29 replies to this topic

[Big Steve]

And the first full-length story in the setting.



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."



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 ****? 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, **** 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, **** '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 ****!," 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 **** 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.

Edited by Big Steve, 06 June 2012 - 09:12 AM.

[FACEman Peck]

I see... a lot of writing.

[TwoFaced]

I usually have a rule when it comes to forums and emails...

If it is more than 3 sentences...I kind of ignore them.

But I will read this a little later...

[Kartr]

Hey good to see this over here, really enjoy the story so far and I think MWO forums are the perfect place for nMWSE! For anyone who skiped the OP and is just reading the comments, go read the OP!! Big Steve is an amazing writer and his stories never fail to be good reads!

[Big 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. "******* 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 *** into the ground for getting your machine shot up like that. BattleMechs don't grow on trees, son!"




Fort Carson, 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 ****-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 ******* 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-*** 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 ******** 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 ***** 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.

[Big 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 ***."

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 ***** just shot from inside the hanger?!", an irate voice called out.

"This crazy son of a *****!", 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 ********!" 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."

[Big Steve]

Chapter 4[/b]


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 ******!" The entire company was taken aback, especially Dane, by Becca's sudden fury. "Did you think you were ******* macho out there, trying to goad the ******* Clans?! 'Come get some'?! You ******* ********!"

"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 ******* has the ******* 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 ******* 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 ******* killed because of your ******* 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 officer. 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 Palmer 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 *** 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 ******* 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.

[Big 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.

[Big 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 ******** 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 **** 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 ***** gloryhound in his place the other night, I wanted to punch the ********," 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 ******** 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.

[Big Steve]

Chapter 7


2nd BattleMech Battalion HQ
Fort Carson, 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 **** anyway and if you don't I'll gladly kick your ***** 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 ****** 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 **** in the Inner Sphere, but I aim to prove to them that their blue blood ain't worth **** 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."

[Big 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.

[Big Steve]

Chapter 9


Welch Township
Minnesota, United States
North America, Earth
7 July 2039 Local
7 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 a 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 list 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 open very dangerously.

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."

[Cubano]

I've only read a bit but I'm hooked. Def will read the rest later.

[Big 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 ******," 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 straight on.

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?"

"Dane 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 the3 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 *****, 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, but he was able to remain standing.

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. It still had two five-shots left, however, and it put them 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 *****, 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 himelf, harshly. Yeah, I'm alive. For now...

[Big 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 ******* dammit, my head feels like an entire ******* DropShip just landed on it."

"Language, Ed?"

"**** the **** off, ******," was the retort. "That damn Clanner nearly fried my ******* brain. I hope Hoffman put the ******* ******* 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 ******* 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 ******* 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 Gladiator 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 ***** 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."

[Jukebox1986]

Could you make a PDF, so we can Download it?
I´d like to print it, so that i can read it on the way to... well, whereever im going to.

Edited by Janus Wealth, 15 June 2012 - 10:51 AM.

[Lt muffins]

Janus Wealth, on 15 June 2012 - 10:49 AM, said:

Could you make a PDF, so we can Download it?
I´d like to print it, so that i can read it on the way to... well, whereever im going to.

that is a good idea, I have tried to read this story but the fact that it is on a forum somehow decreases my attention span and makes me want to write TL:DR. A PDF format might not provoke the same reaction.

Edited by Lt muffins, 15 June 2012 - 11:06 AM.

[Big Steve]

PDF format, no. .rtf format, yes. http://stgjr.com/mwse/eatg.rtf

[Big 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 Carson, 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 **** 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 ******' Zimbabwe," Keisha answered. "And the rest of America still voted in the ******* 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 ******** 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 ******** you ***** 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."

Edited by Big Steve, 19 June 2012 - 04:03 PM.

[Big 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 Carson, 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, Palmer 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.