilot gracefully shifted his 'Mech in the split second he fired. His mouth went dry from dread. These guys are damned good. Too damned good.

His shots provoked a barrage from some of the others. LRMs, laser beams, and PPCs lashed out, as well as the autocannons on the two JagerMechs in Charlie Company. Some of the shots made connections, but a distressing number didn't given the maneuverability of the Clan pilots. Nor did Alex get time to see if any shot was a lucky one, as a Gauss Rifle slug smashed against the shoulder of his Gladiator.

The Falcons returned fire with a devastating accuracy. Alex managed to avoid getting hit again, as did a number of his pilots, but the entire battalion took hits, especially given the Clan predilection to every warrior taking his own target. Nevertheless he noticed there was some overlap; the Falcons certainly weren't using Clan battle codes now.

A nagging voice in his head said This isn't going to work, we can't stop these guys alone, but Alex refused to pay it heed. Or, more accurately, he didn't have time to pay it heed, with a Gauss Rifle-toting Thor seeming to take a direct interest in him. He triggered his PPC at the same time the Thor fired its own, the twin lightning blasts moving past each other before they began incinerating armor. An LRM rack on the Thor's shoulder spat a salvo of ten missiles at him, seven acquiring and striking home. His own missiles, being shorter-ranged, refused to lock.

He was quicker on the trigger with his Gauss Rifle. Before the Clan pilot could fire his own, Alex lined up his weapon on the arm-mounted rifle and fired. The enhanced targeting computer in his machine stabilized the limb and ensured the shot hit home. A single Gauss slug slammed into the muzzle of the Thor's weapon just as it was firing. His round, being the faster one, won the resulting collision, and in the process the charged up capacitors of the gun provided plenty of energy for a nice explosion. Hole in one!, Alex couldn't help but crow to himself.

The Thor pilot righted himself after the loss of the limb, a split second in which Dani's twin PPCs found him. They hit home on the center torso, the plasma getting right into the 'Mech's LRM magazine. A powerful explosion gutted the Thor and damaged its fusion engine. Before Alex could finish it off with his lasers, emerald and ruby beams converged on the machine's open wound and finished it off, sending the Clan OmniMech down.

He took a moment to take stock of their situation... and it wasn't good. The Falcons had only lost three 'Mechs in the general exchange, and that was due to people concentrating fire. The dispersed Clan fire had nevertheless been more accurate and stronger than the mixed Clan and Inner Sphere weapons of the 1st Battalion, which was down two 'Mechs and had suffered more damage in general among the remaining ones. And now the Falcons were really coming on strong, rushing forward with their speedy Dashers in the lead.

Alex saw a few shots go the way of the Dashers, but most of the American pilots were focusing on more threatening, heavier Clan machines. He wondered why the fast but very thinly-armored machines were racing into knife-fight range and felt a dark suspicion. He focused his holotank display on one and saw the answer in the five figures riding along on the Dasher.

He wasn't the only one to notice, as he heard a voice over the radio - Lieutenant Jiminez from Bravo Company - call out, "Toads!"

The volume of fire on the Dashers increased, but their expert Clan pilots avoided the shots with deadly grace. One Elemental was thrown off the lead Dasher when an LRM struck him directly. Another was killed by a PPC that had been fired at its ride. But all in all most of them were intact as the Dashers pulled close.

Alex spit his crosshairs on a Dasher and fired as it approached minimal range. His Gauss slug struck home on the 'Mech's hip and blew the limb off. The 'Mech fell over and flew skittering across the ground, where his medium lasers finished it off.

But the Elementals it had been carrying had jumped off as the 'Mech lost its leg. Most of the Elementals now proceeded to dismount, the Dashers carrying them firing off salvos of SRMs and LRMs as they fell back. Alex felt several of the missiles hit him, damaging his arms and legs. He triggered his PPC and, with the aid of his targeting computer, landed a direct hit on the back of one of the light 'Mechs. Its meager armor was no more effective than tissue paper against the lightning bolt, which engulfed the entire machine and destroyed it. A blown out husk dropped to the ground.

Seeing the approaching Elementals, Alex's mind was racing as he recalled their anti-battle armor training on Outreach. "Fall back to keep the range!", he shouted into the comms. "Don't let them get near you!"

"Captain, you will hold your position," Pierce insisted over the comm. "All light units, focus your firepower on the enemy infantry. And maintain position until I order otherwise!"

Alex opened his mouth to protest and thought better of it. With everything that happened a couple of days ago, he didn't need to deal with the problem of disobeying a direct order in combat. Then no amount of battlefield success would save him from being benched. And maybe Pierce has got the idea of it. We've got some high ground, and if we start retreating too there's no telling where we'll be able to make another stand.

20mm 'Mech-mounted machine guns, lasers, and other light weapons fired low at the oncoming Elementals. But they were difficult targets to hit and only one went down. And then they started to return fire...

Suddenly the ground in front of 1st Battalion began to erupt in explosions. "Cluster shells", Alex said to himself. Artillery fire rained down in front of them and massacred the Falcon Elementals, blowing them to pieces with direct hits and showering the others in shrapnel that could break through their visors and thinner armor.

Only a couple Elementals survived, with the 'Mechs behind them being mostly intact as well. One was heading toward Charlie Company, the other toward Alex's unit. He was too busy exchanging fire with a Black Lanner to do much about it.




Seated in his Raven, Patrick Wu was exerting most of his effort trying to keep himself from panicking at the approaching Clan forces. He had reason to be apprehensive. The Raven was built to be a stealthy recon 'Mech, not to remain in a confined area and fight.

The Elemental wasn't going for him, thankfully. After weaving toward Dane, he saw it slip over and head for Micki Lupo's Bushwacker. She was too busy righting her 'Mech from an autocannon burst hit to notice until it was too late; the enemy suit jumped up from the side and landed on her shoulder. He saw the Elemental extent its claw and bring its weapon arm up to begin breaking into Micki's cockpit.

It being too late to shout about it, Patrick swung the Raven over and slid his crosshairs over the Elemental. They pulsed gold and he triggered his medium lasers.

The result was sheer overkill. The Elemental hadn't fired his two SRMs yet and they exploded as the ruby energy sliced through their housing. The armor-suited Clanner was blown apart in the resulting explosion. Wu breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until he saw the Bushwacker collapse.




Micki had been opening up on a Clan Ryoken - and with admittedly reduced effect - when the Elemental set off her proximity warnings. She was too late to direct her machine guns on it and watched it begin to clamber up toward her cockpit. Oh God, this is it, she thought to herself as she tried to think of how to avoid getting killed.

Suddenly ruby light played over the Elemental, cutting right though it and nicking her canopy. The Elemental exploded. She saw it do so and suddenly felt sharp pain stab into her shoulder and right side. She looked down to see bloody shrapnel sticking out of her left shoulder, more shards having been stopped by her cooling suit's bulletproof weave save for a really large piece which, given appearances, was likely lodged not far from her stomach.

With pain surging through her Micki was unable to keep the Bushwacker standing. It took everything she had to control the fall, letting it fall backward so that she could easily, she hope, get it standing again. Well, assuming she didn't bleed to death.

"This is Bravo 3," she said aloud. "I've been hit. I've got shrapnel wounds, they hurt like all fuck, and I'm going to bleed to God damn death if I don't get medical attention." And she knew that wasn't likely. IV Corps was running like hell behind them, and nobody was going to detach an ambulance to pick her up in a 'Mech combat zone. It'd just get the medics killed.

"I'll help you out," she heard Hoffman say, and she could see on her icon display his Rifleman start inching near her.

"New orders from HQ," Pierce said over the radio. "They want us to fall back into town. Now. We're abandoning this position."

What about me you fucking asshole?! was the thought that went through Micki's head. She was relieved to hear Hoffman protest. "But Major, Sergeant Lupo needs medical attention, and there's no way she can..."

"Captain Penton, remind your First Sergeant of the chain of command, and heed the retreat order."

Micki sucked in a painful breath and waited to hear Penton condemn her to death.

"Major Pierce, I have an idea." was the reply that came instead. "Pull back Bravo and Charlie Companies. We'lll make it look like Alpha is covering your retreat. Then when the Clans start to flank us, hit them in their flanks."

"The orders from HQ are to retreat."

"Yeah, and we will. After Sergeants Hoffman and Perez get Lupo into Perez's machine so he can run her back to the medics." Through the pain Micki could hear a surprising amount of steel in her staff weenie commander. "We can't leave people behind, not if it can be helped at all. Please, Major..."

Micki swallowed, and waited for Major Pierce to decide her fate.

[Steve]

Chapter 15


Near Lakeville
Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
10 July 2039
10 August 3059


Scott Pierce was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a highly creative man. He had some imagination, of course, but it was the fairly borrderline imagination you find in the general population. And years of military training and experience had not done much to enhance his creativity; the military, especially in peacetime and most especially in periods of reactionary entrenchment after forced reforms, was not known for tolerating free thinkers, or anyone really who was apt to interpret orders "creatively".

That's not to say Pierce was a "by the book" man. When the situation called for it he could be, if not creative, flexible. He'd done so in his call of letting Dani Verdes and Becca Shameel continue to pilot the Clan OmniMechs they'd pilfered back at Leavenworth and he'd done so in not pushing for charges against the latter in her verbal altercation with Lieutenant Dane.

Pierce's flexibility had limits, though. Right now they were being tested. He had his orders; retreat from his position. They were sound orders, too, as his battalion had little chance of holding its position now that the full wrath of the Jade Falcon Clan was coming down upon it. And he had Captain Penton trying to talk him into something that violated the very spirit of those orders.

But he found that Penton's suggestion was also militarily sound and wise. Sergeant Lupo was a rare veteran in the nascent American MechWarrior corps. Furthermore, the idea of flanking the Clans with a faked pull back and rear guard action offered a chance to inflict losses that might prove beneficial to their defensive efforts. And, when it came down to it, Pierce found he had no desire to see another of his charges from the Training Battalion killed by the damned Clans.

He took a moment to fire a laser at an approaching Clan 'Mech before giving his reply to Penton. "Good luck, Captain. Bravo and Charlie Companies, fall back. Delta, you help Alpha keep their position." He began to back up with his Axman, not wanting to present his weak rear armor to the enemy until he had some cover. Let's hope we don't regret this, Captain, he added as a thought.



Micki was gratified to hear Pierce relent. But she was also becoming worried; worried that in trying to save her they would simply lose more people. She was not so selflessly noble as to protest, however; her desire to live was simply too strong and basic to her.

She watched on her holotank as Alpha Company gathered in a protective formation around her, Delta Company behind them in turn to keep them from getting boxed in too quickly. That's not to say they stood still. Doing that would be suicide. But they were arranged to cover Perez as he brought his Talon close. Hoffman took a place beside Perez, a larger target capable of shooting back should any Clanners take potshots at the Talon.

As she waited for Perez to come, Micki summoned what strength she had left to unlatch herself from her command couch. Pain rippled through her side. Taking several breaths she steeled herself for more pain as she reached into the compartment where, among other things, her first aid kit was present.

At this point she almost gave in from the shooting pain that was rippling through her torn flesh, but Micki's will to live refused to let her succumb. With a trembling hand she opened the package and fumbled through it to find the gauze and bandaging that would help stop the blood flow that was very literally draining the life from her.

She was only starting to tape it down when her hatch opened. Perez loomed over the opening for a brief second before stepping in. "Come on, Sergeant," he said as he reached to pick her up. "We've got to get you out of here."



The Jade Falcons were advancing hard. Too hard, in Alex's view. They were eager to press past him and get into his rear, and he couldn't give any ground until...

A brief glance showed him a pair of humanoid figures leaving Micki's stricken 'Mech. Hurry up, Sergeant, hurry up Alex urged mentally. He brought his crosshairs over and laid them on a Falcon Loki as it took several hits from Rachel's SRMs. Mindful of his limited ammo he triggered his lasers and PPCs; ruby spears sliced open the Lokis arm and the PPC blasted away armor from its hip. The Clan pilot within was unable to keep his machine standing from the onslaught. It toppled over onto its face, revealing its weak back armor for Rachel to blast with her PPC.

Turning his attention away from that fight, Alex found another target, this one a Thor Charlie with a menacing twenty-shot autocannon on the arm. He brought his PPC to bear and fired just as two more lightning bolts converged on it from Dani's Mad Cat. One of her shots missed, but two PPC bolts was enough to blast through the armor. His was the luckier shot, striking the ammo for the left arm autocannon. An explosion gutted the Clan machine.

Alex felt his 'Mech rock hard from another autocannon impact, a lighter burst thankfully. But his battle damage was already such that he was showing severe armor loss on his right arm and degraded performance on his torso. He wouldn't be able to take much more of this.

Nor would the other members of his unit. They were fighting hard, but for every Clan 'Mech they took down with concentrated fire, it seemed there were two more in place. Nor were they doing very well in that; the Clanners were bred for this kind of thing after all, and they proved hard to hit decisively. A solid torso hit would, by a quick movement, become a glancing blow, or be absorbed by a fully-armored arm.

A feminine "Dammit!" came over the comms. He turned to see Becca's Vulture pummelled and even "bleeding" from a broken coolant line in her engine. She staggered and fired a volley of LRMs back at the offender, an autocannon-armed Linebacker Charlie. It fired a thick beam of green light that melted armor away from Becca's shoulder but which, thankfully, failed to strike the break in her armor.

The Linebacker was soon being hit by Dani's Mad Cat, but that left her exposed to an approaching Black Lanner. Rachel moved her own Thor to engage it. And with their unit down to less than 10 effectives, it was only going to get worse. Have to leave Delta where it is, they're our lifeline...

I've gotten my people killed trying to save just one, Alex thought in reproach. Stupid, Alex, stupid stupid stupid...

That was when Major Pierce launched his counter-attack.




The Falcon troops were already losing force cohesion, with individual ex-Cobras and ex-Sharks and ex-Ravens allowing their own desire to prove their worthiness to join the invasion of the Inner Sphere to overpower their formation discipline. When Pierce's two other companies came down on their flanks, their spread-out formation ensured they were unable to take the blow well.

It didn't mean much for Jack Hoffman, though. In covering Perez as he rescued Micki, he'd made himself a target for the Falcon "center", and even with Sakata and Dane covering his rear as best as they could, his Rifleman was taking abuse. His 'Mech's armor was almost gone. Both legs had superficial damage, though he could still move. His right arm was non-functioning and one of its pulse lasers knocked out anyway. And as it was about the slowest 'Mech in the unit... I'm not getting out of this one.

He saw Perez's Talon straighten up. "I've got Sergeant Lupo secured," he said over the radio. "Heading to a field hospital."

Alex Penton's relief was evident in his reply. "Alright everyone, begin falling back while the Major keeps them busy."

Hoffman began to back away. He couldn't present his back to the enemy, and there was a lot of them. Even with the others turning back toward the center, letting Pierce's unit draw attention. Fire continued to be exchanged, and this time it seemed they were actually doing better than the enemy as two Clan 'Mechs dropped from critical leg hits or other major damage while another one exploded from a strike to its missile magazine.

Then a Shadow Cat put a Gauss round right into his engine.

Alarms went off in his machine. The heat began to spike from damage to the engine shielding and coolant systems. His power levels dropped. Cursing, Hoffman retorted with his functioning pulse lasers and watched them stitch emerald energy all over the other 'Mech. It didn't do it much harm and the Clan machine retorted with laser fire that melted away at what was left of his hip. Red lights flashed on his status display, indicating the structural sensors considered the hip ready to snap.

"I'm covering you, Bravo 2. Come around me and turn," he heard Dane say on the radio. Say what you could about Dane's undesired "badass" attitude, the kid had guts.

"Negative, Bravo Lead," Hoffman answered. "I have leg and engine damage, and this crate is slow enough as it is. You and the others fall back, I'll cover your retreat."

"Dammit, Hoffman..." This time it was Dani's voice. "Not you too! We'll all cover..."

"Alpha 3, as your First Sergeant I have to remind you to observe comm discipline..." He had to stop talking as his 'Mech rocked, the Shadow Cat's Gauss rifle smashing into his chestplates again. Armor and internal structure was lost, but he had nothing in that area to damage thankfully. "And as your fellow TBer.... it's too late for me, Dani. You get Becca and get out of here. Get Micki back to health and stay alive."

"But Jack..."

"That's an order, Verdes. Get your ass in gear!" Hoffman hoped the roughness of his tone would get the rebellious woman to listen to reason. With a single motion he brought his left arm up and triggered his pulse lasers. One stream of emerald needles drilled a hole deep into the Shadow Cat's belly and the fusion engine within. The other effortlessly drilled into the cockpit of the machine and turned the Clanner within into a crispy critter.

But as always, you take one Clanner down and another one would just step up. This one was in an even lighter 'Mech, a Dragonfly, but it was in Bravo Configuration, so it was packing an ER PPC. It fired while he was waiting for his lasers to rebuild a charge in their capacitors. The hit blasted into his torso, inflicting further damage on his engine and taking out his extra heat sink systems. Even firing his reduced complement was going to be difficult now.

"Captain, you heard me!", Hoffman shouted over the radio. "I'll cover you the best I can, but get out of here!"

He got a reply that was depressingly subdued. "I hear you, Sergeant. God help you."

Not really a praying man, but I hope He does, Hoffman answered in his mind, further hoping that the Almighty didn't mind his occasional indulgences in the pleasures of life like fast cars and even faster women.

Alpha Company fell back quickly, each 'Mech turning and shooting to cover another 'Mech making a turn to move backward. Delta Company now played their role, those of their 'Mechs with long-range weapons helping to make sure no Clanner got a good lock on the rear of a friendly. The Clanners mostly ignored Hoffman for a short bit, considering him mostly defeated and no longer worth taking down, but after he put his pulse lasers into the Gauss Rifle of Thor and the cockpit of a Ryoken, he started taking fire again. Fire he couldn't avoid.

But that didn't matter. All Hoffman could think about - as his 'Mech was blasted to melted scrap under him and darkness came to claim him - was that he hadn't let his nightmares become true.




With the Clan 'Mechs in pursuit - now being checked by ComGuard forces - and the buildings of Lakeville now around them, the others had long lost visual contact with Hoffman. Hoffman's Rifleman was no longer transmitting its IFF code either. He was gone.

I held everyone back to save one pilot, and I lose another instead, Alex thought to himself as he brought his battered Gladiator up toward a ComGuard Excalibur. Pierce's own Axman looked little better. His autocannon was out of commission, courtesy of a laser strike that had melted part of the muzzle-side barrel. Just one battle and the unit looks to be in shambles. Can we really win this?

An accented male voice, using what he'd learned on Outreach was considered "Star League English", came over the radio. "Major Pierce, Captain Penton, this is Demi-Precentor Ratchlin. We have mobile repair units on standby for you, but I'm afraid they can only do basic armor repair and reloads. You'll need full facilities to repair damaged equipment."

"Just so long as we can get our 'Mechs back up to fighting shape", Pierce replied.

"Our techs will do their best, Major. Go ahead and decide on the order..."

Alex found himself blocking out the rest of the conversation. He only responded when Pierce directly called him to get his machine fixed up. He moved the Gladiator over toward the MFB vehicles. Techs juiced up on stimulant drugs, including lots of coffee, began to clamber over to his machine with plasma torches and the other tools of their trade.

As he waited for them to cut and fit on improvised armor slabs and to slip in reloads for his Gauss Rifle, Alex reached over to his radio control. "Hey, Sergeant Perez, you out there?"

"Just got back, sir,", Perez answered. "And since I know you'll ask, she almost didn't make it, but the field medics think Sergeant Lupo will live."

Alex drew in a sigh of relief tinged with regret. It meant that losing Hoffman hadn't been an entire waste... but it had still happened. And if he'd just been faster, or better, maybe Hoffman could've made it out too.

"I'd say Major Pierce has reason to feel good about things regardless, sir, given what I've been hearing," Perez continued, as if sensing Alex's thoughts.

"What is what, Sergeant?"

"Your little fake retreat worked wonders. The Clans are down two whole Trinaries worth of "Mechs and infantry now, and supposedly they've stopped moving forward for the moment to consolidate and repair."

Alex drew in a breath. "Well, good to know...."

A little idea suddenly popped into his head.

As he was considering it, Perez ventured a careful, "Sir?"

"Sorry, Sergeant, just thinking of how I'm going to phrase this request to the Major," Alex answered.

"What request, sir?"

"Well, Sergeant, you know what they say." Alex allowed himself a thin smile. "Sometimes the best defense is a good offense."




3rd Army Headquarters
St. Paul, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Tanner had to admit to being impressed as she and Colonel Sinclair looked over the data. With the 87th Division of the ComGuards setting up to fight a delaying action west of Lakeville and the 167th having shifted to cover the east thanks to the Jaguar losses and pullback, it looked like they might have time to get IV Corps out of trouble and hold the Falcons below the Minnesota River. This was especially true thanks to the drubbing the Falcons had taken outside Lakeville against the 1st Battalion. It had lost over half a dozen units and suffered major damage to many of the remaining units, but with a clever false retreat they had prompted the Falcons to expose their flanks and counterattacked, inflicting major losses.

"Still, eight pilots down is almost a fifth of the battalion," Sinclair noted as he looked over the data. "We can't sustain those kinds of losses and keep the unit coherent, not with our current limited pool of pilots and machines."

"I agree with you on that, Colonel," Tanner noted. "But we need those 'Mechs active right now. And given the news coming from Colorado, I'm damned sure not going to disperse my battalion like that idiot Tolen..." Though she harbored her own doubts about 'Mechs as a logical combat vehicle, Tanner found Tolen's fanaticism on the issue to be idiotic. "And I suppose it's a good thing that damned camera was watching Alpha Company a few days ago. Given Major Pierce's report, I might be have been premature in telling you to take that lawyer off the field."

Sinclair didn't permit himself a grin. "They say the good lawyers are the creative ones. And Captain Penton was considered a very good one."

"Let's just hope his creativity with orders doesn't go too far," Tanner remarked. "I know you would like to give them a chance to repair fully, but I need you to keep them in the field until further notice. The Falcons seem to be slowing due to the punch to the chops the 1st Battalion just gave them, but these Clanners won't stop just over that."

"Knowing the Clans, the prospect of a tough fight will just make them more eager."

They discussed the situation on the front a bit more, but Sinclair seemed to finally let his curiosity get the best of him. "And what's going on with Tolen's probing attack in Colorado?"

The reply he got was a deep frown. Tanner hit a button to move their holomap over to that region, and Sinclair soon saw why.


Eastern Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


After a day in battle, Roland could feel his body starting to protest being kept awake with stimulants and sheer adrenaline. It was an old, familiar feeling, one that actually gave him a bit of a rush and reminded him he was alive.

Not that he'd stay that way for long.

SRMs impacted on his Thor and blasted away the little bit of armor protecting his right side and hip. He raised his PPC arm and returned fire at the Horse Goshawk that was attacking him. The PPC blasted away melting chunks of armor from the Horse 'Mech's left side. Roland followed up with his medium lasers, ignoring the heat increase, and while one of the red beams missed and only sliced off armor from the belly of the enemy machine, the other stabbed into the open wound left by his PPC and found the Goshawk's SRM battery. The left side of the 'Mech erupted in a fiery explosion that threw shrapnel everywhere. Roland tried not to think of how it might effect any infantry nearby.

But the 'Mech was still alive, if badly hurt. Even worse, with his specialized targeting computer systems the Horse was able to direct the pulse lasers mounted on his right side to devastating effect on Roland's Thor. The skeleton of his machine melted away from the emerald pulses of the laser on the right arm drilling through his weakened armor. Darts of ruby light drilled deep into his flank and barely missed his exposed hip actuator. Clanner ain't going to miss again Roland realized. Feeling no choice, he raised his Gauss Rifle and fired.

The kinetic-kill slug that erupted hit home. It smashed through the Goshawk's chest armor and struck the fusion plant within. This extra blow was too much for the machine's damaged engine, which went offline and brought the Clan 'Mech crashing to the ground.

No longer faced with immediate danger, Roland took a quick stock of their position. Which was not good. His two surviving pilots had battered machines, including a knocked out jump jet for Schuler while Barker's Goshawk was missing its right arm and thus its most powerful weapon. Bravo Company was getting hammered, along with the tanks and mechanized infantry they were supporting. A Horse unit was coming in from the east on their flank and allowing the force they'd been driving back to counter-attack as well. Fine fucking job the higher ups at Army HQ did on this op.

Personally... his 'Mech was generally covered by a patchwork of armor and the structural material that kept it standing, he was down to just one last shot with his Gauss Rifle, and the next solid hit to either hip would immobilize his machine completely.

"Lieutenant Roland!" He recognized the voice as that of Staff Sergeant Gideon Kalter, the second-highest NCO in Bravo Company and, in his view, a sergeant worth his stripes. "We've lost Captain Westen. You're Company CO now."

Damn. She was pretty good. Roland hoped she'd punched out, though even that wasn't enough of a guarantee of survival. "Okay, everyone start coming together. If we don't get back west the Horses are going to be on our asses and we'll be the ones in a bind." Roland keyed his radio to get in touch with whatever Army asshole was commanding the armor and infantry. "This is Lieutenant Roland, now in charge of Bravo Company 2nd 'Mech Battalion. It's time to fall back, before the Horses run us over."

"I agree, Lieutenant, just making sure Division HQ does too, or it'll be my ass," he heard as a reply. On his holotank view he brought up his crosshairs on a Horse tank gunning for a Bradley trying to pick up a couple wounded troops. His PPC and lasers fired in tandem, the PPC blasting into the turret and one of the lasers finding the tank's right tread. Schulter's PPC came from the side and struck the turret again, shearing it straight off.

"Your ass isn't worth the same as the lives of hundreds of good American kids," Roland retorted angrily, watching another Horse tank open up with missiles that came down around the Bradley. Thankfully it had upgraded armor plate and could take a couple of hits from Clan missiles, sparing the troops inside from a messy fate. "Either we withdraw now or we're going to get pinched in and smashed by the fucking Clans!"

"Standby..."




4th Army HQ
Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


Tolen had stepped out of the HQ to take a call from the Pentagon, leaving Palmers and other officers to observe as his probing attack progressed further into becoming a disaster.

Oh, the first day had apparently gone well. Faced with superior numbers and an effectively artillery bombardment, the Horse Clusters had fallen back. Four of their Trinaries had been lost outright in the day's fighting, though they had inflicted fair loss on their own, and it looked like Tolen's plan was succeeding.

But then the Horses sprang their trap. A Cluster on each flank, with plentiful aerospace support, and now VIII Corps was in shambles. Half of the 2nd 'Mech Battalion was gone. American casualties were already far beyond what Tolen had been convinced they'd be.

And worst of all, Tolen hadn't approved a retreat. General Selachii, CO of VIII Corps, had begged for one. All the divisional commanders were warning of an imminent collapse. But Tolen refused to be disturbed in his office, where he was currently arguing with the Joint Chiefs for permission to throw the rest of 4th Army into what he called "the invasion's decisive battle". And while committing IX Corps would clearly stabilize the situation, Tolen wanted to toss in X Corps too to "destroy utterly the Hell's Horses forces in the Rockies Combat Region".

Palmers, as the ranking officer in the room, was the one informed that another request for general retreat had been given by every division commander. Tolen wasn't here to give a no, and all eyes looked to him. His authority to legally approve such was non-existant, and Tolen would erupt in fury and have him court-martialed...

But if I let my division and all the soldiers I'm commanding get killed, I don't deserve my post, he thought to himself. He gave a nod. "Inform VIII Corps and all divisions. Pull back to defensible locations. And while you're at it, get me Precentor Pardeau and Marshal Riffenburg..." Palmers frowned. "We're going to need our allies to pick up the pieces."




US Army 1st BattleMech Battalion Command Post
Lakeville, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


North Lakeview High School had been converted into a command post for local units, including the 1st Battalion. A computer lab had been hastily converted for Major Pierce's use and his staff bused over from Hastings. They were now going over the paperwork and 'Mech battle-ROMs to put together an official AAR.

Alex tried to block out jokes that came to mind while standing at attention at the teacher's desk in the lab, now converted for Pierce's use. Both men were still in their cooling suits, as were the other company commanders. Pierce was looking over the map printout Alex had just handed him. "Captain, you realize that this plan is... bold beyond words?"

Pierce's remark caused Alex to nod. "I understand, Major, if you have reservations, but if the Falcons are pausing for now to repair and refit, it gives us an opportunity."

"You want me to detach your company and launch a raid into the enemy rear area." Pierce's remark wasn't a question. "With some of your 'Mechs still not 100% as well."

"Preferably you'd let me have Charlie Company, sir. I can coordinate with Captain Markenson..."

Pierce frowned. "Captain, we just lost eight pilots. Eleven machines are gone or too badly damaged to be combat capable. There's no way I can send more than half of my remaining strength on some foolhardy behind-the-lines raid."

"Then Alpha can do it alone. Just give me a few pilots to restore my strength to 12."

"All it'll take is a Clan Binary to tie you down and get you utterly wrecked," Pierce pointed out.

"All I need is to raise enough of a ruckus that the enemy sends that Binary after me. The longer we delay their next push, the more time the 5th FedCom and the Brits have to get into position."

Pierce looked over toward the other company commanders. Whatever misgivings they had about their "staff weenie" peer no longer seemed quite as evident. "I'll take it up with Colonel Sinclair and the higher-ups, Captain," Pierce said finally. "We'll see what they say."

Alex nodded. "Thank you, sir."

[Steve]

Chapter 16


US Army 1st BattleMech Battalion Command Post
Lakeville, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Despite being in a war zone, the municipal water for Lakeville was still active, at least for now. This was a blessing for Becca, who was taking the time to enjoy a nice shower in the girls' locker room of the high school. The pay-for-use soap dispensers still had some left and enabled her to fully wash, though she wouldn't be able to shampoo her poor hair.

Not that it'd last, of course. Soon enough the fighting would take out a water pumping station, maybe a missed laser shot would cut deep enough into the ground to hit a water main, or enough homes and structures would get pulverized enough that their own water lines broke. And then there'd be no water, and it'd be just like it was in the frantic attempt to hold Kansas City, or the fighting outside Rochester...

She saw movement at the corner of her eye and turned. Becca's hopes of it being Dani were thwarted at the sight of Rachel (not that it was a bad sight, of course) entering. "How's the water?", she asked.

"Still warm," Becca answered. "Are you sure that you should be in here? I mean, you're an officer, not..."

"Ah, warm shower water." Rachel let out a sigh as she turned on another stall and reached for the small bottle of skin conditioner soap she'd brought. "Warm showers are a luxury on Outreach." She rather consciously avoided any response to the issue of their rank differences.

"Really?" Becca blinked, rubbing down her own arm again and hoping very much to get the stink of sweat off her. "I would have thought such an advanced society would be capable of something so simple."

"Oh, they can make hot water easy. But they only let us enjoy them once a week. The Dragoons were big on denying us creature comforts."

"Well, even cold water is good compared to going two weeks without even a dip in a river," Becca answered. "During the fighting for Kansas City."

"I remember getting news of the battle during training," Rachel said. "The Dragoons made training scenarios in the simulators based on the fighting, and in the command classes we had to write our own AARs and alternative option reports based on them."

"So you Outreach wonders were all being groomed for command?" Becca smirked at her. "Isn't that asking for too many chefs to be in the kitchen?"

"No, only the officers," Rachel explained. "Or enlistees who showed a lot of promise, like Dane. We didn't have enough officers to fill out the eight companies they figured we'd have."

Becca laughed. "Dane was considered good officer material? The guy thinks he's a God damned action hero."

After letting out a small chuckle, Rachel shook her head. "He's just... really excitable. And he's not that bad compared to some of the other yahoos who tried to go through the class."

"It's no wonder you Outreachers got on our bad side. And I know Dani is already blaming Wu for what happened with Micki."

"She's alive," Rachel pointed out. "If that Elemental hadn't been stopped, there'd have been no saving her."

Thoughts and feelings that Becca had been trying to hold down began to swell up as she thought of Hoffman and Micki... and thus so many others. "You don't understand, Lieut... Rachel. You can't understand. There used to be thirty six of us. Thirty six, and that doesn't include Major Pierce. Now it's just me and Dani."

"But Micki..."

"...is alive? Sure. But she got hurt pretty bad, and even if she recovers they'll probably reassign her elsewhere and.... hell, Dani and I'll probably be dead by then."

Before Rachel could say anything, Becca simply collapsed to the shower floor and leaned against the wall crying. She mewled a few words in what sounded like Hebrew - a language Rachel hadn't yet studied - and smacked her hand on the wall.

Rachel automatically began to wash herself, trying to think of what to say to console the other woman, but her own doubts about their future made everything she thought of saying seem hollow. The rational part of her mind kept thinking about the casualty rate today. Six dead pilots, one MIA and presumed dead (that being Hoffman), and Micki, who had barely survived and would take weeks and a couple of surgeries to heal. Eight out of forty eight. Five more battles at that rate and they'd all be casualties.

The Clans train all their lives to be warriors. And in the Inner Sphere even the enlistee MechWarriors spend three years in training and classes, and a MechWarrior's not even considered average until he or she has had about five years of service. In contrast we had what, three months of basic 'Mech piloting training and six more of intensive training on Outreach? Even if the Dragoons' idea of intensive training makes that the equivalent of a year in an Inner Sphere academy... Again, the math foretold likely doom. She and her comrades, and likely the cadres after them, were being thrown to the wolves to buy time. And we're not doing it well enough.

"Becca? Becca!" Rachel turned to see Dani enter the shower area, a towel in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. She absentmindedly dropped both - ensuring the former would get soaked in the runoff - and went over to her girlfriend. "What's wrong?" She put her arms around Becca's shoulder and put a hand up to Becca's chin so she could see her face to face.

"We're all going to die, Dani," Becca answered, sniffling. "All of us. That's what happens to TBers. We get vaporized and sliced up and..."

"No, no no no Becca..." Dani ignored the water pouring over her head and pulled Becca close, nestling her head under her own and against her neck. "I won't let it happen. We'll get out of this." As Becca continued weeping, Dani looked up and over at Rachel. "Hey, what kind of cold bitch are you? Just standing there showering while my Becca's crying her eyes out..."

Rachel's jaw dropped slightly, but only slightly. For only a brief moment she thought about protesting, but she found herself caught, as she so often was, between her rational side and her emotional one. I just stood here and let a comrade, a fellow pilot, go to pieces... maybe I am a cold bitch.

No, I just didn't want to lie and claim they'll both survive when all the indications say otherwise, she thought in disagreement to herself. As usually happened, Rachel allowed her rationality to take control of the situation. "I wasn't going to lie to her," Rachel answered simply. "And..."

"You wouldn't be lying to her," Dani growled. "You'd be giving her a boost that we all fucking need right now."

A boost. What, by deluding her into thinking both of you are invincible and there's no way one, or both, of you can get killed out there? The math says you'll.... God dammit Rachel, stop thinking about "the math" all the time! Rachel lowered her head and softly apologized. "You're right, I should have said something, I'm sorry." She picked up the half-filled container of body wash and went over to where her dry towel was. Almost absentmindedly she picked up Dani's discarded, now thoroughly-soaked towel and hung it up before recovering her own and wrapping it around herself from shoulders to hips.

She looked back at the sight of Dani trying to console Becca. They should be on leave, not in another major battle, Rachel thought. They've been through so much... Not knowing what else to say, she quietly slipped out and left the two alone.




Alex was standing in a corner of the battalion HQ that Pierce had set up when Dane found him, Sergeant Perez and Lieutenant Tsukara already present. "Hey, Alex, that was some awesome thinking back there. We gave them a good punch to the nose."

"And we lost Hoffman in doing it," Alex answered gravely. "Sergeant Perez is taking up First Sergeant duties for now. But until we know for sure about Hoffman I'm not going to make it official. With Lupo with the surgeons and Hoffman MIA, Verdes and Shameel are going to be in a fragile state."

"Heh, by all rights all four should be behind the lines right now," Dane said. "Training newbies, unwinding from all the combat."

"We need them in their machines right now, unfortunately," Alex reminded him. "So, where is... ah, here we are."

Everyone looked over and saw Tsukara walk up. "Reporting as ordered, sir," Tsukara said, giving a little salute.

"Not really necessary here, Anthony," Alex answered. "This is a brainstorming session, gentlemen. Major Pierce is over at the divisional HQ right now, presenting a proposal from me to the division command and Colonel Sinclair."

"And what proposal is that, sir?", Dane asked.

"Simple. We gave the Falcons a black eye today, and it's got them a little skittish apparently. We're going to make use of that." Alex put a finger down on a road map of the area south of the Twin Cities. "Last we noticed, the Falcons have mostly ignored Northfield after levering the 18th Division out of the town. But we know they moved up some of their mobile supply dumps to the area. We're going to hit it."

Dane whistled. "God damn, Alex, I like it. These Clan fuckers can't shoot their fucking Gauss Rifles at us if we've already melted their slugs to slag."

"Sir, we'd need at least two companies for the raid to work," Tsukara insisted. "Do you think Pierce or Sinclair will give them to you?"

"Actually, I think we can make it work with just a single company, though maybe reinforced with an extra lance," Alex answered, absent-mindedly switching to Inner Sphere organization thanks to the Dragoons. "The key is going to be getting in fast, hitting their supplies, and getting out before the Falcons can divert enough force to smash us."

Tsukara's response was to shake his head in disbelief. "With all due respect, sir, you pilot an Assault. We can't do this fast."

"Good thing my Gladiator has MASC, then."

"Hey, I'm all for it," Dane announced. "It'll put a dent in these Falcons for damned sure."

"If we're doing this, sir, we need to keep in mind that it's a hit and run and not let ourselves get sucked up into a direct fight."

Alex nodded. [i}And that's why you were always being touted as an excellent raid commander, Anthony. You like your hit and runs.[/i] "We might be able to get some long-range arty support if we're close enough to the front, but I'm only going to call for it if we absolutely need it. The front will probably be taking up the lion's share of fire support."

"So it'll just be us against some Jade Chickens," Dane said, his grin turning wolfish. "Gonna enjoy this..."



In the school's cafeteria, Pierce was looking at the image of Sinclair on a plasma display. "I've gone over Captain Penton's recommendation," Sinclair said, holding a noteputer. "It reads like something he'd come up with. I'm inclined to say yes, Major, but I don't mind you putting in your two cents."

"Well, sir..." Pierce drew in a breath. "I see the benefits, but taking out just one supply depot isn't going to turn the tide of the battle much. We'd need to hit multiple targets to get the full effect the Captain is looking for. And at that point I think the risk starts outweighing the potential benefits."

"So let's cut him orders wide enough to let him hit more than one target, if the opportunity presents itself, but which emphasize getting his people out if resistance becomes too heavy" Sinclair answered. "Penton's creative and a little too bold, but not to the point of recklessness. I think Welch was a good education to him on letting his boldness go too far. Transfer enough people to him to get his company back to standard strength and give him another platoon or two to give him some firepower. We'll turn him loose in the enemy rear and see what kind of mess he can make of their logistics."

Pierce nodded slightly. "Very well, sir. I'll let him know your decision and have him get his people ready."

"One more thing, Major." Sinclair seemed to let his jaw tighten a little. "Make sure he knows that the important thing is to get his people back. We'll give him leeway on where he's going, but he must keep his unit intact. Roughing up the enemy supply lines won't do us any good if we've lost an entire company of 'Mechs in tthe process."

"I'll pass that on, sir."




The school's fields were being used as an open-air 'Mech lot. Helping weary mechanics and 'Mech pilots traverse the distance were the electric golf cart scooters normally used by campus security staff, now appropriated by use for young enlistees assigned to division HQ. Tsukara tried not to think too much on the young man driving him, finding him hauntingly-close in age to his own younger brother Jason who would be, soon enough, getting a draft notice in the mail.

Arriving at his Firestarter, Anthony gave the young private a respectful salute and sent him on his way. He looked up at the 45 ton war machine and wondered how long it'd last him. Twelve machines so far were completely lost out of fifty they'd come with (not counting Colonel Sinclair's 'Mech), and as Lieutenant Galvariz might've pointed out, the math didn't lie.

And now Captain Penton wants to send us back into the furnace. Tsukara liked some of the Captain's idea, but the timing was very tricky. The last thing they needed was to get drawn miles behind the lines and then have the enemy start advancing full speed ahead again. On the other hand, mobile warfare was something Tsukara found eminently preferable to slugfest defensive fights, and the chance to do damage to Clan logistics... well, that would be a golden opportunity.

Tsukara looked over to Wu's Raven and saw the kid there, seated on his 'Mech's foot. Granted, he was only 27 himself, so thinking of a 20 year old as a "kid" was a bit of a stretch, but Wu had a way about him that made him look like he hadn't quite moved beyond being a teenager. He'd proven reliable under fire, at least, and showed some promise as a light 'Mech pilot. It was clear from his expression, though, that something was bothering him. "Hey, how are you feeling?" Tsukara knew the past few days had been rough, and they'd only just begun really.

"I almost killed Sergeant Lupo, Lieutenant," Wu answered, rubbing his forehead. "I mean, I wasn't thinking, I just threw everything I had at that Elemental."

"Hey. You know how tough the Toads can get, you needed to hit him with the lasers just to get his attention. You couldn't help that his SRMs cooked off."

Wu shook his head. "I almost hit my SRM launcher too. I could've killed her."

"But you didn't... hey, listen to me Wu." Tsukara sat down on the opposite 'Mech foot. "We do what we have to out here. You can't let it pull at you, otherwise you get pulled completely under and then, well, then you'll really run the risk of getting someone killed, if not just yourself."

Wu nodded and, by looking up, allowed Tsukara to see he'd had some tears flowing. "Not sure how much longer I can hold up under this," he admitted. "But God knows I'm trying."

"Yeah, He does. And so does everyone else. We're all in this together Wu." Tsukara gave him a reassuring pat to the back. "All of us."




With fresh rations in her stomach and a fresh BDU cooling suit, Rachel was as ready as she could ever be to deal with what would come next. Or, at least, that's what she thought before she stood before Alex and the others and heard what they were doing. A raid?! He's... he's crazy! We almost didn't make it out of...

What Rachel was thinking came out, loud in clear, in the Brooklyn-Italian accent of Lt. Sonya Samari, commander of Charlie Company's Bravo Platoon. "With all due respect, Captain, you're out of your f.... out of your mind!" Sonya gestured toward the grass lot where their 'Mechs were standing silently, having barely caught herself before her language got coarse. "We barely survived that delaying action, now you want to drive into their territory?"

"We'll slip through to the southeast," Alex explained. "Near Lake Byllesby and where the Jaguar and Falcon lines meet. The Jaguars have everything they've got left tied up trying to hold their line at Cannon Falls and the Falcons are concentrating to the south. If we slip around their flank at the Lake we can be clear to Northfield, maybe even Faribault, before they know what hit them."

Samari didn't look like she was entirely convinced, but she did give a shallow shrug. "Ah, I guess I can't hold off judgement any longer anyway. Mind if I visit Father Kazlowski before we head out? I probably won't have time to do any proper penance, but..."

"If you hurry, Lieutenant," Alex answered. "We can't wait any longer, the Falcons will probably be resuming their attack tonight or early tomorrow."

Samari excused herself to go fulfill the needs of her faith. Alex looked to Tsukara and Dane. "Anthony, I've got Specialist Simonov for your platoon to back up Wu. Ed, you'll have Corporals Miller and Olafsson, assign them to yourself and Yumiko as you see fit. "

"Cool. I teamed with Olafsson a few times back on Outreach. They oughta give him another one of those Axman machines and let him go all a-Viking on Clanner asses." Dane smirked. "We'll be kicking ass and taking names."

"I'll settle for blowing up supplies and getting the hell out," Alex answered. "Now get your people together, everyone. We've got a raid to pull off."




Jade Falcon Forward Post
Near Lakeville, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Alex Crichell was flummoxed. He had expected some stiff resistance from ComStar, and perhaps a spirited, if badly-fought, defense by the Americans themselves. But instead he found himself down two Trinaries due to the faked retreat by American 'Mechs, a loss that had enabled ComStar's reinforcements and the desperate American conventional forces to plug the hole in their lines - for now anyway - and make him stop to consider how to distribute his forces.

The advance up the I-35 corridor was still the best one to him. It would only get worse though; they were entering one of North America's largest cities, an urban and suburban combat environment that would reduce and even negate the range advantages of his troops, and in which destroyed buildings might become strongholds from which Americans could use their laser designators or RPGs or other weapons to cause his forces mischief.

He considered shifting forces to the west flank and an attack that would lead them to the Minnesota River to the southwest of the city, enabling the Falcons to perhaps catch the enemy in the flank. But new reports from arriving DropShips indicated a fairly-sized enemy force was moving in from the west; he would turn the enemy flank just to have his own struck. No... there would be the direct approach, he thought. That would be best.

And to clear the way and ensure his east flank was secure, maybe even force the enemy to look toward their eastern lines again... Crichell looked up from the primitive LCD display he was using, gifted by their native "allies", and toward one of his aides. "Star Captain Elizabeth," he said. "Get me Galaxy Commander Weaver." He allowed himself a small smile. "It is time for her Jaguars to pounce once more."

[Steve]

Chapter 17


4th Army HQ
Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States
North America, Earth


General Palmer found that commiting career suicide was not as painful as he imagined. He watched quietly as his retreat order, in defiance of his superior General Tolen, was carried out. The battered VIII Corps and what was left of the US 2nd 'Mech Battalion was pulling out of the jaws of the Horse trap. If they were fortunate, the 86th ComGuard Division and Davion Light Guards would be able to counter-attack with enough vigor to throw the Horses off and prevent them from stampeding the wrecked US units.

The quiet ended, of course, when Tolen returned and saw the progress of the operation. "Why are the troops retreating?", he asked aloud. "My orders were explicit; to hold as long as possible!"

"It wasn't possible for them to hold any longer, sir." Palmer kept his voice level as he spoke. "If they didn't begin pulling back..."

"So you just figured you could ignore my orders to the contrary." Tolen had the look about him that said he was a volcano waiting to erupt, but for the moment he was keeping a cool demeanor. "You knew I'd have you court-martialed for this, didn't you?"

"I was pretty sure of it, General." Palmer maintained his own coolness in facing down his irate superior. "But I'd rather be court-martialed than stand by and let thousands of Americans get slaughtered."

"In case you haven't noticed, Palmer, this is a war," Tolen growled. "I don't like sending good American kids to die either, but we're trying to save our country. And that means some of our kids are going to die. If you don't have the stomach to accept that then you should have refused a combat unit command, Palmer."

"General, there's a difference between..."

But Palmer got no further. Tolen turned and barked, "Security!" When the two young privates came through the door, Tolen stabbed a finger at Palmer and said, "Take this man to the brig. He's going up on charges."

Naturally the two young men were skittish about hauling away a General, even at the orders of another, but Palmer simply stepped up to them and nodded. One put a very, very careful grip on his arm and they walked out of the room.

As the door closed behind Palmer, he could hear Tolen demanding that hold orders be issued, and that IX Corps be sent in to the battle.




Lake Byllesby
Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
10 July 2039
10 August 3059


Coming down the shoreline of the lake, Alex followed the streaks of laser fire from the others as they sliced their way through a Vixen, piercing the reactor and sending the light machine down. It joined other Clan machines that had already suffered its fate, leaving the slagged remains of a Falcon recon Star that had gone through the misfortune of running into Alex's company.

"All platoons, check in," he said into their command channel.

Rachel was first, speaking for herself, Dani, and Becca, and reported no damage. Dane and Samari reported the same. Tsukara had armor damage to report on two of his machines. So far, so good Alex thought to himself. I just hope it stays this way as we finish this job.



Nu Galaxy Command Headquarters
Rochester, Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
North America, Earth


Galaxy Commander Weaver looked up from her desk as the aide gave her the notice. "So that preening fowl runs into unexpected trouble and wants me to attack now?" Curling her nose in disgust, Weaver used her noteputer to bring up a display of the battle front. The enemy had begun to shift over, but they were not yet entirely devoted to holding back the Falcons. If she attacked now, her forces would take undesired amounts of losses.

And for what, in the end? A glorious victory for those preening Falcons? Sending her warriors to die for the glory of the Smoke Jaguars was one thing; letting them be used as glorified flank guards another.

Even as she bristled at Alex Crichell, Weaver knew she couldn't just refuse to launch the attack. She was a Clan warrior and had agreed to abide by her bargain. No, there would be no question of that...

...but she didn't have to attack right away, either.

Looking to her aide, a young MechWarrior of the Kotare Bloodhouse, Weaver snarled. "Bring up the bidded forces, we will attack tonight."




Near Northfield
Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


A Binary of ancient Star League tanks mixed with unpower-armored infantry was all the Falcons had in place to protect the supply depot, northwest of Northfield. Sixteen 'Mechs, it swiftly proved, were more than a match.

Becca had almost let loose with her missiles when Penton ordered ammo conservation. Instead it was her pulse lasers that stitched ruby and emerald light through the prefab structures and cargo movers that filled the impromptu base. Laser and PPC fire converged on the Falcon supplies, in turn setting off fuel, warheads, and other explosive materials that set off an inferno.

"Okay, target is down. And it looks like we came out of that pretty good," Alex noted over the radio. "We'll follow Highway 3 down to Dundas and Faribault, see if we can run into any supply convoys."

Becca looked out at the devastation and, more importantly, the fires. The explosions had set fire to every patch of green they'd touched, aided by how far they threw flaming debris. "Who's going to stop that fire?" she said aloud. "I mean, does Northfield have..."

"Unfortunately, Corporal, they didn't put fire extinguishers on our 'Mechs," Alex answered. "All we can do is hope Northfield's fire department is up to the task here."

Becca swallowed, seeing the fires raging over the fields, but didn't hesitate to fall in line with Alex and the rest of the platoon. She switched her radio to the private tight-beam channel she and Dani shared. "Dani, didn't..."

"My granddad used to teach at Saint Olaf's," Dani answered bitterly. "I knew every playground in this entire town."

"I'm sorry, Dani."

"I know my home's going to end up like Kansas City if we don't stop them," Dani continued. Becca could tell that she was already adding to that sentence, in her mind, with the thought of And we probably won't.




They'd barely passed Dundas when Alex saw targets up ahead. A convoy of cargo-haulers, accompanied by tanks and what looked to be a single old Star League Sentinel, meaning it was a Clan secondline pilot. "All units, remember, energy weapons only until I give the order."

He sent Charlie and Delta up against the tanks and gave Dane the go ahead to take down the Sentinel. A part of him disliked not throwing his own platoon into it, but they would be the rear guard just in case some line units investigating the hit on the supply base came their way.

Behind them smoke still rose to the sky. He thought again to the fires set by their destruction of the Falcon forward supply base and fervently hoping the local fire department could take care of things. That's about the only thing I can hope for, and given all the fighting I wouldn't be surprised if the local firefighters are caught up elsewhere.

The tanks were all old Star League models, piloted by young and inexperienced freeborn warriors pulled from the paramilitary ranks to fill up the Falcon ranks, and they showed that by a spirited but tactically-foolish charge straight at Charlie and Delta. Laser and PPC fire sliced into the vehicles, melting armor and blasting into crew compartments and turrets.

PPCs and laser fire also lashed out at the lone Sentinel, who wasn't quite charging either. The pilot was holding back, covering the haulers as they tried to turn on the road. Armor was melting off the machine in streams as lasers played over the Sentinel repeatedly. The autocannon on its left arm came to live. The shells it spat out ripped across the torso of Dane's Loki, shredding armor but not penetrating to any internal spaces.

The Clan pilot turned the Sentinel's torso slightly and fired off the laser built into the torso. The red beam sliced out at a different target this time, striking at Olafsson's Ostsol.

Which it speared directly through the cockpit.

The Clanner's lucky shot was his last. Even as the Ostsol fell lifeless to the ground, PPC blasts from Dane's Loki and Miller's Grand Dragon converged on the medium BattleMech and blasted into its belly and heart, slagging the engine within.

Dane fell upon the convoy vehicles with a vengeance, Tsukara and Samari bringing their 'Mechs up to help him. Alex looked to Olafsson's fallen Ostsol and forced himself to take a breath. Just like that, another of his comrades was gone. If I'd pulled back after our success at Northfield he'd still be alive. But Alex knew he couldn't let that thought haunt him. He had to keep a clear head and his mind on the mission.

After a series of explosions set more grass aflame and left smoldering hulks scattered around the road, Alex pointed his 'Mech to the southwest. "Let's keep going," he said. "I want to see what's around Faribault."




Jade Falcon Forward Post
Near Lakeville, Minnesota, United States


"What do you mean we've lost contact with the mobile supply unit?", Crichell asked pointedly when his aide Alec gave his report. "We swept the freebirth vermin away from that town with ease, and the ComGuards are still engaged with the Jaguars."

"At last report, Star Commander Phillip had spotted over a Binary of hostile 'Mechs," Alec answered. "We lost contact with him shortly afterward, and the supply base with him. I can dispatch a patrol..."

"I need all the troops ready to resume moving forward," Crichell growled. "That Solahma Trinary we're keeping in Owatonna, send them in. Make sure our main forward dump at Faribault remains secure." Crichell stood up from his desk. "And get Galaxy Commander Weaver on the holo. I want to know why the Jaguars have yet to resume their attacks."



Faribault, Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone


Tsukara moved his platoon carefully into the populated areas in the northeast of Faribault, taking care not to disturb the cemetary in the process. The roads were mostly deserted and, Tsukara hoped, most of the population further north out of the war zone.

As he twisted his machine to look down a road, he was shocked to have a tomato splatter over his cockpit. The coated surface allowed the pulp to flow right off, but the thrown vegetable - or was it a fruit? Tsukara could never remember - was followed up by a slightly ripe egg.

He keyed his external speaker and receiver in time to catch the tail end of his "attacker"'s verbal fury, which was arguably more deadly than his physical attacks. "...out of our town, you damn aliens!", the pelter cried. "I don't care if you kill me, I won't let you make slaves out of my grandchildren!"

Seeing the heavyset, short-haired old man glaring up at his machine, Tsukara replied with a smile. "Sir, don't worry, I'm not a Clanner. Lieutenant Tsukara, US 1st 'Mech Battalion."

The old man didn't seem quite so trusting, pulling his arm back to let loose with what looked to be another egg, even more rotten. "Sir, really, I'm American," Tsukara continued. "And we're here looking to blow up enemy supplies."

"You claim you're American, eh? Fine. Who was the 16th President?"

"Lincoln, now..."

"Ha! Buchanan was!", the old man crowed triumphantly, letting fly with his egg. This one missed the cockpit and splattered against the torso armor.

"Only if you count the President under the Articles of Confederation, sir," Tsukara said patiently. "Which most people don't. Abraham Lincoln was our 16th President."

"Yeah, well... you could've just stolen history books from our classrooms and read 'em!"

"Sir, I really don't have time for this. Please, just direct us toward..."

"I'm on to you! I know you came from the airport to pick on good American folk. Go back there and get on your God damned spaceships and get out of my damned home you..."

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir," Tsukara sighed, turning his Firestarter away. He keyed his radio for the company command frequency. "Captain, the Falcons seem to be at the airport."

"You have a visual confirmation?"

"No, sir, just a senile old coot who blurted it at me thinking I was a Clanner," Tsukara answered, smirking as he did so. "Tried to test the limits of my American history knowledge, then decided I was still a Clanner, just one who read stolen history textbooks."

"Ah." Tsukara could tell Penton wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Well.... try to get a visual, we'll meet you near there."



To the south, along the entrance to town, Star Captain Jonas was having a similar experience to Tsukara. Instead of a single senile old man, though, it was a crowd of people, most of them older. Eggs and tomatoes and soda cans pelted his Warhammer and the 'Mechs of his fellow solahma. Freebirth filth!, Jonas thought. He had heard that people in the Inner Sphere had occasionally behaved so foolishly toward warriors, but to have lower caste primitives defacing his 'Mech and those of his warriors..?!

"Again, I am Star Captain Jonas of the Jade Falcon 5th Solahma Regulars. I order you to disperse immediately or face the consequences."

Among a tumult of responses he heard was "Go to Hell, Clanner!" and "Get out of our country!"

"Star Captain." The voice was that of MechWarrior Donald, formerly a Star Commander but busted down in rank in order to be a solahma. "The defenses of our forward supply base have spotted enemy forces. We should go around."

"Neg, MechWarrior Donald. I will not be forced to go around rebellious little surats like these freebirth. We shall remind them of their place when faced by Clan warriors. All units, fire at will. On our way to the base, we will level this town to the ground." He focused his crosshairs onto the crowd and began to pull the triggers for his pulse lasers. As darts of ruby energy lashed out and began to kill and maim the freebirth vermin, the other 'Mechs in his unit began carrying out his order. Lasers and PPC blasts struck into homes, restaurants, businesses... any and every building around them. As the people began to scream and finally disperse, Jonas moved his 'Mech foward, crushing a wounded woman and her child with his first step. His pulse lasers found a parked car next, hitting the fuel tank and causing it to explode as a young man and girl tried to climb into it. Another blast stitched ruby energy into several human figures, killing all but one and leaving the other to scream and twist on the ground, his leg turned to a charred crisp.

"Come, my warriors. We will teach these freebirth respect," Jonas proclaimed. "On to the supply post!"




As before, the supply base's garrison didn't prove to provide much resistance. If anything gave Alex and the others trouble, it was the Point of Aerospace Fighters that briefly appeared to strafe them, damaging Samari's Ryoken and Gill's Blackjack before one was brought down by Rachel and Dane getting a lucky hit and his partner sent off with severe engine damage from Alex getting a hit in with his PPC.

The municipal airport wasn't a big one. It had just one major runway to speak of, which Falcon technicians had been converting for use as a forward airfield for fighters, with nearby terrain having quick-forming ferrocrete pads placed on them to receive supply DropShips. None had arrived yet, thankfully, as Alex doubted his company could take on a proper DropShip.

With the Sullas dispatched and the mixed Star of Elementals and tanks down, Alex was about to order Dane to start blasting the storage containers when he saw smoke rising to the southeast against the orange-lit sky. Distant explosions further got his attention. "Hey, anyone have any idea what's happening in the direction of the town?"

"That doesn't look right at all," Samari said. "I thought the fighting missed Faribault?"

"Some skirmishing to the south I think, but for the most part no," Alex answered. "Samari, Tsukara, you're with me. Ed, I'm leaving you guys to finish this place off. This is what we came for."

Alex turned his 'Mech to the southeast to follow Highway 21. As they approached I-35 they had to go around, following the on and off ramps up on either side of the overpass. And as they gained that height and looked to the southeast, they finally saw the source of the smoke. "Oh my God," Alex said to himself, seeing the distant burning homes and buildings and the telltale flashes of laser and PPC fire. "They're destroying the town."

"Bastards," he heard Dani mutter over the radio. "Those God damned..."

Our orders are to avoid direct battle unless it can't be avoided, Alex thought. But I can't... I can't stand by and watch the Clans annihilate an entire city off the map. "Everyone, form up, combat formation. We're going to find out who's doing this and put them down."

[Steve]

Chapter 18


Faribault, Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone


Star Captain Jonas wasn't sure how many of the vermin he'd killed, but his 'Mechs had crushed every building in their path and had left fire and ruin in their wake. The downtown of the city was burning with more fires being set thanks to Star Commander Gladys and the two warriors of her unit piloting Adder OmniMechs.

A voice suddenly barked over his radio. "Star Captain Jonas, you ancient surat, where in Kerensky's name are you?!"

"We are putting down a freebirth uprising in the town that attempted to bar our way," Jonas answered. Knowing only another warrior would address him that way, he added, "Please identify yourself."

"This is Star Captain Jason from the supply..." There was a burst of interference. "...attack by enemy units. Stop messing...."

The communication had been cut, but for a moment Jonas called out for a response anyway. "Blasted freebirth scum, holding us back so their units could hit our supplies. Very well, we will return to chastising these vermin after we've destroyed the enemy forces attacking our supply base. Let us see how bold these bandits are when fighting Clan warriors!"




Alex had waited until Ed brought his remaining three pilots up before he resumed moving southeast. The supply depot was mostly wrecked already, which would hopefully buy them time before the next major enemy push. Now they could deal with whatever force was burning its way across Faribault.

They were emerging into a park area, near the local aquatic center and some baseball fields, when the sensor contact became a visual one. Clan 'Mechs were coming up toward the river, fifteen in all, and some were still occasionally firing lasers at homes and structures around them. "Focus fire on the first targets you get a good bead on, and the largest after that. Don't hold anything back, these evil bastards certainly aren't."

Alex looked back at his holotank display and brought his crosshairs over one of the targets, a Phoenix Hawk. The Clan version of the humanoid 'Mech was twice the weight of the original Inner Sphere variant, weighing in at 80 tons, and had two ten-shot autocannons mounted on the torso with, he recalled, plenty of ammo. Before he could fire Becca's Vulture lit up from the missiles that began to erupt out of its torso. Her pulse lasers sent needles of ruby and emerald light across the flank of the Phoenix Hawk, melting away armor along its hip and side and a bit from the arm.

Before her missiles hit, Alex fired his left arm cannon and watched it score away massive chunks of armor. This proved to pave the way for Becca's missile barrage, which descended upon the Phoenix Hawk with a vengeance. One of the missiles blasted through the weakened body area that Alex's PPC had scourged and found the autocannon ammo bin for that side. An explosion engulfed the Phoenix Hawk and destroyed one of its autocannons.

Seeing fire converging on the machine that would doom it, Alex turned his attention to a Warhammer - and one bearing a Star Captain's insignia at that - just as its PPCs flared to life. The right arm's weapon blasted a large chunk of armor off his 'Mech's left hip and the left arm one flayed armor from his right shoulder. Alex countered with his Gauss Rifle, sending a supersonic penetrator toward the other 'Mech that smashed into its chest and took out a pulse laser. Its remaining lasers returned fire and melted armor away from his torso regions and left arm. Alex felt his gyro strain a bit as it sought to re-align his 'Mech's balance with the loss of armor mass.

Before he could return fire a pair of blue particle bolts converged on the Warhammer. One of them went into the right arm PPC of the 'Mech, wrecking the deadly weapon. The other blast hit straight home on the torso, blasting away what was left of the armor on one section and wrecking a lot of internal structure. Dani's Mad Cat moved up alongside him and fired its lasers next; four beams converged on the assault 'Mech and sliced away armor from the other section of the torso and the hip. "Die mother fucker!"

"Alpha 3, watch your comm chatter," Rachel demanded over the radio. Her Thor was busy exchanging PPC shots with a Thug.

Somehow I doubt Sergeant Verdes cares, Alex thought to himself. He focused his crosshairs over the battered Warhammer.




Star Captain Jonas, by all rights, should have been well prepared for his predicament. The odds were even, he was being attacked by other Clan 'Mechs with Clan weapons, and no 'Mech could long endure the kind of battering he was taking.

But the fact was he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that he, a trueborn Clan warrior, a veteran of many Jade Falcon battles to preserve Falcon territory in the Homeworlds during and after the Crusade, was being beaten by these freebirth scum. He was trying to center his crosshairs back on the Executioner when the Timber Wolf erupted in fury again, the PPCs mounted on its shoulders scouring armor from his chest and damaging both his engine and gyro. As heat built, released due to the damaged heat shielding and the loss of an internal heat sink, Jonas found his 'Mech's balance teetering.

A barrage of missiles slammed into Jonas' 'Mech. This alone was enough to topple him, but with two of the missiles getting through what was left of his chest armor and hitting his gyro, there was no way he could bring his 'Mech up again. All he could do was howl curses as his Warhammer toppled over, crippled.


Perez helped to take down a Marauder II and saw an autocannon-armed Black Hawk stalking Tsukara. He turned to engage as Tsukara did and their PPCs converged on the medium 'Mech, blasting away armor. Perez triggered the lasers on his other arm and watched ruby beams slice away more armor on the Clan Omni.

Before he could follow up a stream of emerald light got his attention. Armor melted off in streams as a large-caliber laser raked its vicious needles across his chest. Perez turned and saw a Peregrine challenging him. With his armor already compromised in part he opted to keep some distance and began to fall backward. Wu took his place in helping Tsukara with the Black Hawk, leaving him unworried in that quarter, but his worries were great enough as twin streams of ruby needles drilled into his left arm and left torso.

The lights for his energy weapons flashed green to tell him they were ready to fire once more, and he did so. The Clan pilot was good, though, and only his medium lasers hit home, slicing armor away from the right flank of the Clan 'Mech as it pirouetted away. Perez made his own 'Mech twist as the Peregrine's lasers fired once more. Thanks to the speed with which his 'Mech could move he managed to avoid the deadly large pulse laser mounted on the Clanner's torso and one of the arm-lasers, the other spitting ruby light all along his right hip and leg. Perez righted his 'Mech and pulled his targeting joystick, setting the reticle over the Clan 'Mech and squeezing his triggers all at once. He was rewarded with a direct hit by his PPC, blasting armor and endo-steel off the Peregrine's chest and nearly hitting the engine on the light 'Mech. His lasers flayed armor off the 'Mech's right arm.

The Falcon pilot was hurt, no doubt about it, but he was still a menace in his machine, and this was proven as his large laser flashed to life once more. The weapon drilled its emerald light straight into the Talon's central chest area, removing almost all of the armor he had left. Perez thought he had an opening, though; the Falcon pilot had slowed down his movements and was becoming a much easier target. Perez settled the crosshairs over the head of the Clanner and fired.

As he did so, the smaller pulse lasers on the Peregrine lashed out and did their worst. What was left of his chest armor was vaporized; the two streams of pulses drilled into the chest cavity of his Talon and found his gyro, inflicting severe damage on it and nearly crippling his ability to walk with it.

But his shot did more. The bolt of lightning from his right arm went straight into the head of the light 'Mech and went right though the cockpit, destroying the pilot inside and sending the Peregrine down for the count. Seeing the enemy light 'Mech crumble before him, Perez felt a tingle in his head as the damaged gyro worked harder to use his brain and sense of balance to keep his battered 'Mech standing. That was a lot closer than I like he thought to himself as he turned his attention back to the battle.




Rachel knew she gave up ten tons to the Thug and tried to make up for that by keeping her Thor moving. Thankfully it was an old Thug, a Star League model not upgraded with Clan weapons since it was a solahma's machine, because she already found herself outgunned thanks to its twin six-salvo SRM launchers. Keep distance, that's the important thing she reminded herself as she strafed sideways, avoiding a particle beam as she did. Her own PPC retaliated and scoured armor from the Thug's right side.

Despite her effort to keep distance the Thug pilot fired off a missile salvo. Twelve powerful SRMs raced across the dusk sky toward Rachel. But her maneuvering was too quick and the missiles' maneuverability too limited; all but two missed her, with one exploding on her Thor's hip and the other detonating on the autocannon arm.

Rachel barely felt the impacts, but she did feel the other PPC's attack as it smashed into the Thor's chest, the particle blast vaporizing armor and blasting away melting chunks of it. The impact knocked her around in the cockpit and caused her to accidentally slip her crosshairs off the Thug, causing her Streak launcher to fail a lock-on and not fire. She righted the crosshairs and pulled the trigger for her autocannon. Cluster rounds erupted from the ten-shot weapon, spraying the Thug with armor-stripping sub-munitions.

Their PPCs flared to life simultaneously. Armor disappeared under azure fury on the Thug's chest. A similar, if weaker, bolt blasted away entire chunks of armor from her 'Mech's left arm and left its autocannon partly exposed. With the Thug's heat signature glowing brighter on her monitors, Rachel knew she had a few moments before the pilot would be likely to fire his other PPC. She hit her jump jets and directed them to push her forward, struggling to keep her crosshairs on the Thug while she did so. As soon as she got the gold tone of a lock-on she pulled the trigger. Six missiles erupted from the launcher beside her cockpit and homed in on the Thug. They impacted all over its torso, blasting away armor. One missile detonated on the Thug's left SRM launcher, wrecking the tubes and ensuring the launcher was out of commission.

Rachel began to back away again with her remaining jet thrust, but the Clanner was faster at recovery than she'd hoped. Six SRMs lashed out at her and blew more armor off her legs and torso. Off-balance from her jump backward, Rachel tried to keep her 'Mech straight to land. But she was unprepared for both of the Thug's PPCs to lash out. One blast went through weakened armor in her right leg and took out a jump jet while the other scoured the armor protecting her torso compartment, very narrowly missing the magazine for her SRMs.

Losing one jump jet and so much armor was too much for Rachel. She strained to keep the 'Mech upright but failed; when it hit the ground it did so on its back heels and she toppled over onto her back.

Being rocked around in her cockpit was a bruising experience, to say the least. It took a moment for Rachel to collect her thoughts and begin to sit her Thor up. She leaned it slightly so she could use her right arm to lever herself to a standing position. As she did so, the Thug pointed one of its arms toward her cockpit.

I'm dead!

Desperate, Rachel brought her left arm up and pulled the trigger for her autocannon. Cluster rounds ripped out through a plume of gold fire and peppered the Thug with submunitions. Twin explosions erupted from the Thug's torso from her shots setting off the fuel and warheads of over a hundred SRMs within. The left arm of the Thug, once about to vaporize her in her cockpit, suddenly jerked as its connection to the rest of the 'Mech was severed. When the PPC actually fired it missed wide, blasting into the brilliant green grass of the golf course and digging a flaming trench as it did so.

The one weapon the Thug had left was its right arm PPC, which shined blue as it spat lightning into Rachel's autocannon. Her ammunition detonated and blasted the arm off, unbalancing her and keeping Rachel from getting up for another crucial second.

From behind her, a lightning bolt struck out. A Clan-made PPC pierced what was left of the armor on the Thug's chest and speared its engine. The Clan pilot reeled backward from the sudden attack and fell back a bit. As he tried to recover and bring his right arm back up, another PPC bolt lashed out. This one found his engine again, this time taking out enough of it that the fusion plant shut down. The Thug collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Rachel looked over to see Dani's Mad Cat, still fairly intact, and Alex's Gladiator walking toward her. "Thanks for the help," she said. "He about had me."

"Don't mention it, Alpha 2," Alex replied.




The sun was well and truly down when the last Clan 'Mech went down. Alex looked around and, surprisingly, found that Specialist Rastler was the only one of his pilots to actually go down. But everyone had been hit hard, with missing limbs and in a couple of cases torsos completely blasted out by sheer damage or ammo explosions. Their mission was over; they had to get back to base now.

"Okay, we're going to mix things up," he said over the radio. "Those of us with the worst damage will stay in the center of our formation, everyone else covers them as we move. We'll head south of Nortfield this time and cross back over the Cannon just before we get to Lake Byllesby."

"And hope we don't run into any roving patrols of Falcons," Dane pointed out. "Because in our condition I doubt we could stand up to a Recon Star without losing people."

"Yeah, I agree. Wu, we'll be counting on you to keep an eye out for anything. You and I are taking point. Verdes, Shameel, you're with us."

Alex looked over at Rachel's battered Thor. Her autocannon arm was missing, blown off by the Thug, and her SRM launcher had taken a laser hit that knocked it out of commission. Nevertheless he could already hear her on the radio protesting. "Sir, if you're using your command platoon..."

"Your 'Mech resembles modern art, Lieutenant. Go ahead and snipe with your PPC, but you're not going to be in the front ranks. If it makes you feel better, I need you and Miller to keep Perez's Talon intact. Our First Sergeant's 'Mech looks like a stiff breeze can take out its gyro."

"Roger that, sir."

"Okay everyone, job's over, we're heading out." He began to set his Gladiator in motion, Becca and Dani behind him and Wu in the middle.




The fight was over when Star Captain Jonas extricated himself from his fallen Warhammer. Scowling, he looked out over the battlefield and was appalled to see that only one freebirth 'Mech had gone down. "Incompetents! They gave me the worst idiot surats in the entire Clan to...."

Before he could finish, Jonas' knee exploded. He screamed as he fell over, looking down at where a large caliber round had just struck him. Before he could reach for his own sidearm, a pair of powerful arms grabbed him and hauled him up. The fires of the battle were enough to illuminate his attackers, all locals. Grim, angry faces were lining up to stare at him with an intensity in their eyes that would have set him ablaze if possible. Beyond them, he could hear the pained cries of other warriors from his Trinary who had survived as they were being beaten by the gathering crowd. One older man, with graying hair, stood before him, thumping a police truncheon in his hand. "Well well well, high and mighty Clanner survived. Not so touch when your robot's all messed up, are you?"

"Release me, freebirth, or you and your people will be severely punished by the Clan," Jonas growled.

"You've killed hundreds of people in this nice town, leveled our college, destroyed our businesses." The man thumped the truncheon more loudly. "You used your damn robot to stomp on my little girl and my grandbaby like they were roaches. And I'm guessing that's just how you really feel about us, isn't it?" The man's expression had no smile. No mirth. Nothing but cold anger and grief showed in those features, a grief utterly alien to a Clansman like Jonas. "Well, Mister HIgh and Mighty Clanner, time for the roaches to strike back."

That was when the truncheon slammed into Jonas' belly. And then it came down on his shoulders as he doubled over, and then his back... and that was when the closed fists joined in, and as Jonas hit the ground he felt booted feet join in.

It took quite a while for Jonas and those of his MechWarriors who survived the battle to die that night. But not a single one would survive the violent justice of the people of Faribault.




Jade Falcon Forward Post
Near Lakeville, Minnesota, United States


It didn't take long for Crichell to learn what had befallen his supply base. From his command post the columns of smoke were clear on the southern horizon as night fell, and aerospace fighters had confirmed enemy 'Mechs in the vicinity. He'd initially ordered the offenders annihilated by fighter strike, but the Inner Sphere's aerospace fighters had wrested control of the skies over most of the region during the course of the day and Star Colonel Harald von Jankmon had prevailed on him to keep his fighter strength in protecting the forward troops from air attack as much as possible.

This, of course, meant he had no means of striking back at the insolent bandits that had ripped up his supply lines. Worse was that even considering the lean toward energy weapons he had mandated in his forces, they would lack the parts and ammunition necessary to maintain their offensive. His attack, all of his careful planning, was a failure.

No, I will not allow those freebirth vermin to get away so cleanly after making fools of my warriors he decided angrily. He slammed a hand on the holotank with enough force to get his aides' attention. "Ready my bodyguard Trinary!", he bellowed.

The aides looked at each other and then got to work. All save, Alec, who approached him carefully. "Galaxy Commander, just what do you intend to do?"

"I intend to pull our troops back to Owatonna, to shoot the stravag idiots who failed to defend our conquests properly and cost me those precious supplies, and to put down the vermin who've caused all of my plans to be for naught!", Crichell thundered. Alec grimaced; to hear Galaxy Commander Crichell use such vulgar language indicated just how angry he was. "Whomever commanded this attack knew to slip between my area of advance and Weaver's. He will likely believe he can leave the same way." Crichell smiled, but the smile had mischief nor mirth, but the cold kind that spoke to the anger that raged within and thoughts of venting that rage on a deserving target. "And I will be there waiting for him!"

[Steve]

Okay, here's Chapter 19. And I hereby tender my apology to my readers. I tried, oh I tried, to make this chapter good, but I feel let down by it, and honestly I think I've come down with a bad case of Just End The Damn Thing. And after this chapter, I'm probably just a couple chapters away from the epilogue, so we'll see.

Anyway, enough mewling. Here's Chapter 19.



Chapter 19


3rd Army Headquarters
St. Paul, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Sinclair was just one of the many people with stern looks as the plasma screen displayed the latest overflight data from Faribault. A wide gash had been cut into the town, burning buildings and homes in its wake, stopping near the banks of the Cannon River where the remains of over a dozen 'Mechs could be seen smoldering. "SIGINT has been picking up the local radio broadcasts for hours," an Army intel Lieutenant informed them from her seat. "Emergency services in Faribault are completely swamped, they even lost a couple of ambulances to the Clan 'Mechs. The county's unwilling to send them help, they don't want to run into Clan forces..."

"Nothing we can do about that," Tanner said from where she was standing. "But given those shots it looks like Penton followed through pretty well. Do we have any eyes on his unit?"

"They're trying, General, but given all the satellites that've been lost and the battle for air superiority... we're not sure." Lieutenant Baker, according to her ID, shook her head. "We're relying heavily on what shots we can get from DropShips coming and going."

Which, of course, meant that they couldn't always get the visuals they wanted. It was vexing for both Sinclair and Tanner, who'd joined an Army that always seemed to have a viable eye in the sky. Now they were back to needing forward observers and aerial recon like it was the World Wars.

"Tell me, Colonel..." Tanner looked over to Sinclair. "Given the success your man has had today... do you think it's a worthwhile trade if we end up losing his whole unit in the process?"

"You mean trading sixteen 'Mechs with pilots for taking a baseball bat to the enemy's logistics network, making their entire advance meaningless from their losses?" Sinclair smiled grimly. "Honestly, General, that one might go to the judges."

"Agreed, Colonel, agreed." Tanner took in a breath. "If he makes it back, I think we'll give him a battalion. As soon as one's available, of course..."

There was some commotion from another of the stations. "Sir, we've gotten confirmation from ComStar," a staff NCO called out. "The Jaguars are hitting Cannon Falls again!"

"Damn," Tanner grumbled. "Okay, let's make sure the Ceegees can hold the line, I want artillery ready to support them if it looks like the Jags are going to break through. Scrape together whatever battalions you can to shore up our position at Hastings!"

Sinclair drew in a sharp breath as he watched Tanner start barking orders. The rest of his unit was tied down, either undergoing needed repairs or skirmishing with the Falcon advance forces pushing into Lakeville. There was, for the moment, nothing he could reasonably do.




Central Colorado, Near Fort Carlson
Colorado, United States
Earth, North America


With their 'Mechs limping back toward base and resembling modern art, Roland found himself stunned they'd survived. They'd walked right into a strategic ambush, endured a pounding that left nearly three quarters of their battalion out of action, and his only loss to speak of was the kid MacGruder. It's a surprise guys like me survive given how quickly we get killed when we're kids, he thought.

Despite their speed in retreat the Horses had kept the pressure up. Whenever it seemed that the battered 'Mech platoon and its attached assets got clear, another Star of vehicles and infantry and even a couple 'Mechs would show up and make life hell.

"We've got more Horses approaching from the southeast," he heard the rearguard Bradley-driver report. "Looks to be another of their Stars in tanks and 'Mechs."

"They just don't know when to damn quit." Roland looked over his status. Almost no armor on any part of his body. His Big damn magnet cannon was out of ammo, and even if it weren't his left arm was out of commission with two actuator hits. One of his medium lasers had been taken out and the damage to his engine's heat shielding was working the heat sinks extra, making using what he had left a matter of timing. And given battle damage and ammunition depletion, the only weapons Barker and Schulter had between them were two lasers. "Well, kids, it's been fun. Let's give them something to shoot at and let our friends in the tanks and infantry live to fight another day." He turned his battered Thor and brought the damaged right arm up. The loss of the elbow actuator meant it wouldn't work very well with aiming, but with enemy lights all he needed was a lucky shot...

Barker and Schulter turned to follow. Roland appreciated it. He would have told them to run too, but he knew he needed a couple more targets to keep the Horses' attention. It was a pity, though; they were good kids. Well, upper twenty-somethings, but to a guy Roland's age you were a kid until at least 30. Shame he was going to likely get them killed right along with him.

Still, no better way for an old gunny like me to go out. Saving a bunch of fellow soldiers... even if they're Army.

Several flashes of emerald light and azure thunder broke Roland out of his fatalistic thoughts. The sky filled with the contrails of 31st Century missiles, all bearing down on the approaching Horse forces. Their scanners showed a host of blue contacts - with attendant friendly IFF codes - coming in from the northwest. Roland turned and saw the Inner Sphere 'Mechs racing across the flat plains. The majority of them were light tonnage with a few mediums, but their pilots were obviously fairly skilled, which made sense given the fox tail insignia he saw on them that marked them as being in the Davion Light Guards. "Looks like the blue bloods have come to help us poor Earth folk out," Roland said into his radio. He felt a slight irritation at their being rescued by the damned aristocrats, but he valued the lives of his people far too greatly to allow such ingratitude to last more than a moment. He keyed the radio. "Thanks for the assistance."

A moment later he got a response in what sounded like a faint English accent. "You're welcome, Lieutenant. Go ahead and get your people to safety. The Light Guards have a score to settle with these Clanners."

Nothing like breaking comm protocols to say smartass things. Still, it's ballsy. "Be my guest, Light Guards. Ooohrah."




Army Brig
Fort Carlson, Colorado, United States


Throughout his career, Palmer had never seen the inside of the brig, so it was a new experienced to be seated on the wooden bench beside a dour-faced private, still wearing his BDUs complete with general stars. Dinner had been served, the kind of army slop that reminded him of being a young lieutenant serving in a field base in Afghanistan.

"Didn't know they put generals in here," the private grumbled, finally speaking up. "Thought you bigwigs were too good for this."

Palmer smirked. Typically they didn't put generals in the common brig... but Tolen wasn't a typical Army general. "Depends on who you are and who you've crossed, Private. So, what is your crime? Try to smoke something illegal? Maybe sell it?"

"Disrespecting an officer," the private answered. "And undermining morale. They said I was making defeatist statements."

"Oh? Spreading defeatism, are you?"

That brought a snarl to the man's face. "Just tellin' it like I see it. We're done. Either the Clans conquer us or our allies do. Might as well kiss our freedoms goodbye. What little we have left, anyway, the damned bastards in the government have been chipping away at them for decades now. Now they're looking to get us regular people killed. And don't deny it, even in here we get told things. How many normal joes like me are dead now because you brilliant damned generals just had to attack something?"

"Oh, thousands," Palmer answered. "Would be more, but then I wouldn't be down here if there were."

There was a quizzical look on the private's face, but before more could be said MPs showed up at the cell door and began opening it. One saluted to Palmer. "Sir, we're under orders to take you to General Tolen."

"Ah, well, lead the way then Corporal..."




Tolen was showing a dangerous mood when Palmer walked into his office and saluted. Tolen, with decades of practice at it, pretended to be unaware of Palmer's presence and salute for several seconds, forcing him to hold the salute and wait for it to be returned. Finally the general gave a very quick one, but did not offer to permit Tolen to sit. "Well, General, it turns out you're very good at breaking orders, since you also contravened my directive to not directly ask for Inner Sphere aid," he stated. "You'll be happy to know, of course, that the Davion Light Guards and the ComGuard 86th Division answered your call for aid, intervening in IX Corps' offensive and breaking the Horse attack."

"As long as it saves our soldiers' lives, sir, I'll take any help," Palmer answered succinctly.

"And therein lies the problem." Tolen finally looked up at him, anger smoldering in his brown eyes. "The United States Army has been made out to be fools thanks to you. Helpless little fools who need our monarchial, authoritarian allies to ride in with their heroic knights and save us! This only makes it easier for them to undermine our nation and its institutions! Soon enough we'll be hearing how we need to subordinate our forces to their command. And then it'll be letting them take over our economic authorities. And then, next thing you know, some grandiose Spheroid princeling will be sent along and we'll be asked to accept his governance. For our own good, of course! Because obviously we can't do any fighting by ourselves, not without looking pathetically weak!"

"General, if I may, the issue of maintaining our independence from the Inner Sphere is one to tackle after we've saved our country," Palmer retorted. "And letting VIII Corps get ripped apart because you're not willing..."

"That's enough of that!", Tolen snapped, interrupting him. "Now, I've been on the phone with the Joint Chiefs. Unfortunately too many of Saunders' sappy liberals are left in the Pentagon for them to be as decisive with you as they should be. By all rights you should be court-martialed and sent to the prison here on base until Leavenworth is liberated. But the Pentagon feels to do such would undermine the willingness of the officer corps to adapt to battlefield conditions... which to me is a fancy way of saying that they want officers to stretch and even break orders on whatever whim they have. So I'm being instructed to send you along to be the new liaison with the SLDF commander here in the States, Marshal Riffenburg," Tolen answered testily. "Just remember who you are, General. And don't let them think we can be walked over."

"I understand, sir," Palmer answered. He wasn't surprised he'd been stripped of combat command, but it was interesting to see how the ball had landed in the political roulette on what to do with him. "Permission to be dismissed?"

"Permission granted." And given Tolen's tone of voice, it was clear he wanted Palmer out of his sight ASAP. Palmer happily did just that.



West of Lake Byllesby
Minnesota, United States


Alex Crichell felt at home again in the cockpit of his Turkina. His Command Trinary was composed of some of the most promising pilots in the Galaxy, all young warriors no more than 23 years of age and representing, well, not necessarily the best of the Clan - if they were they'd be in a frontline Galaxy - but certainly a middle tier of warriors who would, with some seasoning, fight well and maybe even get a shot at a low or mid-level Bloodname. All in all, they would make short work of the freebirth scum that had caused him so much aggravation.

They were within a mile of the lake when the medium Star Crichell had sent ahead to scout reported 'Mech contacts coming from the south. Ah, there you are, Crichell thought to himself. He allowed himself a wide grin. "Come, my warriors, let us put these filth in their place!"




The sight of Lake Byllesby brought Alex a sigh of relief he couldn't restrain. They were here, at friendly lines, and he'd gotten them back with just two 'Mechs down, one confirmed fatality, with another five or so Stars of enemy 'Mechs down and the Falcon logistics chain cut. He almost, almost, let himself become convinced it was over.

The red icons on his long range systems soon told him otherwise.

He wasn't the only one who saw them, either. "Uh, Alpha Leader, I'm picking up enemy contacts. A lot of them too," Wu said. "Another Trinary."

Oh no. Getting an intensely sick feeling in his gut, Alex stopped his 'Mech's movement and looked over at the map. The enemy was coming from the northwest, barring that direction from being safe. Going anywhere south would just head back into enemy-held territory, not an option for his battered unit. While repaired his 'Mechs could conceivably enter the lake and head underwater up to a point on the northern shore, their sorry state meant that a number would be crippled the moment they entered the water. And east would be to go into the teeth of the Jaguars' frontline...

His mind raced. There was no way, no way, his unit stood up to that much firepower. They'd get annihilated. He had to make a hole for them.

His thoughts went back to Outreach, and to all of the Dragoons' courses to them on Clan customs and traditions. The Clans loved one-on-one battles. A direct challenge was something they wouldn't turn down without good reason.

And as soon as he made that decision, Alex knew he was a dead man. Even if he overcame the enemy leader, another warrior would challenge him, and another, until his 'Mech was ruined. But at least the others would get away.

"Ed, you're in charge. Hold everyone back until I get their attention, then go behind them."

Concern crackled over the headphones. "Sir? What are you doing?"

"Getting you and the others back home in one piece." Alex set his Gladiator into a run toward the enemy contacts. "Don't follow me, just get everyone home. That's an order, Edwin."

"But..."

"I mean it, Ed," Alex stressed. "Get everyone back safe."




Crichell was interested to see an Executioner emerge from the enemy formation and head straight toward his Trinary. The 'Mechs behind him did not join him but held back, even falling back a little. So what freeborn trickery is this? Is he going to try and negotiate surrender? Curious, Crichell sent the order to his warriors to hold fire unless the Executioner pilot fired first. He keyed his radio to a direct transmission and made his inquiry. "I am Galaxy Commander Alex Crichell of the Jade Falcon Omicron Galaxy. Identify yourself and state your purpose, MechWarrior."

"Captain Alex Penton, United States Army, 1st 'Mech Battalion. I know you're out here hunting down my unit, Crichell, so I'll make it simple for you. You want them? You come through me first. One on one if you're not afraid of a freeborn 'Mech pilot in a damaged machine."

Crichell's response was to laugh at the sheer audacity of Captain Penton. "And if I order my Trinary to swat you like the insect you are, freebirth?"

"Well, I'd guess that would prove how insecure you are as a warrior, for starters. Me? I figure I'm going to die anyway, so what does it matter?"

Crichell growled inwardly. As much as his instincts were telling him to just crush this fool, he knew his warriors would let those words hit home. And Star Colonel Jakob Hazen was an ambitious man with a fairly narrow view of how Clan warriors should behave. If Crichell gave in to his instincts Hazen would likely challenge him to a Circle of Equals, and even if Crichell did not fear Penton, he had good reason to think Hazen would beat him in a 'Mech duel or a fist fight. "You show great courage, warrior. Very well. Let this be our Circle of Equals."

I must finish this fool off quickly, lest the others escape. Crichell moved his Turkina toward Penton's 'Mech, noting with disdain the bland star it had been painted with. Did the Americans not have a totem animal? He'd seen their currency and insignia, he knew they venerated the eagle. He would have been heartened to see a talon or a wing to indicate this, but there was no sign at all of the American totem on the machine. It was... alien.

Crichell targeted the Gladiator and triggered everything he had.



Alex had barely anticipated the "Alpha Strike" thrown at him by the Clan 'Mech. Deadly light streaked at him, in both beam and dart form, and try as he might he couldn't avoid them all. Armor and structure were melted off on multiple points over his machine. Alex struggled to keep it standing and aimed his own weapons to retaliate. Blue energy and a supersonic projectile struck the Turkina, making the low-slung chicken-legged 'Mech wobble slightly.

Alex cursed the Clan leader's choice of loadout. He'd been hoping for an enemy with fewer, if more powerful, weapons, since it meant fewer hits on his damaged 'Mech. But Crichell seemed to have the devil's luck, given his loadout was perfectly made to nix Alex's strategy. His array of lasers, of both types and varying sizes, wouldn't provide severe damage if they managed a hit, but he had so many of them he couldn't help but get some hits, and Alex simply couldn't take many in his condition.

Okay, Alex, time for a change in strategy, and a little underhandedness. He keyed his radio to the Army's main frequency. "Alpha Actual to Rainman, requesting priority one T on T barrage at my coordinate. David, repeat, David. Lasing primary target." As he said so two streams of emerald light converged on his 'Mech's right arm. The armor he had left was quickly pierced and his Gauss Rifle took the hit. Had he not just fired it the weapon would have exploded, but either way it was useless to him now.

Of course, that didn't matter.

Alex twisted his 'Mech to avoid a laser shot and started tromping closer to the Turkina. He focused the crosshairs to get a lock and triggered the TAG laser that had been installed on his machine. As he'd hoped, his FSO replied promptly. "Rainman to Alpha Actual. Thunderstrike is inbound, ETA thirty seconds. God help you." His systems automatically showed a thiry second countdown on his holo-viewer.

The Falcon Turkina opened again. At the closer range, and with Alex needing to keep the TAG on target, he couldn't dodge this time. Deadly light cut into his machine's limbs and torso. Heat filled his 'Mech from engine hits and his PPC went offline from a direct hit. He was helpless.

"I am very disappointed in you, freebirth," he heard Galaxy Commander Crichell taunt over the radio. "You did not provide much of a fight, even for one as genetically inferior as you are."

"My apologies, Galaxy Commander," Alex answered sarcastically. "But I wasn't in this to fight." He looked to the time. Any moment now...

"Oh? Then why did you come challenge me?"

"Had to get close. For this." He saw the counter his computer had set up tick to five seconds. He quickly hit his ejection lever.




Galaxy Commander Crichell watched the canopy of the Gladiator explode. The familiar sight of a command couch's rockets igniting told him the freebirth had ejected. Immediately he knew it had been foul play, and screamed, "Dishonorable coward! I'll have you..."

He said nothing more after that.

The glare of Alex Penton's ejection rockets was still in Crichell's eyes when the heavy explosives began to go off. His 'Mech rocked underneath him as explosion after explosion battered its armor and its thin legs. Shockwaves began knocking over the other 'Mechs like bowling pins.

But that was just the initial strike. The US Army had, over the months, developed its own kind of anti-'Mech artillery barrage, rarely used because you rarely got enough 'Mechs together to justify the sheer quantity of munitions it involved, but Alex's code word had prompted it here. After explosions heavy on shockwaves to topple the fighting machines came the most powerful non-nuclear explosives in the US arsenal; fuel-air bombs. Fired from artillery guns and even B-1s on combat patrol in safe airspace, these munitions were so powerful even technology centuries ahead of them had to respect their potential for carnage. And the artillery simply blanketed Crichell and his command with them. And there was nothing Crichell could do as his 'Mech was blown apart by the sheer ferocity of the barrage.




The devastation was visible to Alex as his command chair drifted downward. The wind was drifting him toward Lake Byllesby, which was a good thing since if he'd landed back on the battlefield he would've undoubtedly fallen into the roaring flames left by the furious bombardment.

He unbuckled his harness from the couch not too soon, as it fell into the Lake along the northwestern shore. The couch sank like a rock upon impact. Alex let it go, kicking himself free and breaking the surface of the water. He turned toward the nearest shore and started swimming.

It was unexpected exercise, and after hours of being cramped in a 'Mech cockpit his muscles protested with sharp pain as they were worked heavily without any warming up. A cramp was developing in his right hip by the time Alex waded ashore and went down on a knee, growling at the agony shooting through the cramped muscle. God damn this hurts. Dropping f-bombs in his head, Alex reached into his suit pocket and brought out his transponder.

He heard the chilling sound of 'Mech footfalls coming up behind him and turned. A Mad Cat loomed over him, and Alex nearly fell backward before noticing the reassuring remnants of a star on its blasted skin. "Enjoy your swim, sir?", Dani's voice boomed from the war machine.

"No," Alex grumbled. "And what are you doing here? I told..."

"Yeah, I know, but once we saw that David strike come down and picked up your ejection transponder I volunteered to come pick you up." There was a chuckle. "Though I didn't know you'd be soaking wet." The 'Mech knelt down a little and there was nothing for a moment. The hatch to the side suddenly flung open and he could make out Dani leaning out of it, the rope ladder in her hand. She gave him a barely-visible thumb's up and tossed the ladder down.

His right hip protesting the entire way, Alex limped over to it, intending to make the infirmary his first stop the moment they got back.

[Steve]

Chapter 20


Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
11 July 2039 Local
11 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Alex awoke in the infirmary much to his regret, as his body was clearly not interested in more activity after the prior day's marathon of combat. His muscles ached whenever he shifted in the cot. The third damn time I've had to be here this month. This is getting tiring.

He let himself cheer up a bit when he looked up to see Rachel appproaching in MechWarrior duty uniform. She looked, if not rested, at least refreshed, her hair pulled back into a regulation bun. Under her arm was tucked a folder full of - yes, even here it would haunt him - paperwork. "Captain, it's good to see you're up. The Quartermaster is insistant you get these requisition forms signed."

"Do I want to know what's on them?", Alex sighed.

"Nothing much. Just the necessary materials to repair our busted 'Mechs," Rachel answered cheerfully. "Did I mention the mechanics are currently voting on the best way to get revenge on you for the workload?"

"You did now." Alex pulled the tray with the minor remnants of his breakfast over and laid the paperwork on it. He scribbled his signature on form after form without more than glancing at the contents. "Better angry mechanics than mourning families, though. Each of these forms is a pilot brought back alive."

The smile on Rachel's face went from amusement to genuine warmth. "Yes, sir."

"Still, we lost Olafsson and Rastler." Alex shook his head. "Two more pilots down. That's five in the space of a week."

"At least we did far more damage to the enemy," Rachel pointed out to him. "These are our first real victories in the entire war." Rachel took out her PDA and, after messing with the touchscreen a bit, showed it to him. It was a map of the local area and the front according to latest data.

Where once the threatening reds of the Clans had gotten into Apple Valley and were pressing against the Welch River, now their entire line had fallen back. The light blue of Inner Sphere forces had surged ahead and were clearly pressing them to the south, reclaiming the territory lost in the past few days. Satisfied with what he saw, Alex didn't let it give him false hopes. "It won't stay that way," he sighed. "The Clans will rally. And they'll hit us back."

"Probably. But, for now, we should let everyone enjoy the sensation of winning. We can always worry about the future tomorrow." Rachel drew up a seat. "And wait! Why did you sign that one?!"

"What?" Puzzled, he glanced at a form and saw that his signature was the only writing on it.

"You're supposed to at least glance at it, you know," Rachel giggled. "Guess I left a blank in the pile by mistake. Here, let me have those, we'll get this done properly..."




In the mess hall, Dani and Becca were back at their table. A few short days ago Hoffman and Micki were here with them, but now it was just the two of them. They were the only ones left. The drinks before them were sodas - no alcohol allowed - that neither had partaken of very much. They simply looked at the dark brown liquid and then back at each other, a single thought present for both: "We're the only ones left".

"I should tell a story about them, shouldn't I?", Becca said quietly.

"Hrm?"

"It's how we remember them, after all," she continued. "We always tell stories. Even if we've heard them a thousand times before..."

"Sorry, Becca, but I'm not in a mood for story-telling."

They remained quiet for several more moments. The silent wasn't broken by them but by a new arrival. Dane looked to them and asked, "Hey, these seats taken?"

"Not anymore," Becca mumbled.

"Just what do you want, hothead?", Dani grumbled. "Shouldn't you be in the officer's..."

"Not a dedicated one yet," Dane answered. He slid into one of the chairs. "Hey, I've heard good news about Micki. She was stabilized later yesterday. It'll take time for her to be in combat shape, but they say she'll be back."

"And we'll probably be dead by them," Dani mumbled. "Or in the hospital even worse off."

Dane shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. You ladies have a good rep for finding ways to survive. And I know you and Micki will be back together before you know it, reminiscing about your buddies in the TB." He took a drink from his soda glass. He seemed to shift subjects slightly as he spoke on a new tack. "Man... I still remember this time Olafsson and I went on liberty back on Outreach. The Dragoons aren't so stuck up about booze, you know. They expect people to police themselves, not have it mandated. Anyway, we were checking out this bar..."

Dane continued to talk about the dead pilot. Dani and Becca weren't quite listening. But they found that they each had a particular gleam in their eyes. For all the hurt they felt, hearing the story about Olafsson - a man they'd never really met - seemed to make the world start working again.




Sinclair was in his office when Major Pierce showed up, still in combat uniform. He saluted and Sinclair immediately returned it. "The Falcons look to be falling back entirely to Owatonna. The Battalion did good." Sinclair stood up. "And Penton makes good on his promises."

"And got a second 'Mech blown out from under him," Pierce pointed out. "BattleMechs, especially Clan OmniMechs, don't grow on trees."

Sinclair chuckled at that one. "No, Major, they do not. It does seem the Captain is currently leading a charmed life. But his talent is showing through as well. I might have to give him a battalion. Not your's, of course."

Pierce didn't quite smile while Sinclair let himself have one. "I just hope it's not a rash of beginner's luck for him, sir. He's still not educated as a combat arms officer, and battle is more than just running around in 'Mechs and tricking the other side into artillery kill boxes."

"You don't like him very much, do you Pierce?", Sinclair asked pointedly.

"I don't mind him, Colonel," Pierce answered. "But we've got the press and the politicians ready to make him out to be Captain America, and I don't want to see that hero stuff get in the way of running my unit. Last thing I need is for Penton or someone who likes him running off to the press if they don't like my command decisions."

"I'll trust you to handle it, Major. Just don't let any prejudices about 'staff weenies' get in the way."

"Certainly not, sir..." Pierce leaned over the desk. "I must ask, though, about what kind of replacements I'm looking to get. I'm down many pilots..."

"It's being handled," Sinclair answered. "Due to the recent fiasco in Colorado, the 2nd Battalion is no longer a functional combat unit. General Tanner is already pulling strings to get the survivors reassigned to this front and to be merged into the 1st Battalion."

"Not going to be good for morale," Pierce warned.

"Make it work," Sinclair said. "We don't have a choice."



The other enlistees who shared a bunk area with Yumiko Sakata were asleep when she stirred. Her movements were eerily quiet as she slipped an item out of the pack under her bunk and sat upright - pleased they did not have double bunks here - with her legs crossed before her. Delicately balanced on her knees was a wakizashi blade, the pommel emblazoned with the dragon and archery bow insignia adopted long ago by her family. It sat in silent reminder of her family's shame, mocking her for the lack of the katana blade that it was supposed to be mated to.

Seeing it made tears begin to flow from her eyes, tears that would have stunned all of the Americans she had served with, who considered her a paragon of emotional restraint and control. She was careful not to sob outright, though a few sniffles came. Thoughts of her father and sister came unbidden, and with them the desire burning in her for bloody revenge.

Yumiko had found that she enjoyed 'Mech piloting. And killing the allies of her enemy had sated, very slightly, the need for revenge in her soul. But it would not be enough. No matter how many Clanners, or even Giuseppians, she killed as a MechWarrior, none would be enough to gain justice for her dead loved ones. None would.

Only him. Only the one who had wormed his way into her father's confidence and manipulated them for his own purpose. Who had betrayed her father and family, had butchered her sister, who had driven her father to suicide in shame...

For Yumiko Sakata, the war did not matter. Only he did. And only by the death of Reinhardt von Krager could Yumiko find any peace.




Rachel spent her final hour of the day with a new pair of letters to her grandparents. She hadn't yet gotten any replies, but she wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't gotten her letters yet either. With so much of the country's electronic communication infrastructure either down or completely suborned to military and government requirements, and with the military censors putting all mail through screening programs to detect security leaks, even electronic mail took time to be sent through, and "snail mail" could take weeks. As for video conferencing or phone calls, that had to be set up as well...

But she might do so, if only because Rachel sorely wanted her grandparents' thoughts on the tumult of thoughts in her head. A host of emotions threatened to swamp her. She was terrified of dying, upset by the devastation in Northfield and Faribault, exhausted from the intensity of the fighting she'd been through, and just utterly bewildered by the conflicting feelings she was having about Alex.

Oh, she could imagine Grandma Galvariz asking why she she was afraid of falling in love again, and Grandpa Vallejo would remind her that she had to listen to what her head told her, but simply hearing these things, and the insights they would give her, was something she hoped would stop the sensation she had of literally drowning in the passions swirling around her. She had never imagined war was like this. She had thought it a scientific thing, if a brutal one, with the application of technology and manpower and brute force by both sides. Utterly impersonal. Maybe she had been foolish to think so; war involved killing, and death - especially one's own death or those of a person's friends and colleagues - was an emotionally-charged thing indeed.

She kept going back to the fighting at Faribault. The enemy Thug had battered her and nearly killed her. If Alex hadn't been there...

And this is going to continue. I'm going to wonder every night why I'm still alive, and I'm going to be scared of what might happen to me the next day. Oh, I just want it over! I want to go home, go back to college, start learning Chinese...

Rachel slipped into the cot and pulled the covers over herself. She tried to force her mind to quiet itself and to get some much needed sleep, avoiding thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.




Earth Union Defense Force Headquarters
Geneva, Switzerland, Earth National Union
Europe, Earth
13 July 2039 Local
13 August 3059 Inner Sphere


Georg Berssach tried to restrain his contempt as he gave his briefing. "Even if they had not lost Galaxy Commander Crichell to an American artillery barrage, the Jade Falcons would not have been able to hold their threatening position. The British exile forces were closing in on their flank, and their units we have confirmed are in the possession of both Inner Sphere armored units and modified Earth ones. The Falcon advance was doomed the moment their logistics train was undermined." What he did not say was that he regarded this as proof that the Clans were nothing more than rank amateurs - if very advanced and skilled ones - in the science of warfare, and that their conquests in North America were too large for the forces they had available. That was an argument he'd already waged and been forced to quiet himself on.

Giuseppe took the news solemnly. "So the attack on Minneapolis is a failure? Is this going to be our Moscow or Stalingrad, then?"

Berssach raised an eyebrow at that. PIcking examples of overstretch from German military history might just be finding the most recent example... or it might be a calculated insult. "Not necessarily, sir. If the Clans withdraw back to the Missouri River, at the very least, we have more time to consolidate forces and bring in more troops."

Von Krager tapped the table impatiently. "Or you could simply assign our forces to aid the renewed Clan drive on Minneapolis. The Falcons have come out mostly intact, after all. The Horse victory over the Americans in Colorado ensures the strategic flank is secure. If Union troops join the Clans they will have the mass needed to thwart the American 3rd Army."

"Our troops are stretched across thousands of square kilometers, Director. It will take weeks to consolidate them, and that might see enemy partisans emboldened..."

"The American countryside is mostly worthless to us anyway," von Krager scoffed. "The VdO can use mobile detachments to put down any serious uprisings and to maintain security along supply routes. So long as we hold the front and prevent the Amis from collecting the output of their agriculture, there is nothing more worth doing."

"Do not take me for a fool, Director. Your VdO detachments' idea of maintaining security is to employ terror and intimidation on the civilian population, which only drives them further into partisan hands!", Berssach retorted.

"Nevertheless, Field Marshal, we must consider military objectives foremost," Giuseppe declared, intervening. "The fall of Minneapolis must be attained to bring the American nationalists to their knees and foster a peace movement. Offer the Clans our troops as support."

"You know how little they think of our forces," Berssach reminded him. "They will not use them wisely."

"They will still use them, and that is what is important," Giuseppe answered. "Director von Krager, if you would please go to Star Colonel Howell to explain our proposal of troop assignments? Time is of the essence, lest the war permit defeatists and nationalists even in the most loyal areas of our Union to spread their poisons to the population."

Berssach nodded slightly, drawing in a sigh of resignation. Von Krager stood and bowed, a hand resting on his ostentatious Japanese katana, before walking out to find the Smoke Jaguar liaison. And not for the first time did Berssach wonder if he was fighting for the right side.



Fort Carson
Colorado. United States
North America, Earth


What was left of the 2nd 'Mech Battalion, once the wounded were in the hospitals and the dead and missing counted, was barely an overstrength company. Roland was nevertheless vaguely proud of the fact that he'd gotten his platoon out mostly intact, even if MacGruder's loss was a sad one.

They were sitting in the war room now. All fifteen of those pilots who were still combat capable. There was hope that a few more, like Captain Westen, might be found by SAR teams in the areas closest to the front, or might slip back through on their own, but given the confirmed casualties, they had no battalion anymore. Roland had the most intact platoon left.

Barsdale was still around, though. He'd lost two of his pilots in the fighting before getting clear, but he'd come out fairly well off, which was to say his 'Mech was still combat functional. But he looked worse for the wear. As much as Roland detested him for being a political appointee, he could see the losses had taken their toll on him. His first major action, just to see the higher ups - specifically General Tolen - disperse his unit to the point it was virtually useless and then throw it into the meat-grinder.

"I've just been informed by General Tolen that the 2nd Battalion has been deactivated," he informed them. "Because of our losses, we're being re-absorbed into the 1st to bring them back up to strength."

One of the survivors, Corporal Sheldon, stated the obvious. "So we're off to the Twin Cities?"

"Yes." Barsdale drew in a breath. "I'm going to try and make sure your platoons are kept intact. But I make no promises. You'll be plugged into units as you're needed."

There was muttering. Tearing the unit up like this was not going to go well, even if the military logic was sound. Roland almost pitied the assholes he was going to be assigned to and the shitstorm they were about to have. "So how long do we have?", Roland asked.

"The Davions are arranging to give us a quick flight on one of their DropShips, scheduled in two days," Barsdale answered. "Should give you enough time to pack up your personal effects or arrange their long-term storage. And it'll give the mechanics time to get some of our machines into enough working order to make the trip. Until then, consider yourselves stood down. You're all relieved."




Roland was going through MacGruder's personal effects when he noticed Barker up behind him. "Sorry, Sergeant," he sighed. "Stepping on your toes again."

"It's alright, sir. Not something I was wanting to do." Barker took a couple steps toward him and looked down at the box Roland was filling. "Sending a letter to his parents?"

"Parent, singular. And kid sister," Roland answered. "I'm sure that sweetheart he had has already found out, though."

"Schulter broke the news to her." Barker took a seat on the unoccupied bunk next to MacGruder's. "Could've been any of us, though. And you brought me and the farmboy back."

"Yeah." Roland drew in a breath. "That'd sound real good to his family, though. 'Hey, your brother and son got offed, but at least my other soldiers made it!'. Heh. Oh, I'll say the usual stuff about how good a kid he was and that his sacrifice won't be in vain, all that mushy stuff... and it won't be all lies. Kid might've been something."

"Yeah." Barker looked out the window, to where 'Mechs were already being given tests after leg repairs. "Think they'll split us up?"

"Heh, who knows what the fuck Pierce will want to do," Roland grumbled. "Knowing my luck, he puts me in the same unit as that lawyer."

"The same lawyer they're saying wrecked the Falcons' supply bases and who nearly got killed calling down artillery on the Falcon command unit?", Barker asked pointedly.

At that, Roland broke out laughing. "Yeah. I'll believe the guy's a badass when I see it. Just hope they at least put us in the same company."

"Hell, I'd drink to that, if I had any booze."

At that, Roland eyed Barker. "Oh, come on Sarge, you're tellin' me you don't know the local booze connections? What kind of Sergeant are you, anyway?"

"The kind who's been put in the damned place of being your Sergeant, no matter how little I wanted it, sir," Barker retorted.




Camp Jurgens
Hastings, Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth


Alex reported to SInclair's office right at 1800, as ordered, and found the Colonel sitting and reading reports. He stood at attention and saluted. "Captain Penton reporting as ordered, sir."

A quick salute was given to him in reply. "At least, Captain." Sinclair looked up at him. "I see you're cleaned up. I guess you can get that much grease off with effort."

At that Alex could only nod and sigh silently. The mechanics had gotten revenge this morning, and word of it was already spread well around Camp Jurgens. "Thank you, Colonel," was all he decided to say.

"You'll be happy to know that while that Executioner was a complete loss, your old Mad Cat is being fitted with a recovered Clan engine of the right specs for the design," Sinclair said. "You'll be back in your machine soon enough."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I've also been asked to recommend you for the Silver Star, which I've already signed off on." Sinclair smirked. "Heard some politico on Washington's already talking about beginning a Medal of Honor determination."

Alex tried not to blush, only shrugging. "Don't see the point in it, sir."

"Army's considering requests for you to be interviewed for cable news, too," Sinclair continued. "And using you for another war bonds campaign."

"Colonel..."

Before Alex could say anything he was interrupted by the raising of Sinclair's hand. "You're a national hero now, Captain. Can't do anything about that. Not at all. All I can do is make sure I keep you where I need you, in your company command, and not let any politician in or out of the Army get you transferred out to be used for media relations."

"I'll happily inform anyone angling to get me transferred that I want to stay with my unit," Alex replied.

"Good, Captain. Good. Because I've been giving some thought to how your operation went." Sinclair tossed him a folder. "Right now we don't have enough 'Mechs to do everything we could do with them. But I want you to read that. It's a little idea I've been bouncing around with General Tanner, and you might be the right man for the job."

Alex opened the folder and looked over the first couple of pages. "Armored Cavalry 'Mechs, sir?"

"More like 'Mechs in the Armored Cavalry. At least, once we have enough of them. Go on, look through it some more, tell me what you think. Creative man like you might do wonders with these ideas..."

[Steve]

Epilogue


Hall of Khans
Strana Mechty, Kerensky Cluster
18 August 3059 Inner Sphere
18 July 2039 Local


It was a general rule that when an ilKhan was elected, he or she was supposed to accept immediate replacement by their Clan and to serve the Clans as a whole. Sure, they retained rights as one of their Clan's Bloodnamed, and they joined their Clan's forces in combat against external enemies, but they were not supposed to oversee the day to day running of their Clans.

It was a rule that Lincoln Osis was breaking.

Marthe Pryde was not enamored of the ilKhan due to this shortcoming among many others. Her alliance of convenience with Vlad Ward and his Wolves had been useful in restraining Osis from abusing his position as ilKhan in some issues, though she and Vlad had disagreed on the New Earth campaign. He had disagreed with her on the usefulness of the invasion. Ward considered it a waste of resources, that whatever advantage gained from not attacking into the prepared defenses of the Inner Sphere would be lost from the reliance on a choke point. He had offered only a paltry two garrison Clusters to aid their new "allies" while Marthe, looking for ways to cheaply regain her Clan's stature after the ruin of the Refusal War, had seen the planet as a source of easy victories to blood more young troops and to win more resources. Her bidding had reflected her intentions, winning the third invasion corridor of North America.

Initially it had seemed they would make good on Marthe's idea. The Falcons had massacred the paltry resistance set against them initially, taking the cities of Albuquerque and Phoenix and threatening to advance up the Colorado and Rio Grande valleys, but the arrival of traitor-Wolf forces and the loss of troops to artillery barrages had forced them to pull back past the city of Phoenix. The involvement in the Minneapolis advance was meant to be done to strengthen Falcon hands on Earth and to be a strategic death blow to their backward enemies, reliant as they were on their roads.

Now she found herself wondering if Vlad had been right after all. She was down a Galaxy Commander - not a very bright one, and another scion of the minor Crichell Bloodhouse, but still a Galaxy Commander - and Omicron Galaxy was now short of supplies and on the defensive. So too were Osis' Jaguars, undoubtedly why he had asked to see her.

The Elemental was a massive man, who often boasted of having won his Bloodname by defeating a MechWarrior in augmented combat. Undoubtedly he thought it made him intimidating; it just made Marthe question the genetic value of Osis MechWarriors. She gave him the attention he was due as ilKhan and no more. She had little enough respect for Osis. "You asked to see me, ilKhan?"

"Yes," was the rumbled reply. Lincoln handed her a form. "I have been informed that Director von Krager has offered the support of Earth troops to a resumed march on the American city of Minneapolis."

Marthe grinned wickedly. "Well, I suppose we could always use troops to keep bandits at bay," was her response. "Though what the other Clans will say about our requesting help from our so-called allies is another matter."

"Let them talk," Osis rumbled. "Every Earther who dies at the hands of another Earther represents two fewer problems for us. Our allies are restless, Marthe, as are the Home Crusaders who yearn for more chances at battle. Our defeat at the gates of Minneapolis is making them call for even greater involvement. I have already considered permitting the Coyotes to join our next advance. I would prefer to have Earth secure by the time my forces return from the Inner Sphere."

You mean the forces you had retreat because the new 'Star League' was making a mockery of them, and of us as well? "Well, my ilKhan, if you want to let the Earthers die for our conquests, it is your invasion corridor and I will not object."

Osis frowned at her. Yes, Osis, I'm making this your decision, not mine. Do what you will, you will be harmed eiher way. Trying not to smile at that thought, Marthe put her /hands together. "Though how will we count them in our bidding for the next attack?"

"It is my position that we have already bid sufficiently in lining out our attack sectors," Osis decreed. "I will no longer participate in bidding down troops for operations in North America."

And so you will ignore our customs because it suits you. I suppose Vlad would approve. Marthe allowed a scowl to form on her face. "Well, that is your choice as well, ilKhan. I will redeploy Omicron in the coming weeks, then, and move Theta Galaxy in."

"Fresh troops would be very useful, yes. But do not take too long. I would prefer to see our attack resume within three weeks."

"A very tight time-table, ilKhan. I'll see what I can do." Marthe stood. "By your leave?" When he nodded, she walked out of his office. In the corridors of the Hall of Khans, she continued on to her next destination and pondered the best way to turn the war toward the advantage of the Jade Falcon Clan.




Star League Defense Force Headquarters
Schuyler, Liberated Zone, Draconis Combine


The battle for Schuyler had been anti-climactic. The Jaguars, as it turned out, were pulling everything out save some sacrificial garrison troops. Across what was left of their OZ the Jaguars had left out without a word.

These thoughts were bouncing around in the heads of all present in Precentor-Martial Focht's impromptu War Council. Focht was busy looking over updates fresh off the HPGs, giving Jerry Cranston time to slip up behind Victor. "The doctors say Renny's going to make it."

Victor nodded. Renny Sanderlin was his old Nagelring roommate, and had gotten his 'Mech shot up in the fighting against the Jaguar vanguard. He'd feared for Renny's life at seeing him go down, knowing he had a family back home. But there are other families who have lost in this fighting...

Focht looked up. "We have ascertained that the Jaguars have effected a complete pullout of the Inner Sphere. It is, in retrospect, a logical choice for the Jaguars to make given their strategic situation."

"This will have an effect on our plans for Huntress." Victor stepped up to his place at the table. "We had hoped to send Serpent through against a weakly-defended world, but do we have time now before the Jaguar forces return to Clan space?"

"Likely not."

"They won't stay on Huntress, though." Phelan crossed his arms. "That's not the Lincoln Osis I know. He'll put those troops to use on another front."

"Scorched Earth?"

"Most likely," Focht answered. "It will make the fighting there even more desperate when that time comes. For now, however, it appears we finally have good news from there. Despite the Falcons being invited to participate, the Clan attack on Minneapolis faltered within a few days. My reports from Precentor Durbin even state that the newly-raised American 'Mech units played a pivotal role in the early repulse."

Moods around the table went up. "That's certainly good news," Kai agreed. "The sooner they can defend themselves the sooner we can focus on taking the fight to the Clans."

"Indeed. We now know that the training of Earther MechWarriors on Outreach can bear fruit. And in the coming months further graduations from there are expected."

"So they'll be needing more 'Mechs," Victor said. "It's going to be a wear on our transport capacity while we redeploy troops out of the Combine."

"But also an opportunity." Focht tapped the table thoughtfully. "When the Jaguars' frontline forces return, and if they are sent to Earth as Khan Phelan suggests, we will have troops ready to meet them. Their retreat from here will be, to put it simply, a moot point, and what Jaguar units we didn't destroy here will be destroyed on Earth."

"More than that." Victor looked up from where he'd been staring at the displays on tthe holotank. "Clans we've never even seen yet have been getting involved there. I think we'll find that our war with the Clans won't be decided here or on Huntress or even Strana Mechty. It'll be decided there, where all the Clans are gathering, and we can meet them head-on away from their homeworld defenses."

"Well put, Prince Victor, but I suspect the people of that unfortunate world will not be so grateful toward us if we turn their home into a charnel house for killing Clansmen," Focht pointed out. "As it would also claim many of them."

"I know, Precentor-Martial. And I feel bad for them. But as you once pointed out yourself, we're not here to save a planet of six billion people when there are trillions of people in the Inner Sphere living in terror of the Clans. God help us, they have to come first. If defeating the Clans for good requires us to turn Earth into a global battlefield, then that's what we're going to do."

Focht nodded stiffly. "God help us indeed, then."

That prompted a shake of the head from Khan Phelan. When he spoke, he did so in a subdued tone, not his usual manner. "A better sentiment, Precentor-Martial, might be to ask God to help them." He leaned over the table, splashing light over his gray Clan leather suit. "Because this war is only going to get nastier from here on out, and they'll probably need all the help they can get."




FINIS.... for now

Postscript: I did it! I finished a story in less than a year! HOOORAY! The story weighs in at 67,369 words, BTW. So it's already bigger than the first three stories of the original 2000 version of this series combined. Though it's 50,000 words short of the longest story in that series (which weighed in at 118,000 words) and my record for a solo work continues to be the TGG Multiverse story "Anatomy of a War", which was originally 210,000+ and went up to over 262,000 when I did the 5th Anniversary Edition.

Now to figure on what to do next.... and to try and fight the siren call of Final Fantasy IV: The After Years on PSP.

[D.Turtle]

This is a nice little story, and I'm looking forward to other installments set in this universe

[Highlord Laan]

I really look forward to seeing more of this. The IS leaders are kinda bastards for their stance, but it's fully understandable and any sane leaders would be doing the same in their place. At least it seems they're really, really trying to get their Scorched Earth allies up to speed and genuinely attempting to soften the blow to the civilian populace.

The the US, mercenaries may very well be their best hope. It would leave a dirty taste in the mouths of the leadership, but they need more trained pilots desperately. Not necessarily as frontliners, but as skilled pilots mixed in with the rookies. It's just a matter of finding the good mercs that know they live and die on their reputation.

It would also bring the third faction of BTech/Mechwarrior into the story. Where the IS and Clans go to fight each other or themselves, professional Mercenaries go as well.

[1911A1 Cowboy]

More, please. You have a knack for for this type of sci-fi, too. How about its discovered the WWII weapons are not effected by energy weapons and there's a new arms race.