Through A Mirror Dimly

By Michael Todd



By Michael Todd
Cover Design by Catalyst Game Labs
Cover Art by DarkLostSoul86
Cover Alterations by Justin Kase.

2017 Michael Todd.

All Rights Reserved. Classic BattleTech, BattleTech, Mech, BattleMech and
MechWarrior are copyright and/or registered trademarks of The Topps Company, Inc in
the United States and other countries. Catalyst Game Labs is a trademark of
InMediaRes Productions, LLC.

In case any of you missed it, this is a fan-made book and has no association or approval,
implied or otherwise, from Topps, InMediaRes or Catalyst Game Labs. No challenge to
their trademarks, copyrights or other intellectual property is implied.

No part of this work may be altered or sold for profit, nor otherwise circulated in any
form other than that in which it is published.

Published by Michael Sigil Todd

Somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

First Printing
 Dedication
I would like to thank each member of the BattleTech Fan Fiction
Forum who have taken the time to read the Chronicles of the 69th Virginia
Expeditionary Force, especially those of you who have commented,
pointed out inconsistencies and made suggestions. Your enthusiasm is
what kept this story going.

I would like to also thank my wife, Mariam, my five children, Layla,

Ahmad, Isha, Anousheh, and Jasper, who endured endless hours of my
chattering on about BattleTech.

Also, Captain Jochen Weddle for dragging me back into the

Battletech Universe in the first place.

To Colonel Jason Henley and Lt. Jeff Hamilton for their inspiration
and finally a shoutout to Michael Stackpole for his own fiction work in the
Universe which has served me as a guiding light.
Chapter 1
Skye
Sanglamore Academy
Lyran Alliance
31 October 3057

Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Stroud shook her head as she looked
up at the 40-ton Clint. All of the current crop of cadets refused to pilot the
thing. There had been one too many unexplained incidents with the
Mech and word had gotten out, stories had been passed down and now no
one would go near it. Those who had claimed the electronics were
glitched. Others said the Mech was just too difficult to control. The most
interesting and amusing stories, though, were the ones in which the Cadets
swore the Mech would take control of itself and still other said the Mech
had tried to talk with them.

Whatever the truth, she would never know. It was going to be sold at
auction, along with numerous truckloads of other surplus equipment the
Academy no longer wanted or needed. Shed be taking it on its final ride,
straight to The Barn along with the rest of the junk. There it would be
tagged and cataloged and ultimately sold to the highest bidder. Who knew
what would happen to it next?

With Katrina Steiners succession from the Federated Commonwealth

following right on the heels of Ryan Steiners assassination, there was
only one thing she was certain off. There was going to be plenty of
fighting and that didnt even take into account the Inner Spheres latest
residents, the Clans.

Looking up at the 40-ton war machine, it was easy to imagine it was

haunted. Between the pre-dawn light and the few scattered metal halides
on in the cavernous Mech hangar, most of it was cast in shadows and red
highlights, making the head of the Clint suddenly look ominously like that
of a Banshee, which suddenly seemed an apt comparison.

She herself had seen some of the surveillance videos from the hangar and
it was well known the Mech would occasionally power itself on for no
apparent reason. Legend had it that one time a tech had tried to manually
disconnect the main power coupling from the fusion engine and was
almost killed from the resulting shock. It was yet another reason no one,
not even the Techs, liked to go near the thing.

But that didnt change the fact it was taking up valuable real estate sitting
idle in one of the Mech bays. So, it had to go, especially with a lance of
the new BH-K305 Battle Hawks rumored to be on the way directly from
Defiance Industries for additional field testing. Consequently, it had fallen
to her to get it out of here. That it had fallen to her was rather odd in of
itself. As a Warrant Officer First Class, she had assigned the task to a pair
of her technicians, Duggan and Remorez. When she'd gotten up and
double-checked the duty roster, they had been mysteriously reassigned,
leaving her the only one left to move to the Mech.

Clattering up the chain link ladder, she ascended towards the head of the
Clint. On the outside it looked in pretty good shape, especially for a
Mech that was approaching 400 years old. As she reached the top, there
was a strange hissing, followed by the whir of hydraulics and suddenly she
felt the machine come alive under her.

She mumbled to herself in an effort to dispel her growing sense of unease.

A damn short, probably from this things ancient wiring harness. My
pressure must have set it off

Her words trailed away into a stunned silence as the canopy lifted,
revealing a cockpit ringed with more displays than most Combat
Information Centers had. The multitude of screens flickered to life, status
messages scrolling down them like little electronic waterfalls. The
command couch lay in the center, bathed in the cold glow of electronics,
beckoning her.

Muttering to herself she clambered in, Its just a machine. Its no wonder
the electronics are all screwed up. Look at this setup! Who the hell made
this thing anyway

No sooner had she positioned herself on the command couch then the
canopy began lowering itself. What the hell She pressed the canopy
release but still it kept closing. She smacked it again as the view of the
partially lit Mech hanger slowly disappeared from sight. Again nothing
happened. By the time she hit it a third time, it was too late. It closed
with an ominous hollow boom, followed by the sounds of the
environmental seals and locks engaging.
All around her the Mechs systems came alive. The HUD appeared,
projecting the reticle, weapon and armor status, jump jet reactive mass,
heat levels, along with speed, direction and torso bearing indicators. The
tactical map appeared next, dutifully cataloging all of the Mechs secured
in the bays around her, along with a topographical overlay of the area
around the hangar.

Whoa, wait a sec. Those Mechs are all shut down! How is it getting a
reading.

Off to her right, a Dalban HiRez display flashed urgently.

Electronic Counter Measures: Online.

Next to it, another reported.

Active Probe: OK.

A beeping sound pulled her attention to another series of displays off to

her left.

Communications: Online.
Uplink: OK.
Downlink: OK.
Accessing SGLE_Sec.
Connection Established.
Accessing

Adjacent to that one, yet another HiRez reported.

Engine: Nominal.
Containment Field: Stable.
Supercharger: Available.

Above and behind her, a mechanical whine suddenly started. Jerking her
head up, she saw a neurohelmet begin descending threateningly towards
her head. Instinctively, she reached up, trying to smack the bulky and
heavy helmet away from her but no sooner had she reached up than the
six-point harness snaked across her body, seemingly of its own accord,
strapping her into the command couch.
She screamed impotently at the neurohelmet as it covered her head
drowning her in darkness and muffling her cries.

A second later, a massive wave of neural feedback knocked her

unconscious.

Chapter 2
Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud slowly opened her eyes. The Mech
hangar was slowly coming alive as various technicians and support
personnel began the work of the day. All around her the multitude of
monitors ringing the command couch quietly displayed the status of the
various sub-systems of the Clint that was wrapped around her.

Disoriented, she glanced at the clock projected on the viewport. The last
thing she remembered was climbing into the cockpit. She shuddered
involuntarily as she recalled how the Clint had come alive under her and
then trapped her into its cockpit.

That had been 23 minutes ago.

Shaking off her growing sense of unease, she reached towards the
throttle. Easing it up, the Clint moved easily out of its berth and in
seconds shed cleared the hangar. Early morning sunlight filtered in
through the polarized canopy as she took stock of the extensive control
surfaces. She was surprised to find both their placement and purpose
intuitive.

Before she could think about it, the words were out her mouth. Rose,
raise Training Ground Command.

Rose? Who the hell was Rose?

Confused by her own actions, she had little time to think about them
before a new voice entered the cockpit, a womans voice. Course
plotted. Communications established with Training Ground
Command. Opening the frequency now.

This is Leutnant Hillsack at Training Ground Command. Please

identify. Over.

Unconsciously, she adjusted the course of the Clint to follow the projected
path towards the training grounds. This is Warrant Officer First Class
Raquel Stroud. Request permission to enter Training Ground Three for a
full combat systems check. Over.

There was a long pause. We dont have you on the schedule, Warrant
Officer Stroud. Please transmit your authorization. Over.

Again without thinking, she reached over to the communications console,

watching in amazement as her own fingers typed in a series of commands
that were both alien and yet familiar at the same time.

The surprised voice of Ground Command came back at her.

Authorization confirmed, Warrant Officer Stroud. Youre cleared to
proceed to Training Ground Three for a full Class Five combat simulation.
Its the Gauntlet. Good luck. I havent seen someone even come close to
finishing that course in five years. Out.

Words issued from her mouth, seemingly without her permission.

Proceeding there now. Out.

---

Captain Wihlem Vought watched as the Clint sped towards the entrance of
the training ground. Something was amiss. A Class Five combat
simulation? He should have known about something like that days in
advance. Sure, it was still a low-power simulation but only their best
cadets ever ran that. Most of their faculty, even those with combat
experience, rarely tried it for fear of looking bad in front of the cadet
core. It was a headhunting simulation. Identify and locate the enemy
commanders Mech, disable or destroy it and return to where you entered
the field from.

Hillsack. Pull up Warrant Officer Strouds profile.

A few seconds later, Strouds dossier appeared on the primary display.

Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Stroud

Born: 3028.

Education: War College of Buena Vista

Basic Training:
Gunnery/BattleMech: Class 1
Piloting/BattleMech: Class 2
Small Arms: Class 1
Survival: Class 1
Advanced Individual Training:
Technican/BattleMech: Class 4
Technician/Electronics: Class 3
Technician/Weapons: Class 2
Engineering: Class 2
Communications/Conventional: Class 2

Summary: Two years MechWarrior training at the

War College of Buena before transferring to the
technical program. Graduated with honors in
BattleMech Electronics in 3050. Immediately took
a commission as a Sergeant with the 17th Donegal
Guards under Leutnant-General Quitman Brown.
Shipped out to Jabuka. Assigned commander of a
BattleMech field repair team. In December 3051,
fought Clan Steel Vipers Alpha Galaxy alongside
the 19th Lyran Guards. The 17th Donegal Guard
took heavy losses but managed to withdraw from
Jabuka. The 19th Lyran Guards were destroyed.
Served four years.

Applied to Sanglamore Academy as a Full

BattleMech Technician in 3055 and was hired as a
Warrant Officer. Promoted to Warrant Officer
First Class in 3056. Assigned command of
Technical Support Team Three.

No violations.

Pay Band 4.

Vought frowned. She was barely even a qualified MechWarrior. This is

Captain Vought to Warrant Officer Stroud. State the intent of this training
run. Over.

An explanation sprung unbidden to her mind. This BattleMech is

scheduled to be auctioned off, Captain. This training run is to establish
the condition of the unit prior to the sale. Over.

Captain Vought shook his head but the authorization was in the
system. Highly irregular, but everything appeared in order.

You are cleared to proceed. Please establish a simulation circuit and

confirm all weapon systems are operating at low power. Over.

She punched a few buttons before answering, Simulation circuit

established. Confirm weapons on low power. Over and out.

Captain Vought stared at the primary display, addressing no one in

particular. This ought to be the shortest training run in history.

Chapter 3
In the cockpit of the Clint, Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Stroud
cinched the six-point harness as tight as it would go. As she approached
the entrance proper, she stopped fighting herself and just relaxed her
mind. Shed piloted hundreds of Mechs. As a technician, she routinely
piloted machines, mostly damaged ones, in and out of repair facilities as
well as out into the field to evaluate their operational status and to confirm
repairs.

But none had ever felt like this Clint. It seemed almost an extension of
herself, anticipating her moves instead of responding to her
commands. She couldnt shake the feeling of rightness, as if she was
meant to pilot this Mech, as if the Mech wanted her to pilot it.

Rose. Engage automatic target prioritization, target assist and configure

volley fire. Commence full spectrum scanning with the active probe.

A smooth computer generated feminine voice responded

immediately. Battle Computer online. Active probe scanning.

The training grounds were delineated by both a chain link fence topped
with razor wire and a series of strobing radio, infrared and light beacons
making the boundaries unmistakable regardless of the situation.

No sooner had she entered the training grounds than her tactical map lit up
with a series of contacts, a line of light pickets about 1.5 km out. Rose
informed her of the details. Wasp detected. Spider detected. Locust
detected. Jenner detected.

They were spaced about 200 meters apart in a rough line spanning almost
a kilometer. The terrain was mostly clear with a few scattered hills and
clusters of trees.

Pushing the throttle up, she accelerated to just under 120 kph. The
responsiveness and sheer power of the 40-ton Mech was nothing short of
amazing. Angling off to her right, she watched on her tactical as the four
light Mechs began shifting their own positions in an attempt to intercept
her. The Locust was the closest of the four and her equal in speed,
although the gangly bird-like Mech lacked any jump capacity.

Rose. Extrapolate targets course and speed and overlay on tactical. A

series of gently curving red lines appeared, starting out narrow on the
enemy Mech's current position and then fanning out as the deviations
were factored in. It was obvious she could prevent them from bringing
their full firepower to bear on her simultaneously by swinging out towards
the eastern boundary of the grounds.

It suddenly occurred to her then that she had no idea what the goal of the
training run actually was. Rose, whats the primary objective?

The primary objective is to identify and then destroy or disable the

enemy commanders BattleMech. There is a 3% probability that any of
the current four targets is the primary objective.

Well, that changes things. If she avoided the lance of light Mechs they
would almost certainly circle around her at the first opportunity.
Obviously, there was at least one, if not more, Mechs still out in the field,
likely another full lance. The Locust and Spider were making good time,
leaving the Wasp and the Jenner, which was the furthest away, to play
catchup.

Spying a small hill some 300 meters ahead, she tweaked her course to put
it between her and the two approaching light Mechs. They were coming
straight in, intent on engaging her. Rose, overlay weapons ranges on all
targets and display my effective range.

Bingo. Shed have time to snap off a shot at the lead Locust before
breaking line of sight behind the hill. As she screamed towards the hill,
she rotated her torso to the left, the Locust and Spider now visible through
the viewscreen. Unbidden, the Locust suddenly expanded on the HUD as
some type of optical or electronic magnification was applied, her targeting
reticle expanding along with it. Around the Locust everything else
remained the same size. The reticle itself seemed drawn to her intended
target and reflexively she unleashed her extended range large laser for the
first time.

The cerulean beam connected with the Locusts left leg, burning straight
through its light armor and briefly into the supporting structure underneath
before it was obscured by the hill. Pulling back on the throttle, she
brought the Clint skidding to a stop behind the hill.

The Spider lit up its powerful jump jets, launching itself high into the air
as it vaulted over the mountain in a single massive bound. But, it was
exactly what Rose had predicted the Mech would do and as it crested the
mountain, she had her reticle waiting for it.

With a flick of her thumb, she selected the tertiary interlock circuit and
then pulled the primary trigger on the control stick, sending her full trio of
lasers against it. The heavy laser all but tore off the Spiders left arm
while the two mediums grouped perfectly against the right side of its
chest, burning deep into it. Deep enough that they fused one of the jump
jet ports closed causing the Spider to begin to falter in mid-air, forcing it
to land prematurely. Equipped with only a pair of medium pulse lasers, it
was only effective within about a quarter kilometer.

Yanking her throttle back, she shifted the nimble Clint into full reverse,
opening up the distance between her and the Spider even as the Locust
made the turn around the hill. Leveling her heavy laser at the Locust once
more, she fired, this time breaching the right torso of the 20-ton Mech.

As the Spider recovered and began sprinting towards her backpedaling

Mech, the Locust hungrily bore in at top speed, quickly closing to within
range of its own weapons. Her reticle already on the Locust, she
exchanged volleys with it. The Locust made good on its shot, hitting her
Clint center mass, but her heavy laser melted what remained of its left leg
even as her mediums ripped into its right arm and chest. With one leg
gone, the Mech crashed to the ground, ripping a long furrow in the dirt,
rolling over thrice before finally coming to a stop, a tangled and smoking
mess.

Locust disabled. The Spider is now the primary threat. The Jenner and
Wasp will be within range in 20 seconds.

As if to announce its arrival, a pulse laser stitched a line just past her right
leg as a second stream of pulses worked across her right torso. With one
of the Spiders arms already heavily damaged, Stroud abruptly changed
directions, bulling into the light Mech even as her lasers recycled.

Unleashing a vicious kick, she buckled in the armor plates protecting the
Spiders fragile right leg, sending a shower of sparks cascading to the
ground as she mangled one of the actuators. Stomping the jump jet
pedals, she sent Rose rocketing into the air, leaping easily atop the hill
where she caught sight of the rapidly approaching Jenner and Wasp.

Reassessing Jenner is now the primary threat. Panther

detected. Phoenix Hawk detected. Crab detected. Hunchback
detected. A quick glance at her tactical showed the medium lance was
still well over a klick away giving her a bit of precious time before their
arrival on the scene.

Turning her attention back to the engagement at hand, she unleashed her
powerful Diverse Optics Sunbeam ER large laser at the quickly closing
heavily armed light Mech. Her heavy laser struck the 35-ton Jenner
square in the chest, melting away a half-ton of armor, but it wasnt enough
to breach it. Though relatively lightly armored, the Jenner was a tough,
fast machine and even just a single volley from its quad Argra 3L medium
class lasers, combined with its Thunderstroke SRM-4, could seriously
damage or even cripple her machine.

Hitting the jump jets again, she leapt back off the hill, putting it between
her and the two approaching light Mechs. Pirouetting mid-air, her
graceful turn left twin streams of pulse lasers bracketing her as she
brought her Clint down less than 100 meters from the damaged Spider that
had just fired at her and she had left in her rear seconds earlier.
Sending her bevy of lasers straight into the 30-ton Mech, they grouped
perfectly, burning deep into its chest and into its delicate gyro
assembly. The Spider stiffened suddenly, toppling to the ground, unable
to move as thick oily smoke poured from its ruined chest cavity.

Spider disabled.

Even as she whipped her Clint back around towards the hill, the Jenner
crested it atop its own pillars of flames, the Wasp right on its
heels. Instinctively, she jammed the throttle wide open, activating the
supercharger. Thrust back into the command couch, the Mech tore
straight ahead, clods of dirt and stone spewing from under its feet as Rose
accelerated to over 150 kph in just a matter of seconds.

Behind her, laser fire speared the ground as short-range missiles threw up
geysers of earth and rock. For a few scant seconds, it was all she could do
to hold onto the charging Mech as it raced blindly ahead.

Containment Field: 90%.

She careened the Mech around to her left, finding it difficult to control
the rampaging war machine. Finally, she managed to pull back on the
throttle, slowing it down, although even then it was still traveling at close
to 120 kph.

Supercharger disengaged.

Inadvertently, shed managed to open the distance back up between her

and the other two light Mechs. Taking advantage of it, she sent another
blast from her extended range large laser at the Jenner charging down the
hill towards her. Again it struck center mass, the automated targeting
assist seeming to all but guide her shots for her.

On your current course, you will enter the range of the Phoenix Hawk in
28 seconds. Recommend switching to heading 125.

She didnt even try to understand the situation; she simply altered her
course to 125. The Jenner and Wasp began doggedly pursuing but the
Wasp simply wasnt fast enough to keep up with her fleet Mech. To the
west, the lance of medium Mechs was altering their own course in an
attempt to cut her off. Roses projections showed the Phoenix Hawk
would make intercept but the other three were just too slow. Still, the
Jenner, now in her rear, worried her as well.

Bracing herself, she went from racing ahead at 120 kph to leaping
backwards almost as fast, turning a full 180 degrees in the process. Even
before she came down, shed lined up the heavy laser and snapped off
another shot at the persistent Jenner, this one drifting a bit to hit the
stubby left arm. As she landed, she threw Rose into full reverse as she
waited for her laser to recycle. Just as it did, the Jenner closed to within
250 meters, sending its full complement of four medium lasers
crisscrossing past her own three.

A pair of the Jenners Argra 3Ls sent the last of the armor covering her
right torso streaming down her leg, its other two lasers narrowly
missing. Her aim continued to be true however, as both her heavy laser,
along with one of the mediums, struck the Jenners right leg, blowing off
its foot even as the third passed just over the top of the now stumbling
bug-like Mech. The Jenners right leg began to buckle as it tried to
remain upright sending out a wicked shower of sparks and then it went
down hard.

Right Torso: Breached. Right Torso Integrity: 70%. Jenner disabled.

As quick glance at the wire diagram of the Clint projected on the HUD
confirmed Roses damage assessment. Then the Wasp demanded her
attention, announcing its presence with a volley of short-range missiles,
one of which exploded directly against her chest as its arm-mounted pulse
laser landed short, chewing up the ground in front of her.

Firing a short burst from only the right side jump jets, Stroud side slipped
the Clint, swiveling her torso to the right as she did so in order to line up
her shot. Her heavy Sunbeam laser bisected the Wasps right arm cutting
its firepower in half as her two mediums denuded one of its legs and left
the right side of its chest exposed.

As she circled to the left, the Wasp slowed, turning sharply to track her
swift Mech and once more unleashing its twin SRM rack. Another thick
short-range missile exploded against her right arm as she returned
fire. The heavy laser simply refused to miss, drilling straight through the
right side of the Wasp even as her medium lasers cut out one of its legs
from underneath it. The Wasp spun around and then collapsed heavily to
the ground.

Wasp disabled. Reassessing Phoenix Hawk is now the primary

threat.

A large flashing red arrow on her HUD alerted her to the direction from
which the Phoenix Hawk was approaching. Its lancemates were
struggling to keep up with the fast Mech and were strung out in a rough
line behind it.

Putting her back to the Phoenix Hawk, she once again shoved the throttle
to the maximum, angling away from the Hawk and back towards where
shed entered the training grounds. The Clints acceleration took her
breath away as the 40-ton Mech sprinted off.

Containment Field: 89%.

The tactical revealed the Phoenix Hawk was every bit her equal in range
and almost as fast. The Beagles active scan gave her the rest of the bad
news. Armed with a pair of extended range large lasers as well as a pair
of medium pulse lasers, it had twice the firepower she carried and more
armor to boot. Its lancemates she could easily out maneuver but this one
she would be hard pressed to either escape or destroy.

Topping out at 151 kph, Rose was managing to keep its distance from the
Hawk, even at the unfavorable angle and the projection showed she ought
to be able to reach the central area of the training grounds without getting
into range of the other three slower BattleMechs.

Containment field: 74%. Recommend disengaging the supercharger.

She hated to do it. Reluctantly, she pulled back on the throttle.

Supercharger disengaged.

Her mind raced, searching for some, any, possible advantage she might
have over the 45-ton Phoenix Hawk. Something to even the odds, to at
least give her a chance. For its part, the Hawk seemed unconcerned that it
was leaving its lancemates behind. If she could draw the chase out, she
might be able to pull it far enough away that she could engage it without it
having the support of its fellows. At least for 20 seconds, maybe more if
she was lucky. Even one-on-one she was dangerously outmatched but
against a full medium lance her chances were basically nil.

She pushed the throttle back up, desperate for the additional speed.

Containment Field: 80%.

She grit her teeth.

Containment Field: 69%. Recommend disengaging the supercharger.

Stroud screamed in the cockpit as the Clint continued hurtling across the
field. Rose! Just a few more seconds! Come on!

Warning! Containment Field: 55%. Warning! Containment Field

unstable. Warning! Radiation leak detected. Recommend immediate
disengagement.

She pulled the throttle back down, one eye glued on the tactical. Shed
managed to keep her distance from the Hawk and now she had a clear field
ahead or her, forcing them to turn and try to chase her down. Rose, how
long until the field stabilizes?

Approximately 40 seconds.

She growled, Now where the hell is that command Mech?

Shed reached the rough center of the training grounds now. Off to the
northwest she saw a series of tree covered rolling hills. Dead ahead was
mostly clear, while off to her right the land slopped gently down towards a
river.

She plowed ahead unsure of which direction to go as the Phoenix Hawk

continued its relentless pursuit. Behind it, the other three Mechs began
fanning out.

ECM field detected. Heading 325. Approximately two kilometers

away. 57% probability it is concealing the location of the primary
objective.
Glancing at her tactical, she switched her heading, angling towards the
tree-covered hills where the ECM field was being generated. She was
quickly running out of time to try and deal with the Hawk and the ECM
field was now beginning to move slowly in her direction.

The net had been cast and it was now slowly closing in around
her. Seeing a copse of trees off to the right some two hundred meters
away, a plan materialized in her mind. Rose, engage broadband
jamming.

She stomped the jump jet pedals as the air around her filled with electronic
interference from her Guardian ECM suite. Jerking her Mech hard to the
east, she all but flew through the air as she brought her Mech down just
inside the stand of trees.

Rose! Go into low power standby! Turn off the Guardian last!

The Clint became ominously quiet as she intently stared out of the
viewport with bated breath. She should have just suddenly disappeared
from all of the tracking systems of the Mechs hunting her.

She willed herself into perfect stillness as if her own physical movement
might give her away. Just as blind as those who sought to find her, the
seconds ticked by, each one seeming an hour.

Then the Phoenix Hawk appeared, moving swiftly as it continued to

follow her original course. Perfect. Still, she waited. She had only one
chance at this. A protracted fight would allow its comrades to enter the
fray all but ending any hope she had for locating the enemy commanders
Mech.

Its torso swiveled back and forth as it sought to find any evidence of
where her Clint had gone. The use of her jump jets had eliminated the
telltale foot prints of her 40-ton machine, making it seem as if she had, in
fact, suddenly rocketed off and disappeared without a trace.

As it approached to just over 200 meters away from her, still seemingly
oblivious to her location, she made her move.

Rose! Full power! Now!

In seconds, the Clint was fully operational once more. She unleashed her
trio of lasers even as she lifted off from the trees, arcing gracefully
towards the unsuspecting Phoenix Hawk. Laser fire stabbed all along the
right side of the Phoenix Hawk as it twisted its torso to meet her. One of
the Hawks heavy lasers flew wildly off, but the twin streams of deadly
accurate pulse lasers traced a path across the air and into her already
damaged right arm.

Right Arm Armor: 7%. Right Torso Integrity: 55%.

She brought herself down adjacent to the Hawks damaged right side,
discharging her recycled lasers as she landed. Kilojoules of energy poured
once more into its right torso, opening a ragged hole. Pulling her left arm
back, she sent a lethal punch directly into the exposed engine
compartment. Grasping Mech innards with her hand actuator, she ripped
out a chunk of the bulky extra light engine shielding.

Overwhelmed by the ferocity of the sudden attack, the Hawk stumbled and
then fell.

Enemy Mechs approaching combat effective range. Its lance mates

were racing to its aid and she was out of time. Hitting the LFT-10s once
more, she sent herself rocketing back and away from the approaching lead
Mech, a 50-ton Crab. Blissfully, the Crab carried only standard heavy
lasers and not the extended model both her and the Hawk enjoyed, causing
its twin spears to land impotently short.

As she flew away from the downed Hawk, she sent a final volley of laser
fire into it as it struggled to regain its feet. Already shifting her attention
away, she angled her flight to put her back inline with the slowly moving
ECM field.

Phoenix Hawk disabled.

The second she hit the ground, she slammed the throttle to the wall.
Rose, switch the Guardian to ECCM mode!

ECCM mode engaged. Containment Field: 87%.

Alternating between running and leaping, the Clint raced into the hills,
leaving the other three Mechs to continue their stolid advance, essentially
trapping her between them and whatever lay within the ECM field.

Chapter 4
In the Training Ground command center, Captain Wihlem Vought
watched in mixed admiration and disbelief as the Clint sprinted off to the
north after laying waste to the Phoenix Hawk. Few cadets, or faculty for
that matter, had managed to successfully penetrate the secondary
defensive belt.

And, in any case, Class Five simulations were a rare event in of

themselves, primarily because of the actual physical wear and tear it
inflicted upon the Academys BattleMechs. While the enemies were
sophisticated holographic projections and the damage was all simulated,
slips and falls, any physical contact really, along with the strain of pushing
a high performance war machine to its maximum, all took a real, and
potentially expensive, toll on a BattleMech. For that reason alone, Class
Five simulations were restricted to senior cadets only, to say nothing of
the high probability the cadet would likely emerge with at least a
concussion. There had even been one Cadet death over the past decade
hed been in command of the Training Grounds.

Most of their fourth year cadets when faced with the Gauntlet chose to
pilot an assault class BattleMech, in the Academys case that meant either
a 100-ton Atlas or an 80-ton Zeus, both courtesy of their close relationship
with nearby Defiance Industries. Heavily armed and just as heavily
protected, cadets invariably valued firepower and armor over speed and
mobility.

It was still the Lyran way after all, although the creation of the Federated
Commonwealth Regimental Combat Teams and the integration of Davion
tactics that had come along with the formation of the AFFC had finally
begun to change that. Of course, technically, they were members of the
Lyran Alliance now, so who knew what the future would hold, especially
with everything rimward quickly falling into total chaos as CCAF and
FWLM forces streamed into the area surrounding Terra, snapping up
planets left and right.

But, it wasnt the fact that Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud had racked up 5
kills that surprised him. Many cadets had achieved that many kills, in
some cases even more, but they all eventually fell to the massed firepower
of the remaining enemy Mechs as they were inevitably mobbed in their
slow and cumbersome machines. There was simply no way to destroy
them fast enough. He knew this. Hed seen countless cadets try it and
they had all failed.

No, what shocked him was the fact that shed managed to get past the
medium attack lance. The Panther, Crab and Hunchback were all behind
her and unable to catch up. In fact, they were actually losing ground to
her Clint. Likely, they would lose even more ground as she entered the
hills and forest that dominated the northwestern quadrant of the grounds.

In front him at one of the control consoles, Leutnant Hillsack

whistled. You seeing this, Captain? I clocked that Clint at over 150 and
with a jump capacity greater than 200 meters! Shes making a real run at
this thing! I havent seen a run this good since Captain Weddle took his
custom T-bolt out there and that was five years ago!

Hauptman Jochen Weddle, Professor of Tactics and Strategy, had indeed

taken his heavily modified Thunderbolt into the Gauntlet shortly after his
arrival to take a teaching position here at his alma mater. A former
MechWarrior from the Third Lyran Guard during the War of 3039, hed
joined a mercenary outfit after the fighting had ended, going on to briefly
found a mercenary command of his own. Caught in the first wave of the
Clan Invasion, hed fought against both Clan Ghost Bear and Clan Wolf in
a string of defeats that had driven his unit almost all the way back to Skye.

But he had survived. Hed fought the Clans a dozen times and lived to tell
the tale. And hed brought his T-Bolt with him to the Academy. A
legendary machine, it had top speed of over 85 kph, a jump capacity of a
full 150 meters and carried a full complement of salvaged Clan-tech
weapons. Hed tied the school record of 10 kills with it, although even he
had ultimately failed to destroy the enemy command Mech and
escape. Nonetheless, it secured his position at the Academy and added to
his already near mythical reputation as a MechWarrior.

And now this tech from Support Team Three was out there kicking ass
and taking names like nobodys business.

Hillsack, you started the record, right?

The leutnant nodded vigorously, You bet your ass I did, Captain!

---

The wire diagram on the HUD told the story. The Clints right arm was
all but breached, the right torso structure heavily damaged and almost half
the armor covering her chest was now a memory as well. A single hit to
her right torso with anything larger than a medium laser would put her
down for good from engine damage.

She hit the LFT-10s as she reached the first of the hills, easily vaulting
over it in a single bound. Again, she was forced to marvel at the Mech's
performance followed by the mystery of how it was she was even able to
pilot it. It was as if shed been born to pilot this particular BattleMech.
Like love at first sight, they had been destined for each other and were
now inextricably linked together.

Sailing high over the next tree-covered hill, she braced herself as she drew
ever closer to the ECM field.

Rose, how long until you can cancel out that ECM field?

32 seconds at current course and speed. 68% probability the primary

objective is within the ECM field.

The combination of dense trees and elevation changes made jumping the
only way to make good time towards her destination. Any Mech lacking
jump jets would be at a severe disadvantage in terrain like this but it suited
her Mech perfectly. The tactical showed the remainder of the Phoenix
Hawks lance now just beginning to struggle their way up the hills and
into the woods. Only the Panther was able to make decent time and its
jump capacity was limited to only 120 meters. Effectively, they were out
of the game, at least for now.

Suddenly, her cockpit was bathed in a bloody red light. Without even
thinking about it, she abruptly shifted the heading of the leaping Clint
using the directional nozzles on the LFT-10s. Rose explained a split
second later.

Hidden unit detected. Assault class. Hidden unit detected. Heavy

class. Recommend immediate evasive action.
Even as her Clint skewed off to the right in mid-flight, a massive volley of
long and short-range missiles erupted from within the forest off to her left
filling the sky with deadly warheads. Her abrupt change of direction was
enough to throw off the hidden Mechs immense volley of missile fire but
it also had the effect of bringing her closer to the second one. To her right,
an enormous silver slug streaked towards her followed by laser fire and
another bevy of short-range missiles.

And she was heading directly towards it. Rose urgently informed her of
just exactly what she now faced. Crusader detected. Victor
detected. Recommend immediate withdraw.

She took the Gauss slug straight to the chest as laser fire ripped into her
right arm and warheads detonated all along her left side. Alarm klaxons
shrieked as the Clint faltered in mid-air and she knew she was going down
early and hard. A strangely concerned sounding Rose tallied the damage
as she fought to control her fall.

Center Torso: Breached. Critical. Engine shielding. Center Torso

Integrity: 52%. Right Arm: Breached. Right Arm Integrity: 43%.
Recommend immediate withdraw.

It was all Stroud could do to bring the Clint down on its relatively intact
left side. She hit the ground hard shedding even more armor in the
process, her head whipsawing forward then back again, leaving her
disoriented and confused.

An urgent wailing filled her cockpit as if Rose was desperately calling to

her for help. Victor approaching. Crusader approaching. Take
immediate action. Assessing Victor is the primary threat. Actively
jamming primary target.

In a daze, she rolled the Clint onto its front, the viewscreen filling with
dirt, rock and splintered chucks of wood. Levering herself back to her
feet, she tried to block out the deafening roar of the alarms even as the
Missile Lock Indicator began shrilling, adding to the overwhelming
cacophony.

No sooner had she gotten back to her feet then she slapped the throttle
wide open. The Clint shot forward like a started rabbit, branches
exploding against it as she blindly tore through the forest. Behind her,
where she had been just seconds ago, another awe inspiring salvo of
missiles eviscerated the forest ground.

A new alarm blared to life. Collision imminent. Brace for impact.

The 80-ton Victor suddenly descended directly in front of her, flames

pouring from it back as it readied its weapons. She didnt even try to fire,
didnt have time to fire, simply shifted right and bored straight in.

Lasers, missiles and the deadly Gauss rifle all discharged from the angry
Victor as she clipped the assault Mechs right side, but luckily she was
already in too close for the Gauss rifle to hit her and the slug flew
harmlessly wide. The dual medium pulse lasers and the SRM-4, however,
were an entirely different story. Pulses of laser fire stripped armor from
her legs as a trio of short range missiles exploded against her vulnerable
chest.

Center Torso: Critical. Engine Shielding. Right Arm: Destroyed.

Right Torso Integrity: 10%. Overall Structural Integrity: 41%. Left Arm
Armor: 12%. Right Leg Armor: 15%. Left Leg Armor: 34%.

She gasped as she managed to pass by the Victor. The damage shed done
to it was only superficial, but she was past! In jubilation, she fired the
Clints jump jets, soaring into the sky once more, springing away from the
two deadly BattleMechs.

Quickly reorienting herself to the overall tactical situation, she saw she
was barely more than 600 meters away from the ECM field. One more
leap was all she needed. Behind her, the two big Mechs were firing their
own jump jets in pursuit of her but the hills were blocking their line of
sight. Roses ability was leap was just simply too great for them to
maintain contact in the dense terrain.

Stroud screamed, ROSE! ECCM MODE! BRING DOWN THAT

FIELD! NOW!

No sooner had she landed from her next leap than the ECM field shattered,
revealing what could only be the final two BattleMechs. Abruptly, she
found herself standing just inside a dangerously clear valley.
Archer detected. Charger detected. 88% probability the Archer is the
primary objective. Recommend use of Target Acquisition Gear.
Aerospace sortie and Arrow IV batteries standing by.

Aerospace sortie? Arrow IV Battery? What the hell was Rose talking
about?

The Lock On Indicator screamed to life once more even as the Archers
chest mounted Doombud LRM-20s flipped opened, promising to make
good on their name.

She shoved the throttle wide open, engaging the Supercharger and sending
the Clint sprinting down into the valley towards the two Mechs. The
Charger unleashed its own LRM-20 just as she dropped the reticle over
the 70-ton Archer and pulled the trigger.

But there were simply too many LRMs in the air for them all to miss and,
to make matters worse, with the Guardian Suite operating in ECCM mode,
she was unable to disrupt the Artemis IV Fire Control System which help
guide them.

Her cockpit darkened ominously as the massive cloud of LRMs blocked

out the sun as they began their deadly decent. Her two feeble medium
lasers, all which remained of her weaponry, crisscrossed a pair of their
counterparts from the Archer even as the Charger added its own quartet of
medium pulses.

Target Solution Acquired. Transmitting now.

Then her Mech shut down, plowing face first into the valley floor as
BattleMech Destroyed. Mission Over. flashed across her HUD in giant
blocky red letters.

As her Clint lay prone on the ground, Stroud was left gasping in her now
silent cockpit. She lay there recovering her breath and her senses, utterly
exhausted by the trial. Hanging limply against her six-point harness, she
was surprised to hear Roses voice.

Enemy command Mech identified. Enemy command Mech destroyed.

Glancing out of the viewport, she caught the contrails from a pair of 90-
ton Chippewa Aerospace fighters winging away even as the last of the
Arrow IV homing missiles finished disemboweling the Archer.

A new voice broke her out of her trance, a masculine voice. This is
Captain Vought of Training Command. Return to base for a full
debriefing.

---

The Training Command Center was in an absolute uproar. Captain

Vought shook his head in utter disbelief. It was the closest anyone had
ever come to successfully running the Gauntlet. Ever. Hillsack, get me
Hauptman-General Stockard. And have Warrant Officer Stroud meet us
in the de-briefing room as soon as shes back. And pull ALL of her
files. I want her complete dossier in my hand before the General arrives.

Yes, sir. Im on it!

---

Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud slowly brought Rose back to her

feet. Now that the training circuit had been terminated, her Mech
returned to normal operation. The wire diagram showed where shed
given her a few good scratches but nothing serious. All around her the
training grounds were quiet, although the radio strobes that marked the
boundaries remained visible on her tactical. There were no other Mechs,
no evidence of the desperate battle shed just fought, just a line of
shattered trees and a few long furrows in the dirt.

It was enough to make her wonder if shed dreamed the whole

thing. Enough to make her wonder if she was still, in fact, dreaming.

Roses voice purred back to life. All systems nominal.

Stroud shook her head. Rose actually sounded pleased. And earlier,
hadnt she sounded concerned? Hadnt Rose screamed for her help when
the Victor had brought them down? And since when had she been a
MechWarrior, anyway? She was a technician by training!

Her thoughts drifted back to the first time shed climbed into the Clints
cockpit as she began carefully navigating her way out of the training
grounds. That had been, what, just two hours ago maybe? Shed blacked
out in the cockpit. No, that wasnt quite right. The Clint had trapped her
inside. The neural feedback. Suddenly, she couldnt wait to get out of
this thing. She throttled Rose up, swiftly passing through the training
grounds.

She was supposed to deliver this Mech to The Barn. Wasnt that what
had started this entire bizarre train of events?

Less than a half an hour later, Stroud clambered out of the Clint, which
she left standing sentinel over various mounds of junk and burned out
vehicles in The Barn. She couldnt shake the sensation that it was
watching her as she walked away and hopped into a jeep that had been
dispatched to take her back to the training center. It was all she could do
not to turn around and look as the Corporal drove her off.

That and how the hell was she going to explain any of this

Chapter 5
Hauptman-General Vin Stockard watched silently as the recording of
Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Strouds run through the Gauntlet
played on the monitor wall in the main de-briefing room of the training
command center. Next to him, Captain Wihlem Vought poured through
the Warrant Officers full unabridged dossier.

A pair of strafing runs from two 90-ton Chippewa Aerospace fighters,

followed by a series of homing missile strikes from an Arrow IV battery
reduced the OpFor commanders Archer to burning rubble even as the
Warrant Officers Clint was destroyed by a combined volley of 60 LRMs
from the doomed Archer and its untouched comrade, an 80-ton Charger.

As the holovid ended, General Stockard turning a questioning gaze to the

Captain.

Vought was already shaking his head as he tossed the datapad with
Strouds dossier onto the table. No, General, I cant explain it. The more
I watch it, the more questions I come up with.

Stockard frowned, How many people have seen this and where is
Warrant Officer Stroud now?

Vought responded, Everyone in the command center saw the run and the
video is already circulating among the cadet core. How it got out so
quickly, I have no idea, but I can assure you I will be conducting a full
investigation of the leak. There are only a handful of people who could
have done it and I will have answers in short order, sir. As for the Warrant
Officer, she is waiting for us in one of the adjacent briefing rooms. I took
the liberty of posting a guard outside her door as well.

Stockard looked less than pleased. What do you know, Captain?

Again, Vought shook his head. Not much at this point, sir. She was born
on Enders Cluster in 3028, which was part of the Rim Worlds Republic
until we conquered it way back in 2774. Its literally as far out in the
middle of nowhere as you can get and still be considered in the
Commonwealth, pardon me, sir, the Alliance I mean. Her father operated
a mining Mech for a subsidiary of Zettle Metals located there and her
mother was a part-time waitress as far as I can tell.

He continued on, She was flagged as part of the standard neurological

testing conducted in secondary schools. Her neural network and synaptic
response times indicated a strong probability of compatibility with the
processes used in neurohelmets. She was sent to Buena, some 60 light
years away, for a full assessment. The War College of Buena conducted a
full battery of tests on her and determined she was a suitable candidate for
MechWarrior training and she was given a full state-sponsored ride. In
fact, her neural elasticity put her in the top 1% of all candidates.

She completed two years of MechWarrior training at the War College

before washing out due to poor gunnery scores. Her piloting was only
marginally better at that time. After failing as a MechWarrior, she
transferred to the technical side of the College where she excelled. She
graduated with honors two years later as a Full Technician, specializing in
electronics and weapon systems. That was in 3050, just as the Clan
Invasion began.

As a condition of her scholarship, she was required to take a commission

with the LCAF. The 17th Donegal Guards accepted her as a Sergeant and
she was given command of a BattleMech support team. The 17th Donegal
was sent to Jabuka where they fought against the Alpha Galaxy of Clan
Steel Viper alongside the 19th Lyran Guards. The 19th was wiped out but
the Donegal Guards managed to withdraw with heavy losses. No longer a
combat effective unit, the 17th was rotated off the frontlines to be rebuilt
and wouldnt see any more action during the Clan Invasion. After serving
four full years, Stroud opted not to re-enlist in 3054. However, the CO of
the 17th, Leutnant-General Quitman Brown, noted in her personnel file
that Stroud was an exceptionally talented, and brave, Technician,
nominating her for a McKennsy Ground-Pounder's Medal due to her
repeated service repairing and reloading the units BattleMechs while
under direct enemy fire.

In 3055, she applied as a Full Technician here at Sanglamore and was

hired as a Warrant Officer. She was promoted to Warrant Officer First
Class last year and given command of Support Team Three. Her time here
has been unremarkable, at least until now, and there are no violations or
notes of any kind in her personnel file from her time here. She is in Pay
Band 4.

General Stockard rubbed his chin. As the Officer-in-Charge of the

training grounds this morning, just how did a Technician end up running a
Class Five combat simulation, Captain? Certainly you know the answer to
that.

Vought look surprised. She wasnt on the schedule, sir, but when
Leutnant Hillsack asked her to transmit the appropriate authorization, she
did so. It was under your name, sir.

Vought picked up the datapad from the table, flicking through to the
authorization code and handed it to the General. This is your
authorization code, isnt it, sir?

General Stockard stared at the datapad for a long moment in astonishment,

his surprise quickly changing over to anger. How the hell did she get
this? I didnt authorize this! This is one helluva serious breach of
security! He chucked the datapad back on the table in disgust. Get I.T.
on this NOW!

Growling, Stockard continued, And what the hell were those Aerospace
fighters and that arty doing in that simulation anyway?! Ive never heard
of, nor seen, them before and weve be running cadets through that build
of the Gauntlet for over ten years! I think it's well past time we have a
little chat with Warrant Officer Stroud.

Vought nodded in agreement. If you will follow me, sir, I will take you
to her immediately.

---

Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Stroud shifted uncomfortably in one of

the upholstered rolling chairs that surrounded the oval table that
dominated the center of the briefing room. One wall of the sterile
conference room was dominated by a huge monitor wall, while the table
itself doubled as a holographic display surface. She hadnt been in a room
like this since her time with the Donegal Guards and those werent exactly
happy memories. Not with the losses her team, and the entire unit, had
taken at the hands of the Steel Vipers.

She kept replaying the past few hours over and over in her head trying to
make some kind of sense out of it all, but it simply refused to make any
sense. She wasnt a MechWarrior. Shed never really been a
MechWarrior. She was a trained BattleMech technician for Kerenskys
sake!

How shed ended up on the training grounds was beyond a mystery to

her. Sure, her mouth had spoken the words, but, as crazy as it sounded,
they hadnt been her words! It was almost as if someone else had been
speaking through her.

And the Mech controls! It had been as if someone had removed a

blindfold from her and suddenly she could see! The function of the
myriad control surfaces had seemed obvious and her manipulation of them
intuitive.

It was enough to make her wonder if she was losing her mind. Or, if,
perhaps, the Clint had somehow altered it. But that was crazy talk!

Her rambling train of thought was cut off as the door to the briefing room
opened. She shot to her feet, snapping off a hasty salute as she recognized
Hauptman-General Vin Stockard. Behind him, came another man, a
Captain judging from his insignia, his nametape proclaiming Vought.

The General gave her a long hard look and then the two men sat down
across the table from her. At ease, solider. Sit down.

The General looked clearly agitated. Im going to cut straight through

the bullshit, Officer Stroud. How did you get my personal authorization
code?

Stroud paled immediately. Your personal authorization code, sir?

The Captain spoke up. You transmitted the Generals authorization code
in order to gain clearance to run the Gauntlet. The transmission originated
from your Mech. You provided the code. Now, answer the Generals
question, Warrant Officer.

Stroud paled even further, as if hoping she could simply just fade away
right then and there. I I dont know, sir. I mean, I transmitted the
authorization but I had no idea it was the Generals code, sir.

The Captains eyes bored into hers. Where did you get the code!

It It was the Mech, sir. It already had the code. The Mech gave it to
me, sir.

The Captain snorted. And, I suppose, the Mech just piloted itself
through the Gauntlet as well, Officer Stroud?

Stroud nodded. Yes, sir, kind of, sir. I I cant really explain it. It
was if the Mech wanted me to pilot it, sir. It, I mean we, well, it was
kinda like we were one, sir. I I dont know how to

The General looked pissed. The Mech gave it to you! The Mech
wanted you to pilot it! If you think for a second Im buying any of this
cockamamy bullshit, you better think again, Warrant Officer! Ive heard
the stories about that Clint. If you think you can explain this whole
situation away based on some mumbo jumbo supernatural fairy tales, you
better think again. This isnt some kind of joke. Youre in serious trouble
and we can do this the hard way or you can just tell us what the hell youre
up to. Now, where did you get my code from! Answer me!

Stroud took one look at the raging General and knew she was in deep,
deep trouble.
The Captain leaned across the table. We know you specialized in
electronics and computer systems at the War College of Buena. How did
you break into the SGL_Sec network? You hacked the Gauntlet training
program too while you were in there, didnt you?

Stroud froze. The accusations were flying and getting more serious by the
second and she had the sinking realization she might end this very day in a
holding cell.

She stiffened her lip and straightened herself up. Ive done nothing
wrong, sir. I did not steal any authorization codes, nor have I accessed or
altered any information without the property authority. My actions will
have to speak for themselves as I have no way of explaining them, sir.

The two men across from her glared in silence. Finally, the Captain spoke
up. In the very least, you are in clear violation of the policy governing
Class 5 combat simulations. Class 5 simulations are restricted to senior
cadets and faculty. I am hereby relieving you of your duties and placing
you on administrative leave until such time as the investigation is
complete. During that time, you are confined to your quarters and are not
at liberty to discuss this incident with anyone without my personal written
consent. You will be assigned an advocate from the JAG office to
represent you and will be escorted at all times by a member of the Military
Police. Is that clear, Warrant Officer Stroud?

Giving a curt nod, she answered. Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir.

Good. I can assure you we will get to the bottom of this as quickly as
possible. I will now have Staff Sergeant Goddard escort you to your
quarters where you are to remain until summoned. You are dismissed.

Chapter 6
Skye
The Barn
Sanglamore Academy
Lyran Alliance
31 October 3057
Demi-Precentor VII-Rho Ballard Kundrin stepped onto the Mech lift and,
with practiced ease, raised it level with the head of the Clint. The canopy
was wide open to allow interested parties to easily inspect the cockpit. It
was immediately obvious this was not your typical Clint and had been
heavily modified. The profusion of custom Dalban HiRez displays was a
dead giveaway. He clambered into the cockpit to check the serial number
of the chassis. He found it bolted to the floor under the main
instrumentation panel, tucked into the corner.

CLNT 2-3T Clint

Serial # 10023024
Andoran Industries
Bell, Capellan Confederation
8-July-2691

ComStar been looking for this Mech for eight years. Since before the
sundering of the Federated Commonwealth, before the Battle of Tukayyid,
even before the entire Clan Invasion itself. Itd been one hell of a decade
and it wasnt even over yet, leaving him to wonder what else could
possibly be left in store. Even as he thought it, his mind turned to the
schism that had all too recently occurred within his own organization.

The so-called Word of Blake was busy establishing themselves on Gibson

under the leadership of former Precentor Atreus Demona Aziz and with
considerable help from Thomas Marik, the Captain-General of the Free
Worlds League and himself a former ComStar Acolyte. Already, the
Word of Blake was running all of the HyperPulse Generators in League
space and undoubtedly making considerable money from it to further their
own corrupt interpretation of the Blessed Founder, Jerome Blakes,
words.

Just the thought of it appalled him. Primus Sharilar Mori, along with
Precentor Martial Anastasius Focht, had made it clear that ComStar would
be a neutral organization, a benevolent guardian of human civilization and
the technologies upon which it relied. They, ComStar, were the true
followers of Jerome Blake. The Word of Blake were, in truth, nothing
more than devotees of Conrad Toyama, Blakes successor, who had
twisted his mentors words and introduced the quasi-religious trappings
that had dominated the Order for centuries.

Crazed religious zealots were what they are.

He shook his head, returning his thoughts to the matter at hand. Why
exactly ComStar was interested in this particular Clint he didnt
know. All he knew was that this unit had belonged to a mercenary
company that had been blacklisted by the Mercenary Review Board for
the murder of ComStar personnel and the destruction of ComStar
property. It had reappeared a few years later in connection with the
annihilation of an entire ComGuard Level II on Galatea, in Galatea City,
which would have certainly been a massive interstellar incident had it not
been for the arrival of the Clans later that very same year.

It was a pretty sure bet it was still an advanced piece of tech and, perhaps
in 3049, it could even have been considered lostech. But not anymore.
Compared to the Clan OmniMechs hed seen and even some of the new
designs rolling off the rejuvenated assembly lines of the Inner Sphere, this
thing was once again beginning to show its age. Still, orders were orders.
Precentor Skye wanted this Mech and in the end that was all that
mattered.

---

Cormack Raswell maneuvered the lift around to the front of the Clint and
up to the engine housing. It didnt take him long to confirm it was an
Extralight Vox 280 model. An early one at that, judging from the way the
bulky engine shielding had been formed. Definitely one of Capellan
manufacture, as the writing on the housing was all in Chinese.

Shifting the lift over and raising it higher, he began examining the
extensive electronics blisters. A Beagle Active Probe and a Guardian
ECM suite. Again, early models, both of Capellan manufacture. Hed
seen similar units on the early runs of the RVN-3L Raven. After
jockeying around for a few minutes, he finally located the serial number
on the Guardian. He had no trouble reading the Chinese.

Guardian ECM Suite

Serial # 00000765
Hellespont Industrials
Sian, Capellan Confederation
Manufactured: 15-August-3048

A dead match. Next, he checked the active probe. He wasnt a bit

surprised to find that it too matched one of the serial numbers hed been
sent to find. This was the Mech. He had suspected it would be, after all,
the Clint hadnt been made in almost 250 years and very few had managed
to survive for that long. Less than thirty, in all probability, remained
across the entirety of the Inner Sphere at this point.

Not that it was a particularly good design. In fact, it was generally held in
poor regard. A maintenance nightmare, it was well known that parts were
all but impossible to find and, to make matters worse, Andoran Industries
hadnt even built them well to begin with.

Not that it mattered to him. Fangh Li had been quite explicit and,
remarkably generous, when hed sent him here from Galatea. If the
numbers matched, acquire the Mech and bring it to him. Apparently, he
had a history with the Mech, although he wasnt willing to share the
details.

But Fangh Li was a notoriously tight-lipped man. Better that he not know
anything, it might just end up getting him killed later anyway.

---

Annalisa Bitters cast a critical eye on the 40-ton relic. Recently arrived
from the game world, Solaris VII, her stablemaster had dispatched her
here to evaluate a Clint that had been put up for auction by Sanglamore
Academy.

Of course, the Clint itself was a piece of crap, even though this particular
one was in surprisingly good shape for such an ancient war machine. It
wasnt the Mech she was interested in, rather it was the Sloane 220
Lockover, reputed to be among the finest Targeting and Tracking systems
ever produced.

It had come as a shocking revelation that the Clans still used, and by
extension, manufactured, the Sloane 220 Lockover System for use in their
40-ton frontline OmniMech, the Dragonfly. Interestingly enough, the
Dragonfly weighed the same as the Clint and was also an incredibly fast
and jump-capable machine. Whatever the case, if the Clans used it, that
was all she really needed to know.

The datasheet Sanglamore had provided showed the Mech still retained
its original electronics. Not only that, the sensors had been fully
upgraded, including Target Acquisition Gear, electronic countermeasures,
and even bi-directional satellite communications capability.

As she brought the lift up, allowing her to look into the cockpit, she
sucked her breath in. The last time shed seen so many control surfaces
and monitors crammed all in one place was in the control center of the
Boreal Reach, the Class 6 arena in the Black Hills of Solaris City, famous
for its extensive holographic terrain and sophisticated environmental
controls.

She let her eyes slowly drift across the plethora of switches, gauges,
throttles, levers, buttons, registers, petals and finally the control sticks
themselves, which were studded with their own buttons and rocker
switches. She was a trained technician. Hell, shed even seen and worked
on some Clan tech, but this setup was absolutely mind-boggling. It
seemed all but impossible that a single individual could even manage the
vast array of controls that surrounded the command couch.

Clearly, the Sloane 220 Lockover must be a serious piece of tech if it

could handle all the additional systems that had been installed on this
rig. While the Clint was known to be a technicians nightmare, it was just
as equally well known to have been one of the most accurate and looking
at this, she was inclined to believe it.

Armed with an extended-range heavy laser, along with two mediums, the
Mech had excellent reach, almost on par with that of long-range
missiles. Far enough to make her wonder for just what kind of missions
this 'Mech had been modified for, who had piloted it and just what had
happened to them. If she had to guess, it looked like a headhunter to her,
akin to Norse-Storm BattleMech's recently reintroduced, and wildly
popular, SPR-5F Spector.

Whatever it was, it sure wasnt a training academy 'Mech, that much was
obvious, leaving her wondering just how Sanglamore Academy had ended
up with it in the first place.

---

Captain Angus Barclay, Second Kearny Highlanders, Ret., entered the

cavernous warehouse referred to as The Barn. He was serving as an
independent consultant at the behest of Duncan Wallace, the CEO of
Bulldog Enterprises on Northwind. Wallace had asked him to travel here
to Skye to purchase a Clint BattleMech that was scheduled to be auctioned
off by Sanglamore Academy.

He had little trouble locating the machine in question as it was the only
BattleMech there. The vast majority of the equipment being auctioned off
consisted of outdated datapads, retired computer systems, a collection of
heavily used service vehicles and military hardware, including a few old
Manticore heavy tanks, ironically built by Bulldog, along with a myriad of
damaged holo-displays and old projection equipment. There was also
office and classroom furnishing aplenty.

As he approached the Clint, he saw a young woman lowering the lift,

having just finished her own inspection of the BattleMech. He gave a wry
grin. Young, meaning anyone under 50 to his old eyes. One look at the
40-ton Clint told him everything he need to know. Wallace had given him
a picture of the exact Clint he was looking for and, to make matters even
easier, one of the members of the former owner's old unit, who now taught
at Sanglamore, had alerted Wallace to the impending sale.

The Clint had once belonged to another member of Wallaces old unit, the
69th Virginia Expeditionary Force. A kid by the name of Sigil. Wallace
credited him with saving the entire command when theyd unexpectedly
run into Clan Ghost Bear on Damian just as the Clan Invasion was
unfolding. Of course, the stories from that encounter had long since
become the stuff of legend on Northwind.

By the time Wallace returned, he was married with a wife in tow, the
father of a bright-eyed little baby girl named Varukka and had adopted a
half-Capellan teenaged boy named Mez. But thats not what had started
the legend. It began when Wallace, and what was left of his ancestral
Castle Airth Guard, had landed on Northwind in a gleaming Clan Union-C
class DropShip with its belly stuffed full of salvaged Clan OmniMechs,
including a vaunted 100-ton Daishi chassis. And that had been in 3051. It
was the first Clan tech Northwind had ever seen and Bulldog Enterprises
Research and Development division had a field day with it.

Shortly afterwards, his father Lachlan had retired, leaving Bulldog

Enterprises in Wallaces hands. After that, Bulldog had gone into full
production of their 80-ton Schiltron fire support vehicle along with an
upgraded version of their Tokugawa. After that, theyd entered into a
partnership with Cosara Weaponries. Already Cosara was producing the
Schiltron under license and work rebuilding their Mech production
facility, rumored to contain a least three different assembly lines, was well
underway. It was assumed Cosara would bring their 50-ton Crab and,
possibly, even their 100-ton King Crab, back into production.

In fact, from his old contacts within the Highlanders, there was talk of
Cosara designing an entirely new BattleMech for use by the Royal Black
Watch Regiment of the Second Star League. Of course, rumors about
anything and everything had been flying around Northwind recently. The
most interesting of which was talk about succeeding from the now
sundered Federated Commonwealth and declaring Northwind an
independent planet.

Regardless, here he was and just why exactly Wallace was so interested in
this old relic was still something of a mystery to him. Must be sentimental
attachment. If there was one thing the Highlanders clung to, it was
tradition and that included honoring the fallen. Wallace had said he owed
his life to the deceased young man and that he had been among the best
MechWarriors he had ever seen and, coming from a man who lived on
Northwind, that was quite a claim.

Climbing into the lift and circling the Mech, he noted it was in
surprisingly good shape for such an old machine. It matched the pictures
exactly, most notably the fins on the back, the custom cockpit and heavy
electronics. He paused a moment, looking at the picture once more,
except instead of focusing on the Mech, he zoomed into the young man
with a huge grin plastered across his face.

He must have been in his twenties but he certainly looked younger. A

mop of unruly sandy brown hair sat atop a fresh, open and mischievous
face. His eyes twinkled from within the picture as if hed just played
some fantastic joke on someone. He wore mechanics overalls heavily
stained with coolant, grease, lubricants and what looked suspiciously like
ketchup, along with who knew what else. An impressive array of tools
hung from hooks and cinches and he looked like a cross between an
awkward teenager and mad scientist and not at all like the MechWarrior
he allegedly had been.

Turning again to look at the Clint, he couldnt help notice all the disparate
parts that had gone into the thing. It would have made Dr. Frankenstein
proud.

Confident this was the 'Mech Wallace had sent him to buy, he
disembarked from the lift, heading over to examine the three worn-out
Manticores. There was little doubt he could get them completely
overhauled, possibly even upgraded, back on Northwind and the 60-ton
Main Battle Tank was a solid and well-respected design among the
Highlander armor regiments.

---

Amp Rogers methodically made his way through the various piles of
equipment that would be auctioned off later that afternoon making various
notations on his datapad as he went.

He could turn a few Kroners on some of the surplus datapads, a few more
if he could get the holo-vid projectors cheap enough and manage to get a
few of them working again. The displays and computers were mostly
junk, worth a handful of Kroners to a recycler at best.

The only real money to be made would be, predictably, off the military
equipment. He made his way over to a line of ragged out service
vehicles. To his surprise, a couple of them were 4x4 Avanti
GeoLanders. Sticking his head under the hood it was clear theyd seen
decades of abuse, undoubtedly at the hands of cadets. Still, the
GeoLander was a tough little utility vehicle and parts were plentiful. The
tires were shot, the suspension was little better and the body might as well
have seen combat but the frame still looked solid enough and the engine
appeared salvageable. For the right price, they would be worth the time
and trouble.

Next, came a trio of tracked armored personnel carriers. A quick look in

the cab revealed they were Drago LT-25s. Real pieces of crap and the
machine guns had all been stripped off. After poking around for a few
minutes, he could see the drivetrain was shot on one, and across all three
the sprockets were mostly stripped and the tracks themselves bore the
evidence of countless patches. The bodies had so many welds on them,
they looked as if they had been used for target practice. He thought for
moment. In fact, maybe they had been. The only value left in them was
essentially the weight of the metal. A lot of hassle for little payoff.
The next set of vehicles consisted of a pair of tracked 60-ton weapon
carriers, another product of Drago, one of the local defense
companies. Slow, poorly armored and lacking a turret, like the LT-25s, it
was designed for militias on a budget. Whatever weapons had once been
installed had been removed, though the armor plating was still largely
intact. By the book, it had roughly 20 tons of space available for weapons,
power amplifiers and heat sinks. The variants of it were almost endless,
dual AC/5s or a single AC/20 being the most common, backed up with
heavy machine guns.

Looking into the engine compartment of the first, he could tell instantly it
had caught fire. Peeking into the crew compartment, he saw evidence of
fire there as well. This one was junk. Moving over to examine the second
one, he noted the gas turbine engine was well-worn and, surprisingly,
there wasnt any obvious damage, at least not until he looked under the
hull. The torsion bar suspension had been all but ripped out and it looked
as if the weapon carrier had been driven up onto a rock and then been
forcibly dragged off it, bending the frame, no less, in the process. No easy
money here.

Moving on, his eyes fell on what appeared to be three serviceable fusion-
powered Manitcore Main Battle Tanks. An older man in a plaid skirt was
giving them a thorough inspection and to his practiced eye he could tell
the man was definitely interested in them. And willing to pay. While he
was confident he could run the bidding up on them, it would only benefit
Sanglamore. Now, if this auction had been going on somewhere else, he
might have been able to arrange something on the side but, sadly, the
Academy ran a tight ship.

Finally, he made his way over to the real prize in The Barn, the
Clint. Hed been coming to The Barn for years to buy surplus equipment
and resell it on the local market and, occasionally, to the Lyran market at
large if the profit margin was high enough. Regardless, it was highly
unusual for the Academy to be selling an intact BattleMech, in fact, he
couldnt recall the last time theyd sold one. Still, one thing was
true. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was more profitable than
BattleMechs. If he could score this thing, he could probably set himself
up for life.
Hopping into the lift, the first thing he noticed was that the weapons were
all intact. Driving the lift over to the right arm, he was shocked to see the
exposed innards of a heavy laser, a real military-grade heavy laser.
Poking around, he located the identification plate.

Model: ERHL-600
Serial #: 10057865
Firmir Weaponry
Betelgeuse, Capellan Confederation
7-May-3047

He whistled. Damn, this was the real deal. Looking down at his datapad,
he saw where the Clint was also reported to have two medium class lasers
as well. Normally, the datasheets the Academy provided were based off
an ancient database of fixed assets that hadnt been updated for
decades. The LT-25s had shown they carried heavy machine guns which,
naturally, were long gone.

Maneuvering the lift over to the chest, he began looking around. Sure
enough, a medium class laser. It seemed to be contained in some kind of
sophisticated shock mount that utilized a three-axis gimbal. A little
investigation revealed it was an Aberdovey Mk. II out of Tematagi in the
Free Worlds League. He located the second, identical one, a few minutes
later.

Leaning back against the handrail of the lift, he brought up a vidlink to his
partner. Yo, Ozzie! I got the real deal down here at The Barn. Im
looking at a fully armed 40-ton Clint BattleMech. Ive just started
checking it over, but I can tell you already this thing is a freaking prize. If
we manage to get our hands on it, well make more money than even you
know what to do with. Check all of our accounts. I want to know exactly
how much cash we can pull together to throw at this thing. Hit me back as
soon as you can, this things goes on the block in about three hours!

---

Balthazar Lyons surreptitiously cataloged all of the goings on around the

40-ton Clint that dominated the warehouse as he examined the numerous
piles of surplus scrap with feigned interest, waiting for the auction to
begin. Five different individuals had given it a thorough inspection. Two
of which were local, the other three being offworlders.
Of the two locals, the local junk dealer was unimportant, but the fact that
Ballard Kundrin was here told him everything he needed to know.
Kundrin was an undercover ROM agent operating under the diplomatic
guise of a local ComStar Demi-Precentor. The fact that he had stuck
around after checking out the Clint all but confirmed his own suspicions.
This was the Clint he was looking for.

One of the offworlders was almost certainly a member of the Northwind

Highlanders judging from both his dress and accent. One was a Free
Trader, undoubtedly acting as an agent for some other organization, and
the last, a woman, was an unknown.

Seeing the Clint unoccupied, he made his way over to the lift stationed
next to it. With a few deft motions, he stood looking into the
cockpit. Climbing in, he verified the serial number and, withdrawing a
small unremarkable black plastic rectangle from his pocket, he fixed it
underneath the main instrumentation cluster.

If he couldnt have this Clint, no one would.

Blake be Praised.

Chapter 7
Warrant Officer First Class Raquel Stroud paced tight circles in her
cramped room. Sergeant Goddard was stationed just outside her door,
enforcing the Captains orders that she be confined to quarters. Her mind
was racing as she continued to struggle, not with what happened, but why.

She shouldnt have even been the one piloting the Clint to The Barn in the
first place! Shed assigned that duty to one of the technicians in her team!

But, try as she might, she couldnt entirely vanquish the rush from her
short time in the cockpit. The speed, the pure acceleration, the thrill of
enemies defeated and the feeling of invulnerability that only comes from
40-tons of military hardware strapped around you. Shed forgotten those
feelings. She had pushed them out of her memory. She hadnt been in a
Mech combat simulation for almost 10 years, since shed been transferred
out of the MechWarrior program at the War College of Buena.
She was surprised to discover she suddenly craved more. She wanted
more. She needed more. It was like a shot of heroin. Having tried it
once, all she could think about was getting back into that ride. But not just
any ride, that ride. It had to be Rose.

Lingering at the edge of her consciousness, just out of sight, was the
nagging feeling that Rose needed her somehow. That Rose needed her to
do something. That there was a purpose, a design, behind everything that
had happened and, even though it was outside of her understanding, it
didnt change the fact that it was there. Rose needed her just as much as
she needed Rose.

With sudden clarity, she saw that her time at Sanglamore was now
effectively over. Even if she was cleared of all charges, she would never
be fully trusted again. Pushed to the side, assigned menial, unimportant
tasks, shed reached the end of the line. There was simply nothing left for
her here.

What she needed were answers and there was only one place she was
going to find them. In the cockpit of Rose.

She hated to do it. Part of her was shocked that she would even consider
doing it. But, in truth, she had the training for it. She was fair in hand-to-
hand combat and had sharpened those skills during her time with the 17th
Donegal Guards. Forward deployed to support the regiments
BattleMechs as they fought against Clan Steel Viper, the Vipers had
surprised everyone by launching a massive artillery strike against their
position and then flooded them with Toads. Shed come face to face with
Clan Battle Armor. Lost soldiers in her support group to their vicious
mini-guns.

She shook her head. She hated remembering. There was nothing to be
gained by looking back, it was to the future she must look now. It would
only take a handful of seconds. One, two at most, well-placed strikes were
all that was required. Part of her continued to scream that this was
madness but it was ultimately drowned out by the strange sense of urgency
she felt.

Steeling herself, she flung the door to her room open, sending an open-
palm strike into Sergeant Goddards solar plexus. Her left hand followed
with a vicious uppercut leaving the Sergeant out cold.
Quickly dragging him back into her room, she bound and gagged his
unconscious form and then headed quickly down the hallway to her
rendezvous with destiny.

---

Balthazar Lyons watched as the auction progressed. The assorted detritus

had gone quickly, without much bidding, one boring junk lot after
another. The local scrap dealer had snapped up anything with even the
possibility of residual value for next to nothing. A metal recycler had
taken most everything else, Sanglamore apparently more interested in
simply getting rid of the stuff than actually making any money.

Predictably, the last item on the block was the Clint. Out of the five
people hed been watching, only two, the Highlander and the junk dealer,
had bid on anything up to this point. Everyone else, including him, were
all waiting for the same thing.

The auctioneer opened the bidding at 2.5 million Kroners, which was
roughly equivalent to 5 million C-bills. The junk dealer and the
mysterious woman were first into the fray, running it up to 4 million
before the scrap dealer bowed out. The Highlander jumped in next,
dueling with the woman as the price rose to 5.5 million Kroners, at which
point she dropped out of the bidding as well.

The Free Trader stepped in next, sending the bidding up to 7 million

Kroners as the Highlander refused to back down. The list value for the
BattleMech was only about 5.75 million Kroners and the fact that it had
just exceeded that only added to his certainty that this Clint was indeed far
more than it appeared.

Then, a three-way battle began as Kundrin, the ComStar agent, finally

joined the bidding. Eight million. Nine million, as it crested 10 million
Kroners, even the auctioneer began looking shaken as the small crowd of
people gathered for the auction began to murmur.

For his own part, hed already decided the wisest course of action would
be to destroy the thing, rather than try and buy it for an exorbitant amount
of money. And if Kundrin won the bidding, hed literally get to kill two
birds with one stone.
Blake was smiling upon him.

---

Gunnery Instructor Jeff Hamilton rolled into his longtime friend Professor
Jochen Weddles office. Hey man, you seen this yet? Weddle looked
up from his terminal just in time to catch the datapad Hamilton had
chucked his way. All the cadets are talking about it. Some crazy
technician chick took Sigils old Clint out and ran it through the
Gauntlet. She kicked some serious ass.

Hamilton whistled as he shook his head. Just watch it, dude. Its like
seeing a ghost. Standing there smirking, he gesticulated to the datapad.

Weddle activated it, the video starting shortly thereafter. He watched as

Sigils old Clint sprinted, leapt, spun and juked, all the while laying down
a deadly field of fire. BattleMech after BattleMech fell to its combination
of mobility and accuracy.

The speeds it reached were phenomenal, the metrics showing it topping

out at 151.2 kph. Yet, the ambush of the Phoenix Hawk is what really
caught his attention. As a Professor of Tactics and Strategy and a veteran
of the Gauntlet himself, it was one of the ballsiest and most unexpected
plays hed ever seen.

Already, it was an incredible run up to this point but he was all too
familiar with the ambush that lay in wait for the Clint next. It was what
had brought his own T-bolt down when hed attempted the run. The
combination of heavy missile fire from the Crusader and Gauss rifle slugs
from the Victor had finally overwhelmed his Thunderbolt within sight of
the objective. He had no doubt they would eviscerate the thin-skinned
Clint.

Which is why he was amazed when the Clint shifted in mid-air just a split
second before the hidden units revealed themselves and unleashed their
apocalyptic fusillade, managing to avoid the worst of the damage. But his
jaw dropped when the Clint powered ahead, and past, the heavy and
assault class Mechs to make it into the Valley of Death.

Then, the impossible happened. A pair of aerospace fighters accompanied

by homing Arrow IV missiles obliterated the enemy commanders Archer
even as the Clint was finally destroyed by a massive volley of LRMs and
heavy laser fire. He looked up in shock at Hamilton, who was still
standing there grinning like a schoolboy.

Hamilton chirped up, Ya, thats right. She freakin BEAT the
Gauntlet! The last time I saw a Mech move like that was on Damian,
when Sigil was driving that thing.

Weddle nodded, now looking shaken. If I hadnt seen his dead body
myself, I would have sworn he was piloting that run. Who would have
guessed TAG was the secret? I bet no one else ever tried TAG on that
run! Genius! Did you say the pilot was a technician?

Hamilton chuckled, Ya, Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud. Shes a

BattleMech technician. No one really seems to know much about
her. She was hired a couple years ago but there just isnt any good stories
about her out there. Rumor is, though, shes been placed under house
arrest and is confined to quarters.

Hamilton looked a little queer as he suddenly dropped his voice. You

know whats REALLY weird? She looks kinda like Julianna Rose, that
ComStar Adept who almost got us all killed back on Talisker. Got the red
hair, same frame and everything, just looks a little bit older is all.

Weddle look disturbed. As if one ghost wasnt bad enough. Ernie

McMillian killed that bitch on the JumpShip. I saw her dead body ejected
into deep space myself.

---

Warrant Officer Stroud moved quickly and efficiently out of the barracks,
commandeering a 4x4 conveniently parked just outside as she
emerged. Hopping in, she headed straight for The Barn, fighting the urge
to stomp on the accelerator. It was only a matter of time before her escape
would be discovered and, when it was, she wanted 40-ton tons of steel
around her.

Heart racing, she approached The Barn, relieved to see the auction was
still ongoing. Behind the auctioneer, the Clint stood exactly where shed
left her. A few scattered Sanglamore security officers were present as
well, keeping an eye on the proceedings. Pulling the jeep up behind The
Barn, she leapt up onto the loading dock at the rear of the large
building. While the massive bay doors were closed, there was a smaller
personnel entrance adjacent to it.

Finding it unlocked, she slipped quietly into the back of The Barn. Using
the various piles of surplus gear and the chassis of the APCs, weapon
carriers and tanks to help cover her movements, she made her way
towards the rear of the Clint.

As a technician, she had climbed up the outside of a plethora of

BattleMechs unassisted. Some actually had handholds built onto them,
but most did not and the Clint was one of those. And even of those that
did, they were usually located on the front, not the back of the
Mech. There was also a lift next to the Mech and for a second she
considered using it but quickly discarded the idea. The lift would give her
away instantly. With a bit of luck, climbing up the rear would conceal her
presence for a few more precious moments. Hopefully, just long enough
for her to reach the cockpit.

Taking a deep breath, she broke from behind one of the LT-25s, grappling
the back of the Clints right leg and beginning to climb. All of her
previous experience served her well, as her hands and feet found purchase
on flanges, vents, the junctions of armor plates, joints and access hatches,
propelling her quickly towards the head.

Half way up Roses back, she was only mildly surprised to feel the
BattleMech rumble to life under her and hear the hissing of the canopy
hydraulics.

She smiled. Rose had been expecting her after all.

Chapter 8
A low hum rumbled out of the warehouse, washing across the gathering,
causing the auctioneer to pause and cast a look over his shoulder.
Balthazar Lyons saw the canopy of the Clint begin to lift. Everyone saw
it. A second later, a red-haired woman appeared from behind the Clints
head.
A pair of Sanglamore security guards yelled out, Stop! as the figure fell
into the cockpit, the canopy retracting close behind her.

The assembled crowd leapt to their feet as the guards, brandishing their
firearms, yelled into their communicators for backup as they stared
impotently at the armored war machine. As the Clint took a step forward,
panic set in, sending the crowd scattering.

Seeing his chance as the chaos grew, Lyons hurriedly pressed the remote
detonator in his pocket, his eyes searching the rapidly dispersing crowd for
Kundrin. Around him, the guards continued screaming, gathering together
in rough line as they did so. My communicator is down! I cant get
through to base! Its jammed! Were being jammed! Get to HQ!

Nothing happened. Kneeling, he whipped out the small transmitter, giving

it a quick check. It looked fine. Pressing it again, he watched as the stage
collapsed under the weight of the Clints footfalls. Again, nothing
happened. Snarling, he shoved the transmitter back into his pocket.

Glancing about him, he spied Kundrin heading away from the advancing
Clint. It was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. Using the confusion
to cover his movements, Lyons withdrew a compact Sunbeam laser pistol
from his other pocket, drawing a bead on the ComStar agent.

Pulling the trigger, he sent a tight beam of coalesced light straight through
the mans back. Kundrin toppled face first to the ground where he lay
still. Moving swiftly through the fleeing people, he saw the old
Highlander making his way clear as well. It was a difficult shot, but worth
it all the same. Obviously, the Highlander knew something about the Clint
and that was enough to make him a legitimate target. Snapping off one
last shot, he saw the old man spin around, grasping his shoulder as he went
down.

Growling, the pistol disappeared from his hand as he exchanged it for a

Class C anti-personnel grenade. Catching the first flickers of flames from
the Clints jump jets, Lyons set the timer with a deft flick of his thumb and
sent it rolling towards the largest cluster of people, which included a
number of Sanglamore security guards and the injured Highlander.

It was time to leave.

A few seconds later, the Clint fired its massive jump jets filling the area
with fire and smoke even as a loud explosion rocked the grounds filling
the air with deadly shrapnel and smoke. Screams and the moans of the
dying filled the air as he melted away making his way to where his
hovercar was parked.

Blake be Praised.

---

No sooner had Warrant Officer Stroud fell into the cockpit, than the
Mech was fully operational. Yanking the neurohelmet down onto her
head, she had Rose moving in mere seconds. The stage exploded in
splinters and bent steel as she walked right over it and out of The Barn
sending people scattering like leaves.

Everything was already online. The Guardian was actively jamming, the
Beagle scanning, weapons charged and the supercharger standing by. The
only thing she wasnt sure of was where exactly she was going. Odd to
think of it now. Shed been so focused on simply making it back to the
Mech that what would happen afterwards she was just taking on faith.

As soon as she cleared The Barn, people began fleeing helter-

skelter. Checking to make sure the immediate area around her was clear,
she fired the jump jets, scouring the ground clean with superheated plasma
vented from the LFT-10s seven exhaust ports. Bringing the Clint down
behind the building and away from the mass of fleeing people, she pushed
the throttle up.

Looking out the viewport in confusion, she asked, Rose, any idea on
where we should be going?

Recommend making best possible speed to the Bannockburn StarPort.

Marking waypoints now.

Muttering to herself, she altered course, sending the Clint speeding away
from Sanglamore Academy. Im glad someone seems to know where the
hell were going.

Behind her, a trail of dark smoke drifted up and away into a beautiful
afternoon sky.
---

As Lyons reached his hovercar, he heard the air sirens spin up, putting
Sanglamore on full alert. The gull-wing door lifted and he wasted no time
bringing the fans up to full speed and in seconds he was racing away from
the Academy. Activating his implanted micro-communicator, he
summoned his backup team. Precentor Atreus Demona Aziz had not only
been quite clear as to the fate of this Clint but had also provided more than
adequate resources to cover any contingency. In this case, a company of
mercenary warriors known as Los Bandoleros, led by a grizzled veteran
known as Don Tego.

Don Tego, execute Option Beta-Sigma-Delta.

Now, it was going to get really messy. Regrettable to be sure, but

ultimately unavoidable.

---

Captain Angus Barclays right arm hung limp at his side as wave after
wave of pain threatened to leave him unconscious. Hed taken a laser
straight through his shoulder from an unknown assailant. Leaning up
against an overturned chair, he grit his teeth through the pain. Hed been
through worse but, then again, hed been a lot younger back then.

Across the trampled grounds of the auction site, he saw the unmoving
form of another man, quickly recognizing him as one of the men he had
been bidding against for the Clint. Pulling out his personal communicator,
he was surprised to see it reporting, No Connection.

Shaking it furiously with his one good hand, the communicator seemed to
correct itself. As the connection was re-established, he called back to the
Damian, the Union-C class DropShip that had taken him here to Skye.
Grimacing through the pain, he reported even as he watched the Clint leap
up and away, disappearing behind The Barn.

This is Captain Barclay. Ive taken a non life-threatening shot to the

right shoulder. There is at least one other individual down. The shooter is
still at large. An unidentified individual has stolen the Clint. Last known
heading is north-north-west. Dispatch the Guard immediately and get the
Warriors up and in the air. Ill be damned if
An explosion ripped through the air nearby cutting him off as darkness
consumed him, the pain in his shoulder receding into inky nothingness.

---

Professor Jochen Weddle was just about to suggest they go pay a visit to
Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud when the Academy alarms suddenly
started blaring. A second later, the lighting in Radhow Hall switched over
to red, signifying a Level One Alert. The intercom came to life next,
Code One. Code One. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a
drill. Code One. Code One. Confirmed multiple fatalities and injuries in
the vicinity of The Barn. One BattleMech reported missing. Code
One. Code One. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill. Code
One. Code One.

Gunnery Instructor Jeff Hamilton shot Weddle a look. How much you
wanna bet its the Clint? Thats things been nothing but trouble since the
day we salvaged it back on Vega. Looks like its touched off another shit
storm. That damn machine is cursed.

Weddle was out from behind his desk in flash and heading towards the
door. I didnt make is this far by taking losing bets, Hamilton. Lets
go!

The two of them raced out of Radhow Hall, heading straight for the Mech
hanger where their personal BattleMechs were stored. Around them
students, faculty and staff rushed towards their own assembly points and
ready stations as Sanglamore went into lock down.

---

In the heart of the ComStar HPG compound in New Glasgow, Precentor

Skye fought to maintain his composure. Demi-Precentor VII-Rho Ballard
Kundrin had been killed at Sanglamore! Murdered! Assassinated! The
killer was still at large and the Clint hed been sent to procure was
gone! Stolen! Unbelievable!

Demi-Precentor Santos! Dispatch two Level IIs to Sanglamore Academy

immediately and track down that Clint! Capture it if at all possible. I
would welcome the opportunity to speak with the pilot. If not, destroy the
cursed thing! Failure is not an option! I expect you to deal with this
personally! I will dispatch Adept Rhodes to work with Sanglamore
security and the local authorities to help with the investigation into Demi-
Precentor Kundrins cold blooded murder. Dismissed!

---

Momentarily stunned by the footage coming out of nearby Bannockburn

StarPort, Captain Alan Riker watched in dead silence. The
communications tech in front of him shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Sir, would you like me to get the Major? Sir?

Snapped back to reality by her voice, Captain Riker nodded, Yes,

Leutnant, get Major Adolfus. Now!

Sitting behind his desk at their regimental headquarters in New Glasgow,

Major Rancor Adolfus, CO Second Battalion of the newly christened First
Skye Jaegers, appeared on a small secondary display nearby.

Major Adolfus, Im showing a mercenary BattleMech company and a

Highlander combined-arms company, departing the Bannockburn
StarPort! From all the radio chatter, I gather there has been some kind of
incident at Sanglamore Academy. Transmitting you the feed now, sir.

The communications tech patched the StarPort feed over to the Major as a
new incoming feed appeared in the companys information center.

Precentor Skye was instantly recognizable from his white ComStar robes
and looking none too pleased. This is Precentor Skye. In an apparent
terrorist attack, a member of our Blessed Order was ruthlessly murdered
along with numerous other innocent individuals while attending an event
at Sanglamore Academy. I am immediately dispatching a ComGuard unit
to Sanglamore Academy until the individual or individuals who are
responsible for this reprehensible attack on unarmed civilians are
apprehended and the situation is brought fully under control. In addition, I
will be deploying ComGuards in and around our HPG compound to
ensure our own safety for the duration of this crisis. Consider yourself
notified.

Abruptly, the feed ended.

A long moment of silence followed before Major Adolfus spoke. Shift to
Level Five status immediately. Mobilize your company and prepare for
possible combat operations. Secure the base and standby for additional
orders, I need to confer with Colonel Pitcher. Out.

Chapter 9
Force Commander Don Tego walked his 100-ton Grand Titan down the
loading ramp of the Virtue, the Union-class DropShip that had been
contracted to take his unit, Los Bandoleros, to Skye. Bristling with
missile racks, covered with pulse lasers and oozing with armor, it was
every bit the equal, and then some, of the vaunted Atlas assault Mech.

Flicking his Hartford JEA-1 communications unit on, he opened a channel

to the control tower of the Bannockburn StarPort. This is Force
Commander Don Tego of the mercenary unit Los Bandoleros. We are
deploying to Sanglamore Academy in response to a terrorist attack and to
secure the recovery of stolen property. Transmitting route and IFF codes
now.

Behind him, a Tempest, along with a pair of 55-ton fire support Apollos,
emerged from the other doors ringing the DropShip, forming up around
him.

This is StarPort control to Force Commander Tego. You need

authorization from Colonel Pitcher before deploying BattleMechs. Return
immediately to your DropShip. Please respond.

Tego sneered in his cockpit. This is a fluid situation, StarPort control. I

recommend you clear the area and my route. Things are out of control
already and Id hate to see them get any worse. Feel free to inform
Colonel Pitcher of my movements. You have my frequency. Out.

As he began to make his way across the expanse of ferrocrete, two more
lances of BattleMechs tromped down the ramps, faster, lighter models,
following in the wake of his command lance.

Hammer One, make best possible speed to Sanglamore. Anvil One, your
lance takes point. Ill bring up the rear. Weapons tight. No one fires
without my direct authorization. Captain Dupree, deploy the aerospace
fighters. I want the exact location of that Clint as soon as possible. Out.

---

north-north-west . Dispatch the Guard immediately and get the

Warriors up and into the air. Ill be damned if!

On the bridge of the Damian, Captain Mez Wallace shot a questioning

look over at Hendly, the communications tech, as Captain Barclays voice
abruptly cut off. She answered with a shrug. His signal just cut out. Im
trying to raise him now but if hes getting it, hes not answering. Im not
sure what to tell you. Hang on a sec, let me see if I can pull a signal down
from one of the communication satellites.

Mez had a sinking feeling. This was supposed to have been a milk run but
now it seemed that it was about to turn sour. He turned to Captain
Barclays second-in-command, Second Leutnant Rorie McCall. You
heard the Captain, Rorie, deploy the Guard and get the Warriors up! We
need to get to Sanglamore ASAP! Ill talk to StarPort control. Go!

Second Leutnant McCall snapped a quick salute, then disappeared from

the bridge heading towards the Mech bays.

Hendley, get me StarPort control.

Establishing the link, Hendley nodded, indicating the channel was open.

This is Captain Mez Wallace of the Damian. I just received a

communication from Captain Barclay at Sanglamore. He reported being
shot before his call abruptly cut off. Do you have any idea whats going
on over there?

A harried looking civilian controller appeared responding, Standby,

Damian. There are unconfirmed reports of a terrorist attack at Sanglamore
Academy. Thats all I know right now. The First Skye Jaegers have been
notified and are responding. There is no, an older figure suddenly
appeared in the video feed cutting the controller off. Standby,
Damian. Out. The link went dead.
Suddenly, Hendley all but jumped out of her seat, pointing vigorously at
one of DropShips external camera feeds. Captain, look, BattleMechs!
She trained one of the cameras on a DropShip a few landing pads away
and zoomed in. A monstrous BattleMech was already outside, as three
others moved to join it. As they watched, even more BattleMechs poured
out of the Union-class DropShip. A light lance consisting of a Stinger,
Locust and two of the new Hammers quickly moved out, racing across the
ferrocrete towards their unknown destination. They were followed by a
Jackal, Griffin, Shadow Hawk and an Anvil, marking a full company of
BattleMechs.

Instinctively, Mez hit the General Quarters klaxon, alerting the crew
trouble was brewing.

Hendley! You have the bridge!

Mez raced down below deck. Captain Barclays MAD-5D Marauder

needed a pilot and since the Guard was rolling out, he was damn well
going with them. Technically, he was the now the ranking member of the
Guard since Captain Barclay was MIA.

He was all of 20 years old, a child soldier, practically making him the
youngest man aboard. The Union-C-class DropShip had been a gift from
the woman who had unknowingly rescued him from the mines of Dustball
and then taken him in some eight years ago. Her chief engineer, Spanner,
had taken him under his wing and taught him everything he knew about
DropShips and Varukka Salt, the Captain, had taught him how to pilot
it. After they were both killed on Damian fighting against Clan Ghost
Bear, the acting CO of the unit, Duncan Dawg Wallace and his wife,
Christina Henley-Wallace, had adopted him and taken him back to
Northwind.

There under the watchful eye of Hamish McCraken, the Master of the
Hunt, hed learned hand-to-hand combat and then, finally, how to pilot a
BattleMech via a special arrangement with the Northwind Highlanders.

Hed known Sigil and had even seen his Clint before. Hed grown up on
stories from his adopted father, Dawg, about Sigils exploits. The arena
fight against Scotty McDaniels, the time hed commandeered Colonel
Henleys Battlemaster from the command console, the taking down of the
ComStar Longbow on Talisker, the exploding Hatchetman, and, of course,
hed witnessed Sigils final fight on Damian himself from the bridge of the
Snowmane. That was the fight that had killed him, along with Captain
Salt and many others, but saved the rest of them in the process.

Truth be told, when Dawg happened to mention that Sigils old Clint was
going on the block, it was Mez who had begged and pleaded him to buy
it. It was Mez who had talked him into sending him, along with Captain
Barclay as his babysitter, here to Skye to buy it. It also presented an
excellent opportunity for him to take actual command of his DropShip for
what should have, by all rights, been a simple transit to and back. But
secretly, of course, he dreamed of taking Sigils legendary Clint out for
spin himself.

Barclays 70-ton Marauder stood at attention in one of the Mech

cubicles. He was up the lift in a flash even as Rories Phoenix Hawk,
along with the Guards other BattleMechs, two advanced CRB-27b Crabs
fresh from Bulldog Enterprises new relationship with Cosara Weaponries,
powered up.

Settling the neurohelmet on his head, he inserted a chip into the bulky
helmet configuring it for his own brain wave patterns, all MechWarriors
carried such a chip for situations just like this. Next, he initiated the
power up sequence, manually entering the override code. It was a
courtesy extended to him by virtue of his rank as a Captain and as a rated
MechWarrior. He never expected he would actually use it. As the
Marauder powered on, he activated the Dalban Micronics
communications system. Mez here. Status by the numbers.

A surprised Rorie McCall answered first over Barclays private

frequency. With all due respect, Captain Wallace, what the hell do you
think youre doing!?

Mez, grinning like a schoolboy shot back, As the ranking officer of the
Castle Airth Guards, I am assuming command and following Captain
Barclays last orders. Theres at least a full company of BattleMechs out
there, probably heading to Sanglamore and Angus is in trouble! Ill be
damned if Im just going to sit here and watch! The rotors on those
Warriors better be spinning up by now because were moving out and I
have no intentions of going into this situation blind!

In the cockpit of his 3D Phoenix Hawk, Second Leutnant Rorie McCall

shook his head as he felt a headache coming on. Muttering to himself, he
said, Great, as if things werent hairy enough, now Ive got to keep the
bosss kid from going off doing something stupid and getting himself
killed.

Tuning his Neil 6000 to the command frequency, he opened his mic. All
right people, you heard the Captain. Lets get those whirly birds up
ASAP. Mechs out first, then the Tokugawas and then the Schiltrons. Be
advised there are unidentified BattleMechs transiting out of the StarPort
now. I dont want any accidents. Keep your tracking and targeting
systems and all weapons powered down until ordered otherwise. Confirm.
Over.

---

Strapped into the cockpit of his 95-ton BNC-5S Banshee, Captain Alan
Riker, CO Company Three, Second Battalion, First Skye Jaegers, watched
as a pair of 20-ton Seydlitz aerospace fighters, built by Shipil Company
right here on Skye, screamed overhead, racing towards Sanglamore
Academy. His XO, Second Leutnant Porter Leech, matched his stride in
his brand new hunched-over 75-ton Falconer. Next to him, Staff Sergeant
Daddy Biggs, acting as his bodyguard, lumbered ahead in his massive
AS7-S Atlas. Corporal Alecia Dowers, in her ZEU-9S Zeus, rounded out
his command lance.

The two other lances making up his company were fanned out on either
flank. First Leutnant Wicker Alden led her attack lance from her GRF-
1DS Griffin, while Leutnant Jack Handsome led his pursuit lance in his
sleek WLF-2 Wolfhound.

Leutnant Handsome, take your lance and make best possible speed to
Sanglamore. Well follow as best we can. Be advised there is at least one
company of unidentified BattleMechs out there and their intent is
unclear. You are not to fire unless fired upon first. Confirm. Over.

This is Handsome. Confirmed and moving out, Captain. Out.

As Riker watched Handsomes Wolfhound smoothly accelerate, followed

by a pair of Commandos and a fleet-footed Dart, his Angst Clear Channel
3 crackled to life.

This Bannockburn StarPort control. Were closing down the airspace

and grounding all civilian traffic. Weve got a Cheetah and Stingray,
believed to be elements of the Los Bandoleros mercenary group, a pair of
Warrior attack helicopters, believed to be associated with the Northwind
Highlanders, as well as your two Seydlitzes in the airspace now. In
addition, we have been notified the ComStar Union-class DropShip,
Justice, escorted by a pair of Spads, intends to land near Sanglamore
Academy. Over and Out.

Looks like its going to be a long day, Riker thought to himself as he

cursed the slow speed of his lances Mechs.

---

Ensconced in his BRZ-A3 Berserker, Hauptman-General Vin Stockard

watched the rapid approach of the first of the aerospace fighters on his
Angst Clear View 2A even as the Academys medical staff continued
evacuating the injured from The Barn. Hed already seen one too many
black body bags laid out in the grass around the site of the fateful auction.

Opening an unencrypted communication channel, he challenged their

approach. This is Hauptman-General Vin Stockard, commanding officer
of Sanglamore Academy. You are approaching restricted airspace. If you
continue on your current flight path, you will be considered a hostile unit.
Repeat. If you continue on your current flight path, you will be
considered a hostile unit. Repeat. You are about to enter restricted
airspace. Immediately change to a course of 2-3-0 and return to
Bannockburn StarPort. Confirm. Over.

Next to him, Kommandant Liza Richards canted up the torso of her PPR-
5S Salamander. Capable of throwing up a volley of 60 long-range
missiles, it was a potent fire support Mech. On his other side, Professor
Jochen Weddle and Gunnery Sergeant Jeff Hamilton also awaited his
orders. The current situation brought into stark focus the need for
Sanglamore to establish its own Training Cadre unit and he made a mental
note to pursue the formation of it just as soon as the present crisis was
resolved.

In retrospect, it was foolhardy to believe Sanglamore wouldnt be

considered a legitimate target by someone in the quickly fracturing Inner
Sphere and the First Skye Jaegers first priority was the defense of the
capital and Skyes military industrial complex, notably Shipil Company
and Cyclops Incorporated.
He smiled as the lead Cheetah changed course, the Stingray following
suit, but his satisfaction was short lived as it became obvious the two
Aerospace fighters were simply arcing around his current position, staying
well clear of his small force of Mechs.

Even as he growled, a pair of Warrior H-8 attack helicopters appeared on

his scope also hightailing it in his direction. Before he could ask, his Clear
View answered his question.

This is Leutnant Anders Duggan of the Castle Airth Guard requesting

permission to enter Sanglamore airspace. We received a call from Captain
Angus Barclay who was attending an auction at the Academy. He
reported he was injured before his call was abruptly cut off. We need to
confirm his condition and whereabouts. Repeat. Requesting permission
to enter Sanglamore airspace and land in the vicinity of The Barn. Over.

Again, General Stockard was cut off before he could speak but this time it
was by one of his own, Professor Jochen Weddle.

The Castle Airth Guard?! What the hell are you guys doing here?
Shouldnt you be back on Northwind guarding Dawgs ancestral lands?
Dawg isnt here is he?

Negative, sir. Duncan Wallace sent us to escort his son, Mez, and
Captain Barclay. It is my understanding he wanted Captain Barclay to
purchase a Clint BattleMech that was being sold. Over.

Weddle couldnt keep the surprise out his voice. Mez! Mez is
here!? On Skye!?

Correct, sir. Ill patch him over to you now. Do we have permission to
enter Sanglamore? Over.

Weddle opened a directional signal to the Generals Mech. General

Stockard, I fought alongside the Castle Airth Guard on Damian against the
Clans, sir. I can vouch for them personally. A more honorable group of
soldiers I have never met, General.

A new voice broke over the open airways coming out of the mouth of an
incredibly young boy with a faint, but still detectable, Capellan
accent. This is Captain Mez Wallace, acting commander of the Castle
Airth Guards. I am in route to the Academy with a combined arms
company to render assistance. Be advised, we are tracking a full company
of BattleMechs heading your way. They have already detached their lead
elements.

Weddle whistled, By Kerensky himself, it is you, Mez! And at the

command of a company no less. I thought you were a DropShip pilot?!

The kids face broke into a stupid grin. Well, ya, I am. The Damian is
mine. I handled all the transits and dockings but there was this extra
Mech in the bay since Captain Barclay is MIA, so, I just kinda
commandeered it

There was a short pause, then he added awkwardly, Im the ranking

officer at the moment

General Stockard couldnt take it any longer. Leutnant Duggan,

permission granted to enter Sanglamore airspace. Transmitting you the
base command frequency now. Captain Wallace, what exactly are you
tracking?

The boy furrowed his brow as he looked down at his tactical. Uh,
well, their running an ECM screen at the moment. Hang on a sec and
Ill have Hendley send you the video feed we recorded back at the
StarPort.

Stockard tightened his jaw. What he needed were the First Jaegers, not
some glorified home security force lead by a half-breed boy younger than
most of his cadets. With one eye on his tactical, he grimly noted the two
aerospace fighters had bypassed their position and had entered
Sanglamore airspace.

---

In her Clint, Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud slipped quietly through the
densely forested hills that surrounded the Academy, taking a circuitous
route towards Bannockburn StarPort. Her mind raced wildly as she found
herself caught up in another tangled web of events and, while they were
technically of her own making, she felt much more like an observer of
them, rather than in control of them.
Rose broke her woolgathering. Aerospace fighter detected. Cheetah.
Aerospace fighter detected. Stingray. Activating aerospace targeting.

Her eyes snapped to the radar. Sure enough, a pair of fast moving blips
were cutting across her feed. Not on an intercept course, at least not yet,
but realistically it was only a matter of time before they detected her
presence.

Rose, how long until they get us?

86% probability units have already detected the presence of our ECM
field. 14% probability they have detected our exact location.

Glancing around, she saw exactly what she was looking for. A large rock
formation jutting from the tree covered hillside. The top of the rocky
outcropping was just above the level of the trees, offering a perfect view
of the skies around her. Angling her Clint towards it, she cozied up right
next to it as the fighters grew closer, angling their course increasingly in
her direction.

Rose, pull up the war book entries on the Cheetah and Stingray. Activate
targeting assist. Maintain broadband jamming.

The Cheetah was a fast reconnaissance plane, extremely fast. Decent legs
and armed with a small and two medium pulse lasers, its 4.5 tons of ferro-
aluminum armor left it potentially vulnerable even to her relatively light
firepower. The forward-swept wings of the 60-ton Stingray, however,
each carried an extended-range heavy laser along with a standard medium,
while the nose sported a Magna Sunspot ER PPC. Equipped with an
astounding 20 dual heat sinks, it also had the ability to use them and use
them often. Protected by 11.5 tons of Andurien Steel Standard, it was
built not only to dish out punishment but also to take it. A dangerous
opponent whether you were on the ground or in the air, it would be foolish
to believe she could take it out and even more foolish to make it angry.

Hunkering down among the rocks, she waited, already training her reticule
in the direction the two fighters would pass even though her field of vision
was severely limited by her cover. It was going to be snap shot and she
was surprised to find herself confident of her seemingly magically
acquired gunnery skills.
---

In the cockpit of his F-92 Stingray, Leutnant Wilson was quick to note the
ECM field on his SynCom VAX. Shark One to Titan One. Ive got an
ECM field bearing 65, distance two kilometers. Transmitting coordinates
now. Target area is heavily forested with elevation changes. Preparing to
conduct a visual sweep of the area. Request RoE. Over.

Don Tego smiled wolfishly as the O/P FiberFeed 201 in his Grand Titan
painted the location of the ECM field provided by the Leutnants
coordinates. Shark One, send me your visual feed. Once I confirm the
target, you are free to engage. Over.

With a few flicks, Wilson patched the feed from the wide-angle external
camera mounted to the underside of his fighters fuselage. Sending the
feed now, Titan One. Moving into position.

Shark One to Shark Two. Echelon right then break left-hand circuit once
we pass over the target area. Send Titan One your nose mount camera
feed. Confirm. Over.

This is Shark Two. Confirm feed. Moving into position now. Over.

Standby Titan One. Commencing run. Out.

---

Stroud watched as the Sloane 220 Lockover showed the two aircraft
descending and accelerating towards her. As Rose updated their projected
path, her fingers tightened around the control sticks. They would pass
within about 300 meters of her position. They knew she was out there but,
given their flight path, it didnt seem likely they had pinpointed her
position yet.

It was going to come down to flawless timing, made all the more difficult
by the incredible speed with which they were approaching. Shoving all
extraneous thought aside, she prepared herself. Thinking would only slow
her down. This required pure, instinctual reaction.

And then she was out of time to think as the two fighters screamed
towards her only a few hundred meters above the treetops. Just as they
tore roughly overhead of her position, she crushed the jump jet petals to
the floor of the cockpit sending Rose up into the air like a rocket, twisting
around in mid-air as she did so. The massive jump jets lifted the Clint a
good 100 meters straight up, Rose seeming to help guide her reticle over
the rear of the light Cheetah aerospace fighter.

Suspended in mid-air for just a split second as she reached the apex, she
released her trio of lasers and then gravity took over once more. As she
descended back into the trees, she saw the Cheetah pull violently off to the
left as it began its turn, heavy smoke trailing from its right wing.

As she brought Rose back down to the ground, she reported the
results. Target damaged. A second later, the sound of a huge explosion
rumbled over the hillside. Target destroyed.

---

Leutnant Wilson gently pulled up on his control stick as he began the left
circuit. He jerked up hard as he saw his wingman begin skidding through
the air trailing smoke then pinwheel out of control behind him. Shark
Two is hit! Shark Two is hit! Shark Two is down! Shark Two is
down! Repeat! Shark Two is down! Now well behind him, a greasy
black fireball erupted as the 25-ton aerospace fighter slammed into a tree
covered hill.

It all happened so fast. No time to react, no parachute.

Tony was dead. Blood had been drawn. Now it was his turn.

---

Don Tego slowed down and looped the gun camera footage from the
doomed Cheetah even as he kept his Grand Titan lumbering ahead.

Seeing nothing obvious, he began working backwards frame-by-frame,

examining each shot. The Cheetah was built for reconnaissance and, as
such, its camera offered exquisite resolution even though the fighter was
traveling incredibly fast. Sixty frames per second at just over a billion
pixels per frame, it literally generated a flood of data.
It was just a matter of time before he found what and from where the shot
or shots had come from. Still, he already knew enough to act and the
longer he waited the larger the search area would get.

Titan One to Hammer One. Make best possible speed to grid reference
690451. We will follow as best we can. Avoid contact with Sanglamore
Academy forces. Be advised Shark Two was shot down by a hostile in
that area. Identify and destroy it. Standby for more information. Out.

Titan One to Shark One. Loiter over the area at high

altitude. Dispatching Hammer One to the area now. Confirm. Over.

Leutnant Wilson snarled in the cockpit of his Stingray as he spiraled

higher. What he really wanted to do was sweep down like an avenging
angel on whoever had shot down Tony and wipe them right off the face of
this stinking planet. Confirmed Titan One. Request permission to
engage if I can acquire a targeting solution. Over.

Permission granted, Shark One.

---

All four of the Sanglamore Academy Mechs turned to watch as a line of

dark smoke rose higher and higher from one of the distant hills to the
northeast of the main Academy grounds.

General Vin Stockard duly noted the disappearance of the Cheetah from
his tracking system followed by multiple bursts of encrypted
communications. Tightening his jaw, he had the sinking realization that
there was little possibility the First Skye Jaegers would reach Sanglamore
before the approaching mercenary company.

The company that just had one of their aerospace fighters shot down.

Even as he thought this, a line of four fast moving BattleMechs appeared

at the ragged edge of his Angst Clear View, his computer system dutifully
tagging each one: Hammer, Hammer, Locust, Stinger. They were making
a dead run towards the site of the downed aircraft, traveling as a group at
speeds approaching 100 kph.

Their current course would have them cutting across the far corner of the
Academy grounds but it mattered little. He simply lacked the speed to
intercept them and, if that Capellan whelp was to be believed, the main
body of the mercenary force was still on their way. Not to mention the
fact that Stingray was running a lazy high-altitude circuit of the area,
providing both intelligence and aerial fire support if needed. The Stingray
was a nasty piece of work, though even it would have to think twice
before tangling with Kommandant Richards Salamander.

Opening his com, he ordered. Let em go. Theyre steering well clear of
the main Academy grounds and we cant catch em anyway. Im more
concerned with whatever is following them.

Encased in his Thunderbolt, Professor Weddle scowled. His T-bolt was

fast. Equipped with Myomer Accelerator Signal Circuitry, he could make
intercept and, with a full loadout of Clan-tech weapons, he had little doubt
he could reduce the entire light lance to scrap in short order.

Keying his mic, he made his case. General Stockard, I can make
intercept. My T-bolt is equipped with MASC. Id be more than happy to
welcome these mercs to Sanglamore on your behalf, sir.

Negative, Hauptmann. There are already far too few of us as compared

to them. If your friend is to be believed, we've got much bigger problems
heading our way. Our primary objective is to ensure the safety of the
cadet core and to protect the Academys facilities. Understood?

As if to punctuate his point, the promised feed from the Castle Airth
DropShip finally appeared on his secondary display. His expression grew
even grimmer as he watched a 100-ton Grand Titan followed by a Gauss
rifle wielding Tempest and a pair of Apollos emerge. Two more lances
emerged after that. Forming up, they began moving out as the feed ended.

Having seen it as well, Weddle responded simply, Yes, sir. Understood.

Chapter 10
Commander Don Tego smiled in satisfaction as he zoomed in tight on one
of the video frames from the downed Cheetah. There it was. The
Clint. Cleverly concealed among the rocks jutting from one of the many
tree-covered hills. Waiting.
Triumphantly, he broadcast the image out over a clear channel. This is
Force Commander Don Tego. My unit is now in active pursuit of the
Clint pictured here. Without provocation, it ambushed one of my units
aerospace fighters, destroying the craft and likely killing the pilot in the
process. The full gun camera feed will follow this message. I will
consider any attempt to hinder or interfere with my pursuit of this unit a
hostile act and will respond accordingly. The pilot of this unit is also
believed to be responsible for the horrific terrorist attack that took place at
Sanglamore Academy earlier this afternoon. If possible, I will surrender
this person to the local authorities for interrogation. If they choose to
resist, they will be destroyed.

Closing the channel, he smirked. Hed just thrown down the gauntlet and
anyone stupid enough to get in his way, would end up with a face full of
dirt.

The wheeled tanks and medium Mechs of the so-called Castle Airth
Guard were behind him and losing ground by the minute. Forced to stick
to the roads and open terrain, the route they were taking to Sanglamore
was much longer than his.

It was one of the true advantages of BattleMechs over traditional

armor. BattleMechs go where they please and they get there however they
want. In this case, by the shortest possible route. Already Hammer One
was closing in on the last known location of the Clint while those
Sanglamore stiffs stood around trying to look threatening.

The only force that was worth worrying about were the First Skye Jaegers
and they had started out well behind the curve, located a considerable
distance away from the Academy proper. And even if they wanted to put
up a stink with their two light Seydlitz fighters, Leutnant Wilson was eager
for blood.

Leaving basically nothing in his way, he grinned.

---

With the throttle of his Phoenix Hawk set at just barely over 50%,
Leutnant Rorie McCall came to pretty much the same conclusion. The 80-
ton Schiltrons were only capable of maintaining about 50 kph at best, and
while the Tokugawas were a bit faster, there was simply no way either of
the wheeled vehicles could close on the mercenary BattleMechs they were
trying to follow.

And, the same held true for the Marauder Captain Wallace was piloting,
although it, at least, could go off road. With a sly grin, he opened up a
private channel to the Captain as a plan crystalized in his mind.

Captain Wallace, release Dougal and Cat to me. Their two Crabs and my
Hawk are fast enough to make it to Sanglamore by the time the mercs get
there. Throw in Duggan and Chapmans Warriors and you could have a
nice little force up there to support your friends.

Not hearing an immediate response, he plowed on ahead, You lead the

lance of Tokugawas and the two Schiltrons. Thatll keep a respectable
force in their rear. Then we'll have em between a rock and a hard place!
Our force and the Sanglamore force to their front and you staring at their
backside with enough artillery to rain some serious pain. That oughta be
more than enough to make em think twice about whatever their
planning.

McCall chuckled as he finished, Although, Im not sure it matters.

Frankly, this Tego guy sounds like hes just looking for an excuse to fight
so we might as well be ready to give him one. Of course, what he wasnt
saying, was that this would also be an excellent way to keep Mez out of
any potential fighting while still allowing him to maintain face.

From the cockpit of Captain Barclays Marauder, Mez considered the

plan. Try as he might, he could find no flaw in McCalls reasoning. It
was clear, even to him, the wheeled combat vehicles were troublingly
slow and simply had no chance of getting even close to Sanglamore before
the mercenaries arrived.

Resigned to the reality of the situation, he flipped his Dalban Micronics

over to the command frequency. Leutnant McCall, take Dougal and Cat
and link up with the Sanglamore forces, ASAP. Leutnant Duggan, circle
back and make sure there arent any nasty surprises waiting for them. The
rest of us will make the best time we can. Keep me updated. Out.

In frustration, it was all Mez could do not to jam his own throttle wide
open as he watched the three Mechs alter their course, accelerate and
move away. At least the Arrow IV artillery system had an effective range
of over four kilometers, so even if his convoy couldn't reach Sanglamore
proper, they might still be able to help.

---

If looks could kill, Force Commander Don Tego, along with the rest of his
company of BattleMechs, would have all been dead. General Vin
Stockard glowered at his tactical display as he tracked the progress of the
approaching mercenaries.

Open the armory and arm the cadet core! Load the weapon turrets! I
want everything with a gun on it crewed and deployed around the
Academy! APCs, weapon carriers, tanks, jeeps, trucks, training Mechs, if
it can move, I want it on the field! Form a defensive belt around the main
grounds. If those mercenaries dare make a move on Sanglamore, theyll
pay in blood and steel!

Im moving to intercept them now. If they insist on violating our

grounds, I've got a PPC, two large pulse lasers and one helluva hatchet
their going to meet first!

With that, General Stockard throttled up his 100-ton Berserker and began
moving, the other members of his lance following in his wake as he
continued to bark out orders. Diamond formation. Ill take point,
Weddle, left flank, Hamilton, right flank. Richards, you take the
rear. Conduct final weapons checks and lock and load. Its time to call
these mercenaries bluff.

---

Leutnant Jerry Lolly glanced at the O/P 3000 targeting and tracking
system of his 20-ton Seydlitz, noting the blip appearing at the edge of its
range. Captain Riker, contact with the Stingray. Request
RoE. Over. Behind him, Corporal Dobson maintained a textbook
echelon right formation but, given their airspeed, they would be within
weapon range all too soon.

Box him in, Jerry, then force him out of the area and back to the
StarPort. Do not fire unless fired upon first. Repeat. Do not fire unless
fired upon first. I dont know who these jokers are, but this situation is
already way out of hand. Colonel Pitcher has been informed and
additional assets are already on the way. If they fire on you, they are as
good as signing their own death warrants and I dont think theyre that
stupid. Theres no way they can take on the whole of the First
Jaegers. Keep me advised. Over and out.

---

Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud watched anxiously as the light lance of Los
Bandoleros Mechs entered the forested hills below her position, fanning
out as they began to make their way towards her. Her Clint, Rose, was
well concealed in a cleft in the rock, her Guardian ECM system masking
her exact location.

Fresh from the Gauntlet run, it wasnt the 4-to-1 odds that bothered her, it
was the Stingray. Circling overhead like a bird of prey, it was just waiting
for her to move, then it would sweep down from the skies and obliterate
her. Heavily armed and just as heavily armored, it might as well be the
Grim Reaper himself waiting for her.

She had little for it. It was just a matter of time before the Bandoleros
Mechs flushed her from where she was hiding, forcing her to jump away
like a startled bird, right into the waiting claws of that Stingray. Grinding
her teeth was all she could do as she watched the approaching doom.

Her only hope lie in the pair of Seydlitz fighters zooming in from the
west. But for all she knew, they too were coming for her.

---

On the bridge of the Justice, Demi-Precentor Santos paced tight

circles. The massive DropShip was slow. The fact that it wasnt built for
atmospheric operations became increasingly clear as the minutes ticked
by. Forced to take an awkward, high-altitude hop in order to reach their
destination, it was a terribly inefficient interplanetary transport. Upon
reflection, he should have dispatched an advanced force via an aerodyne
Leopard-class ship but hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

It did, however, afford him a spectacular birds-eye view of the quickly

unfolding tactical situation. Unfortunately, it also made it equally clear
that his own force would only arrive after the action, with the sole
exception of the two Spad aerospace fighters.

The mercenary commander had made his intentions quite clear just a few
minutes ago via an unencrypted broadcast, which had put him in direct
opposition to Precentor Skyes orders. The Clint was to be captured
intact, not destroyed.

Captain Raki, open a channel to Adept Hildago.

A second later, the captains communications acolyte nodded his head,

indicating the Demi-Precentor could proceed. Adept Hildago, this is
Demi-Precentor Santos. Weapons free. Make best possible speed and
bring that Stingray down. Do not engage any other forces. Confirm.

Strapped into the cockpit of his 30-ton SPD-503 Spad, Leutnant Hildago
nodded, a motion the Demi-Precentor could not see. Flicking his
CMDSTAT 400-D on, he gave a curt response. Confirmed, Demi-
Precentor. Destroy the Stingray. Do not engage any other forces in the
area. Over and Out.

Santos resumed his anxious pacing. There was little else he could do but
watch.

---

Leutnant Wilson made no move as the two First Jaeger aerospace fighters
took up station along either side of his aircraft. As they matched his
airspeed, the expected call came.

This is Leutnant Jerry Lolly of the First Skye Jaegers. Return to

Bannockburn StarPort immediately. Repeat. Return to Bannockburn
StarPort immediately. Respond. Over.

A predatory grin crossed Wilsons face. Tego had already given fair
warning and these two light fighters were clearly interfering with his
pursuit of the renegade Clint. Which made them legitimate targets, didnt
it?

As he was considering his options, a pair of Spad aerospace fighters

appeared at the edge of his scope, moving fast and heading straight for
him.
Shark One to Titan One. Ive got a pair of unidentified Spads on an
intercept course and two First Jaeger Seydlitzes holding station on both of
my flanks. Request updated RoE. Its getting a bit busy up here and four
against one arent my kind of odds. Over.

Force Commander Tego considered his position. The Sanglamore lance

was now moving to block his way and the Northwind force had detached
their fast Mechs, presumably to link up with the units at the Academy.
The First Jaegers had a light lance in route but their main force was
lagging far behind. The ComStar DropShip was in transit as well but it
too was also too far away to be an immediate tactical concern.

Hammer One was even now penetrating into the hills beneath the Clints
last known position. The odds were still in his favor but the balance of
forces would only continue to shift in favor of his opponents as each
precious minute rolled by.

The sooner this was over the better.

Titan One to Shark One. Weapons free. The Clint is your primary. I
want that Mech destroyed ASAP! The longer this drags on, the worse our
situation becomes. Hammer One will flush out the quarry, its your job to
kill it. Out.

Leutnant Wilson grinned and then slammed on his air brakes, opening his
deceleron as he did so. Angling his nose up, his Stingray began shedding
speed at an alarming rate, causing the two Seydlitzes to shoot past
him. Hed been circling at a high-altitude, so the loss of speed didnt
bother him in the least.

Sliding his reticle over the Seydlitz, now ahead and off to his right, he
unleashed his potent array of weaponry even as the 20-ton craft began
evasive maneuvers. Both extended-range heavy lasers along with the
Magna Sunspot converged on the light fighter, blowing off its left
wing. Closing the brakes and deceleron, Wilson laid into his throttle,
pushing his control stick down sharply as he broke to the left of the
quickly disintegrating craft, regaining his lost speed at the cost of altitude.
Already, his eyes were scanning the horizon for the second Seydlitz.
Shark One to Titan One. Splash one Seydlitz.
Wilson smiled in satisfaction as the second fighter hightailed it away,
leaving him in control of the immediate airspace. Shark One to Hammer
One. Flush the quarry now! Ive got two more fighters inbound and Id
like to wrap this up before more company arrives. Standing by. Over.

Chapter 11
Lieutenant Arc Sanders swore at the thick trees and steep hills around him
and, for the thousandth time, cursed the FWDI designers who had chosen
not to install jump jets on his 30-ton Hammer. At the moment, he would
gladly have traded some of the six tons of Jolassa-325 armor and one of
his three medium lasers for the ability to leap over these confounded trees
and actually get somewhere. Next to him, his longtime girlfriend, Julie
Sanders, matched his pace in her own identical Hammer. Contrary to the
constant ribbing of his fellow Bandoleros, they were not brother and sister
nor were they engaged in an incestuous relationship.

The Hammer was designed to provide long-range fire support for light
lances. As such, it carried a pair of Artemis-IV enhanced Irian Weapon
Works LRM-5s. Working in concert, they could rain down a full salvo of
twenty long-range missiles.

If only he had a target for them. What he needed was Axls Anvil. Jump
capable and equipped with a Guardian ECM suite, it was just as fast as his
own Hammer but weighed twice as much. As it was, he was walking
blind into the target area.

He keyed his lance command frequency, Enrique and Lee, move up

ahead and search that rocky outcropping. Julie and I are going to drop a
few LRMs on it and see if we cant scare something out. Julie, target grid
reference 69045176. Fire on my mark. 3. 2. 1. Mark!

His Hammer shuddered briefly as a flight of long range missiles erupted

from either side of his torso, Julie following suit, the two of them sending
their salvoes arcing gently down on the heavily obscured rock formation
still well over a half kilometer away.

---
Warrant Officer Stroud closed her eyes as she listened to the chunks of
rock and stone pinging off the cockpit of her Clint from the series of
explosions overhead.

It was time. Another salvo or two might bring down enough rubble to
either damage her Mech, or worse, trap her against the rock wall. A
Stinger was already probing her position, backed up by a Locust, while the
two Hammers below provided indirect fire support.

And still the Stingray circled overhead like a predatory bird, having
downed a First Jaeger Seydlitz and driven the other off. The only question
that remained was which way she should break. The Stinger was the only
Mech capable of pacing her in the dense woods, so regardless, shed have
deal with that one first.

Rose interrupted her thoughts. Aerospace fighter detected. Spad.

Aerospace fighter detected. Spad. Establishing communication with
Teledyne_Sat_543. Uplink established. Establishing downlink with
Damian_ENC. Downlink established. Transmitting

Stroud knit her eyebrows. What the hell was Rose doing? Sometimes, all
too often actually, it seemed that Rose had a mind of her own, leaving her
to wonder, yet again, who was really in control here.

Then, the trees just off to her left quivered, followed by a cascade of
shattered limbs and broken branches as the nose-mounted barrel of the
Locust appeared, followed by its squat bird-like body barely a hundred
yards away.

Another salvo of LRMs exploded against the rocky face behind her as she
was finally forced from her concealed location. Pulling a tight turn around
the scattered boulders, she unleashed her lasers at the Locust even as the
Stinger suddenly appeared off to her right, descending on jets of flames.

Heavy laser fire crisscrossed the forest as she found herself boxed
in. Armor melted all along her right side as the medium lasers from both
the Locust and Stinger found their mark. Her heavy laser evaporated the
Locusts left arm as her mediums gouged into its right side, throwing a
shower of sparks from its remaining stubby appendage.

Instinctively, she was afraid of breaking contact. With the Stingray still
out there, her best bet was to stay as close as possible to the enemy
Mechs, forcing the pilot to either take a risky shot or simply wait it
out. Nudging her throttle forward, she moved in on the damaged Locust,
trading another savage volley of laser fire as the Stinger angled around
behind her.

The Locust scored another hit against her right arm, the wire diagram
glowing ominously red as its compatriot etched another line down her
right leg. Her heavy laser sheared the entire right half of the Locust off as
her mediums finished the destruction of its remaining arm, yet the tough
little machine still refused to go down.

Rose dispassionately informed her of the situation. Right Arm

Armor: 0%. Right Leg Armor: 17%. Missile Lock warning. Incoming
missiles.

Even as Rose finished her report, a cascade of long range missiles

exploded all around her courtesy of the two Hammers. Firing indirectly
without the benefit of their advanced fire control system, the vast majority
of the missiles missed, the few that hit causing only minor damage to her
Mech.

Snatching up a large branch as she continued to zero in on the Locust, they

traded kicks as they collided. Hers snapped the left leg of the Locust clean
off even as it managed to strike her own damaged right leg, mangling her
foot actuator in the process.

Right Leg: Critical. Right Foot Actuator: Offline. Right Leg Structural
Integrity: 70%.

The Locust collapsed heavily on its left side, followed a split second later
by a secondary explosion, splitting the exposed side of the Mech wide
open as the rounds for its anti-missile system cooked off, funneled away
from its chest by its CASE.

Whirling around, swinging the branch as she did so, she came face to face
with the Stinger as it tried to come up behind her, both of them firing at
point blank range.

Her lasers drilled into the Stingers left side as the branch splintered
violently against it, sending the Mech stumbling back, its entire left side
crushed and mangled. The Stingers laser penetrated deep into her
vulnerable right arm even as it bathed her in fire from its flamer.

Right Arm: Critical. Right Lower Arm Actuator: Offline. Right Arm
Structural Integrity: 10%.

Then, another series of long-range missiles came down on both of

them. As many missiles struck the beleaguered Stinger as her own Clint
as the two Hammers continued their supporting fire, moving ever closer as
they did so. Her Clint weathered the storm well, but the Stinger finally
overbalanced and went down.

Now missing one arm, the Stinger was forced to use its other arm, the one
carrying its sole remaining weapon, to try and regain its feet. As it
struggled up, Stroud unleashed on it once more, coring straight through its
chest, leaving nothing but a sparking, melted pile of scrap and two
spasmodically twitching legs on the forest floor.

It was time to get the hell out of here. She stomped on her LFT-10 jump
jets even as yet another volley of missile fire arced down on her,
peppering her Mech as it lifted into the air, the few that struck thankfully
clustering along her mostly undamaged left side. As she cleared the top of
the trees on her jump jets, she saw the Stingray swooping down and
suddenly she felt her own mortality.

---

A panicked voice burst out over the First Jaeger command frequency.
Jerrys gone! That rat bastard just iced him! Just blew him away. No
chute! No chute! Its circling around! Its circling around!

Captain Rikers tightly controlled voice broke into the circuit. Corporal
Dobson, disengage. Repeat. Disengage. Confirm. Over.

A rattled Corporal Dobson rammed his throttle wide open causing his
nimble Seydlitz to rocket furiously ahead, shoving him hard against his
command couch, the harness automatically tightening to prevent him from
blacking out from loss of blood flow.

Dobson was all but screaming, Confirm! Confirm! Disengaging! That

bastard just killed Lolly, Captain!
Dialing in the battalion frequency, Riker grimly reported. Major
Adolfus, Leutnant Jerry Lolly has been shot down by the Los Bandoleros
Stingray while attempting to escort it back to the StarPort. No sign of an
ejection, sir. Corporal Dobson has withdrawn from the area. Ive already
sent Leutnant Jack Handsomes light BattleMech lance ahead. Their ETA
to Sanglamore is three minutes. The rest of units ETA is twelve to fifteen
minutes. There is also a combined arms force calling themselves the
Castle Airth Guard in the area, along with two ComStar Spad aerospace
fighters. Please advise. Over.

A frustrated Major Adolfus flickered to life on the secondary display of

his Banshee.

All hell is breaking loose over here! Colonel Pitcher has mobilized the
entire regiment and ComStar is deploying forces in and around the HPG in
New Glasgow. Not to mention, the Justice is enroute to Sanglamore right
now with a full company of ComGuards! And we still have no idea what
the hell this Castle Arith Guard is up to!

The Major roared on, Pull Handsomes lance back. I dont want your
company strung out all over hell and high water, not with all the forces
that are converging on the area. Maintain a tight formation and continue
your advance. Theyre strapping on external fuel tanks to the remainder
of the squadron now. Ill have them up and on the way to back you up as
soon as possible. Wait! Standby. The Colonels on the line now.

Major Adolfus face was replaced by an angry looking Colonel

Pitcher. Captain Riker, I just received confirmation from General
Stockard that Leutnants Lollys plane was shot down. Consider the Los
Bandoleros mercenary group hostile. Repeat. Los Bandoleros are now
considered hostile forces. Im moving the rest of your battalion to the
Bannockburn Starport and scrambling the remainder of the regiments air
wing. Ive also been in contact with Precentor Skye. Consider ComStar
forces friendly. Repeat. ComStar forces are friendly. General Stockard
also requests the Castle Airth Guard be considered neutral at this time. Do
not engage the Castle Airth Guard unless fired upon first. Repeat. Castle
Airth forces are neutral. Keep your company together and make best
possible speed to Sanglamore. Keep us advised of the situation. Out.

Riker slammed his fist against the console. Damn it! Playing so
conservative! Reluctantly, he opened a channel to Leutnant Handsome.
Leutnant, pull back and link up with the main body. Repeat. Return to
the main body. Confirm. Over.

An oddly cheerful sounding Handsome responded. Confirm, Captain

Riker. Turning around now to link back up with you. Over and Out.

Growling, Riker opened a channel to General Stockard. General,

Colonel Pitcher has ordered my fast lance back. Company Threes ETA is
11-14 minutes. Until then, it looks like youre on your own. Im sorry,
General. Out.

---

Force Commander Don Tego smiled wolfishly as he watched the light

Mechs of the First Jaegers peel off, returning to the safety of their parent
formation. These soft-bellied fools lacked the stomach for a real fight.
After losing one of their aerospace fighters, they were turning tail and
running.

He chuckled. The cocksure general would undoubtedly be the next to

back down. Typical Lyran, all pomp and bluster but when things got
heated, hed pull stakes and run back to the Academy with his tail between
his legs all the while trying to safe his pompous face.

His gloating was interrupted by Lieutenant Arc Sanders. Hammer One to

Titan One. Target located. Hammer Three and Four are down. In pursuit
of the primary target now. Last heading 140. That Clints ECM field is
wreaking havoc with our sensors, sir.

Titan One here. Maintain pursuit. Keep forcing it to move. Shark One
is moving into position now. Out.

---

Seeing the explosions and smoke below, Leutnant Wilson whipped his 60-
ton Stingray around, his eyes eagerly scanning the ground below for his
target. His SynCom VAX would burn through the ECM field if he could
get close enough and all he needed was one good shot, then this whole god
forsaken business would be over.
Bringing his fighter down to just a few hundred feet above the rolling
hills, his finger tightened around his control stick as he waited to acquire a
target. Shedding speed, his Stingray began to buck and sway as the
turbulence around him began buffeting his craft. Activating his flaps to
maintain lift as he continued to reduce his speed, he noted the two Spads
were still coming in hard. Carrying both a large and medium pulse laser,
they were incredibly accurate and fairly well armored for a 30-ton
craft. Doubtful hed be able to one-shot them or out run them for that
matter.

Then, he saw the Clint leaping up and out of the trees on its jump jets. It
hung there like a ripe fruit for a long second as it reached the apex of its
jump, giving him just long enough to press the red firing stub atop his
control stick.

Two blood-red beams of light accompanied by a streak of man-made

lightning transfixed the 40-ton Mech. He had just long enough to see its
right arm blasted clear off, the Mech spinning around to the left as it
absorbed another hit along its right side, then plummet out of control into
the forest below trailing heavy smoke.

Shark One to Hammer One. I clipped it pretty good. Move in and finish
it off. Ill circle around for another pass if I can. Ive got two Spads
incoming. Out.

---

Warrant Officer Stroud screamed as she lost control of her airborne

Clint. Laser fire sheared off her right arm as a bolt of charged particles
spun her around mid-air. The world tilted crazily as Rose crashed through
the trees, exploding one in a shower of splinters before smashing heavily
to the ground on its left side.

Dazed, Stroud tried to focus as Rose reported the damage. Right Arm:
Destroyed. ER Large Laser: Destroyed. 55% reduction in effective
firepower. Loss of 300 meters effective range. Right Torso Structural
Integrity: 30%. Critical Right Torso: Jump Jet. Jump Capacity: 180
meters. Critical Right Torso: Engine Shielding. Critical Right Torso:
Beagle Active Probe. Beagle Active Probe: Offline. Incoming
BattleMech detected: Hammer. Incoming BattleMech detected:
Hammer. Recommend immediate withdraw.
Strouds head swam as she struggled to make sense out of the words.
Using her Mechs still functional left arm, she managed to prop Rose back
up, teetering back to her feet unsteadily.

Off to one side, the trees buckled then snapped. The Hammers were
coming.

---

On the bridge of the Damian, communications tech Hendley Babbage

noted an incoming transmission. She quickly realized it wasnt a voice
trans but a data feed originating from one of the communication satellites
orbiting the planet. Whatever it was, it was dumping information directly
into one of the massive databanks of the ships computer system.

A secondary stream of information was coming down as well, this one

directed towards the DropShips tracking and targeting system. Puzzled
as to how someone would have gained access to the ships computer and
information systems, she pulled it up.

It took her a second to realize what she was looking at but shed seen T&T
information before. It was a continuously updating targeting solution. To
what exactl, she wasnt yet sure, but the information was there.

Fingers flying across the control surface, she plotted the solution on the
primary bridge display. Targeting coordinates. But they werent
anywhere near any of the Castle Airth forces or even the Sanglamore
forces for that matter. The closest thing was the Los Bandoleros force. It
was just some random hill up in the highlands off some distance from the
Academy.

Who and why would be sending that to her?

Confused, she opened up the company command frequency. Uh, guys,

Im getting some kind of targeting solution from an unknown orbital
satellite. Im sending you the feed now. Any idea what it is?

Mez Wallace recognized it instantly from the battle on Damian. Sigil had
spent hours testing his Clints ability to pass TAG information through an
ECM field and relay it on to the Schiltrons. It had played an instrumental
role in the Trial of Possession they had fought with Clan Ghost Bear.

Its a feed from Target Acquisition Gear! Its from the Clint! Its gotta
be! Gavin! Frazier! Load homing rounds now and standby to
fire! Hendley! Send that feed to the Schiltrons! Fire when ready!

Leutnant McCall was just about to report the withdrawal of the Jaeger
lance when the feed came in. He studied it for a moment then he too
realized there were simply no friendly forces anywhere in the reported
area, only mercenary forces and presumably the Clint as well.

Gritting his teeth, he exhorted the two Crabs following him to move
faster. They were out on a limb now, if the Los Bandoleros forces turned
on his short lance theyd been in a world of hurt. For a brief moment, he
considered following the Jaeger Captains move and returning to the
Castle Airth Guards but hed already passed the point of no return. He
was now closer to Sanglamore than to his own people.

---

Acoylote Hidalgo raced towards the Los Bandoleros Stingray, his

wingman in position behind him. The Stingray was lining up for another
ground attack as he pushed his 30-ton Spad into a steep dive. Weapons
free. Commencing attack run now. Maintain formation. Steady.
Steady!

To his surprise, the Stingray seemed content to simply eat their attack, as
it made no attempt at an evasive maneuver. As he angled down on the 60-
ton craft, he unleashed his heavy pulse laser, stitching a line across the
fuselage even as his wingman traced a line up its right wing, but still the
craft remained undeterred.

Pulling up and breaking to his left, he spiraled up, along with his
wingman, preparing for a second run at the undaunted heavy Stingray.

---

Leutnant Wilson shrugged off the two unprovoked attacks from the
ComGuard fighters. He had eyes for only one thing. Hed seen where the
Clint had gone down and he was ready to finish it off. Once the primary
objective was complete, the ComGuard fighters wouldnt matter, he could
either engage them or, denied their prize, they would most likely depart
the area of their own accord.

---

Back on her feet and staring down a pair of Hammers, Stroud slammed the
throttle up. Pivoting to her left, in hopes of protecting her ravaged right
side, her Mech began rapidly accelerating. A trio of medium lasers from
each Hammer reached out through the forest towards her, four of them
slagging armor all along her left side and chest as two missed wide.

She returned fire with her two remaining mediums as she prepared herself
to receive Roses report of the latest damage. Target solution
acquired. Transmitting solution now. Left Torso: Critical. Left Torso
Armor: 0%. Left Torso Structural Integrity: 70%. Left Arm
Armor: 20%. Center Torso Armor: 50%. Recommend immediate
withdraw. Incoming Aerospace fighter detected: Stingray.

As fear threatened to overwhelm her, she engaged the supercharger,

sending Rose literally tearing through the forest, branches and limbs
cracking and spinning away from her wildly charging Mech. Then, the
ground under her bucked and heaved as a series of thunderous explosions
erupted from somewhere behind her, almost throwing her from her feet,
but she caught her balance and continued her wild rampage through the
woods. Much larger than the ones from the Hammers LRMs, she was left
wondering just what had caused them.

Even as she raced willy-nilly through the woods, the ground behind her
burst into flames from a stream of heavy laser fire, one of the trees
overhead exploding into flames from a massive lightning strike as she
realized the Stringray had just flown overhead, barely missing her with its
deadly strafing attack.

Rose coolly reported the results, Hammer destroyed.

But by what and by whom?

Chapter 12
Hauptmann Clarissa Evers, the head of Sanglamore Information
Technology, swallowed the lump growing in her throat as she examined
the access logs. General Stockard had ordered her to determine how
Warrant Officer Stroud had gained access to his authorization codes as
well as investigate any other security breaches that might have occurred.

Shed begun with the approximate time that the Warrant Officer had
powered up the Clint and worked backwards from there. What shed
already uncovered was enough to make her want to throw up. Armed
guards stood at attention on either side of her workstation as the Academy
shifted to a war footing. She heard bits and snatches of conversation,
enough that it was obvious that Sanglamore itself could come under
attack.

The account the Clint had used to compromise the system was almost
twenty years old. It was a low level user utilized by the automated backup
system. It effectively had access to everything. Not the live data, but the
encrypted daily backups of the entire Sanglamore data core. If the
encryption had been broken, and it almost certainly had since the
Generals authorization code had been used, whoever was using this
account could access anything and everything. And with that kind of
access, any user account in the entire system could potentially have been
comprised.

Essentially, the entire integrity of the system had been compromised.

Financials, personnel records, the Generals personal correspondence,
even cadets class assignments and grades, there was no limit to what
could have been accessed. Potentially, even the Academys defensive
system. A malicious user could basically shut down the entire Academy.

She shook her head. Shed already disabled the account in question but it
was possible, even likely, there were other compromised accounts as
well. She would have to rebuild the entire data core and issue new
credentials to everyone at the Academy and that was just for starters.

It would take weeks, even months, before she would be able to restore her
confidence in the Academys computer systems.

---

Gunnery Sergeant Jeff Hamilton watched as the two lances of Los

Bandoleros Mechs approached the Academy grounds. He hadnt ever
backed down from anything. He hadnt backed down from the Legion of
Vega, the Marik Militia, the Sixth Alshain Regulars, the DCMS Fifth
Ghost Regiment, nor the ComGuards. Hed gone toe-to-toe with Clan
Ghost Bear and Clan Wolf.

And there was no way in hell he was going to back down from some no-
name mercenary company, either. Two-to-one odds were standard
operating procedure in his book and the only question in his mind was
which Mech he should take down first. Besides, how could he go back to
training cadets if he turned tail? They looked up to him, respected him
and it would be a violation of the trust they had in him and the trust he had
in himself, to walk away from a battle, regardless of the odds or the
opponents.

The Grand Titan was tempting but ultimately the General would want to
take down their leader. The next biggest threat was the 65-ton Tempest.
Carrying a Gauss rifle and a heavy pulse laser, backed up with a trio of
medium lasers and a six-rack, it was heavily armored and jump capable.
Equipped with dual heat sinks, it could dish out some serious pain.

He grinned wolfishly. It ought to make a worthy opponent, assuming the

pilot didnt suck. He flicked his Wasat Watchdog over to Professor
Weddles private frequency, chuckling. That Tempest is mine. You can
clean up the trash.

Weddle grunted, The General hasnt ordered us to engage, Hamilton,

wait for his command.

Hamilton just laughed. Dude, they arent going to back off. The second
they cross onto the Academys grounds, Im starting to lay waste and I
aint gonna stop until their all eatin dirt. The General already warned em
to steer clear and, frankly, I hope they arent gonna listen to him. Been to
long since Ive got to shoot up anything for real, anyway.

---

General Vin Stockard frowned as the approaching Mechs failed to alter

their course after his last warning. While it didnt appear they had any
intention of approaching the Academys main campus, their path would
technically take them across Academy grounds. The First Skye Jaegers
were out of the picture for now and the Castle Airth Guard had recalled
their two Warrior attack helicopter to spot for a short lance they had
dispatched to aid him.

All he had to do was wait a few minutes and the balance of forces would
swing in his favor and once the First Jaeger company arrived, he would
have an overwhelming force. What did it matter if the mercenaries hunted
down and destroyed the renegade Clint along with its AWOL pilot. Shed
caused enough trouble already. Was it really necessary to add to the body
count?

Movement off to his left caught his eye, breaking his train of thought as
the Warhammer on his flank accelerated towards the approaching
mercenaries.

Stabbing his com, he barked out over the lance frequency. Hamilton,
what the hell do you think youre doing!? Get back in formation! Now!
Weapons tight, people!

Hamilton came back over the same channel. With all due respect,
General, you drew the line in the sand. These bastards have already
violated our airspace and now their ground forces are going to enter the
Academy grounds. Ill be damned before I let them just waltz across
without a challenge.

A long second passed before he added, Sir.

Before he could respond, Professor Weddles Thunderbolt also began

moving out, in support of the Hammer. Cursing in his cockpit, he
broadcast over the Sanglamore command frequency. All units, weapons
free. Moving to engage the Los Bandoleros lead elements now. Over.

Professor Weddle was also cursing up a storm in his own cockpit. Hed
fought alongside Hamilton for almost two decades and, try as he might, he
couldnt bring himself to let Hamilton go it alone. Not after everything
theyd been through. The chain of command be damned. In the end, you
fought for your friends and for the things you personally believed in, not
because someone with a higher rank simply ordered you into battle or not.

Then again, that was probably exactly why hed rotated out of the Lyran
Guards after his tour was up and gone mercenary. As much as he hated to
admit it to himself, he had his own strong stubborn independent streak.
No doubt hed catch hell over it later.

---

Force Commander Don Tego looked at his tactical in surprise. The

Sanglamore lance was actually moving to engage his force. No matter.
Hed cut them down to size in seconds.

Anvil one, prepare your lance to engage. Focus fire along their right
flank and roll it up. My lance will meet them head on. Lets get this over
with before anyone else arrives.

Shaking his head, he laughed. The fools. They should have waited, as it
was he had them outnumbered two-to-one.

---

Hamiltons 70-ton WHM-7S trundled ahead, the two lances of Los

Bandoleros Mechs just now becoming visible through the glassteel of his
cockpit. The surrounding area was clear, offering little in the way of
cover. A perfect battlefield. He couldnt ask for better conditions to use
his extended-range PPCs. As they converged, General Stockards
Berserker put on a sudden burst of speed as the General engaged his
MASC system moving into the point position.

His reticle centered on the Tempest, no sooner had his rangefinder spun
down to the maximum effective range, then he unleashed his two Fusigon
Longtooth particle cannons, marking the first shots of the battle. The first
slammed into the Tempests left arm as the second smacked it center
mass. A flash of silver erupted from its right arm as it returned fire,
sending a slug burying itself deep into his right leg, compromising the
armor located there.

Slamming his throttle into reverse, he started walking his Warhammer

away from the approaching Mechs, his leg already dangerously low on
protection. The armor was the one thing the engineers had chosen not to
upgrade on the -7S and he was paying the price for it right now.

Another paired blasts from his Fusigons tore into the thickly armored hide
of the Tempest, instantly vaporizing over a ton of armor as it accelerated
towards him, seeking to close the distance between them. Another slug
ricocheted off his chest, mangling the armor plates covering his fusion
engine as it responded in kind and, suddenly, he felt a bead a sweat roll
down between his shoulder blades.

Trading shots with this thing wasnt quite working out.

---

Professor Jochen Weddle watched the lance of lighter Los Bandoleros

Mechs swing away from the main body, arcing around towards their right
flank, their battle plan becoming increasingly evident. Looking for a
quick kill, he angled over, protecting the Generals flank as he targeted a
fast 30-ton Jackal. His Clan-tech PPC did half again more damage than
its Inner Sphere equivalent and would make one hell of a rude surprise for
whoever was piloting the nimble little machine.

As he swung to face them, he let fly with both the PPC and his LRM-
15. The PPC carved a huge hole in the Jackals left torso, continuing on
to burn deep into the internals located there. A second later, the 30-ton
Mech was obscured by a series of explosions as his long-range missiles
rained down upon it. As the smoke cleared, the left side of its chest was
gone, the severed arm laying nearby. Powered by a Extralight fusion
engine, the Mech couldnt withstand the loss of a torso and slowly
toppled to the ground out of the battle.

Before he could celebrate, however, both the Shadow Hawk and Griffin
accompanying it responded with their own long-range missiles, blasting
off chunks of armor all across his Thunderbolt and peppering his
cockpit. The Shadow Hawk vomited forth a massive stream of slugs from
it Class Five Ultra autocannon, tearing a line across his right torso as the
Griffins PPC struck along the opposite side.

Taking advantage of the covering fire, the Anvil charged in, seeking to
bring its shorter range weaponry into play. Carrying a pair of shoulder
mounted large pulse lasers, it was a deadly accurate and relatively fast,
machine.

Swinging his reticle in line with the charging machine, he eagerly met the
oncoming Anvil. Closing with it would only hinder the 'Hawk and the
Griffin with their long-range missile systems, while allowing him to bring
his full firepower to bear, including the three ER medium lasers in his left
torso. Carrying all Clan-tech weapons, his own LRMs didnt suffer from
the same minimum range problems as their Inner Sphere counterparts.

Engaging his MASC, he put on a sudden burst of speed, closing to within

400 meters before letting loose his alpha strike. The ER mediums stabbed
all along the Anvils chest as his LRMs sent hunks of burning armor
spinning off but the PPC obliterated the cockpit of the 60-ton Mech with
a single violent surge of clan-made lightning.

Then, the rain of LRMs from the other two Mechs came screaming in,
another series of strikes hitting his thinly armored head and splintering the
glassteel canopy as they clustered all along the top of his T-bolt. The
Hawk continued ripping into his Mech with its rapid fire autocannon
even as he took another strike from the Griffins PPC.

His damage board flashed red as his entire right side was denuded of
armor along with his left torso by the two Mechs concentrated
fire. Carrying an Extralight engine of his own, his Mech was now
dangerously close to becoming crippled as he turned his sights on the 55-
ton Griffin.

---

Liza, hang back and handle those two Apollos. The Grand Titan is
mine.

General Vin Stockard had only a moment to brace himself as he watched

an awe inspiring volley of missiles rise from the Los Bandoleros
command lance, arcing down directly towards him. Between the Titan
and the two Apollos, the three 'Mechs launched a salvo of almost a
hundred long-range missiles in total. He was filled with a sudden and
passionate appreciation for the Guardian ECM system his 100-ton Mech
carried that blocked the advanced Artemis IV fire control system used by
the enemy Mechs. The buzz of his anti-missile system filled his cockpit
as his point defense system furiously tried to shoot down as many of the
incoming missile as possible and then his Mech was rocked.

All in all, less than a third of the missiles struck his monstrous Mech as
he powered through the onslaught firing his PPC at the Grand Titan as he
emerged from the cloud of smoke. His shot struck the left torso of the
massive enemy commanders Mech but the Titan was even more thickly
armored then his own behemoth and the damage amounted to little.

Behind him, Kommandant Richards responded with her own volley of

long-range missiles, sending a full spread of 60 missiles down on the first
of the two 55-ton Apollos. Lacking the Artemis IV system, she made up
in quantity what she lacked in guidance. Still, the Apollo was a heavily
armored machine and it shrugged off her own strike at the cost of two tons
of armor.

Kicking in his MASC yet again, Stockard had the satisfaction of seeing
the Bandoleros commander slow, then begin to back off as he faced
Stockards hatchet-wielding death machine. Firing another shot with his
PPC, he scored a second hit against its chest but, again, it caused little
damage of consequence other than loss of more armor.

Yet another massive cloud of missiles descended upon him but still his
Berserker just ate up the strikes even as his anti-missile system continued
to shoot them down. Hefting his hatchet menacingly, he continued
storming towards the Grand Titan as another volley of 60 missiles from
Richards Salamander wreathed an Apollo in smoke and fire. Again the
Apollo survived the strike, proving just how tough the medium fire
support Mech was.

---

Eyeing the damaged Tempest evilly, Hamilton again tagged it with his
twin Fusigons, this time one of them managing to penetrate its thick
armor. Even as another punishing Gauss slug shaved a ton of armor off
his right arm, he continued giving ground. Hed done the math. He had a
slight edge at range but as they got closer, the Tempest would gain the
advantage with its heavy pulse laser, trio of mediums and crit-hunting six
rack. It was better to just trade shots at range with it and, on an open field,
its jump jets were all but useless.

As soon as his particle cannons recharged, his sent them at it once more.
The Tempest was trying to close but it was only, at best, twenty kph faster
than his own Hammer, so it was eating up precious time. Time that
would only help Hamilton.

Another of his particle beams ripped into the Tempests exposed chest as
the second went wide to the right. Then, his own Mech was reeling as the
Tempests massive Gauss rifle sent a slug deep into his own Warhammers
chest. Klaxons wailed as the internal structure was severely damaged by
the strike, his damage board glowing a dark red. One more strike like that
and it would be game over for his new toy.

But, the same was true of the Tempest as well. It was time, that time, and
it suddenly seemed that time always arrived sooner or later in every battle
hed fought. Screaming definitely, he slammed his throttle forward, now
moving towards the Tempest rather than way. One way or another, one of
them going down in the next few seconds.

Leading with his particle cannons, both of his shots went low, striking the
heavily armored legs of the Tempest. The Tempests Gauss rifle struck his
exposed right leg, taking it off entirely and abruptly the ground came
rushing up to meet him as his 70-ton Warhammer hit the ground with a
thunderous boom.

Sensing the kill, the Tempest raked his right torso with its heavy pulse
laser as it continued to advance on his fallen Mech. Propping himself up
with the long barrel of his damaged left arm, Hamilton prepared to fire
what was likely to be his final volley.

But the Tempest came up short, stopping just outside the range of his
medium pulse lasers, leaving him with only the twin Steak SRM-2s. A
glance at the PPC showed it wouldnt be recharged in time and as soon as
he heard the lock-on tone, he let the SRMs fly just as the Tempest fired its
own missile rack along with its trio of lasers.

But there was a reason he was a Gunnery Sergeant. A pair of the stubby
short-range missiles flew straight and true right into the hole his PPCs had
created earlier in the Tempests chest. Blasting through the engine
shielding, one of them exploded directly against the fusion core itself. The
Mech shuddered briefly and then was engulfed in a spectacular explosion
as the containment field failed and the vacuum seal was broken.

Still prone on the ground, his Hammer survived the Tempests final strike
but he was now basically just a sitting duck, especially given the huge hole
in his own Mech's chest.

---
As he sidestepped the burning wreckage of the Anvil, Weddle slid his
reticle over the Griffin. Both it, and the Shadow Hawk, let fly their 20-
racks even as they split to either side, forcing him to commit to a
direction. In an odd twist of fate, he thanked the Clans for their advanced
technologies which allowed his medium lasers to strike at distances far in
excess of their traditional counterparts.

As the long-range missiles converged on his Mech, he fired with

everything he had, knowing his T-bolt would only hold together for a few
more precious seconds. As his Thunderbolt bucked and jerked, he
watched his LRM-15 go offline a split second after it disgorged what was
now to be its final volley. Under the onslaught, his right arm dropped
limply, banging off the side of his 65-ton machine as the powerful
actuators that moved it were blasted apart by repeated missile
strikes. Autocannon rounds traced a line up his left arm as the Griffins
PPCs blasted its way into his right torso. It was all he could do to keep his
machine upright and moving forward.

The Griffin took his PPC shot to its left arm, blowing its hand clear off in
the process. His mediums struck along the top half as did his final flight
of LRMs but it was clear the machine was only lightly damaged from his
return fire.

He had no choice but to let the Shadow Hawk circle around behind him as
he continued to prosecute his case against the Griffin. In fact, in some
ways it was preferable, as his rear now had more armor than his front. He
reflected for a fleeting moment how MechWarriors seems to hold the rear
shot in much greater reverence than perhaps they should. Smart money
would have been to finish punching through his front, a lesson he would
be sure to share with his class. If he survived.

The risk mattered little at this point, and he left his MASC engaged,
getting under the umbrella of the Griffins LRM as he prepared to trade
shots once more with the 55-ton Mech. The Griffins PPC blew away
what was left of his useless right arm and he winced as the invaluable
Clan-tech ER PPC located there was reduced to trash. Sure enough, the
Shadow Hawks LRM-20 plastered his back along with its autocannon,
shredding the thin armor and hammering its way into his Mechs core
structure.
Left with nothing but his three medium lasers, he again scored hits all
across the Griffin but they simply lacked the penetrating force of the
particle cannon and again the Griffin shrugged them off.

A sinking realization swept over him. He wasnt going to be able to take

them both out. Hed be lucky if he could drop the Griffin before he went
down.

---

General, Sergeant Hamiltons Mech is down. Professor Weddle is

surrounded. Were in danger of being overrun. I suggest we withdraw
and

Kommandant Richards voice was cut off as the Apollos switched targets,
pelting her Mech with high explosive warheads, marking the first damage
her assault Mech had taken.

Returning the favor, she sent her own salvo once more at the damaged
Apollo, one of the two now targeting her 80-ton Salamander. Amazingly,
the Apollo withstood the assault yet again, its left leg now showing heavy
structural damage along with its right arm. But, with both the LRM-15s
mounted in the torsos, it was basically as combat effective as ever.

Snarling, she watched as the General plunged into the thick of the battle.

Stockard again triggered his sole long-range weapon, a PPC, at the Grand
Titan striking it along the right side of its chest as his anti-missile system
continued to do its work. This salvo was lighter than the previous ones
but his armor was finally beginning to be worn down. Both of his arms
and his right leg were now glowing yellow on the damage board.

As if sensing this, the Grand Titan finally decided to move in and bring its
short range firepower into play. They exchanged heavy pulse laser fire
first, melting tons of armor off each other as the two lords of the
battlefield stalked each other.

Growling, Stockard engaged his MASC yet again, seeking to bring his
deadly hatchet into play. As he closed, however, the Grand Titan
unleashed its dual SRM-6s and paired medium pulse lasers sheathing his
Berserker in missile strikes and melted armor before beginning to move
away once more.

Still unable to bring his massive hatchet into play, Stockard continued to
pushing forward, straining his Mechs actuators to the breaking point.

Past the breaking point.

As the MASC abruptly shorted out, his massive 100-ton machine abruptly
locked up, pancaking into the ground still some 100 meters away from the
Grand Titan.

He was completely immobilized.

Chapter 13
Looming over the immobilized Berserker, Force Commander Don Tego
opened his O/P Fiber Feed. Sneering, he called over an unencrypted
channel. Power down immediately and exit your BattleMechs or the
Generals long, and Im sure, illustrious, career ends right here and right
now. I have no intentions of attacking your precious campus. I am here
for the Clint only. You have 10 seconds to comply.

The 80-ton Salamander was the first to power down, the canopy popping
open a second later. It was followed in short order by the heavily
damaged Thunderbolt and the crippled Warhammer.

Next, he flipped over to his own command frequency. Anvil Two and
Anvil Three, make best possible speed to Hammer Twos location and
destroy that godforsaken Clint already.

Returning to the open frequency, he continued. Wise choice. You are

free to return to the Academy and I suggest you start to do so now. If you
remain on the field, I will have no choice but to disable what little remains
of your BattleMechs. As it is, I have lost a lance worth of BattleMechs
and an aerospace fighter myself already on this little adventure, dont
tempt to take yours as compensation for my losses.

The canopy of the Berserker lifted as General Vin Stockard clambered out
and onto the ground, the Grand Titan seeming to gloat above him. As the
Los Bandoleros Griffin and Hawk accelerated off towards the pillars of
smoke rising in the foothills, he made his away across the battlefield
towards the other three members of his lance.

---

Strapped into the cockpit of his 30-ton Spad aerospace fighter, Adept
Hidalgo, along with his wing mate, prepared to make a second pass at the
Los Bandoleros Stingray. As he was lining up on the still apparently
unconcerned Stingray, his CMDSTAT crackled to life.

This is Demi-Precentor Santos. Take down that Stingray now! Do

whatever it takes Adept! I will not accept failure in this matter. May
Blakes will be done. Out.

Hidalgo knew, even between the two of them, they would likely be unable
to take out the Stingray with their second pass, it was simply to thickly
armoured.

Which left him with but one choice. Yes, Demi-Precentor, Blake's will
shall be done.

Flicking off his CMDSTAT, he brought his Spad into a steep dive, angling
directly at the 60-ton Stingray. If his weapons werent going to be
enough, his aerospace fighter certainly would be.

---

Her heart racing as fast and wildly as the Clint she piloted, Warrant
Officer Stroud tore willy-nilly through the woods near Sanglamore
Academy. A glance at her tactical revealed that somehow shed gotten
turned around and was now heading back towards the Academy instead of
away from it.

The remaining Hammer was still stalking her when she heard a thunderous
explosion straight through the glassteel of Roses cockpit. Stingray
destroyed. Spad destroyed. Incoming BattleMech detected: Griffin.
Incoming BattleMech detected: Shadow Hawk.

Far from being relieved by the destruction of the Stingray hunting her, she
broke out in a cold sweat as she realized she was now caught between the
Hammer and the two approaching medium Mechs.
The choice was an easy one. Already heavily damaged, she stood no
chance against a pair of medium Mechs and little enough against the
remaining 30-ton Hammer but the Hammer was undoubtedly the lesser of
the two evils.

Whipping Rose back around, she angled back into the hills.

Having been following the wide swath of destruction shed left crashing
through the forest, the Hammer had no trouble following her and now the
distance between the two of them began to diminish rapidly.

Remembering the aerospace fighter was now gone, she hit her jumps jets,
hoping to be able to use the intervening woods to prevent the Hammer
from being able to intercept her. Even as she lept, the Missile Lock-on
Indicator blared to life as Rose simply reported, Incoming missiles.

Capable of leaping over 200 meters at a time, Rose was far to nimble to
present an easy target and the Hammers initial volley of LRMs passed
harmlessly well behind her even as it struggled through the trees in hopes
of cutting off her escape.

The two medium Mechs now behind her were both jump capable and
they would have a much easier time navigating the dense terrain than the
Hammer. Still, she ought to be able to easily outpace them, especially
given how far away they were, assuming Rose didnt take any more
damage.

Establishing uplink with SGLE_Sec. Transmitting polar coordinates.

Snarling as she fled, Stroud wished sometimes she could smack Rose. She
seemed to spout off the most random stuff whenever she felt like it.

---

Hauptmann Thoden watched in disbelief as the Academys massive Long

Tom batteries began swiveling to the northeast.

Corporal, I have not given the order to fire! What do you think you are
doing! Desist immediately!
The equally shocked Corporal threw his hands up into the air. Im sorry,
sir! I didnt do anything! The automated defense system suddenly kicked
on! I cant stop them, sir! They need a manual override! Someone has to
go out there and physically flip the switch!

As they both watched the remote camera feed, the autoloader slid home
the first rounds followed a second later by a horrendous crack as the four
massive artillery pieces fired their first rounds.

Well then, get your ass out there NOW, Corporal!

---

Force Commander Don Tego stabbed his Hartford JEA-1. Shark One.
Come in. Shark One. Respond. Over. Shark One! Come in, please!
Over!

The Stingray had suddenly vanished from his tactical along with one of
the ComStar Spads and he was beginning to fear the worst. To make
matters even more uncertain, three Mechs were rapidly approaching his
lances current position.

Even if Leutnant Wilson had been disabled, the two Mechs hed just
dispatched, plus Hammer three, still ought to be more than enough to
complete the mission.

He slowly turned his Grand Titan around to face the direction the three
Mechs were coming from, the two Apollos obediently taking positions on
either flank, slightly behind him. A Phoenix Hawk, two Crabs, along with
a pair of Warrior attack helicopters were advancing on him. With his
advantage in range and size, he ought to be able to hold them at bay, if not
destroy them outright if it came to that.

Still, their intentions were unclear, although likely they were hostile. The
question was, were they willing to fight now that he had already defeated
the Sanglamore Mechs.

---

The earth around Private Hillsinks Griffin suddenly erupted in huge gouts
of earth and rock, causing him to lose his balance, his Mech partially
sliding into one of the huge holes that had suddenly appeared all around
him.

Titan One, this is Anvil Two. Incoming artillery fire from the direction
of Sanglamore Academy. Please advise. Over. As he struggled out of
the hole, another incoming salvo of artillery exploded just meters away,
shredding the already damaged armor of his Mech and sending him
tumbling back into the hole he had just been trying to escape from.

I'm taking heavy artillery fire!

Again he tried clambering out of the hole, only to meet another vicious
barrage of artillery. Anvil Three, get the hell outta here! Theyve got us
dialed in! Its a kill zone!

Then, the left side of his Griffin was blown out, killing power to his Mech
and sending his 55-ton Griffin sliding into its grave.

---

Don Tego punched the glassteel of his cockpit. That bastard! Artillery!
So, the General wants to play dirty, does he! Well he isnt so far away
that he cant be reduced to a bloody red splotch on the ground!

While it would be a fools errand to try and silence the Academys long
guns, he certainly wasnt above taking a cheap shot at the treacherous
General.

Titan Three and Four, target Grid Reference Three-Five-Six-Three-Two-

Four. Fire when ready.

With that, a full spread of 90 long-range missiles arced down towards the
area where the General and his lancemates were making their way back to
the Academy on foot.

Turning his Mech's towards the now abandoned Sanglamore Mechs, he

triggered his heavy pulse lasers, coring the damaged Warhammer before
turning his lasers on the Thunderbolt.

With disdain, he then drove his armored foot straight through the cockpit
of the immobilized Berserker.
Pay back was hell.

---

General Vin Stockard was in a foul mood as he meet up with

Kommandant Richards, Professor Weddle and Gunnery Sergeant
Hamilton. Leaving their Mechs behind, they began the long walk back to
the Academy. Stockard turned on Hamilton first. I should bust your ass
back to Private for that stunt you pulled back there! Insubordination on a
level Ive never seen before in my forty years with the LCAF! What in
the hell were you thinking, Sargeant!?

Hamilton shrugged as he answered, I wasnt the one who charged

headlong into battle and overextended themselves like some god damn
plebe. He paused before adding, General, sir.

Stockard, quickly turning purple with rage, was about to respond when a
series of loud booms echoed across the field coming from the direction of
the Academy, followed by clouds of white gun smoke drifting lazily into
the air above it. A few seconds later, another second volley fired.

Long Toms! The Academys firing the battery! Hamilton whipped his
head around towards the Los Bandoleros Mechs behind them but there
was no indication they were taking fire. But, what are they firing at? he
mused out loud.

Weddle pointed across the field at the two Los Bandoleros Mechs racing
towards the hills. As they all watched, a Griffin was caught in the kill
zone, disappearing into one of the craters, as the Shadow Hawk
desperately raced towards the relative safety of the woods.

Then, Hamilton heard a dreadful sound. INCOMING! Tackling the

General, he landed atop the stocky man as high explosive rounds began
exploding all around them, filling the air with deadly shrapnel and then
there was just darkness.

---
Warrant Officer Stroud had no idea what was going on when Rose
announced, Griffin destroyed. Acquiring targeting solution for the
Shadow Hawk. Calculating new polar coordinates. Transmitting now.

Another series of low rumbles followed shortly thereafter as she continued

to dodge the haphazard LRMs rounds the Hammer was stubbornly
throwing up into the air in an attempt to hit her severely damaged
BattleMech.

---

In their Schiltrons, Gavin and Frazier of the Castle Airth Guard were also
receiving new targeting information. Hey, Captain Wallace, were
getting a new solution. Should we fire? Just polar coordinates, though,
its not exact like that last one we got.

Hang on a sec. Hey, Anders, you got the aerial view! What the hell is
going on up there?

In his 20-ton Warrior attack helicopter, Leutnant Anders Duggan had been
trying to figure that out for the past minute or so. Im not sure, looks like
your friends from Sanglamore just got whacked. They all just disappeared
from my scope and then it looks like the Academy just opened up with
their arty. Thing is, it doesnt look like their firing on the Los Bandoleros
Mechs. Frankly, Im not sure what their firing at. The Stingray and one
of the Spads got splashed, too. The remaining one is running a lazy circuit
above this whole mess. Looks like total chaos to me, boss. Wait, hang on
a sec. Theres a pair, scratch that, just one now, of the Los Bandoleros
Mechs heading for the hills where the Clint disappeared. What
coordinates you getting, Gavin?

Grid Reference Six-Nine-Zero-Four-Five-One.

Duggan nodded, Yep, must be that Shadow Hawk heading for the hills.
Nothing else in the area. Wait. The Los Bandoleros Mechs just
unleashed one helluva LRM volley at something. Cant tell at what but
it's not anywhere near your target area. Over.

Mez interjected, Gavin, Frazier. Keep the homing rounds loaded. Do not
fire unless you receive specific targeting information. I dont want any
accidents. Duggan, youre the eyes. Keep us informed of whats going on
up there. If that Clint is still operational, itll deliver the goods just like it
did on Damian. You mark my words. Out.

---

Stroud was getting sick of being chased. What exactly she was running
from and what exactly she was running towards was beyond unclear. The
whole situation was too tangled for her unwrap right now. The only thing
that was clear was that the Hammer was going to chase her to the end of
the earth unless she did something about it. And, if it called in more
aerospace support, she was finished. If she could shake it, she might yet
make a clean break and manage to disappear. But then what?

Shoving that thought aside and tired of dodging random LRM strikes, she
turned Rose around to face it. Rose, let's finish this.

Cannot designate two targets simultaneously. Recommend disengaging

the Guardian ECM suite.

Two targets? What was she talking about, the Shadow Hawk? Fine, fine,
whatever you think is best.

Guardian ECM unit disengaged.

Another halfhearted LRM volley exploded nearby. Between the dense

trees and the Guardian, the Hammer had been having a hell of a time
trying to target her. But, now, it would have a much better picture of her
location.

Down to a pair of medium lasers, she was outgunned at every conceivable

range by the 30-ton Hammer. Thankfully, she at least still had most of her
jump capacity.

Firing the LFT-10s, she sailed through the air, bounding towards the
approaching Hammer. More thunderous booms echoed through the air,
although she still wasnt certain exactly what they were. In under thirty
seconds she had closed to within a few hundred meters, using the heavy
trees to block the line-of-sight for as long as possible as she prepared to
engage the light Mech.

---
Hammer Two, I have a fix on the target. The ECM field is down.
Repeat. The ECM field is down. Relaying coordinates now. Over.

A new voice broke across the Los Bandoleros command circuit. This is
Eladrin Actual to Hammer Two. Configure your communications system
to broadcast on the frequency I am transmitting to you now. Repeat.
Configure your communications to broadcast on the frequency to follow.
Out.

Balthazar Lyons smiled wolfishly. Ultimately, he cared little for the

mercenary command. They were just another tool to help see Blakes will
be done. Theyd been paid handsomely, in advance, along with the
promise of even more once the mission was complete. In fact, both the
Grand Titan and the Tempest had been part of that payment.

Fools. The two gifts had been booby-trapped in similar fashion to what
he'd done to the Clint. Unfortunately, the Clints ECM suite had been a
complication he hadnt foreseen. But, now that it was no longer active
and, thankfully, the ECM-equipped Anvil had been destroyed as well,
there was no longer anything left to interfere with his signal.

---

After dodging one last LRM volley from the Hammer, Warrant Officer
Stroud brought Rose down a scant 60 meters away from the 30-ton Mech,
firing her two remaining medium lasers, still unaware the target
acquisition gear had been tied into them as well.

Laser fire crisscrossed between the dense trees as she drilled it square in
the chest, marking the first damage the enemy Mech had taken. Rose ate
a bolt to her own chest, all but stripping the remaining armor protecting
her delicate gyro, as a second hit her heavily damaged right leg.
Mercifully, the third passed high and to her left as the two Mechs began
to circle each other.

Right Leg: Critical. Right Leg: Immobilized. Right Leg Structure:

20%. Center Torso Armor: 18%. Targeting Solution Acquired.
Transmitting.
Rose slowed considerably as she was forced to basically drag her non-
responsive leg along. Despair set in as she waited for her lasers to recycle.
Jumping was now out of the question. It would be all be impossible to
land and, at this point, any damage, even from a fall, would likely render
her Mech permanently out of commission.

As the two lasers finally flashed ready, she kept turning as the Hammer
tried to slip outside of her forward firing arc, preparing herself for the
worst.

---

Julie Pinot screamed in triumph. The Clint that had killed her longtime
lover, and fellow Hammer pilot, only a few minutes before, was finally in
sight and she was hot for revenge. One look at the savaged machines
right leg told her everything she needed to know. One simple kick and it
would be all over.

She fought through the trees as she moved to flank the damaged machine.
It was only a matter of time. Its leg was locked up and once she
approached it from the right side, it was game over and that was only if
her trio of Martell mediums didnt finish it off first.

With a free hand, she dialed her Datacom 50 to the frequency Eladrin
Actual had requested as she waited for her lasers to recycle. What
difference it would make she had no idea but Eladarin Actual was the guy
paying all the bills and Tego had made that quite clear before theyd even
landed on Skye.

As her lasers flashed green, it was finally time to bring home the bacon.

---

Fraziers eyebrows shot up as his 80-ton Schiltron received another

targeting solution. Well, Ill be. Would you look at that!? The kid was
right. Hey, Gavin, you getting that feed?

In his sister Schiltron, Gavin was noticing the exact same thing. Yep,
you heard what the Captain said. Standby to fire i Three Two
One Mark!
The two 80-ton wheeled fire support vehicles shuddered as they disgorged
another massive volley of homing missiles. Each unit was equipped with
a pair of the advanced missile-based artillery systems along with a sizable
magazine capable of carrying both area-saturation and homing rounds.

Frazier shook his head as he watched the flight of missiles disappear.

Kerensky help whoever was on the receiving end of those things.

---

It all happened at once. The Clint and the Hammer both fired upon each
other just as the homing missiles from the two Castle Airth Schiltrons
arrived. At that same time, Pinots Hammer also broadcast the frequency
shed received from Eladrin Actual and Corporal Thacker finally managed
to engage the manual override on the Academys Long Tom artillery
battery.

A massive fireball erupted from the hillside, followed by a series of almost

equally spectacular secondary explosions. Whether from the Hammers
magazines, or either of the Mechs fusion engines, or all of the above
combined, was impossible to tell.

Corporal Lassiter Johnson was the first to arrive on the scene in his 55-ton
Shadow Hawk. Anvil Three to Titan One, the target has been destroyed.
Repeat. Target destroyed. Transmitting video feed now. No sign of
Hammer Two. Repeat. No sign of Hammer Two. Ive got a ComGuard
Spad incoming as well. What are your orders? Over.

In the confines of his 100-ton Grand Titan, Force Commander Don Tego
nodded. Anvil Three, link back up with me as soon as possible. Do not
engage the ComGuard fighter unless fired upon first. Repeat. Do not
engage unless fired upon first. Out.

Closing the communications link, he eyed his tactical map, muttering to

himself, Time to get the hell outta here. The First Jaegers would arrive
shortly and the ComGuard DropShip was, by now, well on its way here as
well. The only thing immediately standing between him and the
Bannockburn StarPort was the short lance of Castle Airth Guard 'Mechs.
Losses had been unexpectedly heavy, with only the Jackal pilot surviving
the destruction of his Mech. Private Hillsinks status was unknown, as
was the status of the entire Hammer lance. The only thing he knew for
sure was that all of their BattleMechs had either been destroyed or, in the
least, rendered inoperable. Axl was dead, his Anvil having taken a
particle cannon to the cockpit and the Tempests fusion engine had gone
up consuming the entire Mech along with its pilot in a fiery inferno.

Anvil Three recover Anvil Two if possible on your way back. Titan
Three, give Anvil Four a ride home. It's time to leave. Out.

Pushing his throttle up, his war machine slowly built into a lumbering run,
the two Apollos faithfully following him after a short pause to recover the
downed MechWarrior. Johnsons 'Hawk was fast enough that it would
catch up with them in a few minutes, assuming the Academy didnt start
shelling them again, leaving him with only a single lance of functional
machines out of the full dozen hed started with.

But at least theyd gotten the job done. Now it was time for damage
control.

---

Acolyte Mercer brought her 30-ton Spad down, slowing considerably to

examine the site of the explosions. Training her camera on it, she sent a
live video feed back to the Justice, the inbound ComStar DropShip.
Choosing to ignore the now retreating Los Bandoleros Shadow Hawk,
which appeared to be content to ignore her as well, she opened her
communications channel.

Demi-Precentor Santos, the Clint, along with a Los Bandoleros Hammer,

appear to have been completely destroyed. I am transmitting a live feed
from the site right now. Seconds before the Clint disappeared, it had
disengaged its ECM field and turned to engage the pursuing Los
Bandoleros Mech. The two Mechs fired on each other and were
simultaneously caught in a massive artillery barrage, apparently
originating from Sanglamore Academy although I cannot confirm that.
There appears to be no survivors. I am turning to make a second pass
now. The remaining Los Bandoleros Mechs appear to be withdrawing
from the area as well. Over.
On the bridge of the Justice, Demi-Precentor Santos scowled. Maintain
your patrol, Acolyte. I dont want anyone, or anything, approaching that
site. Once we arrive, we will deploy our Mechs to establish a secure
perimeter around the site and take possession of whatever, or whomever,
may remain.

Motioning to the communications acolyte to cut the transmission, Santos

continued. Open a clear channel, acolyte. I want to address everyone
involved here.

A few seconds later, the acolyte indicated the Demi-Precentor could

proceed. Santos drew himself up to his full height. This is Demi-
Precentor Santos. ComGuard forces will be dropping shortly to establish a
secure perimeter around the last known location of the Clint. Anyone
wishing to access the site will need to obtain my personal authorization
prior to doing so. Any attempt to approach the site without my permission
will be met immediately with deadly force. This location is considered a
crime scene and part of an ongoing terrorist investigation. There is
already a ComGuard aerospace fighter patrolling the area. As a reminder,
multiple ComStar personnel have already been killed, along with
numerous other innocent individuals, and I will see the person, or persons,
involved in these heinous acts brought to justice.

Colonel Steve Pitcher shook his head as the ComStar Demi-Precentor

disappeared from the primary monitor in the CIC of the First Skye
Jaegers. The pure gall of the man had left a distinctively sour taste in his
mouth. He turned to his aide-de-camp Kommandant Joseph Zemetica.

What do you make of all this, Joe? The brown stuff is hitting the fan and
all over some ancient Clint Sanglamore is auctioning off. Weve just
received reports that the Academy fired its Long Tom battery after
General Stockards Mech was disabled. The latest satellite imagery
shows almost a company worth of Mechs have been destroyed and three
aerospace fighters shot down.

Zemetica looked thoughtful for a moment. Well, Colonel, its not

entirely clear just who started firing first. And then theres the matter of
the bomb that went off at the auction that started this whole shooting
match. If you ask me, theres more than enough blame to go
around. Why the hell did Stockard charge the Los Bandoleros forces in
the first place? If hed just cooled his heels a bit longer, Captain Rikers
forces would arrived on site and then we could have de-escalated the
whole situation. As it is now, it looks like the mercs are heading back to
the StarPort unless the Castle Airth Guard decides they want to stop
them. And why ComStar has their panties all in a wad over this thing, I
still have no idea. Theres obviously a lot we just dont know and to be
frank, sir, Im not sure anyones got answers at this point.

Pitcher frowned, Truer words were never spoken. Still, Id like to have
some steel in place. Ill station Captain Rikers company at Sanglamore
and shift Captain Abels company over to handle security at Bannockburn
StarPort. And, just to be safe, Ill keep the fighter wing on continuous
CAP in case something else breaks out. What a C-F!

Zemetica chuckle, Yes sir, a textbook example. At the rate things are
going, I wouldnt be a bit surprised if someone else started shooting.

---

Rorie McCall grimaced as he watched the trio of Los Bandoleros 'Mechs

begin moving towards his short lance and away from Sanglamore
Academy. He didnt like the odds. While he wasnt technically
outnumbered, he was certainly outweighed and, even given the plethora of
extended-range heavy lasers his short lance carried, he was still marginally
outranged by the mass of LRM launchers the Bandoleros Mechs carried.

Flipping his Neil 6000 over to Mezs private frequency, he updated the
nominal commander of the Castle Airth Guards. Mez, Ive got three Los
Bandoleros Mechs now heading my way, a 100-ton Grand Titan and a
pair of Apollos. There is also a Shadow Hawk on the way to link back up
with them. It appears they are heading back to the StarPort. Id like to
pull back and join up with your forces, that way well have them dead to
rights if they choose to engage.

In the cockpit of his appropriated MAD-5D Marauder, Mez was silently

berating himself. Angus was wounded, if not dead, and the status of his
two friends Weddle and Hamilton were equally uncertain. While hed
done what he could, in the end, it hadnt really seemed to amount to much
of anything. Pressing his com, he responded. Good idea, Rorie. Do you
think we should get into position to intercept them? If I find out Angus, or
any my friends, are seriously wounded, or worse, Im going to want some
blood!

McCall shook his head, The First Skye Jaegers have a company of
Mechs almost at Sanglamore already and it looks like there is now a
second company on the way to the StarPort. I doubt anyone is going to
need our firepower and things are muddled enough already without us
joining the fray. Especially now that ComStar has claimed the wreckage
of the Clint. Besides, we dont know one way or the other that Los
Bandoleros had anything to do with the terrorist attack, so lets not do
something we might regret later. Im heading back to you now.

With that, McCall whipped his Phoenix Hawk around, the two Crabs
following suit, and headed back to meet up with the Tokugawas,
Schiltrons, and Mezs Marauder.

Feeling increasingly unhappy by the second, Mez realized there was one
thing he could do. Opening his command frequency, he issued a new set
of orders. Anders, head back to the Academy. See if you can find out
what happened to Angus and my friends from Sanglamore. Have Whistler
do a quick recon of the area where that Clint disappeared. I just want to
see it before ComGuard Mechs start dropping from the air and cut off our
access.

Pulling back on his control stick, Leutnant Anders Duggan and his
wingmate zoomed off once more. Roger that, Mez, were both en route
now.

Chuckling in the cockpit of his attack helicopter, Duggan reflected on the

workout he and his machine were getting this afternoon. First this way,
then that, then back again and all as fast as possible. He hadnt had this
much fun since hed left the Highlanders.

---

Acolyte Mercer watched as the Warrior attack helicopter approached the

site he was guarding in his Spad aerospace fighter. Unidentified Warrior
attack helicopter, this is a restricted area by order of ComStar. Turn
around immediately or I will fire upon you. Repeat. Turn around
immediately or I will fire on you. Acknowledge. Over.

Before he could get a response, a new voice broke over his CMDSTAT.
This is Colonel Pitcher of the First Skye Jaegers. I order all units to
power down their weapon systems and targeting and tracking systems
immediately. This free-for-all is now effectively over. I now have a
company of Mechs in place at Sanglamore as well as at the StarPort. A
full aerospace squadron is in the air as well. Any unit, and I mean ANY
unit, that discharges a weapon or even attempts to target another unit will
be considered hostile and taken down. I will not repeat this warning. All
units are ordered to maintain their current positions until such time as I
determine their disposition and allow them to move. The party is over
boys and girls and I suggest you behave yourselves. I will not tolerate this
situation any longer. Out.

---

Anders Duggan hovered his Warrior helicopter over a gaping hole in the
ground that was surrounded by the burning wreckage that presumably
marked the Clints last stand. He could only infer that it had been its final
stand as the few scattered pieces of debris were so far from recognizable
they could have been from anything.

As he worked his camera around, zooming in, he examined the largest

piece of wreckage. Panning back and punching up the detail, he
confirmed it was, in fact, a part of a BattleMech. A split second later he
caught a bit of motion, followed by the limping form of a red-haired
woman in a torn Sanglamore Academy uniform.

He sucked his breath in sharply. The Clint pilot! Shed survived! And
not only that, she was now furiously waving at him trying to get his
attention. The ComStar Spad was now being escorted by a pair of First
Jaeger Chippewas while two more fighters circled above him like angry
bees.

Without thinking, he deployed his SPIE system, sending a thick nylon

rope down towards the woman on the ground. Even injured, she quickly
fashioned a rope harness around herself and then waved up at him.
Reeling her in, he maintained his position until he was sure shed been
successfully extracted. A whoosh of air, followed by her ragged breathing
behind him, confirmed his success and he pulled his control stick over,
hightailing it out of the area before the First Jaegers, or ComStar, came
calling.
He could tell from the clicks she was buckling herself into the cramped
jump seat behind him. The Warrior hadnt originally been designed for
special operations but, since most of his work back on Northwind involved
search and rescue of hikers lost among the craggy peaks of his home
planet, his Warrior had been slightly modified to accommodate rescue
operations.

Which, upon reflection, was exactly why his first inclination had been to
rescue her. Given the circumstances, however, he found himself suddenly
second guessing his impulse but it mattered little at this point. What was
done was done.

Flipping his Xilex-2000 to an open frequency, he called out. This is

Leutnant Anders Duggan of the Castle Airth Guard to the First Skye
Jaegers. Ive got short legs. Request permission to return to Bannockburn
StarPort immediately to land. Over.

A short while later, Colonel Pitcher responded. Leutnant Duggan,

Guardian Three will escort you back to Bannockburn StarPort. Maintain
constant speed and heading. Power off all weapons and tracking radar,
except for navigational systems. Acknowledge. Over.

Duggan grinned, Acknowledged, Colonel. Heading to the StarPort

now. All weapon systems powered off. And thank you, sir. Out.

Flicking off his communications system, he tossed the spare headset

behind him. I dont believe weve been introduced but you sure look like
a bonny little lassie! Im Leutnant Anders Duggan of the Castle Airth
Guard, Northwind. We were one of the many parties interested in that
former Clint of yours.

---

Balthazar Lyons finally smiled as he received confirmation of the Clints

destruction. Now that the First Jaegers had arrived, it was time to tie up
the loose ends and disappear. Switching the setting of his radio detonator
over to a different frequency, he pressed it with a triumphant grin.

May Blake be Praised.

---

Ensconced in his BNC-5S Banshee, Captain Alan Riker blinked in rapid

succession. One second, the massive 100-ton Grand Titan had been
standing there, the next the entire cockpit had suddenly exploded, leaving
the giant BattleMech headless, although it still remained upright.

He double checked his own weapon systems as he scanned his sensors.

He hadnt fired. No one had fired and hed triple checked that all four of
the Los Bandoleros Mechs had powered down their weapons.

He shook his head. It must have come from inside the Mech. It was the
only explanation and one that his Mech's Battle ROM ought to be able to
confirm when he had a free moment.

Opening his Angst Clear Channel 3, he reported the latest twist in this
bizarre saga. Colonel Pitcher, this is Captain Riker. Force Commander
Don Tego is dead. It appears he blew up his own cockpit, sir. He must
have rigged it to explode. Either that or maybe somebody booby-trapped
it, Im not sure. I am transmitting you the Battle ROM now for analysis.
There was no weapons fire in the area. Out.

Chapter 14
Skye
Lyran Alliance
6 November 3057

Mez Wallace leaned back in his captains chair on the bridge of the
Damian. Angus Barclay was dead, along with almost a dozen other
people, and easily again that many more had been injured, all by a
pentaglycerin grenade that had been detonated at the fateful Clint
auction. His friend, Gunnery Sergeant Jeff Hamilton, was in intensive
care and even if he did pull through, hed need a new arm and a few
replacement organs to boot. Professor Jochen Weddle was in stable
condition but there was still some question to whether the doctors would
be forced to amputate one of his legs. Still, they were both better off than
Kommandant Liza Richards who had expired during the night due to her
extensive injuries.
The only one to emerge unscathed from the four Sanglamore defenders
was General Vin Stockard, who had come through with only minor
injuries. The remaining Los Bandoleros MechWarriors had all been taken
into custody by Colonel Pitcher, who had generously awarded their
remaining equipment to the Academy as compensation for their losses,
although the DropShip that had carried them here had departed shortly
after Pitchers call to stand down.

ComStar was combing through the wreckage in the hills with a fine tooth
comb and the prevailing belief was that the Clint pilot, Raquel Stroud, had
been either been killed by the destruction of her Mech or by the massive
artillery bombardment that followed. As to what exactly ComStars
interest in the Clint had been was never made clear either, although Mez
had his own personal suspicious regarding that.

For his own part, the Castle Airth Guard had finally been cleared to depart
Skye by Colonel Pitcher, who seemed, more than anything, to just want to
put the entire messy incident behind him. Given how little was left from
the Clints destruction, even ComStar would be pulling up stakes in just a
few days.

As for the terrorist incident, Sanglamore security cameras had captured

video of the man responsible. Predictably non-descript, the individual had
never even bid on the Clint but he had been seen examining it, leading
some to speculate he had been interested in the Mech. Footage from
Bannockburn StarPort also hinted that the same individual may have
boarded the Virtue, the Union-class DropShip that had carried the Los
Bandoleros mercenary force, which had certainly, and forcefully, made a
claim on the Clint.

Taken as a whole, it served as a poignant reminder of just how

unpredictable and dangerous the Inner Sphere could be and, with the
sundering of the Federated Commonwealth, it seemed almost certain
things were only going to get worse. Already, the area around his home of
Northwind was being referred to as the Chaos March and who knew
what unexpected surprises may lay in store for their trip back.

Yet, it wasnt as if he would be returning home empty handed. Colonel

Pitcher seemed to be preparing for trouble as well. He'd expressed interest
in the two 80-ton Schiltron mobile field artillery pieces as well as the four
Tokugawas he brought along with him from Northwind. Given they were
produced by his father-in-laws company, Bulldog Enterprises, Mez was
only too happy to sell the entire lot to the Skye Jaegers and for a tidy little
profit to boot.

Recalling Daniel Forresters sage advice from his time with the 69th
Virginia Expeditionary Force, Mez wasted little time in filling up the now
mostly empty hold of the Damain. Remembering Dawgs fondness for the
Drillson hovertank, which happened to be produced by Cyclops
Incorporated right here on Skye, hed purchased four of the upgraded
Streak variants of the fast 50-ton hovertank. In addition, he picked up
four Maxim heavy hover transports, each capable of transporting a full
infantry platoon. It was a well-regarded design, noted for both its
comfortable infantry bay as well as its respectable firepower and speed.

In a small fit of extravagance, hed also purchased an Avanti Zanadu

luxury air transport along with three of their top-of-the-line Geolander
luxury SUVs as well as a tricked out Viper hover racer. Ok, so maybe it
wasnt exactly a small fit of extravagance but, with the money originally
intended for the Clint, he had a surplus of cash and it seemed an utter
waste not to do something with it. To top it all off, hed also procured a
few hundred tons of DropShip parts from Shipil Company. By the end of
his shopping spree, both the Damians Mechs bays and cargo hold were
filled to capacity and he had no doubt Forrester would have approved.

But, the biggest surprise of all had been Raquel Stroud. Duggan had
surreptitiously rescued her before ComStar had taken control of the site
and secreted her back to the Damian. Word had already spread that shed
been killed when her Clint was destroyed and neither he, nor especially
her, had any desire to correct that little piece of information.

There was something oddly familiar about her, a certain comfortability, or

perhaps a sense of dj vu, which hed experienced when they had initially
met. In any case, Rorie had also taken an immediate liking to the red-
haired woman and, he suspected, it wasnt just a strictly professional
interest either. Which was fine by him, because regardless of how
comfortable he felt with her, he certainly didnt want her wandering
around the DropShip unescorted. There were still simply too many
mysteries surrounding her for him to really trust her and hed given Rorie
strict orders to keep her out of sight until they lifted off from Skye. A
duty, Mez believed, he was taking full advantage of.
He was surprised to find that he missed Northwind and how anxious he
was to return to the emerald isle with its familiar craggy mountains,
friendly faces and, of course, kilts and bagpipes. Captain Angus Barclays
remains had been loaded aboard for the trip back home where he would be
buried with full honors by his former Highlander comrades. Once a
Highlander, always a Highlander, the saying went.

Bannockburn Control, this is Captain Mez Wallace of the DropShip

Damian requesting clearance for lift off. Over.

Chapter 15
Nadir Jump Point
Galatea
Lyran Alliance
November 8 3057

Communications technician Hendley Babbage opened the data volume

Warrant Officer Raquel Strouds Clint had created in one of the Damians
auxiliary databanks. During the battle on Skye, the Clint had initiated
contact with the Damian, using it as a relay to feed the targeting solution
from its Target Acquisition Gear to the two Castle Airth Guard
Schiltrons. Once the link had been established, a secondary stream of data
had followed, pouring information into the DropShips memory core.

Once she noted the surreptitious feed, she had immediately sandboxed it
off but shed decided against terminating it, especially once Captain
Wallace had decided to utilize the targeting solution originating from the
same place. She hadnt exactly forgotten about it, but in all the chaos that
had followed the attack at the Sanglamore auction and the subsequent
Mech battle and investigation, she hadnt had time to look at it, nor had
she been inclined to mention it.

Fortunately, since theyd be sitting at the Nadir point for just over a week
waiting for the JumpShip to recharge, she suddenly had plenty of time on
her hands. Galateas Zenith point had a recharge station but the JumpShip
Captain, Daniel Forrester, had opted for the considerably less busy Nadir
point instead, preferring peace and quiet over the heavily trafficked
recharge station. Not to mention the associated fees for hooking to it.
As she opened the first file, she sucked in her breath. A wire diagram of a
40-ton Clint BattleMech appeared, bracketed by the Mechs full technical
specifications. As she zoomed in, the diagram expanded, revealing a full
component-level production drawing for its left hand actuator. Sliding
over, the complex gyro assembly expanded, revealing its three free
concentric spheres. Shifting further to the right, she saw the first of the
Andoran Model JJII jump jet exhaust ports, followed by a heat pump,
ammunition bin and the beginning of the feed mechanism for the
Armstrong Class 5 autocannon.

A cursory examination revealed each logical component contained equally

detailed technical data, including the sophisticated cockpit electronics.
She was by no means an engineer or even a BattleMech technician, but
she felt confident the information she was looking at would be sufficient
to allow a suitably equipped manufacturer to return the long orphaned
Clint to production.

Turning her chair around, she called out to the Captain. Hey, Mez, you
might want to come over here and take a look at this. That Clint did a data
dump to one of the Damians memory banks before it went off the air. I
didnt mention it earlier because I just now got around to taking a look at
it. I sealed off the databank when I saw what the Clint was doing and I
wasnt sure if it really was anything at the time. As it turns out, its
something alright. Look.

She motioned to the screen in front of her as Mez stood up and began to
make his way towards her.

---

Nadir Jump Point

Galatea
Lyran Alliance
November 12 3057

Captain Mez Wallace, Leutnant Anders Duggan, Leutnant Rorie McCall,

and Warrant Officer Raquel Stroud were all gathered in the main briefing
room aboard the Damian. The primary screen was covered with technical
schematics.

Stroud explained, These are the full blueprints for the original CLNT-1-
2R Clint BattleMech. It carried an Armstrong Buster Class 10 autocannon
along with single medium laser and lacked jump capability.

The screen changed, the drawings replaced with a different set. These
are the blueprints for the much more familiar CLNT-2-3T Clint. Armed
with a smaller and lighter Armstrong Class 5 autocannon and two medium
lasers, it has a jump capacity of 180 meters. Its top speed of 97.2 kph
remains unchanged.

Again the drawings changed. These technical drawings detail the

changes that were made to the Clint that was destroyed on Skye. Using an
Extralight VOX 280 fusion engine, it had a top speed of 118 kph and
could jump over 200 meters. It carried an extended-range large laser, a
pair of Aberdovey medium lasers, along with an incredibly sophisticated
suite of electronics.

She looked at the three men assembled around the table. This
information by itself is sufficient to return the Clint BattleMech to
production given a suitable manufacturing facility. Andoran Industries
produced the Clint beginning in 2607 until their factory on Bell was
destroyed in 2812. There hasnt been a new Clint built in almost 250
years. A quarter of a millennium.

She paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing as yet another
set of schematics appeared on the video wall. This set of drawings
appears to be a new prototype Clint that has never, to my knowledge, been
built. Utilizing a massive assault class engine, the Pitban 320XL, it has a
theoretical top speed approaching 130 kph and a jump capacity of more
than a quarter of a kilometer.

As she continued manipulating the conference rooms control surface, the

technical drawings were replaced by a rendering of a heavily modified
Clint. Next to it stood the rare and instantly recognizable PHX-HK2
Phoenix Hawk LAM in its hybrid AirMech mode.

Note these wing-type appendages attached to the back of the Clint. It is

my belief, given the Mechs already prolific jumping ability, that these
partial-wings generate sufficient lift to allow the BattleMech to glide up
to an additional 60 meters, certainly the simulations indicate that to be the
case. Again, to my knowledge, such a system has never been built before,
the LAMs AirMech mode being the closest equivalent.
She held up her hands as she saw the questions forming on the lips of the
people around the table. That is not all, not by a long shot. The
rendering disappeared only to be replaced by the rendering of yet another
Clint. While this one lacked the wings, it had noticeably smoother
curves, dispensing with the rigid and hard corners of the traditional model,
instead favoring a much sleeker design aesthetic, akin to the infamous Star
League Spector or Exterminator.

While the associated technical drawings for this one are incomplete, the
specifications for this Clint prototype claim a top sustained speed of over
150 kph and jump capacity of 270 meters. Unlike the previous prototype,
this one retains the advanced electronics, including both the Guardian
ECM Suite and the Beagle Active Probe. The weapons configuration is
identical on all three.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered them all in with her strangely intent
gaze. As amazing as these things are, they are not, I believe, the reason
ComStar was so interested in that Clint. In fact, I dont believe anyone
knew of the existence of these drawings until now. From what little I can
determine, much of the prototype work appears to have occurred circa
3049 at a place called Merkel Engine Werks, the location of which is
unclear.

All of the technical drawings were suddenly replaced with a map of the
now-called Lyran Alliance. The data dump that originated from the Clint
also contained this vintage ComStar Explorer Service map, dating back to
the time of the Star League. It reveals the location of numerous lost
worlds, worlds that simply disappeared during the chaos of the
Succession Wars. As interesting as this map is in of itself, the dump also
contains a set of decrypted operational ComStar ROM files dated
3045. These files provide what look to me to be partial navigational
coordinates, however someone familiar with astronavigation may be able
to resolve them. There are also numerous files related to the Artemis IV
Fire Control System and other rediscovered Star League technologies
from what looks like a SLDF memory core.

The shocked silence that greeted her was absolute.

---
Mez was in his private quarters with his second-in-command, Rorie
McCall. Duggan was, as was his new habit, keeping an eye on
Stroud. Mez had granted her access to the data dump once Babbage had
revealed its presence. Stroud was, after all, a fully qualified BattleMech
technician and he figured shed have the best chance to make some sense
out of all the drawings. But what hed understood of it already had left
him in shock and awe.

Mez shook his head, Well, what do you think Rorie? I mean, I believe
what she said. All of it.

Mez paused a moment, reflecting. In fact, it makes a lot of sense. I

mean, I know Sigil worked at Merkel Engine Werks. And I heard about
the star charts and the SLDF memory core from Dawg. Hell, the Prince of
the Free Rasalhague Republic gave everyone in the old 69th an honorary
title for that memory core! Theres just no way she could have known
about any of that. Its just impossible. She cant be making it up! I mean,
its all crazy as hell, but its true, right!? I just don't get how she knew any
of it!

Mez continued shaking his head as he waited for Rorie to respond, which
he eventually did, although he was shaking his head as well by the time he
answered. I dont know, Mez. It looks legitimate to me, the drawings at
least, but Im no BattleMech engineer. As for the decrypted ROM files,
that could explain why ComStar was so interested in the Mech but all
over a set of navigational coordinates? And what about Stroud
herself? Whats her story? Whyd she try and steal the Clint in the first
place? And who was that guy that set off the grenade at the auction and
why did he do it?

McCall finally stopped shaking his head, fixing the boy Captain with a
stern gaze. Look, I know two things. One: I dont trust Raquel
Stroud. Two: We need to get back to Northwind ASAP. Were in way
over our heads for a bunch of weekend warriors.

---

When Leutnant Duggan wasnt with her, Warrant Officer Stroud was
confined to quarters. A small cramped stateroom normally reserved for
the commanding officer of the combat forces carried by the DropShip, it
had remained unoccupied since the death of Captain Angus Barclay on
Skye. The irony of this served as a poignant reminder to her of her own
status.

At best, she would be considered her dead. At worst, a criminal, maybe

even a terrorist, on the run from Lyran authorities and wanted for
questioning regarding the incident at Sanglamore Academy that had left
dozens dead, including one of the Academys Kommandants, not to
mention shattered over a companys worth of military hardware.

Sitting alone, staring blindly at the steel bulkhead, she was forced to admit
for the thousandth time that she didnt have any answers, not for the Lyran
authorities, not even for herself. In fact, she was only gathering more
questions. That she could interpret the line drawings of the Clint hadnt
come as any great surprise. Shed been working on BattleMechs for seven
years and trained for two years prior to that and shed had two years of
MechWarrior training even before that.

She shivered involuntarily and then there was Rose. She winced as she
recalled the destruction of the 40-ton BattleMech, feeling a sharp pang of
loss. She hadnt been a MechWarrior until shed gotten into the cockpit of
that Clint and she hadnt been a BattleMech engineer until shed examined
the drawings that had originated from that same Clint.

Then there was their first meeting. The neural feedback and the 23
missing minutes of her life. The Clint had done something to her.
Infected her, rewired her, changed her and set in motion this chain of
events that was quickly transforming her entire life.

So, here she was. In a dead mans office, on a DropShip filled with people
shed never met before, with a head full of information she ought not
have, a set of skills shed never possessed before, heading towards a place
shed never been and to do what she still had no idea.

No, that wasnt entirely true. For all that, she had a growing suspicion as
to what her purpose was in all this. For a brief moment, she glimpsed
herself as a custom-made tool, forged to do a single, specific task, created
by a man long since dead, his legacy, or perhaps his obsession, somehow
carried forward by his former metal avatar.

And then fused into to her.

The more she thought about it, the more certain she became of what
exactly she must do and it became clear why the knowledge that had been
passed to her had been given. With this realization came an unexpected
confidence. Like the sun burning away the fog that clouded her mind, she
finally saw the end-goal and embraced the destination.

She knew what she must do.

Her eyes drifted back to the computer terminal in her small room and she
delved once more into the reams of data Rose had left her.

Chapter 16
Zenith Jump Point
New Home
Chaos March
25 November 3057

Daniel Forrester, captain of the Scout-Class JumpShip Vagabond,

anxiously eyed the Invader-class JumpShip near the zenith jump point
where his own ship had just materialized but what really caught his eye
was the Claymore-class assault DropShip keeping station next to
it. Bearing an obviously hastily painted Steiner fist, the Davion sunburst
was still faintly visible behind it. With his own ship carrying a military
type DropShip, he knew his arrival would cause a stir.

Sure enough, a hail came from the Claymore within seconds.

Unidentified Scout-class JumpShip, this is Captain Howard Stillson of

the 30th Lyran Guards. Identify yourself and state your purpose.

Forrester put on his game face as he opened a channel to the Claymore,

This is Captain Daniel Forrester of the JumpShip Vagabond. I am an
independent trader under contract with Bulldog Enterprises to return the
attached DropShip, the Damian, to their corporate headquarters on
Northwind. I intend to deploy my JumpSail, recharge my K-F drive and
make the final jump to Northwind as soon as possible. I estimate seven
days to recharge and the Damian will remained docked for the entire
time.
The stern faced Captain responded, What cargo are they carrying?

Forrester shrugged, They dont pay me to ask questions, Captain. Youd

have to ask them. Standby and Ill establish a circuit. Closing the feed to
the JumpShip, Forrester opened a link to the bridge of the Damian, his
face betraying his growing unease.

Mez, weve got a situation. Ive got a 30th Lyran Guard assault-class
DropShip asking questions about what you're carrying. I told him hed
have to ask you about the cargo and that Im just an independent under
contract to ferry you back to Northwind. I dont like the look of his ship,
either. Im pretty sure it used to be a Fed-Com but it looks like theyve
thrown in their lot with Katherine Steiner now. Be careful what you say.
Id play up your age. He wont be expecting such a young captain. No
one would. Standby. Im patching him over now.

Indeed, a few seconds later the Lyran Captains face betrayed his surprise
at seeing such a young captain but he quickly recovered, although his eyes
still belied his suspicion. Mez, after all, was of Capellan descent.

I am Captain Howard Stillson of the 30th Lyran Guards. Are you the
captain of the Damian?

Mez nodded. Yep, shes mine. What can I help you with, Captain?

Elements of the Capellan-backed Zhanzeng de Guang terrorist group

have been inciting chaos on New Home in hopes of overthrowing the
rightful Federated Commonwealth government. They are also responsible
for the assassination of Marshal Vincent Tanner, the CO of the
30th. General Delores Whitman is now in command of the remaining
Guards. I hereby requisition your DropShip along with all cargo therein in
the name of the Federated Commonwealth. You may appeal directly to
New Avalon for appropriate compensation. I will provide you with a full
manifest of all commandeered equipment to assist in your claim.

The Fed-Com Captain paused a moment, the shock on the young captains
face he was addressing was painfully obvious. Personally, Captain, Im
sorry to have to do this. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the
wrong time. In case you havent heard, both the Capellan Confederation
and the Free Worlds League have launched major military operations
aimed at the Sarna March. You just landed smack dab in the middle of a
war zone. I will be dispatching a shuttlecraft shortly to take control of
your ship. If you wish, you, along with your crew, can relocate to the
JumpShip and continue on your way to Northwind once recharged.

Mez was stunned. Take his DropShip!? His irreplaceable Union-C class
DropShip! The heritage given to him by the woman who had rescued him
from a pitiful, meaningless death in the mines of Dustball! The woman
who had died so that he, and what was left of the 69th, could escape from
the Clans! The women who had given her life so that he, and so many
others, could have theirs! He owed her everything! Everything!

No, the Damian was much more than just a DropShip. It was sacred. It
was his trust, a physical manifestation of his own hopes and dreams. A
reminder of how many had given so much so that he could live. It was his
promise of a bright, gleaming future. His very identity was tied
irrevocably to this DropShip. The thought of someone taking it was one
he had never contemplated nor imagined he would ever face, it was so
monstrously inconceivable.

The flame that had long flickered in his breast flared back to life with a
frightening ferocity. He hated the Federated Commonwealth. Hed
shoved the memories aside for years but the cocksure face of Captain
Stillson had suddenly reminded him. His mother had been captured
during the Fourth Succession War and ultimately sold as a slave into the
pleasure domes of Dustball.

Hed grown up among the excess and debauchery of those cursed domes,
surrounded by other half-Capellan bastards all whelped by sweaty and
overeager Fed-Com Privates and flush-faced First Leutnants. His mother
endlessly violated all for a few crumpled Kroners. The perpetual poverty
and despair until finally he was sold into his own slavery, working the
diamond mines for a pock-marked cruel bandit named El Scon.

When he was eleven, he watched helplessly on as his best friend was

thrown into a pit of desert scorpions where he was stung to death as drunk,
dirty men placed bets on how many strikes it would take to kill him. All
for damaging one of the El Scons precious exo-skeletons.

That was what the vaunted Federated Commonwealth had given him!

After his rescue from that deathtrap at the hands of Captain Varukka Salt,
hed discovered the Federated Commonwealth had all but taken
everything from her as well. Her former mercenary unit, the 69th Virginia
Expeditionary Force, had disintegrated after taking a bad Fed-Com
contract. In fact, he blamed the Federated Commonwealth for her death as
well. If the unit hadnt gone bankrupt, then Varukka would never have
needed to go in search of Colonel Jason Henley, the finding of whom had
resulted in her death.

But what had come as a real shock was the discovery she was Capellan
herself, trained by one the great Warrior Houses. In the end, the very end,
shed revealed herself as a failed Death Commando. Her matched ninja-to
vibroblades were, besides the Damian, his most treasured possessions.

His shock at his violent internal reaction to the Fed-Com Captain was
replaced first with a terrible rage, followed just as quickly by an equally
disturbing calm. Captain Stillson, I give you back your own choice. You
may surrender your vessel to me and return to your JumpShip and depart
this system immediately or I will destroy you. Your actions reveal the
depths to which the Federated Commonwealth has sunk. You are little
better than the pirate scum that troll the wastelands of the Periphery. Like
a mad dog, I will put you down!

With a flick of his wrist, he closed the channel, hitting the alarm in the
same motion, and proceeding to excitedly bark out orders. Taking the
Damian into combat was another thought that had been far from his mind
but now that the opportunity was upon him, he found himself relishing it.

Battle Stations! Secure cargo and prepare for combat operations!

Theres a Fed-Com Claymore-class assault DropShip out there! This is
NOT a drill! Hendley, put it up on primary and lets she if she dares!

This is what being a real DropShip captain was all about! How many
times had he heard the story of Varukkas desperate burn off of Talisker?
Shed bulled her way through countless aerospace fighters and had taken
out a Leopard CV in the process! He hadnt been with her back then so he
hadnt gotten to witness it himself but Dawg had called it the best bit of
DropShip piloting and gunnery hed ever seen and the story was one of his
favorites.

Snapping back to the urgent matters at hand, he opened a line to the

Vagabond. Captain Forrester, begin emergency undocking procedures
and then clear the area! Those Fed-Rat bastards want to confiscate the
Damian and Ill be dead before I let them take my ship! Get the hell outta
here as soon as were clear!

Amazingly, Forrester seemed entirely nonplussed. Rolling his shoulders

he answered, Give em hell, boy. I wouldnt let anyone take my ship
without a fight either. Initiating docking collar release procedure
now. Good luck. Out.

As the Vagabond released the docking collar, the Damian fired its
maneuvering thrusters, moving away from the fragile JumpShip.
Ironically, Mez had briefly studied the Claymore-class during his
tumultuous time on Skye and even seen one in orbit there. Built at
Shipils new orbital facility there, it massed 1,400 tons and was considered
a fairly fast, heavily armored ship. Compared to his own Union-C, which
weighed 4,700 tons, they were actually fairly well matched in armor but
certainly not in firepower, especially considering his own weapons were
all of Clan make.

A fact he was going to remind them of at his first opportunity.

As the Damian began moving further and further away from the
Vagabond, from the Mech bays below Leutnant Rorie McCall came
charging onto the bridge as if the devil himself was chasing him. What
the hell is going on!? Combat operations!? Have you lost your mind,
Mez!?

Mez swiveled around in his captains chair, addressing the furious looking
McCall. Nope. No way in hell Im turning over my ship to some Fed-
Rat bastard. The Lyran Guard wants to confiscate the Damian and
everything on it.

Mezs eyes burned like fire as he added, And the only way theyre going
to do that is over my dead body. Besides, it not like I didnt give him a
chance to surrender. Now, get on the port-side weapon turret in case the
Lyrans grow a set and make a run at us.

Hendley Babbage broke into the conversation, Captain, the Lyran

JumpShip just launched a pair of Chippewas!

Mez brightened up at the news. Good, for a minute there I was afraid it
was going to be an awfully short fight. Now, get to your station, Rorie,
looks like Im gonna need you.

Vaguely confused, Leutnant Rorie McCall quickly made his way to his
gunnery station. Suddenly, Mez didnt look like that boy whod spent
countless hours playing in the Castle Airth courtyard anymore.

---

On the bridge of the Vagabond, Captain Forrester was chuckling

away. The kid was just as hot headed as Varukka had been. Not that he
would have turned his ship over either but he would have at least made an
attempt to negotiate. After all, they were carrying a decent load of
military hardware and munitions. They might have been able to make a
disgustingly huge profit off it all depending on just how desperate the
Lyran Guards were. And, judging from the Lyran Captain, things down
on New Home were definitely not going their way.

He sighed. It always made him sad to see a huge pile of money slip
away.

Yep, the boy was running true to form. Varukka never gave a wit about
money either. The immediate question, however, was whether he had also
inherited her piloting skills or had he only gotten her temper. As he fired
his own maneuvering thrusters to clear the area, he had the feeling he was
going to find out soon enough.

---

Captain Howard Stillsons eyes tightened as he watched the Union-class

DropShip break away from the JumpShip that had been carrying it. He
had little doubt the boy was a Capellan sympathizer, in all probability
carrying a load of supplies to help fuel the Zhanzeng de Guang insurgents
and their campaign of terror.

The fact that the boy was spoiling for a fight all but confirmed his
suspicions. He also knew a little something about the Union-C-class. One
detail in particular. The Clans had removed the aerospace fighter bays
found on the Inner Sphere version in favor additional Mech carrying
capacity.
Open a channel to Leutnant Antilles.

At a nod from the communications tech, Captain Stillson began laying his
plans. Leutnant Antilles, you and your wing mate take positions on
either side of me. Ill lead us in. Focus fire on the nose turret. Well
make one pass, break down and to the port side then come around
underneath her. The second pass will be against the engines. Id prefer to
disable rather than destroy it. A Union-C-class is a rare prize and given
their inclination to fight out, I have every confidence the cargo aboard is
military in nature, perhaps even enough to swing the pendulum back in
our favor down on New Home.

Chapter 17
On the bridge of the Damian, Captain Mez Wallace tightened his six-point
harness, securing himself to his captains chair as he watched the two 90-
ton Chippewas move into attack position, one on either side of the massive
Claymore.

Navigation, plot an intercept course to that Claymore and put us on plane

with it! Engineering, all ahead one quarter. Transfer control of the
forward weapon turret to my station. All forward batteries standby.
Damage Control teams to the ready. Looks like the Fed-Rats want to
play!

The 4,700-ton DropShip shuddered under the stress as its massive

interplanetary drives flared to life. Seconds later, he could feel the
resulting acceleration.

At range, he could put over twice the firepower on the Fed-Com ships as
they could put on him. Oddly enough, the 90-ton Chippewas, with their
dual LRM-15s and quad heavy lasers, were almost capable of doing as
much damage as the 1,400 ton Claymores primary weapons turret. Of
course, their armor was just a mere fraction of the assault DropShips,
making them an easy kill for any one of the Damians turrets. Still, there
was no denying they carried a nasty bite.

The Claymore is the primary target. Navigation, keep it in our forward

arc. Once it gets within weapons range, it will break one way or the
other. Standby to engage at long range. Technically, he could open fire
at extreme range with his Clantech ER heavies but he didnt want to scare
them away. Let the Fed-Com fool come in.

Maneuvering thrusters fired, and fired again, as the Claymore, along with
its attendant fighters, sought to escape from the Damians forward firing
arc. Mez watched anxiously as the ships jockeyed for position. The
Claymore was a nimble beast, hed give it that, but the spheroid shape of
his own ship made it difficult to escape from its firing arc.

He could feel the tension rising as the distance between the ships
fell. Deep-space battle was notoriously dangerous. It was a winner-take-
all proposition with the losers vented out into the frozen, airless vacuum of
space. While the Damian was equipped with four escape pods, they were
more for the crews peace of mind, or for use in case of massive
mechanical or electrical failure, than intended to save anyone from a
disabled or destroyed ship taking heavy fire.

The Claymores engines were blaring, the drive flare reaching out far
behind the assault DropShip as it continued to accelerate, intending to
close the intervening distance as quickly as possible and bring its superior
maneuverability into play.

Mez yelled, All ahead one third! as he sought to build up enough

momentum to allow him to effectively maneuver the unwieldly
design. Already the Claymore was drifting off to the right of his own ship
as he found Navigation was increasingly unable to maintain a direct
intercept course.

Nose and forward right batteries, standby to fire!

Mez was surprised at how rapidly the Claymore was now closing, his
advantage in range would last only mere seconds.

Fire!

The nose turret spat forth a Gauss slug and a wave of 40 long-range
missiles as three spears of coalesced light shot towards the approaching
Claymore. Rorie, on the forward right turret, added a pair of his own
Gauss slugs along with two more heavy lasers, adding to the firepower of
Mezs turret.
As the strike smashed into the heavily armored DropShip, the Claymore
responded by rolling left and side slipping in towards him, allowing it to
bring the weapons mounted on both of its wings into play. Sixty long
range missiles burned towards him followed by a pair of particle streams
from its forward weapons bay. Even as it fired, the two Chippweas added
their own LRMs to the mix, sending another 60 missiles burning towards
him as they maintained prefect formation with their parent ship.

Even as both ships were rocked by the initial salvos, their medium range
weapons came into play. The Claymore added its own heavy lasers along
with a trio of rounds from its LB 10-X autocannons. From the Chippewas
came a devastating volley of eight heavy lasers. The Damian responded
with a series of six medium pulse lasers, failing to give as good as it got
for its second volley.

The massive forward bulkheads of the Damian screamed under the

massive onslaught of missiles, laser fire and particle beams, the shudder of
the 4,700-ton DropShip underscoring the intensity of the return fire.

The Claymore dove down underneath the Damian, already beginning to

turn as the spheroid DropShip plowed ahead.

Mez screamed, Engines ahead full! as his eyes shifted to the damage
board. The forward armor belt had been savaged absorbing the full brunt
of the attack but his weapons remained online, a testament to the skill of
the ships Clan builders. His range advantage had turned out to be all but
useless given the speed of the attacking Federated Commonwealth
craft. Judging from the debris trailing behind the Claymore and the
mangled wreckage hanging from its nose, it was clear neither ship could
withstand another frontal assault, although he would fare better if only due
to the increased structural mass of his DropShip.

Bring the nose up! Rotate counterclockwise! Bring the Forward Left
battery to bear! Standby aft turrets!

As the Damian began to reorient itself, Mez was struck by the sleek
aerodynamic shape of the Claymore. Infinitely more maneuverable than
his own ship, he watched his confidence began to wane as the giant
predatory bird came back around.

It was going to come up from underneath him. He paled as he realized

what the results of a full strike against the aft would be. The Fed-rat
captain was going to try and knock out his engines!

It was the devils choice. Every option carried the potential of being a
fatal mistake and he didnt have the time to puzzle out which one carried
the least risk, if any of them did.

Navigation, prepare for an end-over on my mark! Left and right forward

batteries stand by! Fire as weapons bare! Maximum rotation! Damage
control teams to the bow!

If he timed it just right, he might be able to get both forward left and right
batteries off then bring the forward battery to bear. The challenge was to
determine the exact moment to begin the maneuver. Start too early and he
would telegraph his intentions to his attackers, allowing them to either
evade or otherwise minimize his ship's effectiveness. Start too late and he
would be unable to bring the full firepower of his ship to bear, firepower
he now desperately needed.

In the end, it would come down mostly to feeling, or intuition, rather than
being able to scientifically calculate a precise time to begin the
maneuver. Already, he was berating himself for choosing to engage the
Claymore first instead of the two Chippweas but to change targets now
would effectively waste all of the damage hed already done to the assault
DropShip.

He wondered briefly how Captain Salt would have handled the situation or
what decisions she might have made but then his attention was forced
back to the task as more damage indicators lit up on the board.

Damage report!

Hendley Babbage called out, Primary armor belt heavily damaged,

secondary belts still holding. Minor hull breaches along the crew quarters
and the upper cargo bay. Another strike like that along the forward right
and they punch straight through the hull! No damage to the aft
sections. Engines, fire control and navigation systems all fully
functional. Damage teams now on site!

His own ship was still accelerating as the three Fed-Com attackers
completed their turns. The speed of the ships had quickly opened up a
considerable distance between them and now that he was past, it would
take a bit more time for them catch back up with him.

Maintain maximum trust. Put us on an intercept course with the Fed-

Com JumpShip! Mez smirked, that ought to make them sweat a bit.

---

One the bridge of the Claymore, Captain Howard Stillson watched as the
Union-C DropShip altered its course and continued to accelerate.

In front of him, his navigator called out, Captain, the Union is heading
towards the Theodoric at maximum thrust! Projections estimate it will be
within firing range of Captain Lovelisss Jumpship in less than 5
minutes!

Stillson scowled. After hearing about the non-stop string of fire

bombings, back alley assassinations and random shootings being carried
out by the Zhanzeng de Guang terrorists, he wouldnt put anything past
these Capellan fanatics, including attacking a JumpShip.

Engines, all ahead full! We will run them down well before they reach
the Theodoric. Leutnant Antilles, maintain formation. Well take out her
engines and pick her apart as she drifts. We hit her hard last time. Shes
running scared now. Damage report.

His engineer answered immediately, Moderate damage to the front and

right-side armor belts. No major breaches. All combat and control
systems operating normally. Engines at 100%.

Excellent, lets vent these Capellan animals into deep space. Keep us on
a direct intercept course. Maintain maximum thrust.

---

Mez watched as the Fed-Com DropShip and her two fighter escorts
inexorably closed on the Damian. Slowly at first, but, as they gathered
speed, the distance between them shrunk at a faster and faster rate.

It was almost time for the end-over.

He was reassured by a feeling. The fact that he had a feeling at all was a
good sign. If he could feel that it wasnt the right moment, then,
presumably at some point, he would feel when it was the right
moment. The bridge of the Damian was deathly quiet. Every individuals
entire attention focused solely on their task. Every individual following
his commands, their lives in his hands. This is what it meant to be a
leader, to be a commander and the rush of it was intoxicating to his young
mind.

He hadnt actually seen any action on Skye. He had commanded what had
amounted to be really just an extended maneuver. The closest he had
come was ordering the Schiltrons to fire. And even though combat had
taken place, he hadnt even been there to witness it, arriving only after it
was over and the outcome decided. In some ways, it had been a colossal
letdown. All the adrenaline and excitement of impending battle suddenly
replaced with nothing. It had left him feeling empty and unfulfilled.

But no longer.

Now, he truly was in command, the lives of his crew in his hands and the
lives of his attackers hanging in the balance. Savior or destroyer. Only
time would tell which mantle he would wear.

Then, the fateful moment arrived, a tingling in his gut, the tension between
waiting too long and not waiting long enough snapped and he issued his
commands.

Execute end-over, now! Fire as weapons bare! Primary target remains

the Claymore!

The massive DropShip groaned in protest as maneuvering thrusters

suddenly went to full power even as the interplanetary drive suddenly cut
off. He could feel his ship beginning to turn over even as it also began to
spin counterclockwise on its axis.

His knuckles turned white as if by gripping his chair harder he could

somehow force the Damian to turn around faster. The range between the
two ships began closing rapidly. Had he miscalculated?

Damn it, he should have taken out the fighter escort first!
The Claymore, seeing the ship begin to tilt over, remained eager to
close. Anything to close the distance as quickly as possible. The Captain,
well aware of his disadvantage in range, was now racing to fire before the
Damian could complete its maneuver and bring its main weapon bays into
play.

With agonizing slowness, the Damian continued to flip over even as it

built up its rotational speed.

Mezs hand smashed down against his captains chair as he realized hed
thrown away his range advantage once more. By the time the forward
weapon turrets were in line with the target, they would be in range with
their own weapons and it was still unclear whether hed even be able to
bring the nose to bare before they passed.

He watched helplessly as the Fed-Com ships launched a cloud of long-

range missiles, 120 in all, sending them shooting towards him as heavy
laser after heavy laser raked the hull of his baby.

Rorie yelled out, Target lock! Firing!

A second later, the Damian was rocked by the detonation of over a

hundred missiles against the already damaged right side of its hull.

Klaxons wailed as multiple rents were torn open and armor belts
compromised. Emergency bulkheads dropped into place preventing a
catastrophic decompression but it was already obvious the upper cargo bay
had been vented to space and the ships integrity compromised.

Mez screamed in frustration as he waited for the end-over to complete,

already desperately trying to bring his weapons to bear on a target just past
his horizon.

Damn it! Engines One and Two, full power! Weve got to complete the
flip now!

The Damian howled in pain as the damaged ship was forced to fight
against both the damage and the stresses placed on it by its interplanetary
drives.

Somewhere in the distance, Mez could hear the sound of metal plates
ripping apart, shredding and screeching as they were forced to cope with
stresses they were never engineered to withstand.

Power blinked ominously once, twice and then was replaced by the blood
red of the emergency systems. His targeting and tracking system cut off
right before his astonished eyes and he felt his own mortality as well as his
bowels.

Then, his fire control system flickered back to life and there, there was the
Claymore just a hair's breadth away from being out of angle!

Yelling triumphantly, he unleashed the full fury of the Damians primary

weapons turret. Heavy lasers, extended range and pulse, raked along the
front of the Claymore, their impacts marked by plumes of air escaping
from its interior. A flash of silver marked the Gauss rifle slug, a gaping
hole appearing where it had torn straight into the structure of the
DropShip. His own salvo of 40 missiles completed the devastation,
wreathing the entire head of the bird-like attack craft in a series of
crippling explosions.

Aft turrets, fire on the Claymore as you bare! Navigation, stabilize the
rotation and bring us back in line with that Invader!

He watched as the two Chippewas flew past, the Claymore continuing

forward of its own momentum but clearly wounded, likely having lost
flight control.

The medium pulse in the left aft turret fired first, followed by the main aft
turret, mercilessly pounding the savaged craft, continuing to punch new
holes in its now decimated hull.

Damage report!

Babbage was looking panicked, her voice high-pitched and tinny. The
upper cargo bay is open to space! Right forward fire control system
damaged. Right side maneuvering thrusters offline! Avionics
damaged! Were on emergency power! Were losing atmosphere! I cant
raise engineering! Intercom damaged!

Mez snarled like a wounded beast as the hysteria in Babbages voice

continued to grow. Hendley, pull your shit together! Get suited up and
see if you can contact the damage control teams! Your personal
communicator still works. Rorie, go with her, your turrets down
anyway! Now, where are those two Chippewas!?

---

Captain Loveliss, this is Leutnant Antilles. Captain Stillsons ship has

been disabled and I have been unable to reach him. The Union-C is
crippled but still appears functional. What are your orders, sir?

Captain Loveliss watched as the wounded Union-C fought to stabilize

itself. Its momentum was still carrying it in the general direction of his
own ship and now that the Claymore was out of action, the Chippewas
were all that was left to defend his precious JumpShip.

Move into position between the Theodoric and the DropShip. Stay
outside of weapon range. Do not engage without my permission.
Acknowledge.

Leutnant Antilles spared a glance at the damaged DropShip as he and his

wing mate broke off. Even money that the two of them could have
finished it off while they were in close, especially if they continued
pounding on the heavily damaged right side but now that they were
breaking off, the odds would no longer be in their favor.

That Union had a devilishly long range and he didnt savor the thought of
having to dodge incoming fire while waiting to get within range to launch
his own salvo. The Chippewa was a big bird, not a fast one.

Roger that, moving into position now.

---

The Damian was beginning to tumble out of control. Thankfully, deep

space is infinitely more forgiving than planetary atmosphere, allowing his
crew the time they needed to bring the craft back inline without the
looming fear of being incinerated by heat from atmospheric entry.

For their part, the two Chippewas also gave them the time and space
needed to complete their recovery as well, although they had neatly
interposed themselves between the Damian and the Fed-Com JumpShip.
Still, Mez was pissed and no sooner had the Damian been brought back
under control than he lost control of his own temper. As his suddenly
rediscovered hatred for the Federated Commonwealth, and the Lyran
Alliance in particular, flared back life, he ordered the interplanetary drive
to do the same.

All engines ahead one third! Set us on an intercept course for that Fed-
rat Invader! He wasnt finished with them yet. Those smug, arrogant
Fed-Com bastards had wounded his baby and he was going to make them
pay.

First, with their ships and then, with their lives.

---

Captain Loveliss face tightened, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched

the Union-C alter its course, now heading towards his unarmed and lightly
armored JumpShip. Carrying only a pair of heavy lasers intended for anti-
meteorite work, his JumpShip, all JumpShips really, were considered non-
combatants. Interstellar travel was the lifeblood of the Inner Sphere and
Faster-Than-Light ships like his were the only thing that made it
possible. And, even while there had been a recent expansion in JumpShip
and K-F drive construction in general, the ships themselves were still
considered sacrosanct by all of the Great House militaries as well as by all
the reputable mercenary commands.

He took another look at the approaching Union-C. It wasnt affiliated

with any House, or mercenary group for that matter. His face screwed
into a question mark. In fact, he had no idea what, if any, affiliation the
approaching DropShip had.

As it continued to build velocity, it slowly dawned on him that he was

under attack or at least would be soon. Still, his K-F drive had long been
charged, his JumpSail stowed and he still had adequate time.

Leutnant Antilles, return your flight to the Theodoric immediately. All

hands, prepare for Jump procedure. Navigator, set our destination for the
Nadir point. I will not leave our comrades stranded here nor will I subject
this vessel the depredations of pirates!
---

Mez watched as two 90-ton Chippewas turned away, making a high speed
run back to the Fed-Com JumpShip. There was only one reason he could
think of that they would recall their fighter screen.

They were going to Jump.

Maintain current velocity.

Sure enough, just minutes after the aerospace fighters disappeared into the
Invaders small craft bay, the entire 152,000-ton craft waivered and then
simply disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, Mez let his rage slip away. He had more than
enough to worry about considering the condition of his ship. Still, he
managed to crack a smile.

He had finally seen the elephant.

Chapter 18
Northwind
Chaos March
17 December 3057

The familiar stonework of Castle Airth sat perched in the distance

dispelling the lingering feeling of homesickness that had snuck up on him
over the past two months. Hed been shocked to learn of the changes that
had occurred during his brief absence.

Shortly after his departure, Northwind had erupted into rebellion, as had
numerous worlds in the so-called Chaos March. Archon-Prince Victor
Steiner-Davion had dispatched the Third Royal Regimental Combat Team
to Northwind to put down the growing insurgency. As the Northwind
Highlanders debated whether to remain a part of the Federated
Commonwealth, join the Lyran Alliance or support the revolutionary
Liao-back rebels, the Third Royal RCT under Marshal Bradford decided
to take Northwind by force of arms and end the discussion.
When Colonel Andrea "Cat" Stirling, the CO of Stirlings Fusiliers
received word of the heavy handed Fed-Com move, the Fusiliers
immediately left their posting in the Lyran Alliance to help defend their
home world. Ultimately, the reassembled Highlanders, commanded by
Colonel William McLeod himself and led by the Fusiliers, handed the
Third Royal Guard a stinging defeat and drove them off planet with heavy
losses.

Subsequently, Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao declared Northwind an

independent barony of the Capellan Confederation and ceded it, in
perpetuity, to the Highlanders.

So it was as he arrived at the gates of Castle Airth that Northwind was

now an independent world, though technically now considered a part of
the Capellan Confederation.

He couldnt help but smile. His own roots were Capellan, just like those
of the Highlanders themselves and it seemed to him to make a perfect
circle. Northwind had fallen to the Federated Suns during the Second
Succession War, along with the nearby heavily industrialized worlds of
Quentin and Ozawa, but now it had, in many ways, returned to its origins.

His adopted father, Duncan, was waiting for him at the gates with open
arms and an even bigger grin than his own.

He rushed forth, wrapping Mez in a bear hug. Mez! Damn, its good to
see you! Things have been absolutely crazy since you left! Im sure
youve heard about most of it already.

Duncan shook his head wistfully as he continued, "Fact is, theres already
somebody here to see you. No rest for the weary.

A few minutes later, Duncan, his wife Christina, Mez and the Clan
elemental turned nurse, Arue, were all gathered around a happily crackling
fire in the Great Hall of the castle. A six year old Varukka Henley-
Wallace was happily been thrown a good ten feet in the air by the huge ex-
clansman, giggling wildly as she soared up towards the vaulted ceiling.

Duncan turned to his adopted son. Rorie flew on ahead of you, along
with the woman from Skye, Raquel Stroud. He gave me a full debriefing
about what happened there as well as at New Home. I know how tough it
is to lose people, Mez. Angus, Bartlett, Gazelle. All good people. Ill
make sure their families are taken care of and Colonel McLeod will see
that Angus is buried as befitting a Highlander warrior. Sounds like the
Damian took a beating too but what matters is she brought you and rest of
the Guard home. You cant ask for any more from any ship. Im sure I
also speak for Christina, and all of the Castle staff, when I say its good to
have you back.

Duncan paused, trying to read his adopted sons face for any clue as to
how he was feeling.

Mez nodded and then looked over at Varukka who was still being tossed
into the air. Ya, I made some bad calls along the way, some stupid
decisions. I cost Barlett and Gazelle their lives and got the Damian all
shot up in the process. I take full responsibility for everything that
happened. And after all that, I didnt even manage to get Sigils old Clint
back.

His eyes snapped back to Duncans, his face tightening as he continued to

speak. And Im glad the Fed-Com got their asses kicked and thrown off
Northwind! They tried to commandeer my ship! What was I supposed to
do? Let them have it!?

Mez suddenly looked fierce and determined. I kicked some Fed-rat ass
myself. Just wish Id done a better job of it.

Duncan eyed his son closely. He had the warrior spirit and he was a
survivor. He'd been forced to find a way to survive since before he was a
teenager, had been surrounded by fighting and death since he was a boy.

But the boy in front of him was now no longer a boy. Hed become a
man.

But there was still the question of what kind of man he would become.
This was a critical juncture. Duncan recognized it instinctively. Mez was
angry, hurt and confused. He could break in any number of directions
from here. That he was intelligent and skilled was without question.
What he needed was a direction, a path to channel both his talents and his
feelings into.

After listening to Rorie, Duncan had gotten an idea of just what was
needed and, more importantly, what just might work. He motioned off
into one of the darkened arches which lead into the Great Hall.

---

Major Loren Jaffray stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight of
Castle Airths Great Hall. Hed been watching the boy captain since
theyd entered the Hall. He liked what hed heard about him and what
hed seen so far.

He strode up to Mez Wallace, extending his hand. Im Major Loran

Jaffray. Im forming a new unit within the Highlanders, the Northwind
Hussars. It will be a dedicated anti-Clan unit, taking the fight directly to
the Clans on their own worlds. I understand you pilot a Union-C-class
DropShip. My unit is put together following the Clan organizational
structure and Im looking for a DropShip for my regimental command
trinary and a Captain who wont back down from anything or anyone.
Know anybody who might be interested?

Mez stared up at the Highlander Major in shock at his generous offer. His
Capellan heritage was obvious and from what little he knew, Jaffary had
played an instrumental role in gaining the planet Northwind its
independence. But what really caught his eye was the ninja-to sheathed at
his side. He had a pair of them himself, stunningly similar to the one
carried by the Major

Jaffray noticed Mez eyeing his ninja-to. Switching smoothly to Capellan

he continued. Yes, I was a Death Commando but now I am a
Highlander. Jaffrays eyes twinkled as he continued speaking in
Capellan. But, I understand youve worked with a former Death
Commando before, Captain Wallace.

---

Bell
Federated Suns
10 July 3058

Chief Engineer Raquel Stroud looked on in satisfaction as another

refurbished CLNT-2-3U Clint emerged from the factory of Bell Refit
Yards. Built atop the ruins of Andoran Industries, the company that had
originally designed and built the Clint, Bell Refit Yards was now retooling
to produce the first of an entirely new generation of Clints.

It had been a massive three-way corporate deal. Armed with her detailed
production blueprints for the original CLNT-2-3T and backed by Bulldog
Enterprises, shed been able to quickly establish fabrication facilities here
on Bell to make the replacements parts necessary to repair and refurbish
existing Clints, including the incredibly rare and sophisticated gyro
assembled used by the 40-ton BattleMech.

Her experience, along with Bulldogs considerable financial investment,

had catapulted her into becoming the partial owner of Bell Refit Yards as
well as their Chief Engineer.

Bell Refit Yards had been accumulating scrapped Clints for years,
salvaging parts from one to fix another. As such, when shed arrived,
theyd already amassed a significant stock of severely damaged
chassis. Which, with her schematics combined with the new machine
shop, theyd been working through, sending fully refurbished CLNT-2-
3Us back to Northwind to help rearm the Highlander regiments.

Of course, shed had to sell a few to the Federated Commonwealth as

well, just to keep them happy, but since Bell was now directly on the Fed-
Com border with the resurgent Capellan Confederation, she viewed it
more as a mutual defense pact than a straight sale.

But, most exciting was the fact that engineers from Cosara Weaponries
were now onsite assisting with the construction of a true BattleMech
assembly line in exchange for access to the technical information she
possessed. They had been particularly interested in the advanced fusion
engine work and electronics integration she had.

It represented the fulfillment of long held dream. Ironically, it wasnt

even her own dream she was now fulfilling, but that of a TechWarrior,
dead now for some eight years.

It was dream that had been passed to her in the cockpit of Rose, the first,
and only, Clint shed ever piloted. Still, she could easily imagine Sigil
smiling down on her from wherever the Last JumpShip takes those
whove passed, happy to see that the Clint would once again roam the
battlefields of the Inner Sphere.
She shared a private laugh with herself. Shed held one thing back from
the data damp Rose had conducted during her last functional moments. A
full copy of her own memory core.

Once the assembly line was up and running in a few years, she had every
intention of resurrecting Rose. She was particularly intrigued with the
partial-wing prototype. Calling for an Endo-Steel chassis and a
ridiculously powerful Pitban 320 XL fusion engine, the specifications
claimed it would be capable of jumping an astounding 300 meters.

Now, wouldnt that just be something to see?

---