BattleTech: The Anvil

Blaine Lee Pardoe

Dedication

To Victor Milan, fellow author and the architect of Malvina Hazen’s rise to power. I only met Vic once, but his passing leaves a hole in our ranks. He created awesome characters and neat units. His ’Mech stomped the ground, and it quaked every time he produced a new book. Seyla, Vic! May the warriors of Valhalla tremble as you walk their halls.

I have built my words on the shoulder of a giant. I only hope I did him honor in moving the Jade Falcon storyline forward.

To Philip A. Lee, who originally plotted this battle out for the Shattered Fortress sourcebook. Phil put up a lot with my shenanigans on our weekly creative calls.

To Ray Arrastia, who kept me honest with his sage advice.

And to Brent Evans, who convinced me I could take this idea and make it cool. I hope I didn’t let him or the readers down. I’ve never tackled the Jade Falcons before, but it was much more fun than I ever imagined. Brent, buddy, the foundation has been laid…

Acknowledgments

BattleTech is about to enter a new era, and being a part of that is exciting. I thought it would be best to not go into this new era alone. Truly great warriors surround themselves with other greater warriors. That is where legends are born.

I tapped the BattleTech fan community on Facebook, and have taken the liberty to include some of them in this novella. BattleTech is all about the fans, so I grant these brave souls placement in the universe we all love.

Honors, hut!

Moses Obadiah

Nicholas Tockert

David DiFranco

Eric Belcher

Clifford McKinney

Jeff Sockwell

Daryl Noonan

Jonathon Scott Schofield

Cord Awtry

Ryan James Broadhead

Ben Myers

Troy Lee Cowell

Krzysztof Krecislaw

Chad Parish

Jack Lafreniere

Joshua Bressel

Marcus Odekirk

Robert Ostrowski

Mark Havener

George Tholburn

Erik Helgeson

Winter Guite

Jukka-Emil Vanaja

Christopher Turco

Juan Ochoa Jr.

Steven Molen

Broccán Mac Rónáin

Kenyon Burguess

Dave Alsager

Trueborn Warriors all.

1

UPANO

JADE FALCON OCCUPATION ZONE

20 JANUARY 3148

Khan Malvina Hazen of Clan Jade Falcon leaned back in the tall brown leather chair in her office and narrowed her gaze at newly appointed Galaxy Commander Matthias Pryde of Gamma Galaxy. She looked down on him despite his taller height—courtesy of her seat being elevated and his being lowered. Matthias was uneasy, she could see that in his face. She had summoned him without any pretext. His nervousness fed her, forcing her to suppress the smile she wanted to show. Fear is what makes the Jade Falcons powerful. Even fear of ourselves makes us stronger.

People had good reason to fear her. She was not just a Khan, she was a visionary. Her adoption of the Mongol Doctrine made her dangerous in the eyes of her fellow Clans. The lower castes and the civilians of captured worlds were not human in her thinking. They were mere chattel, just resources for her to use or crush as she saw fit. Crushing them instilled the fear that she knew made her Warrior Caste strong again, stronger than it had ever been. For years we allowed the Traditionalists to rule and under them we became just one of many. Now we stand to crush the Lyran Commonwealth. Shattering one of the Great Houses, grinding it under my heel, will cause others to submit. Those that do not would simply be killed. Any form of resistance will be eradicated, burned, and their ashes scattered into nothingness.

“Take a seat, Matthias.” She gestured to the smaller, hard wooden chair opposite of her desk. “I can have Cynthy get you something to drink if you want. She likes catering to my guests.”

His eyes darted to Cynthy, the young girl Malvina had taken under as her prisoner and personal toy. Cynthy wisely averted her sunken eyes from both of them. I trained her well. Matthias’s gaze on her clearly made him more uncomfortable. He slowly turned back to look at her as Cynthy bowed her head and backed out of the office, closing the door slowly, quietly, as she had been trained to do.

“That is not necessary my Khan.” He managed to gain more composure. “May I ask why you needed to see me?”

“Matthias, let me ask you. What is the greatest threat that the Jade Falcons face?” Her question was bait, and both of them knew that.

“The Lyran Commonwealth is less of a threat than another Clan, especially the Wolves.”

“Neg,” she replied coolly. “That is pedestrian thinking. The Wolves are an annoyance, persistent, but too soft to be a true menace. When we become the ilClan by conquering Terra, they will be the first to feel my wrath. No, Matthias, the greatest threat to our people is that they will drift into their old ways of thinking. The doctrine that I have ushered into our culture is one that will lead us to endless victories—to Terra, then to the rest of the Inner Sphere. That can all be undone by the knee-weak Traditionalists. Their very presence creates a threat to our future, a drift back to misguided ideals of what constitutes honor.”

“The majority of our people follow your vision.”

“I agree. At the same time, there are those that refuse to commit fully to our doctrine. Tell me Matthias, who do you think is the most staunch Traditionalist?”

He paused in thought for a tedious moment. “There are several that come to mind. The one I would worry about the most is Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu of Delta.”

Malvina leaned forward, resting her elbows on the obsidian desk top and steepling her fingers. I agree, but I want to see what he thinks. “Tell me why.”

Pryde’s face tightened, careful of the words he chose. “She says nothing against our Mongol Doctrine, not publicly. She simply does not follow it. When presented with opportunities to impose herself over lesser castes, she does not. Chistu does not have to say anything. Her actions are a beacon to others. They see her, and realize she can resist your will with no consequences. In some respects, she is teaching them how to resist the doctrine. Her example is a threat because others watch it and seek to emulate it. And her extracurricular activities are, dare I say, unbecoming a warrior.”

“Exactly!” Malvina replied, pounding her black bionic fist on the desktop. “I have not crushed her because she would only serve as a martyr to the other Traditionalists. At the same time, she must be dealt with.”

“What do you have in mind, my Khan?”

Malvina reclined in her chair again, locking her gaze with Pryde. “Do you know the worst thing you can do to someone that refuses to follow the path you lead them on?”

“Neg.”

“You make them take that path on their own accord. Stephanie Chistu loathes the Mongol Doctrine. I intend to force her to follow that doctrine of her own accord. I will make her become the very kind of leader she holds in disregard. I will make her walk a path of my choosing, by her own decisions. If this is done, those that look to her will see what she has become. Their precious beacon will be snuffed out.”

“It can be done, quiaff?”

“It can and will be done. That, or she will perish in battle. Either way, I will get what I want. Moreover, I have the perfect place to make it happen.”

Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu stood before the anvil and hit the glowing hot metal bar with the hammer. The metallic ringing from each impact was so strong that it made the metal glow brighter for a moment. She rode the recoil and let the hammer drop again and again, pulling the metal on the anvil and changing its shape slightly with each hit. The key was to let the weight of the hammer do most of the work. Sweat stung the corners of her eyes and she adjusted the soaked hat that covered her cropped black hair.

She paused and looked at the metal, studying its new shape for a few seconds, then slid it into the coals of the forge. This forge, which the local artisans had graciously offered to her, was different than ones she had used before. It was much easier than hauling such gear with her from post to post. Stephanie did not mind the smell of coke or the roaring heat of the forge that soaked her body.

Making knives and swords was not the typical hobby for a warrior, but she considered herself a bit of a different kind of warrior. Working with the metal, giving it shape and form, was strangely satisfying and relaxing—despite the upper body workout. It was hard to explain to her peers, how it gave her solace and allowed her to think. Some scoffed at her choice of relaxation. Chistu ignored them. What I do off duty is my concern.

This blade was not exceptional in its artistry, but there was something about it that appealed to her. It was nearly ready to quench, sharpen, and polish. It was eloquent, not a hunting blade, but more than capable of killing. It takes two things to make a knife special. One is its creation, the other is what is done with it. There is something about this blade that tells me it has a particular role to fill, something special.

Using the tongs, she pulled the metal out and swung it back to the anvil, hammering furiously at it again until it eventually cooled to a dull gray color. Each blow rang not just in the air, but in her body as well. Each strike gave her incredible focus and concentration. Working with scalding hot metal forced discipline. She had earned her burn scars early on from the process.

This blade was taking a long time, but it would be worth it in the end. I am not a destroyer like others of my caste—I am a creator.

After three minutes of carefully placed hammer blows, she turned to put the metal into the forge, and saw Khan Malvina Hazen standing there, arms crossed. Behind her stood her “pet” Cynthy. Stephanie placed her project on a cooling rack.

Malvina was not an imposing figure like many warriors. This meant that she and Stephanie looked each other eye to eye. Hazen’s hair was ash-blond, almost silver in color, worn long, with a single braid draped over the shoulder of her black uniform. That uniform, the black dress attire, was one of the ways to identify

those that followed her Mongol Doctrine. It was meant to intimidate, but on Chistu it was wasted.

Cynthy looked like a broken child—Stephanie could see it in her dark-rimmed eyes and shrunken cheeks. Perhaps “broken” is the wrong word. “Abused” may be more fitting. Malvina gloated at how badly she treated her. She embodied what the Inner Sphere would be like under Hazen’s rule. Seeing Cynthy there, two paces behind her Khan, almost quaking in fear, only tempered Stephanie’s ire. She uses her as a living symbol of what she plans for the Inner Sphere…a symbol of fear.

Khan Hazen sneered. “Look at you. Working at a blacksmith’s forge like a common bellycrawler. This is not a true Jade Falcon warrior pursuit. Your time might better be served attending one of my doctrine sessions. I wonder at times if you have the heart of the Falcon in your chest.” Malvina’s words dripped with contempt.

Do not react to her tone. I will not be taken in by her bait. “I find that the forge gives me time to think. It works my upper body and at the same time it gives me mental focus. Do not mistake my time here as anything other than a means to relax. I am every bit a warrior.”

“It is beneath a warrior to have such hobbies. You set a poor example for others in my eyes.”

Her doctrine blinds her. It oozes from her pores. There is more in life than battle. “Warriors are more than actors on the battlefield, my Khan. Almost all have some sort of hobby. When it comes to mine, I would suggest that you lack an understanding of the process. The combination of the heat, the hammer, the anvil, and what they can create. Working in unison, dull metal becomes something of use—be it an implement of war or a decoration.”

Malvina reached for the new knife blade with her bionic hand, but was stopped when Stephanie lightly tugged at her sleeve. “My Khan, the metal is hot.”

“It is not glowing.”

“It does not glow until it reaches four hundred sixty degrees centigrade. While it does not look hot, it would burn through your hand in a matter of seconds.”

Hazen slowly retracted her hand. “You know a great deal about the ways of a blacksmith for one that was reared as a warrior.”

“I pride myself on mastering new things. This hobby constantly challenges me and forces me to learn new forms and techniques.”

“What kind of blade are you making?” she asked, clearly feigning interest.

I will play along. It is best to do so when combating another’s ego. “I do not know for sure, my Khan. Each blade takes on its own life during the creation process. I start with an idea in mind, but what the knife becomes is more a product of the fire, the anvil, and the hammer rather than my intent.”

If she understood, Khan Hazen did not show it. “We have one thing in common, the fire you play with. Fire is the cure for the Inner Sphere, I have foreseen that. Worlds will have to burn so that our new society can grow from the ashes.”

The way she spoke chilled Stephanie, but she was careful not to show it. Her Mongol Doctrine will kill billions. It violates the teachings of Nicholas Kerensky. Warriors exist to protect the weaker castes, not to burn them. Yet others follow her flag blindly because she promises to be the ilKhan, and the Jade Falcons to be the ilClan.

“The fire is only part of the equation in shaping the metal,” Chistu responded. “The anvil, the positioning of the hot metal, the striking of the hammer. They must all work in unison to create.”

“I am only concerned with the hammer. That is what it is to be a Jade Falcon. We pulverize our enemies.”

“As you say, my Khan,” Stephanie replied. Trying to argue my point with her would be lost. She forms her opinions and twists the facts to fit her beliefs. That is one of the weaknesses of the Mongol Doctrine. Stephanie knew the truth. The hammer was only one part of the equation. The anvil and the positioning of the metal, merged with the right strike, were what gave the metal shape and meaning. I would try to explain it to her, but it would only frustrate both of us.

“You are indeed every bit a Jade Falcon that I would have command one of my Galaxies, quiaff? There are times I wonder where your true loyalties lie.”

“Make no mistake my Khan, I am every bit a Jade Falcon.” Perhaps more than you…

“We shall see,” Malvina replied. She uncrossed her arms and handed a noteputer to Chistu.

The Galaxy Commander put her hammer down on the anvil and killed the blower to the forge, taking the device. The background sound of the fan all but disappeared, suddenly making everything else louder. “Coventry, quiaff?”

“Affirmative,” the Khan said. “I take it you are familiar with the last battle our Clan had there, quiaff?”

Stephanie nodded as she eyed the long list of orders. Every Jade Falcon knew of Coventry and the events that had transpired there. Her Clan’s defeat in 3058 had spawned the Whitting Conference, and the forging of a Star League that struck back at the Clans. It was a world that had set many things in motion, including the demise of the Smoke Jaguars and an infernal peace with the Inner Sphere.

The orders she read were long, detailed, and incredibly specific. Raze Whitting, leave no structure standing? Eradicate the Coventry Military Academy? Tactical nuclear weapons use authorized? These were military orders unlike any she had ever seen. Usually orders to field commanders were a few lines at best. This was three screens worth of specific acts of destruction and carnage.

To Stephanie Chistu, they were acts unbecoming a Clan warrior, let alone a Jade Falcon.

“Khan Hazen,” she said, considering her words carefully. “These orders…”

“Are quite specific. I want House Steiner to bleed on Coventry. I want them to die there at our hands. I want to erase our past failure there. Nothing is to remain to remind anyone of our prior defeat there. You will be the instrument of that destruction.”

Malvina’s words stung Stephanie. Changing history was a vile act, usually done by weaker minds. We should never be afraid of our past to the point where we desire to change or destroy it. Our past is not a scar, but a reminder of where we have come from. “Victory can be achieved without these acts of deliberate destruction.”

“You believe that, quiaff? I do not. Conquering Coventry is a mere footnote in The Remembrance if you do not take the actions I have outlined in those orders.”

For a moment, Stephanie held her words and returned her gaze to the noteputer. “The authorization of nuclear weapons…it is unnecessary.”

“I believe it is, even as a last resort. If you are unable to achieve conventional victory on Coventry, per your orders, these weapons will ensure it. Burn those foolish enough to stand against our Clan.”

“The Jade Falcons would become the Smoke Jaguars if such weapons were employed—especially against the lower castes.”

“That is one perspective. Another is that the lower castes do not deserve honor, leniency, or mercy. The bellycrawling Spheroids are a cancer that must be removed before our new society can take shape. We saw in the last campaign for Coventry that civilians took to BattleMechs right off the factory floor and fought us. Why should we risk the precious lives of trueborn Jade Falcon warriors to such people? The nuclear weapons are part of your contingent, Galaxy Commander Chistu. It is not up for debate.”

She would have me be a butcher to millions. That is what she wants to turn me into…an icon for her misguided doctrine. “Perhaps another Galaxy should be used my Khan, with a commander more…attuned to your thinking on this matter.”

“You would refuse a direct order of your Khan, quineg?” There was a hint of caged fury in Hazen’s voice.

She anticipated my words and is prepared. “Negative, Khan Hazen. I am not refusing. Given the details you have in these orders, it is clear your interests might be better served with another commander leading this kind of assault.”

Khan Hazen said nothing for a moment, but her stare spoke volumes. “I am the leader of Clan Jade Falcon, and one day all of the Clans. These are the kinds of missions that we will be undertaking—now, and until we are the ilClan. These kinds of missions are who the Jade Falcons are under my leadership. If you are unable or unwilling to follow orders, you will be replaced with a commander who will.” It was not a threat, not from Malvina Hazen. It was a promise.

For a millisecond, the escape route was tempting. This was not the way to wage war that Stephanie believed in. At the same time, the thought of her command and the people loyal to her being subjected to a new commander more to Malvina’s vile tastes made Stephanie wince. I cannot put my people through that. “Neg, my Khan. Replacement is not desired, nor do I wish replacement. I will comply.”

That made Malvina grin thinly, something that did not calm Stephanie’s emotions. “Excellent. I am sending along Star Colonel Yaroslav and two Clusters from Gamma Galaxy to assist you.”

Yaroslav was a known warrior, an ardent supporter of the Mongol Doctrine. He will be Malvina’s eyes and ears, there to spy on the slightest deviation of my orders. He is her eyes and ears. “It is not necessary, but I would be foolish to refuse any support you may be willing to offer.”

“Exactly.”

“What are the defenders of Coventry that we know of?”

Khan Hazen seemed nonplussed as her grin evaporated. “Hardly anything at all. The Seventeenth Arcturan Guards are posted there. They have some experience, but have recently been reinforced with relatively green replacement troops. I would rate them as average to below-average. There is the Coventry Military Academy, whose cadets lack any practical battle experience. If history holds true, the Coventry Metal Works will also field some defenders.”

Chistu knew the full account of the last time the Jade Falcons hit Coventry, and remembered that even green units could fight furiously when pressed. “We should be more than a match for them. I will not discount that the Lyrans will throw in reinforcements, given the strategic nature of the planet.”

“We have less intelligence regarding House Steiner’s reserves. Our recent assaults have stripped them of their capability to easily respond to attacks. The lack of defenders on Coventry suggests that they have sent their reserves to Donegal, according to the Watch’s estimates. If they do send troops in to try holding Coventry, I doubt it will be a force of any merit. The Lyrans are teetering on the edge, Galaxy Commander. You may be all that is needed to tip their precious little House over.”

Stephanie doubted the Lyrans were teetering, but did not desire the inevitable argument. “Anything else, my Khan?”

“Per your written orders, you are to maintain an effective fighting force at the completion of the operations on Coventry. This is your paramount objective. The Exiled Wolves still prowl, and I need your Galaxy able to respond to any opportunities they might exploit.

“You are to deal House Steiner a blow it cannot recover from. I anticipate our enemies will see our presence there and come searching for blood. I want your force to come through this relatively intact, or a victory on that blasted world will mean nothing to me. Understood, quiaff?”

Chistu nodded. “Affirmative. When do we depart?”

“Three days from now.”

She moved the metal she had been working on to the cooling rack and hung up her work tongs. “Then I have much to do.”

“Aff, you do,” Khan Hazen said coolly. She did a pristine about-face and left Stephanie alone at the forge. Behind the Khan, her damaged toy Cynthy followed.

Star Colonel Jagger Thastus studied the noteputer for several minutes, his mouth slightly agape. His black hair bore a hint of premature gray in his sideburns, which made him look easily a decade older than he really was.

Stephanie Chistu watched him carefully. He was one of her top field commanders, leading the First Falcon Striker Cluster of her Galaxy. She and Thastus had bled on the same ground many times. Moreover, he shared her opinion of Hazen’s Mongol Doctrine.

“The Khan is setting you up,” he said. “She is forcing you to act in her proxy and to wage a kind of war that is unbecoming a Jade Falcon.”

Chistu nodded. “Agreed. Though I would encourage you to hold your tongue from this time forward. The walls have ears.”

“And she has saddled us with Star Colonel Yaroslav of Gamma. He is here to do one thing: report on our adherence to her blasted orders. A spy, through and through.”

“I have no doubt you are correct,” she said. “That is something we cannot change any more than her command to take tactical nuclear weapons with us.”

“You are not seriously considering using them, quineg?”

She shook her head. “Neg. I have no choice but to take them. Taking and using, however, are two different things.”

Jagger studied the intel data on Coventry for the better part of three minutes before speaking again. “On paper, this should be an easy conquest. The Seventeenth Arcturan Guards are a good unit, but hardly able to successfully engage a force as large as ours. That is, of course, if the Watch has gotten their intelligence correct.”

Her half-cocked grin told him she felt differently. “While Khan Hazen sees me as some sort of threat, I doubt she would send such a large force to Coventry unless she expected the Lyrans to send in reinforcements. No matter what that estimate says, Coventry is as much a symbol to the Commonwealth as it is to us. They will not let it go without a vicious fight.”

“Perhaps she is right in sending those nuclear weapons with us then.”

“Neg,” Stephanie replied quickly. “Taking the world by burning its cities, people, or defenders leaves no honor. It would serve as a rallying cry for the Commonwealth. One can almost hear Trillian Steiner screaming, ‘Remember Coventry!’ if I use such weapons, and rightfully so. I will not give them the moral high ground in this fight.”

“Then you will be at odds with our Khan,” Jagger said coyly.

“So be it.” She cannot take the Jade Falcon out of my soul. I will find victory for our Clan and our people, without tarnishing my honor.

2

LCAF COMMAND POST OBADIAH

TOCKERT, VORZEL

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

22 JANUARY 3148

General Roderick Steiner stepped into the command bunker of the Obadiah and was greeted by sentries that immediately snapped to attention and saluted. He saluted back as he entered the Strategic Operations module. I have had people saluting me for some time, but not this many. Such was the price of being the General of the Armies of the Lyran Commonwealth. He had never asked for this office—his cousin Trillian, the Archon, had thrust it upon him.

As the officers in the room parted before him, opening a path to the main holographic display table, Roderick gave the officers supporting nods and a thin smile of encouragement. He had to. The Lyran Commonwealth had been suffering strings of defeats and fighting increasingly desperate battles against Clan Wolf and now their old nemesis, Clan Jade Falcon. A big part of his role, as he learned over time, was to keep the officers’ morale up.

I don’t know how my grandfather dealt with all of this attention. Adam Steiner had first fought the Jade Falcons back during their initial invasion in 3050, and he did so again as Archon of the Commonwealth. Now I command all of the armies that remain of our state. I wonder if I’m going to be the last General of the Armies—a small black footnote in some future history book.

One officer did not step aside. His chiseled chin and muscular frame topped with blond hair made him stand out. Hauptmann-General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner.

Seeing him, Roderick stepped forward and extended his hand. “Imagine meeting you here, General Steiner.” It feels funny to say “General Steiner”—almost as humorous as being called that myself. He had lived under an assumed name for most of his early life. Only circumstance had finally made Roderick reveal his true last name and linage. Since then, his life had become totally different. Sometimes I long to be Roderick Frost again.

Jasek flashed a smile and shook his hand firmly. “A distinct pleasure, sir.”

“You can drop the ‘sir’ with me. We’re family, even if distanced by a few marriages,” Roderick replied. “What you’ve done in the Arc-Royal Defense Cordon has been outstanding. I would offer you a commendation, but you already have most of the medals we can give.”

Jasek glanced down at his ribbons and grinned slightly, then turned his blue eyes back to Roderick. “Like you, I don’t do this for the glory. I do it because it is the right thing to do.”

It was not a casual comment on the part of the hauptmann-general. His storied journey of command was one of legend. Starting as a part of the Republic’s military, his Stormhammers had been a beacon for Steiner loyalists in the Republic. His original goal had been for an independent Skye, but the twists and turns of the tornado of Steiner politics had brought him back into the Commonwealth’s fold. Trillian, his cousin and current Archon, trusted Jasek, and that was more than enough for Roderick.

“I’m glad you were able to get here,” Roderick said, gesturing to the holographic display. The pair of them moved to it.

“No offense, Roderick, but why are we here? Vorzel is not a strategic world.”

“It is now,” the General of the Armies replied. He looked at the officer manning the holotable controls. “Captain—” his gaze dropped to the officer’s name plate, “—Belcher, pull up a star map, a hundred and fifty light years centered on Vorzel.”

The man’s fingers flew across the controls, and the image appeared in the space above the table. The front was frightful. Tharkad, the capital of the Commonwealth, was bordered by Jade Falcon-controlled worlds. The Falcons had been bloodied there, badly, but they would strike again; it was merely a matter of time.

Roderick gestured to the map. “LIC reports that the Falcons are staging their forces on Upano.” He pointed to Captain Belcher, who nodded and highlighted Upano with a pulsing green dot in the air before them. “Jasek, using Upano as your staging world, if you were Malvina Hazen, where would you strike to deliver us a devastating blow, one that would hurt is the worst?”

“That’s easy. Two of our provincial capitals are within easy range for an assault—Coventry and Donegal.”

Captain Belcher made the worlds pulse Steiner blue at their mention.

“Exactly,” Roderick replied. “One or two jumps, and you can hit those worlds. The real question is which one?”

Hauptmann-General Kelswa-Steiner studied the map. “I would venture Donegal. You take that world, you essentially cut off a significant portion of the Commonwealth.”

Roderick crossed his arms, his gaze on the map, then back to Jasek. “True, but Coventry has a history with the Jade Falcons. It was there they were given a stunning defeat in 3058. That defeat led to the Whitting Conference, the formation of the Second Star League, and the events that followed. In many respects, their defeat on Coventry has to be one the biggest blemishes in the history of their Clan—hell, all of the Clans. I would imagine they’d do almost anything to erase that stain from their damned Remembrance.”

“So you think they’ll hit Coventry?”

Roderick shrugged faintly. “We don’t know for sure. I seriously doubt they will strike at both planets. Malvina Hazen understands initiative and momentum in warfare. She will want a sure victory, complete and utter— regardless of which target she goes after.”

“This Malvina Hazen is not like any other Clanner we have fought,” Jasek said.

“You are the master of understatement, General,” Roderick agreed. “Her way of waging war—taking no prisoners, deliberately targeting civilians, wreaking utter destruction…it plays to our absolute worst fears of what the Clans can be.”

“She relies on those fears as part of her arsenal. I cannot imagine what the Inner Sphere would be like under Jade Falcon rule with her as the ilKhan.”

Roderick could imagine it. It was the stuff of nightmares. Hazen would grind her heel down on anyone she considered inferior, which was most of the population of the empire she might forge. Human rights would be a thing of the past. “The only good that comes from her arriving is it can galvanize the troops to fight to the end. They’ll know that surrendering to her Mongol Jade Falcons is a death sentence.”

“Of all of the enemies our people have faced, we have never fought one hell bent on our deaths,” Jasek replied. “Even the Word of Blake was not as brutal as she, and that says a lot. So, how do we deal with this jade scourge?”

“Simple. We stage here, between the two high-probability targets. When she makes her move, we sweep in with your Fifteenth Arcturan Guards RCT and my Second Royal Guards. She will be forced to commit more troops to try wiping us out, killing any other offenses— or she will lose and we will cut off her momentum. I have ordered scouting JumpShips in both systems poised to jump here and get word to us immediately as soon as their ships show up.” Gone were the years of fast HPG communications between worlds. Now there was a time lag every time a foe made a move. ComStar and the Republic both owe all of us more than the darkness we find ourselves in.

“I prefer option two,” General Kelswa-Steiner said. “In that first scenario, we could end up dead.”

Roderick smiled slightly. “‘Ours is not to question why…’”

“What does the LIC say about her leading the attack?”

Roderick’s grin faded slightly. “There is a high probability that Malvina will be leading the attack. Frankly, I am hopeful. If it is her, we have an opportunity to cut the head off the snake and throw the Jade Falcons into some turmoil with the loss of their Khan.”

Jasek chuckled. “You may be the only person in the Inner Sphere that wants Malvina Hazen to show up.”

Roderick pondered the fantasy of facing off against Hazen in one-on-one combat. The leaders of two armies fighting a battle to determine the fate of a war—there was a certain romanticism about it. He also knew it would never happen with the Jade Falcon leader. She saw him like everyone else, unworthy of her attention. Her reckless disregard for humanity has shown us all the darkest side of the Clans. “I don’t want her to show up per se. It just might open an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up.” Roderick turned his gaze to the map. “What is the status of the Fifteenth Guards?”

Jasek Kelswa-Steiner pointed to Captain Belcher. “Pull up our TO&E if you would, Captain.” After a few seconds of fingers flying at the controls, the organization and equipment chart for the Fifteenth Arcturan Guards appeared. “As you can see, Roderick, we are almost completely refit. The replacement troops are a bit green, but our veterans are putting them through the paces right now.”

Roderick studied the data, nodding approvingly at what he saw.

“You mentioned the Second Royal Guards RCT?” General Kelswa-Steiner queried. “Did you bring them all?”

“I did,” Roderick replied, handing a data cube to Belcher, who pulled up the TO&E of the Second Royal Guards. “The only problem was their CO. She had taken ill.”

“Judith? That’s terrible. Nothing bad I hope.”

He shook his head. “It’s not good.” Cancer never is.

“Who’s commanding them then?”

“I am,” Roderick said.

There was a pause between the two men as Jasek studied Roderick’s face, possibly wondering if he was joking. “Roderick…you are the General of the Armies. A General of the Armies hasn’t led troops into a battle in ages.”

“I am aware of that,” was all Roderick could say. “That doesn’t change anything. They are under my personal command.”

Jasek’s face reddened slightly. “Sir, if I may speak freely—”

“Always.”

“Sir, if we lose you, it hurts the Commonwealth a hell of a lot more than losing another general.”

Roderick had anticipated the rebuttal. He lowered his voice so that only he and Jasek could hear his words. “Two things drove this decision, General. One, to be blunt, we don’t have a deep pool of officers to dip into to fill the slot—not with the experience needed to lead a RCT. Second, I am more of a field officer than a ‘General of the Armies.’ That is where my experience is. It’s where I feel at home. If I am going to send troops in against Malvina Haven’s forces, I want our people to know I am there not just in spirit but with them on the field.”

General Kelswa-Steiner considered what he said before speaking. “I understand. It’s just a hell of a gamble.”

“I like to think it will help morale. Truth be told, I want a shot at Malvina if she shows up in person.”

“You and I will have to square off for that right,” Kelswa-Steiner replied. “We can’t lose sight of the obvious. The Jade Falcons are not the true threat. She is the real enemy we have to worry about.”

“I hope you’re right. LIC says a lot of troops follow her banner. Based on my experience, every Jade Falcon is a deadly enemy to contend with. No matter what, if she is not there, she will send in one of her best.”

“Where do you think she’ll hit?” Jasek said.

“Donegal makes such a tempting target that it should be there. Malvina knows that too. I think it will be Coventry.”

“Ja. They came and died there before,” Jasek said. “I would make a play for Donegal myself, but I think emotions trump logic when it comes to the Falcons.”

Roderick nodded. “Malvina Hazen is recasting the Jade Falcons into her own twisted mold. Part of that has to be erasing the failures of the past. Coventry represents that past. I think that will drive her more than strategy. The Jade Falcons under her have no room for Coventry in their history.”

“No matter where she strikes, one thing is for sure,” Jasek said with a wry grin. “She won’t be expecting two Steiner generals hitting back.”

3

PORT ST. WILLIAM SPACEPORT

PORT ST. WILLIAM, COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

15 FEBRUARY 3148

Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu opened the communications channel to her troops. “Delta and Gamma Galaxies, I bid you good luck. Follow your orders and the timeline, and we will prove ourselves more than a match for these Lyrans.”

There was a hiss and snap in her neurohelmet earpiece. “Galaxy Commander, we will be swinging over the spaceport in thirty seconds.”

“Just as planned,” she responded to the Star Captain in command of the Admiral DiFranco, the First Falcon Striker Cluster’s command ship. While the First was Star Colonel Thastus’s unit, she would be acting in overall command of the Cluster. She clenched the targeting joystick and the throttle and engaged her fusion reactor for more energy. The low hum under her feet told her that her Jade Hawk was ready for battle.

The arrival in the Coventry system had been at a pirate point, giving the defenders little time to prepare. Leutnant-General Francine Ross, of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards RCT defending the planet, had sent Stephanie a message, essentially asking if she was going to issue a batchall for the world. She had responded flatly. “Per the will of Khan Malvina Hazen, neg. You are not to be granted the honor of a batchall. Prepare to feel our wrath.”

The Admiral DiFranco swung on its axis as it approached the spaceport. Port St. William Spaceport had been the site of the first Falcon attack in 3058. She had ordered the captain to pilot the ship on the same flight trajectory over the port for her landing. Again, Khan Hazen’s orders on this point were so specific that it limited Stephanie’s ability to exercise her own military discretion. My own Khan is attempting to ruin me, either by following or disobeying her blitzking orders. I have to fight her words as well as the Lyrans.

The doors of the massive Overlord-C opened, and light poured into her cockpit, diffused by the ferro-armored glass. Below the moving ground whizzed past.

The Star Captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Drop in five…four…three…two…one….”

Stephanie hit the release and kicked her leg controls to activate her jump jets. The Jade Hawk roared as she disgorged from the ship. The tarmac was some fifty meters below, looming quickly as she controlled her descent. On the ground, she saw people running for cover while all around her, the First Falcon Striker Cluster dropped as well. Elementals rained down from the Admiral DiFranco, their jump jets dropping them slowly, with the precision that only a Jade Falcon warrior could appreciate.

She picked her landing spot, a patch of ferrocrete, and hit it hard, bending the knees of the seventy-five-ton war machine as she landed. The thud was so loud and resonant that it shook her rib cage. Her tactical display lit up with emerald dots for her troops—and crimson for the enemy.

“Falcon Strikers,” she barked while pivoting her Jade Hawk to the right, “secure the perimeter of the spaceport one block out, just as we planned. Deploy smoke.” An artillery explosion made her ’Mech quake, and a trio of autocannon shells just narrowly missed the right pseudo-wing of her Jade Hawk.

The source of the attack had come from a pair of Hetzers, painted gray with streaks of black and blue for urban camouflage. They were barely concealed behind a stack of cargo containers and started to back up the moment she spied them, realizing they were outmatched.

“You have chosen poorly,” she said through gritted teeth. She targeted the one on the right, switching her short-range missiles to a single target interlock circuit. The moment she heard the tone of target lock as the reticle drifted over the target, she fired.

The Jade Hawk nudged back slightly as the two dozen short-range missiles streaked from their high racks. The missiles bore in on the Hetzer, exploding in an orange cloud of shrapnel, smoke, and death. The wheeled tank made a grinding noise as three of the missiles devastated its front tire. Two others went wide, blowing up a nearby cargo container and filling the air with burning paper that was more spectacular than deadly.

The damaged Hetzer’s top hatches opened, and a billowing cloud of smoke poured skyward. If there were survivors, they never made it clear of the hot shrapnel inside the tank. Its lancemate fired its autocannon at Chistu. The shells were a blur as Stephanie sidestepped enough for several shells to whiz past her cockpit. The others hit her right torso. Their explosions were vicious, but her training and instincts paid off as she leaned slightly into the blasts—otherwise she might have toppled over from the impact.

Her damage display lit up with yellow warnings, but a quick glance showed that her armor had absorbed the impacts. You will pay for that. Checking for any other potential attackers, she charged the Hetzer at a full run, crossing 150 meters in a matter of seconds. The driver of the wheeled tank attempted to turn and make a break for it, but the smoldering wreck of the other vehicle blocked its escape.

Stephanie stopped in front of the vehicle and kicked. Her Jade Hawk’s foot hit the extended barrel of the Hetzer’s Crusher SH Cannon, crumpling armor and bending the barrel almost sixty degrees from the impact. The kick was so hard that the tank skidded sideways, ripping tires from their rims and leaving bits of shredded tread in their wake.

The crew of the now-crippled vehicle bailed out. She let them go. Without their tank, they were just unarmed infantry. She spun and surveyed the spaceport. There had been a lance of light Steiner ’Mechs at the other end of the large tarmac, but they had fired only a single volley before fleeing to the city for cover. One of their number had not been so fortunate. The mangled UrbanMech belched crimson flames and black smoke where it had fallen. Several other rising plumes from burning vehicles and ’Mechs dotted the spaceport. Her First Falcon Strikers fired smoke rounds that mixed with the smoke from the ruined vehicles, obscuring the spaceport and the targets there. If they have spotters, they will not get a good bead on us as targets.

Chistu and her officers had studied the first battle on Coventry carefully—and she was sure her opposition had done the same. When the Jade Falcons had landed before, they had been hit by barrages of Long Tom artillery fire. We will not be drawn into the same mistakes twice. “This is Striker Prime. Deploy the fighters to the outskirts of the city, concentrate on the north. If you see enemy artillery there, destroy it.”

An extremely loud explosion far off to her right made her ’Mech quake. Artillery! Almost on cue. From what she saw on her tactical display, the exploding rounds had missed her ’Mechs. They are firing blind on the spaceport…I learned well from our last invasion of this accursed world.

She toggled her command channel. “Strikers, I want triangulation of that incoming fire. Relay the coordinates to our air support. Fourth Falcon Dragoons, deploy to the south, three blocks into the city, and form a perimeter, then stand by for additional orders.” More explosions went off amid the green-and-black smoke that covered the spaceport, doing little than tearing up the landing zones.

A few rumbling minutes later, word came from Star Captain McKinney that they had pinpointed the area. Unlike the previous attacks on the planet, this time the Lyrans had hidden their Sniper artillery in the city itself, in a small suburban park. It took several passes for the aerospace fighters to find them, as they had been well disguised. She heard the explosions off to the northeast of her position, and saw smoke rise in the distance, proof that her fighters had done their duty.

Stephanie signaled her DropShips to commence landing operations and asked for a sitrep. Besides her two Hetzers, there had been a platoon of hovercraft—SM1 Tank Destroyers and Bellonas—and a lance of ’Mechs. Only one of the Bellonas and a lone black-and-gray Hatchetman had managed to fall back before being destroyed. The rest lay as burning carcasses of war.

There had been one Falcon casualty. MechWarrior Sockwell’s Eyrie had been caught in the Steiner crossfire from the marauding hovercraft and gone down. While he was still able to fight, his ’Mech, pockmarked from autocannon fire, would require numerous repairs. While his honor was intact, his fellow warriors did not spare him some taunting at being “First Blood.”

Stephanie sent word to her Strikers and the other deployed Falcons, ordering that the enemy equipment be checked and that survivors be taken as prisoners.

“Khan Hazen would not have ordered us to take prisoners,” Star Colonel Yaroslav responded.

“Our orders from the Khan say nothing about the treatment of prisoners. Khan Hazen is not here. Until I am killed, I am in command, and my orders will be followed. Understood, quiaff?” Her tone left little in the way of misunderstanding.

“Aff,” Yaroslav responded flatly.

Stephanie grimaced—she knew of his leanings well before the operation. His black uniform and reputation mirrored Malvina Hazen’s. The shadow of the Mongol Doctrine was already showing its brutality on Coventry, which was something Stephanie hated. There is no honor in killing prisoners of war. We are better than that.

She studied the tactical display. The defense at the spaceport had been a token unit. House Steiner’s Leutnant-General Ross was still out there, with considerably more firepower at her disposal. We must move swiftly but cautiously. Memories of the last battle of Coventry tugged at her thoughts.

Her orders from Khan Hazen were clear on cer tain day-one objectives. It was now time to move off the spaceport and to go after those. She toggled her comms channel to the DropShips. “Attention DropShip Render, you may commence your run now. Star Captain Noonan Binetti, take the Beak Binary and execute the orders you have. Strike hard and fast, then return here to the spaceport.”

“Affirmative,” Star Captain Binetti replied. He was good, a trusted member of the Third Falcon Talon Cluster, still in low orbit. His mission was strategic in nature. His enthusiasm was electrifying, even over the commlink.

Stephanie switched back to the troops in the Port St. William Spaceport. “First Strikers, we are moving to the northwest through the city. I want a tight formation and good cross-covering fields of fire. Fourth Dragoons, you have spaceport security for now and are active reserves until the Third Talon Cluster lands.”

Cities were the bane of every true warrior. Narrow streets and tall buildings made for excellent ambush sites. She had chosen her path through the city carefully as a result…avoiding the obvious wide highways where ambushes might normally be staged.

They had gone only ten blocks before the first signs of resistance appeared. It was a pinprick at first: three squads of Albrecht-class hoverbike infantry striking at the rear of her command. They darted out, fired a salvo of short-range missiles, peppering several of her BattleMechs, then sped away. A Star of Elementals took off after them, but only as far as her defined defensive perimeter. It took restraint and stern orders from her to keep the more rabid Mongols in her ranks from pursuing. That is exactly what they want—for us to follow them to where the odds are even. Stephanie was unwilling to play the Lyrans’ game.

It wasn’t until the edge of the urban area that Leutnant-General Ross showed her hand. Hidden in an old scrapyard that concealed their reactor signatures, a full battalion of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards suddenly appeared, hitting the flank of her column. The rumble of autocannons and the flashes from particle projection cannons filled the air.

“This is Striker Prime, weapons free. Engage, but do not pursue more than two blocks,” she barked as she drifted her targeting reticule onto a gray-and-blue striped Marauder IIC. She locked onto the ram’s head logo of the Seventeenth Guards just below the cockpit and fired as the Lyran officer attempted to bring his arm-mounted PPCs to bear.

Her salvo of short-range missiles bore true to target, hitting the legs of the heavier BattleMech near the knee actuators. Armor plating caved in, and a few fragments flew off, crushing a nearby car.

Stephanie juked her ’Mech hard to the right in a sprint as the Lyran unleashed its trio of PPCs, their crackle drowning out the reloading cycle on her missiles. The air between the two combatants lit up white-blue as the charged particles flashed viciously at her. Lesser warriors would have flinched at the attack, but Stephanie maintained a stern concentration. Two of the energy weapons found their mark on her Jade Hawk, one savaging armor in her arm and the other in her left torso. Stephanie compensated for the loss of armor, maintaining her balance with ease.

She swung behind MechWarrior Schofield’s Mad Cat III, the Emerald Ghost, painted in wisps and streaks of fading green to make it look ghost-like. Schofield was heavily engaged with a Lyran Trebuchet, and hardly noticed her coming around behind him. It was, as she had planned, just enough time to reload her missile racks. As her prey emerged from behind the Mad Cat III, she unleashed another deadly salvo, again concentrating on the lower regions of the Lyran Marauder IIC.

The vast majority of her missiles slammed into the right leg of the hulking ’Mech, explosions devouring armor and myomer in orange and red bursts. The Marauder IIC fired all three of its PPCs again. One particle beam hit Emerald Ghost, and the other found her right leg. The third shot slammed a building two blocks away, no doubt doing considerable damage.

Stephanie leaned to the side of her cockpit and saw smoke rising from the damage that had cut into her green camouflage streak pattern. Her Jade Hawk’s wound still glowed angrily from the hit.

Schofield’s Mad Cat III twisted at the waist and fired a wave of long-range missiles into his new target. The missiles hit everywhere on the Marauder IIC, causing the pilot to reel from the impacts. The ’Mech teetered for a moment, then listed forward, coming down on one knee. Its right PPC gouged the ferrocrete road on impact with a sickening metallic grinding noise.

Chistu did not hesitate. She broke into a sprint right at the Marauder as its pilot struggled to stand. Her small lasers stabbed crimson beams into the ’Mech, mostly hitting the torso and extended knee, which had been her intended target.

At point-blank range, she pulled the right arm of her ’Mech back and swung it hard, aiming at the exposed and damaged knee of her attacker. Her Jade Hawk’s claws dug in hard and deep, ripping at the actuator controls and nearly severing the joint from the internal structure.

The Marauder pilot was either unaware of the severity of the damage or chose to ignore it. The Lyran ’Mech struggled against all odds to stand. The strain was too much for what was left of the knee actuator. It popped and hissed as it gave way, and the Marauder IIC collapsed.

She loathed having to make a physical attack…it was not the desired fighting style of a Jade Falcon, but neither was dying in battle. She rose just as Schofield downed the elusive Trebuchet some fifty meters distant, the Lyran ’Mech furrowing into the roadway and breaking a water main that showered it. That pilot also started to rise, refusing to give up the fight, despite the odds.

Stephanie’s eyes danced across her tactical display. Her command Cluster was winning, that was obvious, but there was no way to know how many other troops were still hiding in Port St. William. It didn’t matter, however—her orders were to flush and destroy every Lyran she could find, and that was exactly what she intended to do.

CROSS DIVIDE MOUNTAINS

COVENTRY

Star Captain Noonan Binetti debarked Beak Trinary from their DropShip in the steep foothills of the Cross Divide Mountains. The orders he’d been assigned were outlined by Khan Hazen herself, but their execution had been the precision work of Galaxy Commander Chistu. Having studied the history of the Jade Falcons defeat here several times in his career, he understood why they had been deployed so far away from the fighting now raging across the planet.

“Beak Trinary, this is Beak Prime. Slasher Star, take the two far entrances to the south of our position. Emerald Knight Star, take the three targets to the north. Beak Star, we get the middle. Plant the charges and set them off. Do not wait or ask for confirmation.” His reinforced Binary had combat engineers and equipment normally not attached to the formation.

A wave of “affs” followed on the comm channel as he rushed toward the mountain. The first cavern entrance was more like a crack in the rock face of a jutting formation of stones. From the air and most angles on the ground, it was almost invisible.

One of his infantry squads carefully scouted the cave entrance and signaled that there were supplies inside, munitions and other goods. They have prepared their little hidey-holes to wage war as they did the last time we invaded. So much the better.

Binetti ordered MechWarrior Awtry to deploy the explosive charge in the hands of his Griffon IIC. The device was a fuel-air explosive. As soon as it was laid, the Star fell back and Awtry trigged the blast. The explosion, combined with the secondary blasts from the munitions inside, collapsed the cavern. In the distance he heard another whomp of a similar blast as other caves were destroyed.

During the last battle for Coventry, the caves had been a refuge for the Spheroids to wage a guerrilla war against his Clan. This time, if all went as planned, that option would be denied them.

“All right then, onto the next target,” he commanded. “Move as if Khan Hazen herself were watching you!”

OVERLORD-C CLASS DROPSHIP ADMIRAL DIFRANCO

PORT ST. WILLIAM, COVENTRY

10 Hours Later…

Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu stood on the bridge and watched as the repair crews moved the mobile gantry over her Jade Hawk and replaced the damaged armor.

The fighting for Port St. William had finished two hours earlier. The Seventeenth Arcturan Guards RCT had fought with tenacity, far more than she had expected. Even now, the bulk of their forces were unaccounted for. Even those that struck at her had hit, then faded away.

According to the Watch, the unit’s reputation had been badly tarnished in the fighting on Tharkad. Their new commander had apparently put some spine back into them, only confirming what she thought of military intelligence. It was a good strategy, hit and run. In this case, it prolongs the inevitable.

A line of Jade Falcon BattleMechs appeared on the edge of the spaceport. She recognized the dull green of Star Captain Noonan Binetti’s Gyrfalcon leading them. He had followed her orders precisely, maintaining comm silence so as to not betray his isolated position to the Lyrans.

She grabbed a headset and held it to her ear. “This is Striker Prime. Beak Prime, sitrep.”

“Mission accomplished, Galaxy Commander. We encountered no enemy forces. They will not be using those caves against us this time.”

Stephanie allowed herself to smile. “Good work. You have honored your Clan. Please send me the battleROM footage of your mission. Then come in and get some rest. We have a busy week planned.”

She paused for a moment, contemplating the victory. She had learned that even the smallest of planets were big places, often filled with surprises during times of war. Her Delta Galaxy had scored on two fronts so far, but there were plenty of battles ahead.

The Star Captain’s battleROM footage came through a few moments later. The video was pristine, showing the soaring heights of the Cross Divide Mountains, unmistakable in their majesty. It also showed the fuel-air explosives going off, sucking the mountains down on top of the caves, one after another.

She looked at the communications controls and her grin broadened. Now is as good a time as any. Switching to an unencrypted channel, she broadcast in the clear, so that her enemy could hear. “Leutnant-General Ross of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards. This is your enemy, Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu of Clan Jade Falcon.”

There was almost a full minute of silence before she heard the crisp tone of the Lyran commanding officer. “This is General Ross. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Arrogant…confident…all the better. “We have taken Port St. William and destroyed your hiding holes in the Cross Divide Mountains. I thought you should know.”

“So I have heard,” Ross replied coolly.

“The old ways are of no use to you.” Stephanie then transmitted the battleROM footage to General Ross. Before Ross could respond, Stephanie killed the transmission at her end. Let her contemplate that…

4

MONOLITH-CLASS JUMPSHIP BROADHEAD

NADIR JUMP POINT VORZEL

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH 18 FEBRUARY 3148

From the bridge, General of the Armies Roderick Steiner watched as the last Fifteenth Arcturan Guards DropShip connected to its docking collar. He turned to the vessel’s captain. “Send word, we jump within the hour.”

Hauptmann-General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner strode over next to him and looked out the viewport down the spine of the JumpShip. “I hate asking, but any more word from Coventry?”

“No. The only thing we got was from the picket JumpShip we had in-system. I’ve had our intelligence staff enhance the images of the Jade Falcon ships.” He pulled out the large photos and handed them to Jasek.

“That’s enough DropShips to carry a Galaxy of Jade Falcons,” he said looking at the photos.

“More than that, I fear—at least an additional Cluster of troops.”

“Do you think General Ross can hold out until we get there?”

Roderick pondered the question carefully. “Francine is smart to the point of cunning. She knows that in a one-to-one fight, her forces are outnumbered, and most likely outmatched. The smart play is to drag this fight out, whittle away at the Jade Falcons, avoid a major confrontation that might cost the entire planet. If she plays this right, she can shoot and move long enough for us to arrive.”

General Kelswa-Steiner smiled and handed the images back. “I rather like the image of us being the cavalry, riding in to save the besieged settlers. It hearkens back to Terran mythology of the old west in America.”

Roderick understood the reference as well. “Assuming she can hold out with the Seventeenth Arcturans, our arrival really just evens the odds. If we can wreak enough havoc on the Falcons, we can kill their offensive. They will be forced to toss more troops at us or leave Coventry altogether.” Hopefully the latter.

“If Malvina Hazen is there, the citizens will be suffering.”

If Hazen is there, the citizens will be dying. “True enough. If she is there, we have a chance to take her out, and maybe put a permanent end to this slaughter-doctrine of hers. If she’s not, we still need to beat the commander of those forces.”

“From the DropShips, who are we up against?” Roderick pulled up a printout from an LIC report.

“The DropShips conform to Delta Galaxy—Hazen’s old command. According to our intel, it is commanded by Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu.”

“I take it since it is Hazen’s old roost, this Chistu is a hardliner.”

Roderick’s brow raised as his eyes went through the report. “We don’t have a lot on the Jade Falcon commanders, but LIC believes she is a more of an old-school traditionalist. She hasn’t been seen by our operatives wearing the black uniform associated with Hazen’s Mongol hordes.”

“That’s odd. You’d think Hazen would’ve sent one of her hardliners for such an attack. Especially since that is her old unit.”

Roderick put the report down. “There’s more going on in the Jade Falcon camp than we know. Hazen must have her reasons for sending this Chistu to the planet. One thing’s for sure, the fact that she doesn’t seem to be some city-burning witch might play to our advantage before this is over.”

“How’s that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Jasek. It’s just one of the million things we need to keep our eyes peeled for.”

The battle for Coventry was taking much longer than Galaxy Commander Chistu had hoped for. It did not surprise her—she had anticipated a staunch defense. The problem wasn’t that the battles were prolonged; it was that the House Steiner forces had been using hit-and-run tactics rather than engaging in a stand-up fight. She had anticipated this based on the last campaign. Key supply cities had been early on her target lists, and her Delta Galaxy had done a good job of hitting and taking those towns.

General Ross had not crumbled, but seemed to shift where she attacked from as a result. It made for a more fluid situation, the kind Stephanie relished. It was a game of falcon and mouse, one where she had more discretion and justification for deviating from Khan Hazen’s plans.

In her portable command dome, she studied a map of the region. Elements of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards had been spotted redeploying to the Ridesein River Valley. The valley was steep and wide, with rolling hills, and the Ridesein River was difficult to cross at this time of the year. This made the bridges more strategic as she planned on moving against them.

At the edge of the holographic map was another target—Whitting. That was where Hauptmann Caradoc Trevena had offered Khan Marthe Pryde hegira, ending the first attempt to wrestle the world almost a century earlier. Whitting had been where the Second Star League formed. Khan Hazen had plans for the town. It was to be razed to the ground, nothing left standing. Stephanie hated those orders, but there was no way around them. There were ways to soften them, however. Malvina would level the town with all of its inhabitants. I am not her. I will follow her orders to the letter, but I will do it my way.

Star Colonels Yaroslav and Jagger Thastus entered the command dome and stood at attention. She waved both of them over to the table. Jagger was one of her most trusted commanders, leading the First Falcon Striker Cluster when she was not in the field. Star Colonel Yaroslav was in command of Gamma Galaxy’s Ninth Falcon Talon. Donning the black jumpsuit of a Mongol supporter was not enough; he shaved his head bald, making him stand out even more. From what she heard, when he saw a gray hair, his solution was to remove all of his hair. Odd that he would not shave his goatee as well, since it has streaks of gray in it.

“Good morning,” she began in her best command tone. Both officers nodded to her. “The time has come for us to strike in multiple directions to hopefully overtax the defenders of this world. Reconnaissance has detected the Arcturan Guards shifting to the Ridesein River Valley. I am taking the majority of Delta in pursuit of them.”

“What of my warriors?” Yaroslav asked. “We did not come here to garrison spaceports.”

Neg. You came because you are loyal to Khan Hazen, and you were sent to spy on me. Of this I have no doubt. “If it is a battle you seek, you have come to the right place. I am deploying a reinforced Trinary from the First Falcon Striker and your Ninth Falcon Talon. Your mission is to move against Whitting, one of the prize targets.”

Jagger remained emotionless, but Yaroslav seemed excited at the mention of the town.

“Khan Hazen has specific orders for the town,” Stephanie continued. “It is to be razed. We are to record its destruction and transmit it to the defenders of this world to show it to them as a motivator for them to surrender.”

“I look forward to destroying this blight on our Clan’s reputation,” Yaroslav said.

“While we will follow the orders of our Khan, this will not be a senseless slaughter of civilians. Once you have dealt with the town’s defenders, give the civilians free passage to leave the town before it is destroyed.” Stephanie locked her gaze on Star Colonel Yaroslav. “Is that understood, quiaff?”

“Aff,” he said firmly.

“What do we know of the defenders, Galaxy Commander?” Jagger asked.

“The Coventry Planetary Militia and students from the Coventry Military Academy. I am anticipating a reinforced Trinary’s worth of troops, but only some are BattleMech equipped. We saw some academy BattleMechs in an earlier strike, and they are merely modified Chameleons, rigged for hot-firing. They have a number of tanks and hovercraft as well, and at least a pair of VTOLs. You should be more than a match for them.”

“We shall destroy them,” Yaroslav said. “Their academy forces are whelps at best, a freebirth sibko that is gloriously outmatched. Their deaths are the only hope they have for honor.”

“I want them defeated,” Chistu said. “It is not necessary or required to destroy them. If they offer surrender, you are to accept.”

Her words clearly soured the expression on Star Colonel Yaroslav’s face. His cheeks reddened with her words. “This is not what Khan Hazen would want.”

She is not here. “We are following her orders to the letter, Star Colonel. Where she did not provide clarity, I am exercising my discretion as the task force commander. We will accept prisoners. Whitting will be destroyed. Understood, quiaff?”

“Affirmative,” he said with less enthusiasm than displayed earlier. “When do we depart?”

“You will go in two hours. Overall command of this mission is going to Star Colonel Thastus. You and your warriors will report to him.”

Yaroslav glanced at Jagger. “I look forward for the opportunity to have the honor to be part of the destruction of Whitting. Thank you, Galaxy Commander.”

She nodded to him, and the Gamma Galaxy officer left the command post. Jagger Thastus remained.

Stephanie leaned in so that only he could hear her. “Watch that one, Jagger. His ideology is two steps in front of his common sense. Such men can prove to be a handful.”

“Not a problem, Commander. I will be on him like a shadow.”

OUTSKIRTS OF WHITTING COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

Nine Hours Later…

Twilight settled in, and the sky was a brilliant mix of orange and purple against the nearby mountains. Star Colonel Yaroslav saw from the leaves on the trees that the wind was picking up…perhaps a hint of a storm later in the night. As picturesque as the image was, his gaze settled on the town of Whitting in the distance.

Some of the Coventry Military Academy forces had retreated after the first clash with the forces of Star Colonel Thastus. Not so with the Coventry Planetary Militia. Armed with new ’Mechs from Coventry Metal Works, they were proving quite tenacious. They had sprung ambush after ambush, doggedly giving up terrain until they reached the outskirts of the town. Then they fell back, using the structures for cover, waiting. Joined by academy survivors, the Lyrans must have thought they could hold out better in the town.

To him, like most of the Clan, the town was an ugly scar in their history, and one he gladly looked forward to eradicating. It had been rebuilt since the last Falcon invasion. The structures looked new, and more numerous. Whitting…the scar…had grown. I am sure there are statues commemorating our defeat here, mocking our Clan.

Yaroslav shifted impatiently in his cockpit, chafing under Thastus’s command. Thastus was aggressive, but it was clear he not only served under Chistu, but was devoted to her. He had taken prisoners. Blitzking prisoners! These filthy bellycrawlers had been trying to kill us a few minutes earlier, now they ask for our mercy. Khan Hazen understands that honor should not be granted to such people. Warriors like Chistu and Thastus have no place in the future of the Jade Falcons.

“Your orders, Star Colonel?” Yaroslav asked, suppressing his contempt as much as possible.

“They are holed up in there fairly tight and night will be settling in soon,” Thastus replied. “We do not wish to give them too much opportunity to inflict casualties as we move against the town. I suggest that you swing around to the far side of town with your troops. We will move in from the east, along that small river that runs through the town rather than on the roads. You will hold there, making sure you have their full and undivided attention. They will feel the pinch of our vise.”

We will be out of sight from these Delta troops…perfect. “Aff,” was all Yaroslav said. He noted the wind direction. “We will be to the west-northwest of the town, right at the outskirts. They will not fail to know we are there.”

Yaroslav ordered his Command Star to fall in behind his Summoner as they began their wide flanking maneuver. Thanks to the hills and the buildings of the town, he left Thastus’s line of sight in a matter of minutes, but could follow the Delta forces on the tactical display. If Khan Hazen were here, this city would already be in ruins—its defenders dead. Clearly that was her intent in her orders.

The Delta Galaxy troops made it into the outskirts of the town on the shallow river, but then all hell broke loose. “Talon Prime, we are under attack, redeploying to the south,” came the voice of Star Colonel Thastus on the tactical channel. There was a rumble on the channel, then a hiss.

Another voice, Star Captain Myers of Delta, cut in over the static. “Striker Prime is down!”

Yaroslav’s tactical display showed that Thastus’s ’Mech was still operational, but it had taken substantial damage. Better yet, Thastus’s ’Mech was unmoving—indicating he was unconscious.

Perfect! This makes me the ranking officer in the field. “First Striker, this is Talon Prime, I am assuming temporary command. Concentrate your fire on the structures around the enemy and begin to fall back by Star. Ninth Talon, we will advance and fulfill the orders of our Khan. Open fire on the buildings. Emerald Talon Point, open fire with Inferno rounds—hit the structures, set them ablaze. Destroy everything.”

You wanted me to get their attention, and that is what I will do. Targeting a four-story structure before his Summoner, he fired his long-range missiles and his autocannon. The façade of the building was devastated. His Elementals had brought a handful of Inferno rounds for their shoulder-mounted missile racks—and they followed his orders perfectly, spraying several structures with the fire-producing explosives. His other ’Mechs opened fire as well, targeting other buildings. Within minutes, several structures were gutted and the flames roared in the wind, spreading from building to building, turning the town into a raging conflagration.

Yaroslav grinned broadly at the image against the setting sun in the distance—Whitting, being consumed. He fired his PPC into the carnage, aiming for buildings beyond the fires, devouring them with his beam of charged particles.

RIDESEIN RIVER VALLEY

COVENTRY

Fifteen Hours Later...

Stephanie Chistu looked at the footage while the two Star Colonels stood nearby. Her Jade Hawk towered over them at the makeshift field command post, its shadow looming over the trio.

Thastus had his arm in a sling and a bandage over the flash burn that had penetrated his cockpit and neurohelmet, searing his forehead. Yaroslav stood in his black jumpsuit, arms crossed, proud of what he had done. He had even handed her a charred banner of the Coventry Military Academy that he had recovered from the ruins. She clenched it in her hands; the smell of smoke rose from the cloth—a nagging reminder of what had happened in Whitting.

She stared at the images from several battleROMs. Jade Falcon ’Mechs firing into Whitting, the wall of orange and yellow flames whipped by the wind, making the fires leap from structure to structure. Several ’Mechs of the Coventry Planetary Militia tried to emerge, their weapons lowered and their reactors shunted to lower power levels, likely to surrender, but instead were fired on by Falcon warriors—her warriors. Elemental Stars had swarmed the last holdouts of the Coventry Military Academy, ripping their ’Mechs apart, then blasting the helpless MechWarriors in their cockpits. Civilians that somehow survived the fire came out of the smoke and carnage only to be fired on by her troops. One family was beset by a Gamma Galaxy Elemental and beaten to death.

She turned to the two officers, the full fury of her temper rising, which felt like the flames that consumed Whitting had seared her own face. “Star Colonel Yaroslav, how could you have misunderstood my orders? Civilians were to be given free passage before the town was destroyed. Those were my words, quiaff?”

“Aff,” he replied. “The situation became fluid once Star Colonel Thastus was dispatched. It became clear that we had to take pressure off Delta Galaxy. I ordered the Ninth Talon to create a…diversion of sorts. I believed that destroying the structures would achieve the goals Khan Hazen laid out, and would relieve the attack on our brothers and sisters.”

“You violated my explicit orders,” Chistu said through gritted teeth.

“I improvised in a situation that was spiraling out of control. And I adhered to the orders of our Khan. Whitting was to be razed. It has been done. I have erased that cancer from our history. Because of my actions, Whitting is no more.” Arrogance and pride rang in each word.

He believes himself safe because he followed Malvina’s orders. In the end, this will be his undoing. “You took no prisoners, let no civilians survive,” she spat at him, closing the distance between them. He was taller than her by thirty centimeters, but in that moment, they were locked eye-to-eye.

“In my opinion and experience, there was no way to be sure that the militia troops were ready to capitulate. Rather than risk precious Jade Falcon blood, I merely killed them,” he said in a cavalier tone.

This is the Mongol way. Short-sighted, horrible, brutal, and vicious. It does not reflect the best of our people, but the evil of man. Rage stiffened her whole body as she spoke, “Star Colonel, let me ask you this. Now that you have done this, slaughtered these people, what do you think will happen when a Jade Falcon becomes a Lyran prisoner?”

“No self-respecting warrior would allow themselves to be in such a situation,” he said flatly.

“Yet, it does happen,” she countered. “They will remember what you have done. They may kill their prisoners as a result. By defying my orders, you have doomed any of our forces that fall into their hands.”

Yaroslav was not swayed. “It will serve as further incentive for our troops to avoid capture. Besides, it is the way of the Clans. The weak, those that are captured, will die. We are a warrior-led people. Those that do not live up to our ideals, they are purged from our gene pool. It is the way of the Jade Falcon.”

“The warrior caste has always existed to protect the lower castes. That is the way of Nicholas Kerensky—not your way.”

The Star Colonel opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but she cut him off before he could say another word. “You have tainted me and my warriors with your actions. You will be allowed to retain your command only because I need every warrior we have. When this is over, we will settle this in a Circle of Equals. Do you understand what I am saying, Star Colonel, quiaff?”

“Aff,” he said with a scowl. Dismissed by a short jerk of Stephanie’s head, Yaroslav left, heading to where his troops were refitting after the fight.

“This is my fault,” Thastus said wearily. “I failed you, Galaxy Commander. I was knocked out for twenty minutes or so. By the time I came to, he had already set fire to the town.”

She put her hand out on his shoulder. “Neg. You have failed no one. You were temporarily taken out of the fight. There is no fault for doing your duty. It is my fault for sending Yaroslav in the first place. I knew his true loyalties, and knew he was a problem. I would have been better served using him for rearguard duty.”

“What do we do now?”

“I have orders to fulfill, now that Whitting has been destroyed. Our Khan left me little way to avoid what follows. Go see to your troops.”

As Thastus left her presence, she stuffed the burned academy banner into her jumpsuit.

Two Hours Later…

Stephanie Chistu had ordered her vid-tech to edit the battleROM footage of Whitting, removing the images of slaughter that Gamma Galaxy had perpetrated. It was still a horrible thing to watch: troops firing at building after building, each one burning or exploding, going from structure to charred rubble in a matter of minutes. Still, she had removed the footage of civilians being killed and troops being shot rather than taken prisoner. When she was as satisfied as she could be at the footage, she broadcast the video images in the clear. She eyed the orders she had printed from Khan Hazen. A little editing is needed here as well.

“Defenders of Coventry, I send you this footage of Whitting. I have been ordered by Khan Malvina Hazen to tell you these simple words. ‘When the new Star League is born, it will be with Clan Jade Falcon as the ilClan.’”

She ended the transmission and shut the unit off. Malvina had ordered only the last line to be broadcast, but Stephanie had given herself some discretion to add the first two sentences. The enemy needs to know that what happened there was at Malvina’s bidding, not mine.

5

COVENTRY METAL WORKS

COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

7 MARCH 3148

General Roderick Steiner watched as his command battalion of the Lyran Second Royal Guards rushed the outskirts of the Coventry Metal Works industrial complex in a tidal wave of metal, myomer, and pent-up aggression. They had landed two days ago from a pirate jump point, only to learn that the factory had fallen to the Jade Falcons a day earlier. They had to act fast, or risk the defenders of Coventry falling before Roderick’s troops could make planetfall.

There were few signs of previous fighting—from what he’d gathered from General Ross, the ’Mech works had been defended by all that remained of the Coventry Military Academy’s cadet cadre. Their school had been destroyed, leveled by the Falcons and, from what Ross had told him, the Jade Falcons had slaughtered civilians and soldiers alike in Whitting. This is Malvina Hazen’s handiwork. Her “doctrine” is little more than terror and the destruction of anyone she sees as inferior to her…and she holds herself in very high regard.

The cadets had struck out from the complex rather than use the structures for cover. They had held the Jade Falcons at bay for hours before being overwhelmed. Several had managed to flee from the field of battle. The entire senior class refused to yield or surrender. It was either sheer bravery or pure fear of what would happen to them as prisoners.

Their deaths had left the plant almost defenseless. Most of the workers that could pilot tanks or ’Mechs had taken what was on the production line and escaped to form up with Ross’s remnant of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards. Not trained for battle, the cadre was still warmly welcomed into the ranks of what remained of the Seventeenth. The factory fell unceremoniously to the Jade Falcons.

Francine Ross was proving herself a top-notch Lyran general. Her troops had used the factory to keep their ’Mechs and tanks operational as best they could. Cut off from those supplies, she was in a world of hurt, suffering more than 67 percent casualties. A lesser commander would have conceded, but she fought on. Much of it was by staying mobile and keeping her force split into three distinct commands. She attacked, bled the enemy, then got out before the Jade Falcons could bring the full fury of their Delta and Gamma Galaxy troops against her. It was a gutsy strategy that wreaked havoc on the enemy—and her own troops and equipment.

The Lyrans had come with one intent—to take back the factory complex. The Jade Falcon Trinary that held the production grounds had let Roderick’s Royal Guards get close before unleashing a maelstrom of firepower on them. His “scout” lance, three Atlases and a BattleMaster, had been bathed in fire that would have consumed lighter ’Mechs. They had managed to skirt around the Falcons and had gotten to cover at the west end of the vast complex of buildings, but had paid a price in ferreting out the defenders.

The rest of the Royals hit from the south, while General Kelswa-Steiner and two companies hit from the flank to the east. Roderick joined his advancing battalion, going in with them despite urgings of caution from his junior officers.

As he advanced, his modified Rifleman IIC, a captured Clan ’Mech, was suddenly hit with a Gauss-rifle slug, nearly toppling him mid-stride. The impact tossed him forward in his command couch as the ’Mech rocked backward, and he struggled to keep it upright. The damage from the impact was considerable. From his cockpit he saw a twisted piece of armor of his right torso peeled upward and back from the impact.

The attacker, a Vulture in prime configuration, mounting four deadly pulse lasers and massive long-range missile racks, slid behind a building before Roderick could get a target lock on it. He spotted an emerald-green Jupiter firing off to the east, directing fire at Jasek’s force. We have to dislodge them from their cover, or this will get messy quickly.

His targeting-and-tracking system beeped a warning as a strike tank emerged from behind a warehouse. His battlecomputer struggled to identify it, finally coming up with an Enyo. A Hell’s Horses tank—no doubt a Jade Falcon spoil of war. He swung his arm-mounted lasers to bear as the Enyo unleashed its large pulse laser, filling the air with brilliant green bursts of death.

The laser caught his ’Mech in the left thigh and stitched a series of burns up into his left torso. Roderick stopped his gait and leveled a perfectly aimed shot from his Rifleman IIC, sending a dual barrage of large pulse laser fire right into the tank’s turret. The bursts of green energy scored across the turret, leaving smoking holes in their wake. The Jade Falcon tank responded with a wave of Streak SRMs as the driver attempted to reposition the tank after his assault.

Roderick kept his lock on the Enyo, juking his Rifleman IIC hard left to get a better angle as the Enyo tried to evade him. The Vulture emerged from hiding, unleashing emerald lasers into his left shoulder and burning off a large piece of armor in the process.

Damn these green bastards! A wave of long-range missiles from the shoulder rack of the Jade Falcon OmniMech concentrated on the right side of his Rifleman, pockmarking the armor with each hit. The rumble of their explosions was drowned out with the damage warning tone in his neurohelmet.

Roderick swung his damaged arm around and fired two of his pulse lasers. They scorched a nasty pair of scars across the front of the Vulture, enough to force it back around the corner of a building.

Then the Enyo reappeared, letting loose with its large pulse laser and a wave of eighteen short-range missiles. The laser caught him low on the left leg, burning holes in a tight pattern—a testimony to the skill of the Jade Falcon gunner. The Streak missiles found their marks everywhere—including one that exploded just over his head on the cockpit canopy, causing a thin spiderweb of cracks in the ferroglass.

I can’t play tag between these two. The Vulture was the more dangerous threat, and had to be dealt with quickly. Roderick swung around toward the rear of the structure where the Vulture had been hiding. His targeting system locked onto the enemy ’Mech’s fusion reactor, as he knew his opponent was doing. It was not going to be a surprise attack, but that was never his intention. Jerking his command yoke hard, he slowed while approaching the building, arcing his run and bringing his pulse lasers to a fully charged mode.

Rounding the corner, Roderick saw the Vulture at nearly point-blank range, the air around him filled with its pulse laser flashes. One missed him entirely, hitting the building and sending bits of masonry ricocheting off his cockpit canopy. The other found him dead center, boring into his left torso, one pulse following the other, punching deep.

Roderick heard tone and pressed the thumb trigger on his large lasers in the same heartbeat. The quartet of large pulse lasers hit the Vulture in its left hip. All four shots concentrated their emerald fury in that one location, blackening the light-green-streaked armor and doing so much damage that the ’Mech staggered to the side, then fell into the building.

For a fleeting moment, Roderick felt like cheering. That abated when the Vulture caved in part of the wall and unleashed forty missiles into him as it went down.

The ’Mech’s leg little more than a smoking and twisted piece of metal lying in a collapsed building, the Clan warrior relied on a cocktail of luck and training when firing. Beeping from Roderick’s damage indicator and the multiple explosions across his canopy made him reel backward. The dense cloud of smoke from the missiles obscured his view of the Vulture. He strained with the foot pedals to keep his Rifleman upright, narrowly winning that battle. As he regained his balance, he fought the torrent of heat in his cockpit—the result of losing several heat sinks. As he focused, he could make out the outline of the Vulture as it somehow managed to rise on its one good leg, straining to get its weapons in line for another attack.

The pulse lasers…oh, no you don’t. Putting distance between them might allow a barrage from those deadly pulse lasers that he could ill afford. The tactician in his brain took over from the strategist, processing the decision in a millisecond. The option was open to fall back and swing around the building for cover, recover, and cool down. That Falcon has to be near the end. It’s up on one leg and hotter than hell. Instead he broke into a full charge, sprinting right at the damaged OmniMech.

To the credit of the Falcon warrior, they jerked aside to try dodging the approaching Rifleman, hop-turning it more into a glancing blow. Armor ripped from both ’Mechs as they ground against each other, with Roderick passing his intended target. He ignored the insistent warnings of damage to his own ’Mech; all that mattered was the status of his foe.

He almost lost his balance again, fighting against momentum, gravity, and the imbalance of his damaged Rifleman. Spinning around, Roderick saw the Vulture and the damage he’d inflicted on it. The ’Mech had fallen from the impact—no surprise there, given its one good leg. Deep rents ran across the jutted-out portion of the center torso, sparks flying from one hole in particular. The hip joint he’d savaged sparked as well. One of the missile racks was so badly mangled there was no way that it could fire. He started lining up his lasers when another salvo of long-range missiles filled the air between them.

Roderick twisted at the waist, as if that might shield him. Half of the barrage plowed into a nearby building and blew in the masonry wall. The missiles that did hit him rattled his Rifleman hard, splattering bits of armor against the nearby buildings and ricocheting them back against his ’Mech.

Smoke and dust filled the air and as his targeting system sought out his enemy. Roderick tuned out the tactical channel chatter buzzing in his ears and swept his reticle onto the Vulture as the Jade Falcon warrior struggled to rise on one leg. As his thumb moved to the firing stud on the joystick, a pair of his own ’Mechs, a battered Commando and a light-blue Scourge, charged right into his line of sight only forty meters away, effectively blocking his shot. They had been pursuing another target farther down in the complex, and had rushed forward, not realizing their imminent peril.

Roderick sidestepped his ’Mech, but saw through the smoke that the Vulture pilot was gone. Frustrated, he hit his commlink. “This is Royal Actual. Burguess, Alsager, you nearly got shot running into my field of fire! Watch those firing angles and lanes, people.”

He was also frustrated by the denied shot…it meant that the Vulture might still be a threat. He’s smart, this Falcon. He knows if I emerge he’ll get another shot with those pulse lasers, and if he does, it might just take me down.

His targeting system beeped a warning behind him. The Enyo! He pivoted in place, angling his lasers for a barrage. The pesky tank had used the fight to reposition and was angling for a kill shot. He saw it poking around a building corner, creeping out some eighty meters away. His own targeting reticle danced on the display as he tried to line up the shot.

Without warning, a Templar rounded the corner behind the Falcon tank and hit it with a wave of crimson beams and green pulses of laser light. The tank’s large pulse laser fired a wild shot at Roderick, narrowly missing his right leg and hitting the building next to him with a resounding whomp that threw dust and debris into his field of vision.

He fired a large pulse laser as the Templar drove a devastating kick into the Enyo’s rear. His own weapon hit the chassis below the turret, burning a deep, smoking hole into the armor. But the Templar did even more damage. Its kick penetrated the engine compartment. The ripples of heat that rose from the damaged engine blurred the gray, blue, and white streaks of the Templar’s camouflage paint.

The Jade Falcon vehicle was pinned. Moving forward brought it face-to-face with Roderick, and it couldn’t back up because of the Templar. Realizing this, Roderick began to advance, his ’Mech fighting him with the heat buildup, lumbering toward the tank and jerking his Rifleman next to the structure that the Vulture had damaged, using it for immediate cover.

In true Clan tradition, the Enyo tried to blast its way out, firing its turret’s pulse laser and another rack of Streak missiles at Roderick as he passed. The laser missed, blasting a building and immediately setting something on fire within.

All six of the missiles hit his right side, blasting new holes in what armor still remained there. As soon as he got behind the cover of the wall, Roderick skidded to a halt and doubled back. I can’t let that Templar have all of the fun.

He let the noise of his subordinates barking orders fade into the background. Roderick saw a blur of Lyran ’Mechs rush past him, farther into the complex. He ignored them for the moment—shifting from General of the Armies to a MechWarrior. All that mattered now was the kill.

As he poked his right arm and cockpit around the corner, he saw the death of the Enyo. The Templar lifted its massive leg and drove it down hard into the rear of the tank again. The engine flared as it exploded, a ripple of heat and flames roaring up as the tank died. Flames and fury blew the hatches off as the Enyo’s internal space became an instant blast furnace—incinerating the driver and gunner.

The Templar pulled its foot out of the flaming debris that had been the Jade Falcon tank and stood to face Roderick, its foot still glowing and blackened from the killing blow. Roderick’s targeting system locked onto the transponder and gave him the MechWarrior’s name—Jasek Kelswa-Steiner.

“I appreciate the assist, Jasek,” Roderick broadcast as he checked to make sure no other Jade Falcons were in immediate range.

“Is that what you call it, an ‘assist’?” Jasek replied, his grin evident in his voice. “From where I was standing, I thought I saved your life.”

Roderick smiled at the light jab. “Sitrep,” he replied.

“Changing the subject,” Jasek said in a cocky tone. “Very well. We’ve secured this end of the plant complex. I am showing the Jade Falcons falling back, slow but sure. The problem is that they’re trashing the buildings and equipment as they go.”

Roderick turned and saw pillars of smoke rising in the distance to the north. It was both good and bad news. Good that the Falcons were falling back, bad they were ruining the Coventry Metal Works plant in the process. This is that blasted Mongol Doctrine at work. In the old days, the Clans would have left this place as they found it.

He adjusted his tactical display to give him a view at a more strategic scale. The Jade Falcons had lost some ’Mechs and armor, that was for sure—but so had the Lyrans. We can’t afford to trade them ’Mech for ’Mech in this game. “We need to secure what we can of the plant.”

“My Fifteenth Arcturans are still in relatively good order—though we ran into a swarm of damned Elementals that left one of my companies out of action—and you have plenty of troops in your Royals. We should pursue them. Let me run them down, take them out.”

Roderick understood the desire—it was the same one he was keeping in check at that moment. “Our goal is to take back the plant—and we need to finish that up. I’d love to go after this Stephanie Chistu, but right now we need to be careful. Those Falcons are heading north because that’s where she has the rest of her force. We’ll win Coventry—not in one big battle, but by winning a lot of little ones. Today, we won.”

“Yeah,” Jasek replied. “I just hate the thought of the Jade Falcons slipping through our fingers like this.”

“They didn’t. We bled them good. If nothing else, this will force Chistu to rethink her strategy. Besides, the second part of our plan was to get to General Ross and her Seventeenth before Chistu finishes them off. We need to stick to the plan.”

“Understood,” General Kelswa-Steiner replied, a hint of dejection in his voice.

“Let’s wrap up here and go save General Ross. That’s what the cavalry does, ride in and save the day, remember?” Roderick added as he prepared to issue orders to the rest of the Lyrans in the Metal Works.

SEVENTEENTH ARCTURAN GUARDS FIELD HQ

LOWER RIDESEIN RIVER VALLEY

Eleven hours later…

Roderick Steiner walked away from his Rifleman IIC after a quick glance at the damage the tough ’Mech had taken.

The Jade Falcons had not given up the factory complex without a brutal fight. A brilliant green-and-white-striped Ryoken had crashed through a factory building and had come up behind him near the end of combat, riddling his rear and left-side armor. The stubborn foe had cost him one of his large pulse lasers. He looked at the sagging weapon, its barrel badly melted, seared wires hanging from its actuator joint. Repairable—but it would take time.

Just how much time do we actually have?

General Kelswa-Steiner’s force had struggled to dig out a Binary of Falcons in a smelting facility. The large equipment and tight quarters had made the battles there unfold suddenly, and at point-blank range. Jasek’s ’Mech had gone down three times, but each time he got back up and pounded back at the Falcons. What remained of the building was more rubble than factory when he was done, but the job had been completed.

Roderick’s joints ached as he walked to the portable command dome. The sentries snapped to attention, and he gave them a quick salute as he entered. Inside, Jasek stood next to another general, still wearing her coolant vest. She turned and went to attention.

“General Ross, I presume?” Roderick said, nodding for her to relax.

“General Steiner,” she replied in a raspy voice. “I hadn’t expected the General of the Armies coming here to save my ass. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just an unexpected surprise.”

“I don’t ask my people to do anything I’m unprepared to do myself,” he said wearily. “So, how are your Guards holding together?”

“By the skin of our teeth,” Ross replied. “I have two functional companies at this point, and a semi-operational company made up of tanks that are more spare parts than original. We’ve done well just to keep our equipment up and running, but I can’t replace lost MechWarriors or trained tank crews.”

Roderick nodded. “My Second Royals are down by a few companies, but everyone has taken some damage. We were hoping to salvage armor and weapons from the factory, but the Falcons went out of their way to destroy the facilities as we moved in. I think we can get most of our losses at least back on their feet soon.”

Jasek added, “The Fifteenth is down by over a third as well. It was rough going in that factory.” He extended his hand to Ross. “Apologies—General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner.”

She offered the thinnest of smiles as she shook his hand. “I am well aware. Your reputation made planetfall three days before you did.”

“General Ross, any signs of Malvina Hazen here?” Roderick said, locking his eyes with hers and ignoring as best he could the wrinkles on her face and the bags under her eyes. “If not, who are we up against?”

“The Butcher of Wotan isn’t here,” she said, using one of Malvina’s nicknames. “Not yet anyway. Gentlemen, we are up against Stephanie Chistu of Delta Galaxy, along with a Cluster from Gamma. She’s the field commander here.”

Roderick stepped up to the portable holographic display and keyed in Chistu’s name for the intelligence data on his enemy. It appeared in the space over the table along with a recent LIC photo of her from Upano. She was short and stocky, and wore her hair short. He looked over the intelligence assessment, reading the highlights aloud. “Intel says she’s a tough nut to crack. She took over Delta Galaxy from Malvina herself. LIC believes Hazen took her more fanatical troops out of that Galaxy and seeded them into the other units to spread her ‘Mongol Doctrine.’ I’m not sure if we can use that against her or not.”

He scanned the data. “Says here that in her Bloodname Trial, Stephanie Chistu took on a ’Mech that outmassed her by twenty tons. She had loaded her ’Mech with Inferno missiles. She plastered that poor bastard, some Star Colonel, lit him up. He could barely move, let alone shoot. Then she hit him in a way he never expected—punching and kicking his ’Mech into scrap.”

“I thought the Clans didn’t like physical attacks—that they saw them as less than honorable?” Francine asked.

“Most do. No one expected her to do it. She pilots a Jade Hawk fitted with close-fighting claws. It says a lot about her style of combat and tactics. Her strategies tend to be unorthodox to your average Jade Falcon.” Roderick replied.

“Look at her uniform,” Jasek said, pointing to the LIC image. “It isn’t black like the rest of the Mongol dogs.”

“According to the intel report, she’s more of an old-school Clan traditionalist in terms of political thinking,” Roderick confirmed.

General Ross weighed in, pulling up some holovid footage of the flattened and still-burning town of Whitting. “I’m not so sure of that. This is—was—Whitting. Her troops did this—killed thousands of innocent people and erased that town from the map.”

Roderick scanned the images, the burned human bodies still smoking. He closed the video down and returned to the intelligence report on the holodisplay. “Which troops, specifically, did that to Whitting?”

“Mostly the Gamma Galaxy troops that came with her,” Ross replied.

“LIC reports that Gamma is more hardline than Delta when it comes to Hazen’s religion,” he read from the report.

“That doesn’t hold water with me,” Ross replied angrily. “They were troops under her command—she’s responsible for their actions.”

“Agreed,” Roderick said. “All I am implying is that she may not have issued the orders.”

“Does it matter?” Jasek asked.

“It might,” Roderick pondered out loud. “It makes you wonder what is going on over in the Jade Falcon camp. But at least we know who we are up against.”

“I want a crack at her,” Jasek said, his tone grim. “Personally.”

“Me too,” Roderick said.

“No offense, generals, but there’s a line, and I’m way in front of you both,” Ross said.

“Let’s not get too wrapped up in vendettas. What they did to Whitting, they did because Coventry is a black mark on their history. A nasty scar. I’m sure the other Clans blame them for the Second Star League as a result. Even if Malvina Hazen isn’t here, her doctrine certainly is. They erased Whitting from the map as a result of a defeat a century ago. She doesn’t want any reminders of past failures.” It is strange that these Jade Falcons fear their own history enough to attempt to utterly destroy it.

“Well, we finally have the numbers here to turn the tide on this Stephanie Chistu,” General Ross said with a sigh of relief.

Roderick nodded. “Defeating the Falcons on Coventry again will damage them far beyond this planet. It will hurt their morale everywhere they stand. It will be something that every Jade Falcon will have to endure.”

“Or,” Jasek added, “It will compel them to throw more troops at us here.” It was a dose of reality, one Roderick had hoped wouldn’t be mentioned. One thing about Jasek, he says what he thinks—both good and bad. With the HPG blackout, it may take them longer to call for reinforcements, and if they do, it will severely damage their honor.

Roderick stiffened his stance, rising to his full height. “Good. If they throw more troops at us, they will not be landing those same troops on other Lyran worlds. Let this place be their Stalingrad.”

“Keep in mind that a lot of defenders died in Stalingrad,” Jasek replied with a wry grin.

“You and I are just two in a long line of Steiners. It is our lot to fight and possibly die for our people. But I have no intention of dying here, not yet, and neither should you. We need to organize ourselves and deliver a crippling blow to Stephanie Chistu.”

Ross smiled. “Let me show you the Dales. It’s not far from Lietnerton, where the green bastards seem to be concentrating. We get them in there, we might be able to give you that crippling blow, sir.”

The holographic map came to life, and Roderick began drinking in every detail Francine Ross could provide him.

6

THE DALES

COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

11 MARCH 3148

The city of Lietnerton had changed hands three times in two days, and the prospect of it happening again was not something Stephanie Chistu wanted to contemplate. She had evacuated the civilians at the start of the fighting, but the damage to the city, especially its industrial sector, was staggering. The struggle for Lietnerton proved challenging, with little to yield as a result.

That was why she had deployed Delta Galaxy to outskirts of the Dales, where her enemy had been striking from. I had my hands around the throats of the Seventeenth Arcturan Guards just a few days ago…now Coventry’s fate hangs on every missile barrage.

She stopped her Jade Hawk in a low dip in the wooded foothills of the Dales and took a long drink. Days of fighting meant battling dehydration as much as the enemy. Her perpetually damp shirt reeked with sweat, and the dry spots were caked with her own filth. She didn’t smell her own body odor any more, but those of her fellow warriors was, at times, stomach churning. Even a lifetime of being a Jade Falcon warrior did not mask the stench of others.

She and Malvina Hazen both had anticipated reinforcements landing on Coventry. This planet was almost as important to the Commonwealth as it was to Clan Jade Falcon in terms of history and what it represented. What neither of them had anticipated was two regimental combat teams: one led by Jasek Kelswa-Steiner, hero of the Stormhammers; the other led by none other than General of the Armies Roderick Steiner. One might think the Lyran Commonwealth does not want us to take this world. Their arrival could even be considered as something of a compliment. House Steiner sends two of its best to face me. That will bother Khan Hazen when she finds out. The Lyrans have never sent such high-ranking officers after her.

Stephanie had avoided rushing into the Dales for a number of reasons. First, she suspected a trap. The Dales were wooded, rolling hills, some of which twisted and snaked for kilometers. Lowland creeks and bogs in some areas impeded mobility, which would prevent her from using her preferred tactics. The trees were some form of cedar, and from what she had seen, quite flammable. The area provided a defender with the perfect masking of their movements. The fact that the Lyrans struck at Lietnerton, took it, and then retreated to the Dales pointed to a potential ambush…one she could ill afford to stumble into.

I let myself become anchored to Lietnerton, and that was a mistake. It is time to cut that cord. No matter how much my “beloved” Khan wants that town leveled, it is more important to win this battle first. There is no honor in merely blowing up a city, killing innocents and combatants in the process. Warriors, even those using the city for cover, are worthy of killing in battle—not in wanton mass destruction.

Second, if it wasn’t a trap, it meant leaving very little force in the city, making it ripe for the taking. Stephanie had already kept her forces and supplies mobile because of the seesaw battles. I cannot afford to put my rear areas at risk.

So she had devised a solution: abandon Lietnerton altogether. Strategically, the city offered her little other than the fact that Malvina Hazen wanted it razed. Chistu moved her supply base to Port St. William Spaceport, where her DropShips and aerospace fighters could provide adequate protection for her rear area. Star Colonel Yaroslav had protested, claiming she was disobeying orders, as she still had not completely destroyed Lietnerton per the direction of Khan Hazen. The Gamma officer’s desire to wreak wanton destruction was growing more annoying with each passing day.

Since his actions at Whitting, Stephanie had kept him on a tight leash. She “reminded” him that she was more than aware of the Khan’s orders. There will be plenty of time for me to deal with him incessantly challenging my orders before this campaign is done. It was the only thing about Coventry she found herself looking forward to.

The other issue she juggled was staying on the offensive and maintaining the state of her combat force, something Yaroslav seemed to ignore. The battles for Coventry had cost her quite a bit of equipment so far. Spare parts, creative salvaging, and downright ingenuity had allowed her to keep her force near full operational strength. However, it was impossible to replace dead warriors or those injured so badly they could not pilot a ’Mech. As such, she had more ’Mechs than MechWarriors—and was still down 28 percent as a result. True Jade Falcons know that often logistics and technicians determine victories in campaigns, not cunning strategies.

My enemies are also injured, but they still outnumber us. The Seventeenth Arcturan Guards existed more on paper than in reality. While she had mauled Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s Fifteenth Arcturan Guards, they were still operational. The Second Royals had lost two or three companies of ’Mechs and armor, but Roderick Steiner kept the rest in the field, constantly nipping at her right flank, then fading back into the Dales to lure her there.

The odds fall in their favor, not mine. That meant she had to avoid mistakes because it could tip not only a battle, but the fate of Coventry itself. I have no desire to be the person that lost this accursed planet a second time in the name of the Jade Falcons. She eyed the Dales in the distance and wondered what surprises the Steiners had planned for her there. Her aerospace recon flights had found the Second Royals and Ross’s Arcturan Guards, but there was no hint of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s forces. That made her even more suspicious.

Star Colonel Jagger Thastus marched his temporary replacement ’Mech, a Hellbringer, next to hers. Thastus was a dogged fighter. His arm fracture had not fully mended yet, so he took shots of painkillers—right through the cast—to stay in the battle. Oddly enough, his ’Mech bore a similar injury—its right arm was a dull primer-gray replacement for the one blown off in an earlier battle.

“Galaxy Commander,” he said calmly. “You look to the hills. Are we going to move on the Dales, quiaff?”

“Affirmative,” she replied.

“It is a trap, you know that.”

“I do. The Lyrans will assume we are going to leave a force to hold the city. We are not. We are going all in. They will not have contemplated that. Their assumption that we need to hold Lietnerton will unbalance them. You know my philosophy about traps and ambushes.”

“Aff, I do,” his voice came back. “You prefer to go into them—and through them.”

She grinned in response. That is because I am a true Jade Falcon.

Stephanie Chistu studied the lines of retreat from the last three times she had driven the Lyrans into the Dales. They were from diverging areas, but the paths of their withdrawals seemed to converge at a point some twenty-four kilometers in. We never took that bait before, but now we shall surprise them and come at them from a direction they will not anticipate. Moving along the Parish Highway some fifty kilometers east, then cutting north, she could arrive where she thought the Lyrans were, but catch them on their flank.

There was a temptation to send in aerospace elements to provide aerial reconnaissance, but doing so would tip off her enemies the moment they were spotted. I need complete surprise to hit them hard where they will not expect it.

She barked orders to her subordinates, who understood her thinking and complied. As usual, only Star Colonel Yaroslav pushed back. He demanded that if she was sure where the Lyrans were, they should go straight there. When warned of the clear risk of ambush, he shrugged it off.

“True Jade Falcons do not fear engaging the enemy. We should head right at them, destroy them, crush their support staff, and put an end to these hit-and-run attacks.”

Strong words—yet no call for a Circle of Equals against my orders…such is the fury of the Mongol Doctrine outside Malvina’s direct influence. Yaroslav accepted his orders and complied, albeit begrudgingly. It took the better part of a day to prepare—but once Stephanie began moving her force, they traveled with a swiftness that would have pleased even the most seasoned Falcon warrior.

The Parish Highway ran along the south edge of the Dales, curving with the contours of the foothills. A low drizzle began to fall and the skies turned gray. Chistu knew the rain would turn the sod in the Dales into a potentially slippery mess. A running BattleMech tore up ground with ease, even more so when it is wet. Her plan was to use the highway to extend and swing around, enabling a flank attack on her would-be ambushers.

When she reached the first waypoint, where her force would leave the highway on their flanking march, she stopped. There had been no sign of the Lyrans. Lietnerton was empty—but they had no way of knowing that unless they had sneaked scouts into the city. Even if they had, they would have no idea where her warriors were going, or what her intentions were.

Stephanie toggled her broadcast to the Falcons’ secure tactical channel. “All right, from here, we move in standard wide-w formation. When we encounter the Lyrans, the flank positions will move wide, give us a good interlocking field of fire. These Spheroids love their artillery—and they are bound to have some hidden nearby. I’ll bring in our CAP to seek and destroy these dishonorable weapons, but if you pinpoint the origin of incoming fire, engage and destroy at your discretion.

“I mean this to be the last fight with these blitzking surats. They have fought with honor thus far, but far too many of our warriors have paid a price for the respect we have shown them. Fight well, but I do not wish this to be a bloodbath. Any surrender will be met with acceptance. I know some of you feel differently, but I am in command here, and my orders stand.” The last bit was leveled at Yaroslav and the others who harbored Khan Hazen’s Mongol thinking. “Understood, quiaff?”

“The channel lit up with multiple “Affs!” in response.

“Then let us bring Coventry into our nest.” She set off from the highway and into the Dales as her Jade Falcons fell into good order, making an almost perfect wide-w formation. They moved out to the next waypoint, thirty-two kilometers to the north. Galaxy Commander Chistu ordered her troops to wheel to the left. If my calculations are correct, we should land on their flank shortly.

As they advanced, the far left of her Galaxy suddenly opened fire. Her targeting-and-tracking system lit up with targets, fed by their tactical feeds. JES II Strategic Missile Carriers. We’ve stumbled into their artillery reserve, no doubt.

The air to her left flashed with explosions that flared brilliantly against the gray skies and slow rain. The reports made the ground quake slightly. One of her OmniMechs, a Fire Moth piloted by MechWarrior Lafreniere of the Buhallin bloodline, was taken down almost instantly as she crested the hill that had concealed the tanks, a wave of missiles seeming to home in on her center torso. Her fusion reactor erupted as the light ’Mech became tiny bits of shrapnel and a huge fireball rising in the air. Radioactive flames consumed her cockpit instantly, giving no chance to eject. The smoking remains of her ejection seat crashed to the ground some thirty meters from her position, no parachute, just burning debris.

Seyla, Lafreniere. Stephanie angled her Jade Hawk toward the blast as a number of her ’Mechs reached the hilltops and poured fire down the other side. As she reached the top of the hill, Star Captain Bressel Helmer’s Warhawk, who had moved alongside her, was bathed in two-dozen long-range missile hits, most ripping into his patched upper torso armor and blowing bits back down the hill. Looking down, she saw one of the JES launchers already ablaze, the flames illuminating the others that were backing away from the swarming Jade Falcons.

She found one JES that no one had claimed as a target and brought her reticle onto the boxy missile racks that dominated the vehicle. Her short-range missiles twisted in the air and tore open one of the racks. The reloading LRMs spilled out, falling into a deadly pile near the vehicle.

The driver tried to adjust his retreat to dodge her, but her short-range lasers scored several searing hits, the emerald beams slashing the frontal armor with deep glowing furrows. Stephanie advanced as the carriers unleashed wave after wave of short- and long-range missiles. They filled the air like swarms of angry and deadly hornets. She heard the blasts and felt her ’Mech rock under the impact of at least six missiles across her right side. It did not shake her determination or her gait. That JES is mine.

The moment her targeting system indicated she had reloaded, she fired another deadly volley of short-range missiles. Eight tore into the carrier’s left tread, blowing off a bogie and sending it bouncing down the hill towards the burning JES. The track was little more than shattered bits of metal now, and its loss made the JES suddenly jerk around, exposing its flank. One flight of LRMs roared toward her but missed widely, slamming into Bressel Helmer’s Warhawk and the hillside.

Her Jade Hawk closed the distance even more, and she fired at the vulnerable flank with her extended-range small lasers. The searing crimson beams furrowed the thinner armor of the now stationary target. Rather than leaving scars, they seared deep holes into the missile tank. There was a low rumble, then the JES exploded. A moment later, another one some eighty meters away went up in an orange fireball.

A squad of Lyran infantry appeared from concealment, unleashing a volley of shoulder-launched short-range missiles at Tholburn Pryde’s Viper. The missiles hit in an uneven cascade and against the gray rain clouds, and the Viper lit up with flames. Inferno rounds! Tholburn fell back to deal with the flames from the flammable-gel-filled missiles as one of the Gamma Galaxy ’Mechs unleashed a salvo of SRMs into the retreating infantry. The explosions tossed Lyran body parts into the air. It was far from fair. That unit was brave to take on an approaching ’Mech force in such a manner. Killing such troops is a waste.

The firefight was over a few heartbeats later; the shattered artillery tanks never really stood a chance. “All right, Delta and Gamma, charge!” Stephanie broke her Jade Hawk into a trot past the burning vehicles and up the next hill.

As she rose over the crest of the steep ridge, a mass of ’Mechs and armor all turned to face her, alerted by their comrades and the staccato of battle. Yelling with guttural rage, Stephanie rushed at the Lyran forces. Gone were Clan rules of engagement; the Lyrans fired pell-mell at the approaching enemies.

Her Jade Hawk was hit by a PPC shot to the left leg, making her stumble. The flash of white-and-blue charged particles sent arcs of discharging energy dancing across the wet armor. She reeled, fighting to shake the impact.

There was no time for revenge; she sought out the biggest and nearest foe, an Axman, and unleashed a full barrage of short-range missile fire at it. The missiles caught the right side and leg of the sixty-five-ton killing machine, punching two dozen craters in the armor. The Axman pivoted to her and let loose with its massive Luxor-Devastator autocannon.

The stream of large-caliber shells hit her center torso, killing the momentum of her charge and knocking her backward. She hit the wet sod and tore a wide furrow into the hillside. Her sense of balance evaporated as she was tossed about wildly in her seat, the restraining straps digging into her upper body.

Chistu tried to get her bearings; she had to fight her battlecomputer, the gyro attempting to recalibrate her position, and what her body and mind were telling her about how her ’Mech came to rest. It took precious seconds to overcome the disorientation.

Instincts honed with a lifetime of training kicked in. She flexed her knees and pushed with her arms, getting up on her right knee. The Axman fired its jump jets, closing the distance between them, raising its massive hatchet.

Stephanie needed time to stand, and could buy that with firepower. She unleashed everything she had at the looming war machine that was about to land before her. There was no concentration of fire in her alpha strike—the Lyran BattleMech was riddled everywhere at once. One moment that made her smile was seeing one laser hit the Axman’s sloping head, searing the cockpit’s armored glass. The heat in her cockpit was searing, but she pushed her bruised body through it to keep fighting.

She got to her feet as the Axman landed. The hatchet in its right hand came down like an executioner about to behead a criminal. Stephanie pivoted hard, testing every bit of her skills as a warrior. The blade only nicked one of her extended wings, bending it badly.

She lunged with her Jade Hawk’s claw, aiming right at the Axman’s cockpit. The armored claw hit squarely, punching deep, right through the weakened glass. The Axman stopped all movement, then toppled over backward. As it fell, her claw freed itself from the cockpit. Looking at it, she saw a maroon smear of blood on one of the talons. That was distasteful. Clan warriors did not like close combat. They trained for it, but did not seek it out.

Stephanie swung her ’Mech around just in time to see Star Colonel Jagger Thastus’s Hellbringer get hit with a Gauss-rifle round. The ferro-nickel slug was a blur of silver in the air until it hit his left elbow, mangling the actuator into worthless scrap. Still in the fight, Jagger fired his functional ER PPC into a Lyran Blackjack. The gray-and-blue-streaked ’Mech swung around like a dancer on one foot, then fell over, thudding hard into the wet grass.

Pivoting her ’Mech at the waist, Stephanie saw the first line of Lyran ’Mechs had either been defeated or were falling back. Exactly as I had hoped. If she pressed her advantage now, continued to drive into them, they would rout or surrender.

Suddenly off to her right, a company of enemy ’Mechs rose over the hill, their reactor signatures making her targeting system bark out proximity warnings. “BattleMechs approaching inner defense zone,” the battlecomputer’s voice said in her neurohelmet. She killed the warning.

“Galaxy Commander Chistu, I am General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner of the Stormhammers. I am coming for you. Prepare to die!” a voice said on an open channel. The source, a hulking Templar, formed the center of the Lyran formation.

“Striker Prime to Striker Command Star, form up on me!” Stephanie said.

She expected the Lyrans to hold the high ground and rain fire on her. Some did. Many followed the unexpected charge led by General Kelswa-Steiner. They did not just rush the Jade Falcons; they were headed right for her.

The Templar fired as she swung to face it. The Gauss-rifle round was a barely visible silver-blur as it slammed into her ’Mech’s left thigh. His missiles missed, but his pulse lasers did not, peppering her Jade Hawk everywhere.

She focused on the rushing behemoth, aiming for the center of its mass. Her short-range missiles exploded almost simultaneously, blasting at the thick armor. Her lasers targeted high on the ’Mech as well. While they found their mark, they did pitiful damage.

Kelswa-Steiner ran forward, right at her. She juked right, breaking into her own jagged run to shift to his side. Turning the Templar in a full run was like trying to pivot a battleship—it was impossible.

General Kelswa-Steiner pivoted his ’Mech at the waist and fired his medium lasers, one of which tore into her right arm. His Gauss rifle fired, not at her, but at Thastus’s Hellbringer, which was moving in to join her. The hit caught the OmniMech dead center, cratering the ’Mech hard and deep.

Stephanie fired another volley of short-range missiles as Steiner’s ’Mech came to an abrupt stop. A third of her missiles spiraled on past her target, hitting the hillside in the distance. The rest struck his upper left torso. The yellow and orange explosions offered some satisfaction, but not enough.

He unleashed pulse lasers as she toggled her jump jets and jammed her feet on the control pedals. His large pulse laser missed, the emerald beams searing the air only a meter from her cockpit.

The medium pulse laser wracked her Jade Hawk. Her damage display flashed yellow in a vain attempt to get her attention, but she ignored it. All that mattered now was Jasek Kelswa-Steiner and this fight within the battle. It was the way of the Clans.

Thastus fired his medium lasers and PPC into the gray-and-blue blur. Stephanie only saw the particle cannon hit. The blast of artificial lightning ripped into the chest of the Templar, sending superheated armor shards flying into the rain-filled sky. The raindrops steamed as they hit her ’Mech, but she ignored both the exterior and interior heat.

She landed farther up the hill her enemy had charged down, almost completely changing positions with him. As she flexed her knees to stand upright, she unleashed another salvo of missiles at the Steiner general.

Another Jade Falcon fired at him as well, blasting him with autocannon rounds.

“Neg!” she called into the microphone, broadcasting in the clear. “This one is mine!”

Kelswa-Steiner must have heard her, she was sure of that. The Templar turned and fired another silver slug of carnage into her ’Mech, slamming her left leg hard. The damage warning went from yellow to red.

Attempting to move, she found the leg sluggish. Myomer has been severed…the actuators are still intact. The leg still fought her attempts to move faster. Damn!

Her small lasers concentrated on her opponent’s mangled upper torso, easily finding their marks. While less powerful, the lasers kept nipping at the armor in their way. She saw a dull orange glow in the Templar’s center torso and knew she’d hit his fusion reactor shielding.

Chistu limped backward in an uneven gait as her enemy unleashed pulse laser fire and short-range missiles. She pivoted at the last moment, exposing her thinly armored but somewhat intact rear armor. The shots consumed the armor there and hit her Jade Hawk’s left arm. The cockpit temperature soared instantly. She didn’t even have to look at her damage display to know she had lost a heat sink or two.

Jasek started closing the distance, accelerating from a walk to full sprint right at her. Chistu let go a snap shot of short-range missiles. Gone were the blue-and-gray streaks on his upper torso, replaced by holes, charred and black, some still smoking as he charged. He rocked under this fusillade, unlike the previous ones, clearly struggling to maintain his balance.

An explosion to her left marked the end of two ’Mechs, MechWarrior Odekirk Pryde and one of General Steiner’s command, a mangled BattleMaster. Both pilots punched out as their grappling ’Mechs disintegrated in twin fusion-engine explosions. Chistu tuned out the casualties. None of that would matter if Jasek Kelswa-Steiner killed her.

In that moment, she realized that could very well happen. Kelswa-Steiner was a formidable and tenacious warrior. He will not break off. He wants only one thing—my death. Stephanie Chistu never feared her own death; that had been conditioned out of her after a lifetime of combat. At the same time, she had a respect for death, one that amped up her combat instincts to a whole new level. I am the true Jade Falcon…

Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s voice sang out over the open frequency for all to hear. “For Skye! For the Commonwealth. For House Steiner!”

Stephanie’s eyes stung with sweat as it seemed he was rushing right at her personally—not at her ’Mech.

The Templar was on her just as she fired a pair of her small lasers. Kelswa-Steiner collided hard with her, and she leaned her Jade Hawk into the rushing ’Mech—partially to keep her balance, partially out of pure aggression.

The two BattleMechs ground against each other in a groan of scraping metal, their mass and armor merging for a moment. The heat spiked around her, some of it no doubt from the enemy. She should have fallen—a lesser warrior would have. But Stephanie Chistu did not. A wave of nausea rose over her, and she felt the taste of bile in her mouth. Neural feedback. Her senses blurred for a moment as she struggled against tunnel vision.

Slowly, bit by bit, she regained control. Damage warning lights showed almost all crimson, but she ignored them. At that moment Stephanie did not need damage displays to tell her what was happening: she was living it. In that moment, the armor around her became a second layer of skin. She was one with her ’Mech.

Her cockpit was right across from General Steiner’s. She saw him in his command couch; like hers, his cockpit glass was cracked. He was struggling with his joysticks.

At this range he’s going to kick, use his weight against me.

For a millisecond the two warriors, only meters apart, locked gazes. Stephanie swore she saw him grin and wink at her through the faceplate of his neurohelmet.

Not this time. Her Jade Hawk was built for close combat, and she used his own mass against him. She dug her clawed fists into the Templar, grappling, twisting, and turning…allowing him to scrape past her. Momentum and mass worked against Jasek’s Templar as he stumbled, falling off balance.

She fired her jump jets as he passed, his ’Mech awash in her jet flare as she rose. This time it felt like she was under the thrust as well, as the heat boiled so intense around her. Her Jade Hawk ground against the Templar as she rose straight into the air.

Leaning forward as far as her restraints would allow, she saw the general’s missed punch swing into the space where she had been. Smoke rose from her enemy as he staggered a half-step forward, almost drunkenly. Angling her damaged ’Mech, she hovered over him by a good ten meters.

Then she cut the jets.

The Lyran general was under her jump-jet thrust, no doubt blinding him to what she was doing. The full seventy-five tons of her Jade Hawk dropped on Kelswa-Steiner’s ’Mech. One of her thick feet hit a shoulder, while the other crashed into his cockpit. She did not see him die—she did not have to. The sudden twist from the imbalance of her descent offset the grinding under her feet.

She fell off to her left side, hard. More armor tore and shattered, and her left arm would not respond at all. A coppery taste flooded her tongue, and she realized she must have bit her lip or hit it on the inside of her neurohelmet.

The blood did not matter to her. She was alive. The same could not be said of her foe. His auto-shutdown sequence had cut in with the pilot’s death. As she rolled to one side, she saw the fallen Templar, its cockpit crushed beneath her ’Mech’s massive foot. She did not rejoice this time, as she had in other victories. This Steiner general was more than a worthy foe. To rejoice would deny him the honor he earned here today. Had he lived, he would have been a worthy bondsman.

Trying to stand was a struggle, as if she were drunk and armpit deep in mud. More nausea made her head ring and her vision narrow. Every hot breath she drew was a reminder of the heat in her cockpit. Rocking her Jade Hawk to the side, she managed to get a rough sense of bearing. Using her right arm, she pushed and twisted and fought to get to her knees, then to her feet.

Her Jade Hawk was in bad shape, but still operational. The remaining Falcon forces secured the ground where she had been fighting. According the sensor feeds, the Lyrans were pulling back, concentrating to the west. They saw their best warrior fall, and it has shaken them.

Checking her own forces, Stephanie was staggered by the losses. She and Thastus were all that remained as a result of Jasek’s charge on her command Star. Her other units had suffered significant casualties as well. The odds are not in our favor…and our element of surprise has been lost.

It has been said that Jade Falcon commanders do not care about the odds. That was only partially true. There was another adage they did adhere to: do not fight the math. Stephanie quickly calculated the respective firepower and losses on both sides and came to one conclusion: let the Lyrans fall back.

She hated it. This was to have been their last battle, their last confrontation. It was slipping through her fingers, and it galled her to have to issue the order. “Secure our casualties and fallen ’Mechs, leave nothing for these vultures. We will tactically redeploy to Port St. William.”

“We are retreating, quineg?” Star Colonel Yaroslav asked. “This is not the way of the Jade Falcon.”

She tried to tune out his accusatory tone, to no avail. “Neg, we are not retreating—we are assuming a new defensive position. My orders stand, Star Colonel.”

“You have fifteen tactical nuclear weapons at your disposal,” Yaroslav pressed for all of the Jade Falcons to hear. “Give the order. Fire one or two where the Lyrans are regrouping. Fire them, and this world will be ours.”

“Neg,” she said, straining to handle her Jade Hawk’s uneasy gait. The torrid heat of her cockpit told her that she had lost a number of heat sinks in the fight. It is bad enough I have to fight this damage, this enemy—now I have to fight my own warriors. “Those weapons are at my disposal and mine alone.” In that one moment, she understood the allure of the Mongol Doctrine. It would be so easy to give the order, to end the bloodshed. Easy is not the path of the Jade Falcon. We have never been a people seduced by slaughter. I can see why Malvina’s followers are so drunk with her way of waging war.

“Stravag!” Yaroslav retorted. “If you have no stomach for that, then fire a nuke at Lietnerton. Let the Lyrans see the mushroom cloud rising from the city. They will fold and surrender to us.”

Unlikely. “After your actions in Whitting, Star Colonel, no Lyran will surrender to us willingly. I will not destroy a city, wipe out its culture and heritage, just to sow seeds of terror. My orders stand.”

“Perhaps you have been injured, Galaxy Commander. If you lack the will of the Falcon, let me take command. I will show you what it is to be a true Jade Falcon.”

The arrogance in his voice only added to her nausea. “There is nothing wrong with me, nothing that cannot be cured by removing you from command. Star Colonel, you are relieved of duty.”

“I do not acknowledge your authority to do so, Galaxy Commander Chistu.”

Despite her weariness, Stephanie grinned at his insubordination. “Good. When we get back and prepare for our defense at Port St. William, we will settle this matter once and for all in a Circle of Equals. Until then, you will follow my commands—all of you. Retrograde by Stars now. I want good tight formations. Give cover and suppression fire for the recovery teams to salvage our people and gear.”

A low rumble of thunder signaled an increase in the rain’s intensity and further accentuated her orders. She paused for a moment, then continued. “We still have to take this bloody planet. It will simply take more time than we had planned. And we will do it with honor, not savagery.”

With those last words she licked the clotted blood in the corner of her mouth and swallowed it, feeling the sting on her lip.

7

LYRAN FIELD HQ

THE DALES

COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

12 MARCH 3148

Roderick stared at what was left of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s bloodstained uniform.

He had ordered the man’s remains cremated; a death so horrific made it impossible to embalm him to take him back to his family. Death from above—a horrible way to die. The uniform bore testimony to the violence of the general’s death. Even with a quick washing, it was stained with the dull maroon of blood and gore. Holes and tears were evident everywhere.

Rain pelted the roof of the portable command dome. The storm had grown after the battle that had cost his distant cousin’s life. It was as if Coventry itself was attempting to wash away the blood from the field. The cool rains and gusts of wind only seemed to add to everyone’s misery. The air was humid and cool, but stuffy.

Roderick studied every fold, every drop of dried blood, his eyes settling on the general’s insignia Jasek had worn. The four-pointed star was attached to the collar with special adhesive strips. The star bore his blood as well.

He crossed his arms and stared, trying to clear his mind, but the questions plagued him. Why Jasek had rushed straight at the Jade Falcon command Star, despite the odds? After all the battles with the Stormhammers, he thought himself invulnerable. He did what I wanted to do, go right after Chistu. He did something that was beyond brave. We all pledge to give our lives to defend the Commonwealth. The difference is, he fulfilled that pledge, willingly…boldly.

Part of his mental struggle was the guilt he personally bore. He had underestimated Stephanie Chistu. She had deliberately gone into his trap with her entire force, hitting his thinly protected flank. Roderick hadn’t thought she would readily abandon Lietnerton and commit her entire force—a critical miscalculation of his enemy’s strategy.

The battle had been furious. Jasek’s charge at Chistu had compelled her to punch out of the encirclement, right through the left flank of the Second Royal Guards. Now his forces were at just over 50 percent operational readiness. The only bit of satisfaction he could cling to was that the Jade Falcons had suffered heavy losses as well. The Clan had hauled off the most useful gear in their retreat, leaving bits and pieces of salvageable equipment in their wake, but that was little solace for dead Lyrans. The odds are in our favor, but these are Jade Falcons we’re fighting. Odds mean nothing to them; I learned that in the Dales. I made a terrible mistake. I was arrogant and this was the cost—one of our best tactical leaders.

Even so, Jasek had almost taken out Chistu. If he had, this might all be over. Instead, we have to continue this fight right up to the bloody end. Roderick had not come to die on Coventry, but looking at the bloodstained uniform of his fiercest general, he momentarily wondered if it was his destiny to die here too.

He shook his head. No. I will not die here, not now—and not at the hands of the Jade Falcons.

General Ross entered the tent, wearing her field jumpsuit. Her hair was slick with sweat; her eyes looked tired. She walked up next to Roderick and said nothing for a moment, looking down at the uniform. “His men are taking it hard.”

“We all are,” Roderick replied.

“His second-in-command, Colonel Ostrowski, is hospitalized. Punctured lung and burns. He was taken down when the Fifteenth was pursuing that Chistu bitch out of the Dales.”

In the wake of Jasek’s death, the Fifteenth Arcturan Guards had recoiled at first, then regrouped and went off seeking vengeance, against orders. Galaxy Commander Chistu had bloodied them badly for their efforts. I understand why they did what they did, but it only cost us more men and equipment.

Roderick forced his thoughts away from Jasek for a moment, focusing on the art of war. “We will roll the Seventeenth into the Fifteenth. I want you to assume command of the Fifteenth.”

She hesitated. “Sir…?”

“Francine,” Roderick said with his most assuring tone. “I know these troops loved Jasek. A lot of them were with him in the Stormhammers. They saw him as some sort of god, and I don’t blame them. But I need you there. You know Coventry best—you’ve got more experience with Jade Falcons than I do at this point. They will see that, too. Trust me, you’re the best person for the job.” He meant every word.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice firming up with his encouragement.

A sergeant from the Fifteenth Arcturan Guards, his name tag reading Havener, entered the tent, holding a small container. “Begging your pardons, sirs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted these for some sort of ceremony.” At Roderick’s nod, he put the container of ashes on the table before the two generals and departed the room. The solemn look on his face spoke louder than any words.

Roderick let the silence hang as he carefully thought. A ceremony? The men under his command deserve that much, and he certainly earned it. Their morale is low. They didn’t just lose a commanding officer, they lost a hero of the Commonwealth. How do I turn that around? Bad morale was toxic for troops in the field. His mind raced trying to find the answer—it was the key between saving and losing Coventry.

General Ross stared at the makeshift urn. “If this can happen to him, what chance do any of us have? He was one of the Commonwealth’s best field commanders.”

“Do you think that’s what the troops feel?” he asked.

She nodded. “I do, sir.”

Then we may be doomed. “I refuse to believe that. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“History is replete with moments when defeat is inevitable, when victory can slip through your fingers like sand. I’ve spent my life defying those moments. Most of my youth was spent hiding from being a Steiner, pretending to be someone else. My cousin Trillian changed that in me. She didn’t just make me go public, she let me be what I was born to be—a member of our House. We don’t exist in the Inner Sphere to be witnesses to history. We exist to make history.”

“We are not all Steiners, General.”

You are wrong. Steiner is not a drop of blood or a name, it is something more. “Perhaps we are, we just don’t know it yet.”

Ross nodded. “Well, you are right about one thing—we need a spark, something for the troops to hold onto, something that will convince them they can succeed. Men and women who are convinced they are going to be beaten have a way of making that happen.”

Roderick knew she was right. “You must have studied desperate battles in history, Francine. They are won by soldiers that do extraordinary things at just the right moment.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Have you read about the War of Texas Independence?”

“Of course, sir, required reading at the Nagelring. I remember reading a paper on the Battle of the Alamo.”

“Good—the Alamo is the key to this. It was a lost cause, doomed from the very start. It was that loss that allowed Sam Houston to galvanize his forces and eventually turn the tide of the war. When the Alamo fell, their entire campaign could have crumbled—turned into an obscure footnote in history. Houston took advantage of that loss and made it their battle cry. The Texans charged into battle screaming, ‘Remember the Alamo!’ Houston understood that a defeat can inspire as much as a victory.” As he spoke, he stared not at her, but at the urn. There is a way to turn this around…to turn Jasek’s loss into a victory...

“I’m listening, sir…”

Roderick stood erect, squaring his shoulders. He reached out into the urn and touched the ashes that had once been Jasek Kelswa-Steiner. He pinched some of those mortal remains between his fingertips. General, you have one more mission to fulfill—and that is to help me defeat the Jade Falcons. “First, call me Roderick. We have spilled the blood of our enemies on the same battlefields—we can shitcan the ‘sir’ and ‘general’ talk between us. I trust you, Francine. The Seventeenth was a battered and beaten unit, and you turned them around. Your work here has been remarkable.” I have more remarkable things for you to do still.

“Thank you, Roderick,” she said. He saw a slight blush in her expression.

“We need to turn things around just like Sam Houston did after the fall of the Alamo. We need to light a fire in their bellies.”

She stood straighter at his words. “Agreed. What do you have in mind?”

“Leadership, plain and simple—you and me. We will give our people a rallying cry. Actually, Jasek did that already. We will give them a symbol to turn them into raging fanatics. Stephanie Chistu may think she has us beat, but I think she’s already lost this planet—she just doesn’t know it yet. All we have to do is convince her.”

“I’m with you, si—Roderick.”

“You know those black-cotton ammo bags we wrap inferno rounds in? I want you to round up a bunch of them, get your hands on as many as you can. Get a couple of privates working on it. Get some gray spray paint and our best artist. I want them cut into sashes, one for every soldier in our command. Get those ready, then I want you to assemble our force—everyone. I’ll tell you what I want stenciled on them. We can use that big hill in the Dales, the one to the south. I want everyone there.”

“What are you planning? Armbands won’t change anything.”

“I think you’re wrong. We don’t know for sure what Sam Houston told his men, verbatim, but we can look to literature and history for inspiration. Are you familiar with Shakespeare’s Henry V?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I wasn’t a big fan of the classics in school. I favored mathematics.”

“Fair enough. Look up the St. Crispin’s Day speech.”

“Okay. How does an ancient play figure into all of this? What are you thinking?”

Roderick allowed himself a thin smile. “‘If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor.’” He quoted from his memory of the English king’s speech.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“I have come to believe that William Shakespeare understood the Clans. That speech may just be the key to us beating the Jade Falcons on Coventry.”

Six hours later…

The weather cleared slowly, with the sun breaking through more often. The rays of light gleamed as moisture evaporated from the Dales. Roderick had organized the event carefully, deliberately designed it for maximum impact. He walked to a small collapsible table that had been brought out to the hilltop overlooking the large natural bowl of the ground. In some areas, the sod had been churned into mud by BattleMech footprints, which were now large puddles of water. In other places, tracks from tanks snaked through the grass and dirt, leaving a distinct river-like pattern on the hillsides. BattleMechs and armor had been placed along the hillside like silent sentinels.

Roderick surveyed the survivors of the three regimental combat teams. Their faces were weary, drawn, almost devoid of expression. Many were covered with lubricant, dirt, sweat, and mud, and all wore masks of exhaustion and fatigue. Their eyes were all locked onto him, staring dully at his every move. He could feel the presence of each remaining man and woman, as if their breaths were his own.

At Roderick’s side stood General Ross. While both of them had managed a quick field shower, Francine had changed the most in appearance. She looked ten years younger than she had just a few hours earlier. It is important for them to see us here, recovered, shaved, refreshed, and ready to fight. It will help give them strength to see us this way. It shows them that things can and will change.

As he faced them, an unspoken command was transmitted, and all of them snapped to attention. “At ease,” he ordered, and a wave swept the Lyran soldiers as they resumed their casual, weary stances.

Also standing on the hilltop were the two highest-ranking survivors of the Fifteenth Arcturan Guards: Major Troy Cowell and Captain Krzysztof Krecislaw. Their jumpsuits had been washed, and the men themselves were presentable, although Krecislaw was heavily bandaged. His ’Mech had been destroyed, and he had been burned during punchout. Roderick had honored him by telling him he would pilot Jasek’s Templar as soon as it was repaired. The grizzled Krecislaw had nearly burst into tears. Major Cowell wore a grim expression that mixed angst and anger.

The General of the Armies adjusted the mike on his jumpsuit and surveyed the survivors one more time. Thanks to large speakers that had been placed, he knew the crowd would hear his speech, his conviction. These were good soldiers, good Lyrans, one and all. Now was the time to turn their grief and depression into furious rage.

He had made notes on the back of a supply requisition form. Ross had asked him what he was going to say, but he kept the words private. He had rehearsed the speech twice while the memorial was being arranged, mostly to ensure he could drive home the key points with respect. Roderick had filled Francine in on the rest of his plans, but not the speech itself. The words would come from him—from the depths of his heart. The notes were merely props, an unnecessary safety cushion. These words need to come from me, not from a piece of paper.

“Good day. You know me, but I don’t know most of you. I’m the General of the Armies—and you are the men and women who follow me into battle. Despite our differences in rank, I am not nearly as important as each of you. While I may be the head of this combat force, you are its heart—its soul.”

“My grandfather was Archon of the Commonwealth. If he were here, I’m sure he’d have something inspiring to say like, ‘The Jade Falcons made one big mistake. They attacked my home planet.’” A few of the weary troops—those that had seen documentaries of Adam Steiner’s years on Somerset during the first Clan invasion—chuckled at that comment.

“Well, I am not my grandfather. Rank and blood doesn’t matter on days like this. I am here like you, a citizen of the Lyran Commonwealth. And today, we come together to mourn Jasek Kelswa-Steiner—one of the greatest MechWarriors and field commanders of his era.

“Many of you came with him from the Stormhammers, and you probably knew him a lot better than I did. If he were here, I’m sure he would tell you all to never give in to despair. He’d probably tell you not to grieve him, but to avenge his death. He would probably say his death didn’t matter. He was humble that way. Most legends are.

“Well, I will tell you today that his death does matter. It matters to me, and I am sure that it matters to you.” Roderick cast his eyes down to the urn on the table. “This is all that is left of him—that, and our memories of him.” Roderick saluted the container, and the entire mass of his troops did the same. He held it for a moment, letting everyone have this one moment of grief and respect.

“I am sure that you are all wondering what happens next. I could order in the DropShips and we could leave. We could retreat from Coventry, let the Jade Falcons have it. It’s just a planet, after all. God knows the Commonwealth has others. But we would be abandoning the civilians to the most brutal of enemies—a foe that flattens cities and kills the innocent. We would survive, but the people of this world might not.

“We could go, regroup, and wait for our foe to hit another world, and another. They will keep coming, and we will keep fighting them. We might live for a few months, a few years, but in the end, the Falcons will eventually come for each and every one of us.” He paused long enough to let that sink into the host before him.

“But I’m here to tell you that I won’t be doing that. The enemy is here, and by God and the Archon, I intend to fight them here. To stop them here. You all heard what happened to Whitting—thousands of innocents killed. I have seen the footage myself, and it is a war crime beyond the pale. That is the Mongol-horde thinking of the Jade Falcons now. There are no innocents—no honor—not in the eyes of the Mongols. If we leave now, they will eventually hit our home worlds, one by one. Then the dead will be your wives, your husbands, your brothers, your mothers, your lovers, your families, and your friends. We need to stop them here—now. If we can do that, we kill their offensive right here. They cannot leave Coventry in our hands—it galls them. They seek to erase their past defeats, to change history. I say, fuck them!’” There were many nods of agreement from the gathered troops.

“So, the choice is clear, and it is one we must all face. This is not a democracy. I can order you into battle. I will fight them alone if I have to. But I put it to each one of you now. Do any of you want to turn tail and run?”

“No!” came a low roar from the crowd. As if on cue, the clouds parted, and brilliant rays of sunshine bathed the Lyrans.

“Do any of you want General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s death to be wasted?”

“No!” This time it was louder—firmer.

“Do you want the Jade Falcons to claim any scrap of glory in his death? Do you want them to sing about his fall in their damned Remembrance?”

“NO!”

“Neither do I. Jasek Kelswa-Steiner wouldn’t have retreated in the face of these Jade Falcons. You know that, and so do I. In fact, he went after the Jade Falcon commander right here in the Dales. His attack forced the enemy to withdraw. He and his command lance broke their assault. He gave his life so that we could all survive and be here today, this day, on this spot. If he were here, he would insist that we fight on.” Murmurs of agreement rose from the troops below him.

“You may think he is no longer with us. You may think all that remains of him is in this urn.” He gestured to the simple burial urn on the table. “You may believe that his death means he’s gone. I’m here to tell you that you are wrong. General Kelswa-Steiner is not gone. He is here, today, with each and every one of you.”

Roderick saw new energy return to the men and women under him. Their faces, once gaunt, seemed to glow red with anger and fury.

“I will not let my cousin be some footnote in a history book under a chapter about the fall of Coventry. Hell no! I intend to carry him with me into battle.” He reached out and carefully lifted the urn, raising it so they all could see.

“These are his mortal remains, the ashes of a great man.” He set the urn back down and opened it. He dipped his thumb into the gray dust. Then he put his thumb on his forehead, grinding the remains of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner there, leaving behind a bold, dark gray mark. He could see their faces following his every move. Good. “Jasek is with me now. He will ride into combat one more time. He will be there to lead us all to victory.”

He motioned to Major Cowell, who bent down and pulled out a strip of cloth from a shipping container. Made from the ammunition bags, the black cotton had been cut into a crude sash some ten centimeters wide and sixty centimeters long. Spray-painted with a crude stencil in gray in the middle of each sash was the star-and-shield insignia of the Archon’s Shield, the Stormhammers’ elite unit.

Roderick extended his right arm, and General Ross took the cloth and tied it around his biceps so that the insignia was clearly visible. Roderick then turned back to the troops.

“This sash represents mourning for General Kelswa-Steiner, but it is more than that. It will serve as a reminder to you and anyone who ever sees it. In the years to come, many people will claim to have been here on this day, on Coventry, when we drove the Jade Falcons off this world again. They will brag about being here when we defeated the invaders. They will tell lies of their heroic deeds. It always happens, those who reap a false harvest of honor. They will never have the proof that they were here, which is this armband I wear.

“But when you are in your later years, bouncing your grandchildren on your knee, you will tell them the truth of what happened on Coventry, when you saved the Commonwealth. You will tell them that you were there. You will have proof—the black sash you wore into battle that day. It will be one of your most prized possessions. It is something that no other Lyran will ever wear again. You will remember the ashes of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner on your forehead, and the spirit he inspired you with. People will remember what you did, and that simple band of cloth you have will forever link you to the men and women around you. We are not just Arcturan Guards or Royals today, we are part of something bigger, something those that aren’t here will never understand. In your old age, this sash will be a reminder of your greatest victory, and how each of you took Jasek into battle for his last and greatest victory.”

Roderick turned to General Ross and dipped his thumb into the ashes, making a mark on her forehead similar to his own. He then tied another sash from the container on her right arm. Francine turned did the same with Major Cowell and Captain Krecislaw. Tears ran down Krecislaw’s round face as she did so.

Roderick heard several men and women crying in the hollow. But the expression on every one of their faces was grim determination.

“Today, we are all Jasek’s pallbearers!” he shouted. “Today, we carry him to the victory he earned! Form up lines, and prepare to be part of history!”

The troops moved, no longer with a weary trudge, but scrambling to get into lines leading up the hill. Roderick grabbed a handful of armbands, as did the other officers. As each Lyran trooper stepped forward, they were given a smear of gray ash on their foreheads by one of the officers at the table. Those with injured arms had the bands tied across their brows like headbands. Some touched the cloth as if it were somehow blessed. Every one of them understood the significance.

As they passed through, Roderick shook hands with every one of them. The armbands, the ash—it made them all equals.

The entire process took over an hour. Tears flowed, but what the General of the Armies saw was inspiration, faith, and most importantly—hope.

They milled about the great depression in the hills until the last of them had been honored. Roderick turned on his microphone again. “Atten-hut!”

In unison, his reinvigorated troops snapped to attention in perfect rows before him. “Look to your right,” he ordered, and they complied. “Now to the left.” He paused. “Now eyes front.”

“Those men and women you saw, they are your brothers and your sisters. We all bear the mark of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner on us. That makes each one of you my blood and kin. That same blood flows through the Archon, and into our past. Today, I am proud—” his voice wavered for a moment, but he steadied it and continued, “—to call all of you my brothers and sisters. Today, we are all Steiners.” Smiles through gritted teeth came back to him. Fury!

There was one more artifact on the table that needed to be addressed, the pair of rank stars. Roderick picked up the bloodstained star insignias that had been removed from Jasek’s uniform. He held them up in the air. “These are Jasek’s hauptmann-general stars. He died wearing them. General Ross and I would like to wear these in the coming battle. But Jasek was your general first and foremost. If we do this, we do it together. So I ask you all, may I put these on?”

“JA!” The thunderous roar of cheers echoed into the Coventry sky. Roderick put one star on next to Francine’s, then she placed his.

Roderick then turned back to the troops. “The Falcons think they have us beat. That is a mistake, one I intend to take advantage of. I will go and face them alone if I have to.”

“Over my dead body!” Francine Ross said, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. “Even if it is just the two of us, I’m with you, sir.”

Another huge cheer rose from the Dales.

“General,” Major Scott said. “For Jasek and for the Archon, I will go and fight at your side.”

“Get me a ’Mech sir, any ’Mech,” Captain Krecislaw said, his voice carrying to the crowd. “I will make them pay for Whitting—pay for murdering my commanding officer.”

There was another unified roar from the troops—one that Roderick did not interrupt.

After a full minute, he spoke again. “Very well, brothers and sisters. Let’s get ready to take the fight to them.”

The crowd dispersed with renewed energy and vigor. The malaise was shaken from them. The weariness and sorrow that had weighed them down was gone. The officers that helped with the distribution of the sashes crisply saluted and asked to go and get their troops ready for the coming fight. Each and every one seemed to move with a new snap and energy. Even the wounded shook off their limps and pain.

Francine Ross moved in front of him and shook his hand. “Roderick…I’ve never seen anything like it. You did it. You reinvigorated them.”

“No, we did. They will follow you now as if you were Jasek himself.”

“It was amazing. I mean those words…people don’t talk like that.”

“Yes they do, in their hearts and souls. I just tapped that.”

“I think you just turned the tide of this fight.”

Roderick allowed himself a thin smile. “Like I told you earlier, Steiners make history. You heard the speech. You are a Steiner now—so you had better get used to it.”

“What’s next?”

“If I were Stephanie Chistu, I’d be heading for Port St. William to lick my wounds and prepare to go on the offense again. It’s the Jade Falcon way. We need to hit her before she makes us dance to her tune.”

“You have an idea, I take it?”

Roderick’s smile grew broader. “In fact, I do…”

8

JADE FALCON HEADQUARTERS

PORT ST. WILLIAM SPACEPORT

PORT ST. WILLIAM, COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

13 MARCH 3148

In the hotel room she had commandeered, Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu went over the current state of her troops on the noteputer. Despite the damage done by the Lyrans, she still had an effective combat force, though some disparaging gaps in the Jade Falcon ranks concerned her. We have enough in us for one more good fight. After that I may not have an ongoing, operable force. Giving Malvina any reason to say she wasn’t following orders was something she refused to face, and her Khan insisted that her command be still able to fight.

She had dispatched the Savage Claw Trinary of the Fourth Falcon Dragoons to the town of Guite, some twenty kilometers to the southwest. Their role was to act as a tripwire if the Lyrans got aggressive. The town was just south of the Ochoa River, accessible via a single highway bridge back to Port St. William. The plains surrounding Guite were rolling, but offered little cover except to the forested region fifteen kilometers away. It was the perfect place for a sentry post. If you come for me, Roderick Steiner, you will find that I have plenty of time to react.

Chistu looked at the noteputer, wincing at some of the losses. We have been able to keep our combat force operational in terms of equipment, but replacing warriors is not as easy. The Mongols of Gamma Galaxy had suffered staggering losses in the Battle of the Dales. Their brutal fighting style damages them as much as it does the enemy. When Jasek Kelswa-Steiner’s Fifteen Arcturan Guards had pursued her force, Gamma exceeded her orders and turned to give them battle—bloodying both sides.

She had managed to get a quick shower as the technicians struggled over her Jade Hawk. Her tech, Helgeson, finally told her the grim truth: the OmniMech could be repaired, but not without extensive time and parts, both of which they lacked on Coventry. If we still held the Metal Works, he would have been able to fix it. A replacement would be pulled from those available. I have taken out this Jasek Kelswa-Steiner. It will either break their morale—or fill them with a resolve I may yet regret. She did not cringe from the fight she felt coming; in fact, she looked forward to it. Khan Hazen will never admit it, but these Lyrans are worthy foes for our Clan.

Stephanie’s muscles still ached from the battle, and her head throbbed from the neural feedback she had suffered. Her sense of balance was coming around, thanks to the medication the medtechs had given her. She had suffered worse in her lifetime, but not in recent years. The battle had taken a physical toll on her, but the shower, a warm meal, and a cup of hot coffee had performed a remarkable revitalization.

A knock on the door announced Star Colonel Jagger Thastus’ arrival. “My apologies for disturbing you, Galaxy Commander, but I think the time has come to deal with the ‘problem.’”

“Is he causing issues, quiaff?”

“Aff,” Thastus replied. “You have removed Star Colonel Yaroslav from command, but his mouth runneth over. He comments about you and your lack of, well, fortitude, in the battle. He has been openly expressing his opinions to our warriors. He has suggested that you lack the will to utilize the weapons at our disposal.”

The nuclear missiles. Stephanie cocked one eyebrow at his words. “His words do not cut me, but I will not allow such a contamination with my troops. The man is a virus, and he cannot be allowed to spread.”

“You are up for combat, quiaff?” Thastus asked.

She rotated her shoulder to stretch the muscles. “I have fought Trials in worse condition.” Of course, I was younger then.

“He cannot win. If he does, he will declare a Trial of Possession for your rank, and try and take over your Galaxy.”

He is probably correct, but I cannot show concern to him. “You worry too much, Jagger,” she said, taking out her sheath of throwing knives and strapping them to her right shin. “I have not lost a Trial in years. I do not plan on starting with this blitzking murderer. Have him brought to the tarmac. I will be there shortly. I want a mix of Delta and Gamma warriors for the Circle of Equals. When he is defeated, I want them to witness it as well.”

“As you command,” Thastus said, saluting then departing.

Chistu went to her duffel and pulled out a large bowie knife, “Tickler.” It had taken her weeks to forge and polish. She had balanced it perfectly, cut the handle to conform to her hands. Tickler had never let her down. She put it into the leather sheath and threaded her belt through the sheath, wearing it at her side. If all went as planned, Yaroslav would soon feel the cut of its edge.

Star Colonel Yaroslav stroked his goatee as Stephanie stepped out confidently in front of him. He was a full thirty centimeters taller than her. His bald spot was in need of a shave; she could see blackish stubble showing. A bandage on his hand, running through into the wrist of his uniform, told her that he too had been injured in the recent battle. His black jumpsuit stood out in contrast to her own green one. My uniform is steeped in tradition. Yours is a political statement.

“You had no right to remove me from command of my troops,” he said defiantly. “For that, you will pay dearly.”

“I always welcome the useful opinions of officers in my command. That is not an invitation for critique. You have crossed a line that requires honor be served.”

“I prefer to fight you here,” he said, gesturing with a sweep of his hand. “No subterfuge. We will battle in the open.”

“Agreed,” she replied. “I say we battle with melee weapons,” she patted Tickler at her side. “We need not damage our ’Mechs. Nor do we need to waste pistol ammunition. This should be done up front and personal.”

Yaroslav smiled. “Well bargained and done!” He nodded at one of the black-jumpsuited Gamma warriors, who stepped forward with a large spear. “You are too predictable, Galaxy Commander.” The Star Colonel took the spear in hand. “Everyone knows of your fondness for knives. I will fight with the weapon my sibko trained us with for years, a coursing spear.”

The blade at the end of the spear was straight on once side, curved on the other, with a slight hook near the haft. It was more of a guisarme than a true spear, a true Jade Falcon melee weapon. The shaft was thick duro-aluminum. She had seen such weapons, and had fought with one herself in her youth. Yaroslav’s looked custom-made, no doubt a weapon he had made for such fights. It gives him reach against me. He thinks that gives him the advantage.

She gritted her teeth and offered him a thin, confident smile. “You will find that I am full of surprises, Star Colonel. I trust you find these warriors suitable for a Circle of Equals, quiaff?”

“Aff,” he said, offering his own feral grin in response. The warriors backed off and formed a wide circle about ten meters in diameter. She felt their eyes on her as she lowered her stance and pulled out Tickler. It felt comfortable in her grip.

“Let us begin,” Chistu said.

Yaroslav did not strike quick or fast. Instead he spun the large spear around like a propeller as he began to stalk her. Stephanie was familiar with the form; it helped him gauge the balance of the polearm. She shifted to counter him, watching his every spin. He was left-handed, she noted. His arrogant grin made her want to lash out at him and draw first blood, but that would be a mistake.

“I will kill you today,” he said, stopping the spinning of the spear and holding it with both hands in front of him, pointing the tip of the sharp, hooked blade right at her head. “And when I do, I will fulfill the will of Khan Hazen. I will burn the surviving Lyrans and cities to cinders.”

“Hollow words,” she replied, tossing Tickler between her hands. “From a hollow warrior.”

Anger swept his face and bald head, turning them red. He jabbed at her with the spear, coming within half a meter. Then, like a dancer, he spun, sweeping the weapon around, advancing at the same time. The blade-like spear point came right at her face in a long arc. Chistu’s years of experience kicked in, and she leaned backward, feeling the blade narrowly miss her face.

Yaroslav swept the blade back, and this time she deflected it with Tickler, forcing the blade over her head. She was surprised when he jerked the blade and the small hook caught Ticker and wrenched it hard in her hand.

He lunged forward, and the blade cut her jumpsuit and sliced her forearm. She felt the cut but ignored it, springing at the Star Colonel and swinging Tickler at him, catching him low on his thigh. Some blood flew, but the black jumpsuit concealed the true amount of damage she had caused.

Yaroslav spun again, reeling and bringing the spear back, resting it on his extended right arm, which he pointed at her. She jumped back and balanced her stance. She was tempted to look at the cut on her arm, but focused on her opponent instead. Her hand ached from his weapon jerking the knife, but she ignored it as well.

“You bleed, Galaxy Commander. You can end this at any time.”

“Honor demands that I see this through,” she said, grinning at her foe simply to irritate him.

It worked. Yaroslav lunged twice, advancing like a fencing master. The spear came in close, and she knocked it hard with Tickler, this time making sure to avoid letting it get hooked. He surprised her again by jerking the blade to the side, hitting her collar and cutting her there.

I have to close the distance. She jumped at him and somersaulted, springing to her feet right in front of Yaroslav. She lunged at him and he recoiled as Tickler hit him in the stomach. The cut was not deep, but it didn’t have to be. He grunted as she slashed again, this time cutting his chest. The uniform parted, and she saw the cut across his ribs and upper abdomen. Blood oozed from the wound.

The Gamma Galaxy officer slammed the spear’s shaft down onto her head hard…and Stephanie pivoted out and put some distance between them again before he could smack her a second time. Yaroslav thrust at her again and nearly cut her in the process.

With her free hand, she grabbed his spear and pulled it toward her, the blade going past her. Her foe had not anticipated that; she saw that on his face. She brought Tickler at him, slashing his right cheek and cutting off the end of his goatee.

The Star Colonel jerked the spear from her grip and reversed it, hitting her again in the head with the shaft as he retreated. Her skull rang. Stephanie was glad to have the distance between them. His wounds were bleeding and painful. Each passing moment would weaken both of them, hopefully him more than her.

“You have lost your beard, Star Colonel,” she said with a broadening smile. “Perhaps you can shave it smooth like your head.”

He wiped the cut on his face and glanced at the blood all over his hand. “Little woman, I grow tired of this sparring as if we were sibkin wrestling over dinner.” He spun the spear around again, this time pointing the butt of the weapon at her.

For a millisecond, Chistu was puzzled—then she heard a click and felt something hit her in the right breast. Almost instantly, a sudden chill swept her right side.

She backed up several steps before glancing down. Four needles stuck in her breast. A hidden needler! Her breath became strangely labored. She pulled the needles from her chest but felt no relief.

“You freebirth scum,” she cursed, keeping some distance between them. “You have violated the terms of our Circle of Equals. We agreed to melee weapons. You have brought a projectile weapon.” It hit her as she struggled to breathe—these were not just needles, they were something more.

Her fellow Delta warriors stepped into the Circle. Violating a Circle of Equals was something unheard of. The black-suited Gamma warriors turned towards her warriors, then back to the pair of them. There was no formal protocol for someone that broke the bond of a Circle of Equals.

“An oversight on my part,” he blatantly lied, spinning his spear around to a traditional low fighting stance. “We adherents of the Mongol Doctrine believe in complete victory by any means. I am confident that Khan Hazen will overlook my slight breach of honor, especially when I tell her what I have done to Coventry in her name.

“By now you should feel the poison starting to paralyze your body. It is a special cocktail, Galaxy Commander, made from goliath scorpion venom. Admit defeat now, and you may yet survive. Continue, and I will take your command from you after I plant this spear in your dead body.”

The poison was working fast. Too fast. Her breath became ragged. Slowly, she dropped to her right knee, still holding Tickler in front of her, though she could see it wavering. Her vision tunneled, and she fought it with every bit of her strength, somehow staying conscious. She felt cold, but beads of sweat stung her eyes. I cannot let this monster win.

“Give up, Galaxy Commander,” he gloated. “This is a fight you cannot win.”

If he threw his spear at her, she was in no condition to dodge or parry it. Her head swam. A wave of dizziness gripped her hard.

“You honorless freebirth!” cursed Thastus from the edge of the Circle. “You will pay for your actions!” He moved forward, but two Gamma warriors blocked him.

“I think not,” Yaroslav said, turning toward Thastus—and away from Stephanie.

Now!

As his gaze left her, she summoned the last bit of her strength. Dropping Tickler, she reached for the sheath on her lower leg. Her body almost toppled over from the dizziness, but she fought it back with the same fury she had used to fight Yaroslav. She reached down and felt the three throwing knives strapped to her shin.

Yaroslav turned to face Thastus and the commotion from the edge of the Circle of Equals. Stephanie knew his arrogance had overridden his common sense.

She raised the three blades over her head as the ferrocrete tarmac seemed to suck her downward. With a precise snap of her wrist, she hurled the three blades as she had thousands of times before in practice.

The blades separated in flight but flew true. One hit in the Star Colonel’s side just below his rib cage. Another embedded itself in his beefy biceps. The last one struck his throat from the side, entering one side and stabbing out the other.

Dropping his spear, Yaroslav made a choked, “Ack!” and reached for his throat. Hitting the blade with his palm, he only worsened his wound. The spear clanged on the ground as he turned to her, stark terror in his eyes. His hands quaked, and he fell to his knees, eye to eye with her. A gurgle rose to his lips, and blood splattered out of his half-opened mouth.

One of his hands fell to the knife in his abdomen and pulled it out, tossing it in her direction. Yaroslav listed forward, breaking his fall with his left arm. Blood flowed from his throat wound to the ground. He wavered, and her full attention and concentration focused on him as he collapsed.

For a moment, all eyes shifted to her. She felt them, drew from their energy. With her last bit of strength, she stood up. She was wavering, teetering side to side. It was hard to breathe, and her tunnel vision surged as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

“This fight is concluded,” she hissed. “Get that surat some medical attention.”

Chistu started to collapse, but hands grabbed her from behind, preventing her from falling face-first on the ground. Darkness and dizziness consumed her, and the lights of the spaceport went instantly dark.

Stephanie heard voices, but could not make out the words or who was speaking. It was a garble, half-dream, half-reality to her. She forced her eyes open, and the white light above made her head throb.

I am alive. That self-acknowledgment was enough to cause her to shift. Her joints protested and ached like she had not felt before. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but her throat was bone dry. Coughing, she felt the presence of others around her, outside her field of vision. The coughing made her whole chest especially her right chest, throb.

“How long?” she managed to say.

A medtech moved into her field of vision. “Please try to relax, Galaxy Commander. You’ve been through quite a bit.”

Stephanie tried to clear her throat, but it hurt. “How… long?” she repeated slowly.

“Ten hours,” another voice from outside her field of vision spoke.

Jagger! She turned her head slowly and saw him. “We performed a temporary dermal patch,” the medtech said. “You shouldn’t move too much, Galaxy Commander.”

“Sitrep,” she said, ignoring him and focusing on Star Colonel Thastus.

“I had the Ninth Talons launch the Emerald Eyes Wing and do a pass over the Dales. The Lyrans have moved out.”

“To where?” she said, shifting and half sitting up.

“Unknown. I believe they moved into the Jukka Forest. It is not far from the Dales and thick enough to obscure their activities.”

Stephanie brought up a mental map of Coventry. Thastus’s theory made sense. If it was true, she had been wise to put a Trinary in Guite. This Roderick Steiner is unlikely to break easily, even with the death of his bloodkin. His bloodline is known for its tenacity. He will keep coming at me.

Stephanie’s mind danced. “Yaroslav?”

Thastus’s right eyebrow cocked. “Alive—barely. The doctors were able to save him, against my better judgment. We all saw him violate the Circle of Equals. Even his own troops disapproved of his actions. Poison is unbefitting true warriors, especially Jade Falcons. The use of a needler…that was wrong. He was trying to assassinate you. You know that, quiaff?”

I do now. “Aff,” she replied. The medtech handed her a cup of ice-cold water, which she drank. Her aching throat calmed on the third sip. Yaroslav meant to kill me, not just fight me. How much of Malvina was behind his actions? If Malvina wanted someone dead, she and her Mongol followers did it in the open, with no need for underhanded tactics. Stephanie did not want to believe that her Khan would stoop to assassinating her own commanders, but she had dark doubts—doubts she dare not speak aloud.

She put the cup down. “I will see him.”

“He cannot speak,” Jagger said. “Your last attack saw to that. It permanently damaged his vocal cords. The best he can likely do is whisper.”

“Good. It means I will not need to have him gagged.” She slowly swung her legs off the bed and felt the tug of the synthskin bandage on her right breast. The medtech moved to stop her, but Stephanie shot him an icy glare, and he stepped back.

The hospital floor was cold beneath her feet. There was a hint of imbalance, but she felt better than expected after such a savage fight. Jagger moved in at her side, not offering to help her at all.

They went two doors down the hall, to where two solahma infantry in the green uniforms of Delta Galaxy stood guard. Jagger was wise to put him under guard. We do not know the level of mischief he is capable of.

She entered his room and saw Yaroslav on the bed. His throat was wrapped in a thick pad of gauze tint ed pink where her blade had found its mark. A darker shade of synthskin covered the cut on his chest, but she saw for the first time the sheer size of the wound Tickler had inflicted. I hope it hurt then and now, you surat-suckling freebreeder.

The moment he saw her, the Star Colonel’s body stiffened, and his face turned red. His throat was wrapped so thickly that he could not open his mouth fully, but he did force out some air and spittle.

Good. He fears me. As it should be after what he has done.

“You live, Star Colonel,” she said. “But your life is forfeit. You violated centuries of Clan tradition by breaking the sanctity of the Circle of Equals. By taking that needler in with you, it is clear you intended to do so from the very start. Your use of poison, the kind of killing tool that only a member of the bandit caste uses, is unworthy of a warrior.”

He said nothing but seemed uncomfortable. He shifted on the bed, and for the first time she noticed that he was strapped down. One thing about Jagger, he is thorough.

She leaned over him so her face dominated his view. “Your Mongol Doctrine of winning at all costs has cost you your honor, and likely your life. I came here because I want you to know who beat you. Witness the extent of your failure. Khan Hazen is not here to protect you.”

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I also want you to know that your violation of the Circle of Equals means your life is in my hands. As you lie here, consider what fate is befitting a warrior who has cast aside every shred of honor.” She then smiled, broadly, proudly.

I am a true Jade Falcon. Stephanie stood up and walked out of the room as Yaroslav strained against the straps holding to the bed.

Ten hours later…

Putting on a fresh jumpsuit and tossing aside the worthless hospital gown made Stephanie feel better. This is where I belong, in warrior’s gear, doing warrior’s work. She had allowed herself a night of rest. It is time my Galaxy sees me back at my duties.

Stephanie found Tickler on the nightstand and strapped it to her side. The blade was thankfully clean of Yaroslav’s blood. I want nothing of that man to taint this weapon.

As she stepped into the corridor, Turco, a warrior from the First Falcon Striker Cluster, ran up to her. “Galaxy Commander, you are needed at the HQ immediately.”

“What is happening?” she demanded as the two of them started down the hospital hallway.

“We just received a partial message from our Trinary in Guite.” Turco increased his gait to keep up with her.

Stephanie shook off the aches and pains. It is beginning…the Lyrans are emerging.

“Go on,” she commanded.

“They are outnumbered and surrounded in the town.”

By Aidan Pryde’s blood! “Why was I not informed earlier?”

“Their communications were jammed. We just got an uplink via laser to our JumpShip that relayed it to us,” Turco said. “Apparently they were attacked an hour ago.”

“Force estimates?”

“Unknown. Initial reports are two Lyran regimental combat teams.” He paused as they flew through a pair of doors and out onto the street where a command car waited. “There is more, Galaxy Commander.”

Chistu did not slow down. “Go on.”

“General Roderick Steiner sent a message to you personally. Transmitted on our command channel unencrypted.”

He held out a noteputer as she climbed into the passenger seat. The vehicle lurched, but she ignored it. Instead, she stared at the image of Roderick Steiner on the screen; his chiseled featured and blue eyes marked his bloodline well. He was in a ’Mech cockpit, that much she could make out. She stabbed her thumb on the play icon.

“Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu, I am General of the Armies Roderick Steiner,” he began. “I will admit, you surprised us in the Dales. We now have your Trinary surrounded and will wipe them out, just as you did to Whitting if you do not come and face us here, now.

“I trust you are game for a rematch,” he said with a confident grin she could see through his neurohelmet’s visor. “Or you can suffer defeat at the hands of someone who was freeborn—the choice is yours. If you want your little hatchlings in Guite, come and get them.”

Stephanie just glared at the screen as she sped toward her ’Mech and the soon-to-be-joined battle. Well bargained and done, Roderick Steiner!

9

SOUTH OF THE OCHOA RIVER

COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

15 MARCH 3148

Smoke rolled out of the heart of Guite as Roderick surveyed the devastation. The original plan had been to use it as a forward observation post, but two squads of Himmelsfahrtkommandos that infiltrated the small town had reported that a Jade Falcon Trinary had already beaten him to the position. Roderick had amended his plan to take advantage of the town. He had hoped to move in and force the Falcons to capitulate once they were surrounded and outgunned. Jade Falcon prisoners would have been the perfect bait to move Galaxy Commander Chistu out of Port St. William. He had given those orders to the Second Royals, specifically to secure prisoners.

For the first time ever, his troops had defied those orders.

I made a mistake. I didn’t fully factor in just how much rage and fury I had instilled in my force. Roderick had suspected that Chistu would put a recon unit in Guite. In a rushed wave of wrath and ferocity he had rarely experienced, the Lyrans had encircled the Trinary in the town square before they had a chance to even deploy. After surrounding the enemy, his forces rushed in, screaming, “Remember Jasek!” and “Remember Whitting!”

The Falcons fought incredibly well, but Lyrans filled with battle-frenzy hit them from all sides at once. Formations and tactics gave way to pure rage. The fighting lasted only a few short minutes before the Jade Falcons had all succumbed. Only a few of the Clanners had been taken alive, and if it had not been for his personal intervention, even that wouldn’t have happened.

While Roderick knew the Falcon defenders had been utterly defeated, he was sure Stephanie Chistu did not know that. I don’t need live Falcons as bait to lure her in, only the illusion of them. He ordered ECM thrown up and had his troops prop up some of the downed enemy ’Mechs, in case the Falcons flew aerial reconnaissance sorties to verify. The fires were allowed to burn, generating smoke to make it look like fighting still raged. The Lyrans evacuated the surviving civilians, getting them clear of the battle about to come.

The plan had been devised by Roderick and General Ross. First, they would lure the Jade Falcons away from Port St. William. By placing her troops in Guite, Chistu had given Roderick the perfect incentive to induce her to come—a rescue mission. She would have come anyway…the bulk of our force is here. She knows if she defeats us here, now, Coventry is hers.

The second part of the plan involved the Ochoa River. The wide waterway was not quite at flood stage, but the water level was up due to recent rains in the mountains to the east. It was fast flowing, too fast for ’Mechs to ford. That left only the single highway bridge between the two armies. If Chistu wanted him, there was only one way to reach him, and that was across that lone bridge.

Francine Ross had summed it up best: “She will see it for the bottleneck it is, but will be compelled to come at us with expediency. She’s a Jade Falcon. We are far too tempting a target to disregard.”

The bridge would separate her forces, those north of the river and those crossing to the south to reach Guite to rescue their comrades and get at the Lyran troops. Then we drop the hammer on her. He had few resources left. There were no reserves for him to tap into.

He had not told Francine Ross or anyone else that he intended to deal with Stephanie Chistu personally. The odds in the fight were far too even for his liking. Even if his forces were victorious, he risked decimating troops on both sides. This was one of those rare times that the Clan way of fighting was best—a duel of honor, warrior to warrior.

Given the chance, I will call her out and we will end this once and for all. Francine doesn’t need to know my intent. She will only protest and demand the right to face Chistu herself. The Battle for Coventry will end at my hand.

He had transmitted his taunt to the Jade Falcons in the clear. They will come in force. “Francine, post your troops as we planned,” he sent on the command channel. “The rest of you, remember, we don’t open up until they have at least a Cluster over that bridge. Wait for my command.”

“Understood, sir,” Francine replied.

Hasty trenches were being dug, with tanks concealed under mud, sod, and carefully placed tarps. In Guite, ’Mechs with long-range weapons were targeting the highway bridge and its approaches. Others, hidden in the outskirts of the town, aimed at the close end of the bridge.

A voice came over his commlink. “This is Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu of the Gyrfalcon Galaxy of Clan Jade Falcon, the one true Clan. Who are you to take our warriors prisoner, General Steiner? You are unworthy.”

“Coming from someone who kills innocent civilians, I will take that as a compliment,” he replied on the open frequency.

“We are en route to your position now,” she said firmly. “You will pay for your audacity.”

Roderick’s lower jaw clenched. “It ends here, today, Galaxy Commander Chistu.”

“We shall see.” Indeed we shall.

The Ninth Talon Cluster came down the road first, followed by the First Falcon Strikers. There was no attempt at stealth, no attempt to conceal their approach. They came down the highway at a full run, ’Mechs on the road, tanks on the side. A low cloud of dust kicked up, and the thudding of ’Mech feet could be felt even across the river.

Roderick watched from his Rifleman IIC concealed in Guite. He switched to the tactical channel and broadcast to all of his troops. “This is General Steiner. I know you have your blood up, but we need to be foxy to beat these birds. Hold your fire until I give the word. Remember, our goal is to pinch them at the bridge, take out that first Cluster that comes across. You all know your missions. If you want to honor Jasek, do as I say, and you will have your vengeance.”

The ’Mechs crossed the bridge in pairs, slowing considerably when they reached the span. They are suspicious, expecting to be hit on the bridge where they are the most exposed. The Ninth began crossing toward the still-smoking town.

General Steiner wanted to fire, but held himself back. If it is this hard for me, I can’t imagine how the troops are doing it. His tactical display gave him a full readout of the approaching forces. There was no sign of the Jade Hawk that Stephanie Chistu piloted. She would not send them without coming herself. For a moment, some self-doubt crept in. Has she found some way to flank me? Am I the trapper—or the victim?

As the First Falcon Striker Cluster began crossing the bridge, the Ninth was almost at Guite. Now is as good a time as any.

“This is General Steiner. All units attack! For Jasek!”

“For Jasek!” came a hundred cries at once in his neurohelmet. They kept chanting it as the barrage opened up.

He stepped out and brought his targeting reticle past the obvious targets, aiming for a Gyrfalcon on his side of the bridge. A wave of emerald pulses shot forth, all hitting the left leg and hip of the fifty-five-ton Jade Falcon ’Mech. It twisted in mid-step, bumping into an Uller next to it. White wisps of smoke rose from the holes his lasers had seared into the green armor.

From a concealed slip trench near the bridge, a pair of Lyran SM1 Tank Destroyers burst forth, hitting the Uller from the opposite direction. Their autocannons blasted streams of armor-piercing hell into the ’Mech, sending fragments flying into the Gyrfalcon and the raging brown waters of the Ochoa River. Between autocannon shells and the bump from the heavier Gyrfalcon, the Uller pilot lost their footing and toppled over at the feet of their comrade’s ’Mech.

A trio of Bellona hovertanks unleashed a wave of long-range missiles into a Jade Falcon Loki, riddling the ’Mech with explosions. Lasers filled the air around the Ninth Talon Cluster. From behind every ramshackle building in the town, ’Mechs stepped out and opened fire. From the low rises in the distance, Lyran ’Mechs that had been lying prone sat up, then stood and fired.

The Bellonas drove right into the middle of the Jade Falcon troop concentration, firing everywhere at once. Their howls of “Remember Jasek!” filled the comm channels. One collided with the legs of a Vulture at full speed, ruining its hover skirt but tearing a horrible gash in the Vulture’s shin. As the Bellona spun, its lasers and machine guns fired wildly, hitting at least three ’Mechs before being kicked hard by a Mad Cat, which sent it twirling out of control.

The Gyrfalcon fired its jump jets, rising up and over the downed Uller. Roderick maintained his target lock and fired three of his four lasers as the Falcon rose. One beam dug deep into the Gyrfalcon’s already-damaged leg; the others sizzled on its upper torso as it reached the apex of its jump.

It landed just on the south side the bridge with a thump, then its damaged leg shrieked in metallic agony and collapsed under the ’Mech’s weight. It fell hard, face first on the road, tearing deep ruts in the ferrocrete upon impact. Bits of armor clattered as the Gyrfalcon struggled to right itself.

The Uller was less lucky. A hidden infantry squad burst forth from under the bridge and launched short-range missiles filled with flammable gel. The Inferno rounds turned the downed ’Mech into a raging conflagration. Somewhere in the middle of the yellow-and-orange flames, the Jade Falcon warrior was roasting in their cockpit. Roderick did not think on that for long. All that mattered was that the bridge was clogged.

A Lyran Atlas rushed at a Mad Cat trying to take out a Demon tank. There was no pretext to its intent. At minimum range, it unleashed a Gauss-rifle slug right into the Falcon’s left-side missile rack, furrowing deep and ruining several launch tubes. The Atlas’s lasers and long-range missiles poured into the Mad Cat, sending the Jade Falcon ’Mech staggering, then toppling over from the onslaught.

The Falcon pilot rolled the ungainly ’Mech, no small task, trying to rise. Roderick locked onto it and fired two pulse lasers, peppering the head and body with smoking white gashes in its armor. The Atlas closed the distance at a full run, pulling its right leg back, and delivering a devastating kick to the fallen ’Mech’s head. The huge foot crushed through the armored glass and deep to the rear of the cockpit. No MechWarrior could have survived such a blow.

The Bellona tank that had driven into the middle of the Jade Falcons emerged on fire, bursting forth like a bat out of hell. From the bridge, Roderick saw several Falcons attempting to force a crossing, only to be caught in crossfire from both sides of the bridge. One Man O’ War pumped a stream of autocannon rounds across the river and into Guite. A building near Roderick exploded from long-range missiles, raining bricks onto his Rifleman IIC. He sidestepped to take more cover.

A green Loki bathed the Atlas in PPC fire and Streak missiles, shredding armor plating. Roderick locked onto it and fired all four of his large pulse lasers. The air became brilliant green as they tore into the Loki’s arm and torso. The Atlas fired its Gauss rifle, and the slug slammed into the enemy Mech’s right arm, ripping it off and sending it spinning into the grass.

The Loki turned to face Roderick, swinging its PPC around, when Captain Krecislaw burst through the smoke to his left. He was piloting Jasek’s repaired Templar, and was flanked by two other Lyran ’Mechs that seemed to be protecting him. The Templar, with light gray-primered replacement armor and cockpit, looked like a ghost in the haze.

All three Lyrans poured fire into the Falcon ’Mech. For a moment, Roderick lost it amid the haze and orange fireballs from missile and autocannon rounds hitting it. Seeing the Templar there, in the battle, brought back memories of the Battle of the Dales. This time it was different.

As the haze lifted, the Loki looked as if it had been viciously bear-hugged by the Atlas. Its armor was blackened, and smoke poured from a large glowing hole in its right side near the fusion reactor. Every bit of the armor was either crumbled, slagged, or ripped apart. Its pilot punched out, rising over the raging battle.

Roderick shifted his position to focus on the Jade Falcons deploying across the river. The bridge is partially blocked, so now they wish to help their comrades. He targeted a Thor on the far side and fired two of his large pulse lasers. One missed, but one hit the center of the Falcon ’Mech, melting and blackening armor plating. He faded back behind a building for cover, offering the Thor no chance at retribution.

He saw one Lyran ’Mech fall, a Commando, blasted in half at the waist by a Ryoken. There was no ejection as it went down, which meant its MechWarrior might still be alive. That hope was dashed when a Mad Cat rushed across the remains of the Commando, its birdlike foot crushing the cockpit. It did not seem deliberate, but it didn’t matter to Roderick. The action infuriated him.

Four long-range missiles from across the river slapped into his side with low grumbles as they chewed into his armor. Roderick pivoted to keep targeting the Mad Cat and let go with all four lasers, despite the rising heat in his cockpit. Three found their mark on the Falcon’s flank as Captain Krecislaw swung his Templar on the Falcon ’Mech. His short-range missiles, lasers, and Gauss-rifle shots enveloped the Falcon warrior in a wave of destruction. Smoke and armor fragments filled the air, and the Mad Cat fell backward. A gray-and-blue streaked Demon tank passed the fallen ’Mech, pouring in laser fire at point-blank range. The red beams tore deeper scars on the armor of the green ’Mech.

The Mad Cat pilot was a savant of some sort, ignoring the incoming fire and somehow contorting and rising to its feet. Its pilot sent a wave of long-range missiles into Krecislaw’s Templar, momentarily obscuring the ’Mech. The Lyran ’Mech emerged from the whitish-gray smoke like a ghost, unleashing its own wave of fire as it closed with the Mad Cat. Roderick held his fire out of fear that he might hit his own man, instead, firing a barrage across the river at the Thor.

A running Fenris saw him take the shot, and angled to fire at him. Its extended-range PPC missed his cockpit by less than a meter, hitting the building next to his Rifleman. Roderick drifted his targeting reticle on the fast-moving ’Mech but held his fire for a few seconds, hoping it would allow his ’Mech some precious time to cool.

When he was ready, he aimed low and fired. Three of his large pulse lasers riddled the Falcon ’Mech’s legs. The pilot juked to avoid another salvo as a Blackjack ripped into it from across the battlefield. Two crimson beams gored the Fenris on its side and legs. One knee locked up, fused by the laser blast. The Fenris suddenly picked up a horrible limp, its speed dropping dramatically. Its PPC fired at a passing Savannah Master, disintegrating the tiny hovercraft in a spray of melted armor and tiny bits of metal.

The Atlas reappeared through the haze of the firefight, its armor rent and gouged deeply, but still operational. Its skull-shaped head had been damaged, and as a result looked as if it were grinning. Roderick couldn’t help smiling at the sight. As a Vulture rounded on it, the Atlas sent a Gauss slug into its spindly legs, ripping a trench-like gouge out of the armor. Myomer cables flapped from the gaping wound.

Roderick hit the Vulture with two of his lasers, diverting the Falcon warrior’s attention from the Atlas at the wrong instant. Long-range missiles soaked the Vulture in explosions and smoke. It emerged, firing its own LRMs at the Atlas as it faced the most immediate threat. The missiles shrouded the massive gray-and-blue OmniMech as the Clanner tried to put some distance between them.

A Lyran Hatchetman sprang into the fray behind it, swinging its axe down, ruining one of the Vulture’s missile racks. The handheld weapon stuck in the rack. As the Clanner tried to flee, it dragged the Hatchetman with it. The Lyran’s autocannons riddled the Jade Falcon’s rear until it twisted hard, ripping the axe from the Hatchetman’s hand, but leaving it stuck in the crippled missile rack. The deep holes in the OmniMech’s rear armor glowed from where they had shredded fusion reactor insulation.

Both ’Mechs fired at point-blank range with everything they had. The few meters of air between them filled with fire and death until BattleMechs toppled backward, plowing into the ground.

Unable to track all of the destruction happening everywhere, Roderick turned back to the river. A Puma fired into Guite, where it had detected one of the Second Royals, so Roderick fired a salvo of all four pulse lasers into the squat OmniMech across the river. The Puma’s left leg blew off at the knee, and the ’Mech toppled over next to the Thor Roderick had exchanged volleys with.

His tactical display told him the Ninth Talon Cluster was in tatters. Only a few stragglers were still fiercely blasting away, falling back to the bridge littered with fallen Clan ’Mechs and the remains of blown-off limbs and armor plating. The First Striker Cluster had formed up along the riverbank but was unwilling to press forward across the bridge. Not yet, at least.

Now.

“General Steiner to General Ross,” he spoke clearly on the command channel, “initiate Gauntlet. I say again, initiate Gauntlet.”

“Jawohl,” Francine Ross said. “See you across the river, Roderick.”

The battle continued for another five minutes as the Second Royals and some of the Fifteenth found problems with their pursuit. The closer the Falcons withdrew toward the river, the more cover fire they got from the other side. The stubborn Ninth’s ’Mechs and troops on his side of the river refused to try reaching the bridge. For a millisecond he admired them, until he saw another Lyran Commando collapse under a wave of short-range missiles.

The air above him roared—not like thunder, but continuous and rolling. Roderick looked up and saw them—Lyran DropShips loaded with troops under Francine Ross’s command. They were headed toward Port St. William.

General Steiner smiled in that moment as the DropShips soared over his force and the Jade Falcons along the river. He knew every eye was looking upward, realizing that they were facing a new battle, one that none of them had anticipated. That feeling of complete surprise…that awe his enemies were experiencing…Roderick relished it.

Activating an open channel, he broadcast to the Jade Falcons. “Galaxy Commander Chistu, this is General Steiner. Your troops across the river are nearly gone, and by now you have seen my DropShips heading for the spaceport along with a full RCT. They will not attack your DropShips yet, but they will take out your support teams and technicians. You are surrounded.”

Roderick paused. She is a Jade Falcon, and if nothing else, is proud. His grandfather had taught him that if you corner someone, you give them no alternative but to try fighting their way out. “We have both shed a great deal of blood. There is no need for us to die here for no reason. I am sure we can find a way to end this fight.”

Roderick waited as the combat along the riverbank continued. A handful of adventurous Falcons stepped onto the bridge and laid down steady barrages of longrange missiles, giving some relief to the warriors of the Ninth Talon Cluster on the bank. He moved toward the pocket of Falcons on the south bank. If she did not answer soon, he would join in on the final thrust to wipe out the Ninth.

Why doesn’t she respond, damn it?

The silence from his foe seemed to last forever, though in reality less than a minute had passed.

But then there was a hiss and pop as her stern voice came over the channel.

“General Roderick Steiner—”

10

NORTH OF THE OCHOA RIVER

COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

15 MARCH 3148

Two minutes earlier…

The DropShips roaring overhead made Stephanie Chistu’s stomach knot for a long moment. She heard Roderick Steiner’s words and nodded. Well played…you are worthy of the Steiner blood in your veins.

She was piloting Yaroslav’s Summoner, and hating it every moment of it. She had claimed it as part of his punishment for breaking the rules of the Circle of Equals. The ’Mech lacked any definable shape. It was old-Clan style—utilitarian. Worse, she found it ungainly to pilot. How much of that was her hatred of the ’Mech’s former pilot, she could not say. She watched the DropShips fly past her for Port St. William.

“Your orders, Galaxy Commander?” came the high-pitched voice of Star Colonel Molen Hazen of the Third Talon Cluster.

Her options were daunting. Staying and fighting to relieve the Ninth across the river meant losing more troops, with more Lyrans landing in her rear. Breaking off and heading back to her DropShips to deal with the troops there meant Roderick Steiner would pursue her. As she sat in her command couch, she tried to devise a solution, a plan, anything that might help alleviate her sudden plight.

Then her communications system flashed red. What now? It was coded as Flash Traffic from the JumpShip Eyasses Brood. “This is Striker Prime, what is it?”

The voice of Star Captain Broccán came into her neurohelmet. “Galaxy Commander, one of our JumpShips arrived in-system with a message for you from Khan Hazen. It is emergency Flash Traffic. Your eyes only.”

Flash Traffic—that means one thing, a crisis. “Transmit to this ’Mech,” she commanded. A second later, the image of Khan Malvina Hazen appeared on the screen. Her pale skin and long platinum braid betrayed the danger she represented.

“Galaxy Commander Chistu. You are ordered immediately to Pobeda. The accursed Wolves-in-Exile have captured our staging world, Upano, and are poised to hit several other planets. You are ordered to depart immediately to stave off any further losses.” The image of her Khan disappeared.

Her face grew hot with anger and raw frustration. Freebirth! Is it not enough that I must contend with this battle and now these orders? In the course of five minutes, the tactical situation had changed—twice. Stravag! Fury made her muscles ache, and the synthskin bandage on her breast strained with each breath.

What is the answer? Her mind went to the tactical nuclear weapons. Unleashing them on the Lyrans in Guite might take them out, along with whatever was left of the Ninth Talon Cluster. Malvina would not hesitate to unleash them, even if it kills our own forces in the process. I am not Malvina. I am a true Jade Falcon. My path is one of honor and glorious battle.

Even if she did use nukes on the Lyrans across the river, she could not use them against the force landing in her rear without damaging or destroying her own DropShips. Neg—the use of nuclear weapons is not the answer.

To win, I must fight as an honorable Jade Falcon would… and fast. The solution came to her in that thought, all tied to the word “honor.” Yes, that might work…if Roderick Steiner is willing to consider it.

She switched to a clear channel. “General Roderick Steiner, this is Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu of Delta Galaxy of Clan Jade Falcon, the one true Clan. I salute you on your tactical deployment and the battle thus far. You have proven yourself worthy of the honor that I am about to bestow upon you.

“I agree that the further loss of life is undesirable for both of us. So much has been shed for this world already. Let us end this in the traditions of our people. I challenge you to a Trial of Possession for Coventry—you and I alone, together in a Circle of Equals.”

Chistu stopped transmitting as another of her ’Mechs across the river exploded under a vicious Lyran barrage. The flash explosion of the fusion reactor blew what was left of the ’Mech into the muddy waters of the fast-moving river; it disappeared in a plume of steam from superheated metal hitting cold water.

The waiting ate at her nerves. If he refuses, my options are limited. Each passing minute worked to the Lyrans’ advantage. Their troops were debarking somewhere in her rear at Port St. William. Will this Roderick Steiner stall, inflict more damage, and use my inaction against me?

His voice came back, oddly calm. “This is General of the Armies Roderick Steiner. I accept your gracious offer. I propose an immediate ceasefire. I will come across the river and meet with you. But I warn you, Galaxy Commander…if this is some ploy to kill me, I will not be responsible for what my troops do to you as a result.”

It was an odd threat. Such animosity these Lyrans have toward us. What will his troops do? Memories of Whitting and what had transpired there came back to haunt her. “Agreed. I will order my troops to stand down. Despite what you think, General, you will be treated honorably.”

“That remains to be seen,” Steiner replied.

Stephanie ordered her troops to cease fire, and they did instantly. A few moments later, all weapons fire stopped. She moved to her end of the bridge and spotted a Rifleman IIC climbing through the debris at the other end. He pilots one of our ’Mechs, battlefield isorla, no doubt. General Steiner came alone, across the bridge, moving without caution.

“Roderick Steiner,” she said as their two ’Mechs came within twenty meters of each other. “You may not be familiar with our customs. As the challenged, the choice of how and where we fight falls to you.”

“I know your customs,” he replied. “We study the ways of the Clans at our academies. I say we fight near the spaceport, some place large and flat.”

“Agreed,” she replied. “Do you wish to fight augmented?”

“We are both MechWarriors. I say we fight with our ’Mechs.”

“Well bargained and done,” Chistu said. “Follow me, and we shall adjourn to Port St. William.”

The journey took an hour. As they approached, she saw the gray-and-blue Lyran DropShips first, blocking the view of her own ships. On the ground she saw most of a regimental combat team deployed.

Jagger’s voice came onto her commlink. “Galaxy Commander, this is unwise. You were nearly killed a day ago in a Circle of Equals. Your wounds have not healed. You are exhausted. You have also suffered damage in the fighting at the river. These are not the ideal conditions for another trial.”

He does not see it, but I am a true Jade Falcon. “Irrelevant. I received orders from Khan Hazen. We are to withdraw immediately for Pobeda. Clan Wolf has exploited our assault as a sign of weakness, and has struck.”

His voice took on a pleading tone. “Then we should depart this accursed world! This trial is pointless.”

“Neg, Thastus, it is not!” she snapped. “If we win, I can tell our illustrious Khan that we took this world and did it with honor, my way, our way.”

“But we cannot hold it. We have been ordered back to Pobeda.”

“That does not matter now. What matters is honor.”

“Allow me to fight in your stead,” he countered. “I am more rested that you. We cannot afford to lose you.”

“Neg, Jagger. Malvina sent me here to die. She wanted to prove the weakness of the honorable road. This was about her and her accursed doctrine. Having you fight for me would show me as weak, and this is no time for perceived weakness among our people. If they are to have an alternative to the Mongol way, they must see it as a shining beacon. I have to do this, no one else.”

“What if you lose?”

She grinned, if only for a moment. “If I lose, we leave.

I will tell our Khan that I departed due to her orders.” “Malvina Hazen will not let you get by without the

destruction of Lyrans, orders or not.”

“I will not use those nuclear weapons, if that is what you imply. Such weapons are devoid of honor. She will not put another drop of blood on my hands in the name of her twisted belief system. I am not a Mongol—I am Jade Falcon.”

“As you say, Galaxy Commander. I wish you well.”

They arrived on the flat plateau where Port St. William rested. General Steiner asked for space, and a Circle of Equals over a kilometer in diameter was established. Stephanie invited his own troops to be part of the Circle with her own. Roderick introduced the ’Mech piloted by General Ross. She introduced Star Colonel Thastus. There was an awkwardness about the introductions. He knows our traditions, but not the nuances of them.

“We will enter the Circle. Star Colonel Thastus will act as Loremaster, and say when we begin. At any point, you may submit. This does not need to be a battle to the death.”

“I understand. There will be no submission on my part, Galaxy Commander. I am the General of the Armies of the Lyran Commonwealth. If this must go to the death, then so be it.”

He trotted his Rifleman IIC off across the wide-open field. When he reached the far end, he turned to face her, his ’Mech’s arms raised and pointing at her. She looked through the magnified image and had to admire him. It would be a shame to kill such a man.

Jagger Thastus’s voice came over the commlink to everyone gathered there. “In keeping with the rede of our people, this is a Trial of Possession for the world of Coventry. May your fight be one worthy of a line in our Remembrance. You may begin.”

Stephanie broke into a run to the right; Roderick trotted to the left. With her joystick she brought the ER PPC in line with his jogging ’Mech and switched the weapon to her thumb trigger…then fired. There was a deep whine, and a burst of manmade lightning stabbed through the air, hitting the Rifleman on the right side. The excess energy discharged as blue sparks across the Lyran war machine.

Roderick tightened the arc of his run to bring him closer and fired a barrage with all four of his large pulse lasers. Green bursts of destruction hit her boxy Summoner in its torso. Warning lights flared yellow as the lasers burned deep and melted armor.

Leaning forward, she brought her LB 10-X autocannon in line and fired, just as Roderick juked his Rifleman IIC. Most of the stream of shells missed, but the few that hit tore into his legs.

General Steiner fired only two of his weapons in response. One missed, but the other tore into her ’Mech’s chest. Stephanie felt the ’Mech rock hard under the impact, the restraining strap tearing at her chest wound. She could tell it was bleeding again. Not now…

Unleashing a salvo of long-range missiles staggered Roderick’s Rifleman hard, with the majority of them finding their target. The hits peeled back armor from his left shoulder as he burst through the smoke of the explosions. Her cockpit grew warm, but she ignored it. If I am feeling it, surely he is as well.

The Rifleman IIC changed directions suddenly and charged. She pivoted her torso to keep her targeting reticle on him and fired her extended-range particle projection cannon. This time she hit him in the left leg. A blackened scar appeared, and Roderick slowed his ’Mech’s gait. Her tactical display did not show enough damage to have caused it. Have I hurt him more than my sensors tell me?

He fired another blast with the pair of pulse lasers in his left arm. One went wide, just above her cockpit. The other hit her armored canopy, searing black marks across it.

Her Summoner rocked backward. Her ears rang, and a wave of heat enveloped her neurohelmet. She popped the visor open to let cooler air in. Memories of the neural feedback she had endured during the Battle of the Dales came back to her, though this time it was not as bad. I cannot take another head hit like that. As if to validate her point, her cockpit glass suddenly cracked, a large spiderweb appearing in front of her.

She struggled to keep the targeting reticle on him, but the moment she got tone, she fired her LB 10-X autocannon and long-range missiles. It was a snap shot, she knew it. The autocannon missed, tearing up the flat grass of the plateau to his right, but the missiles found their target, hitting him everywhere. Orange and yellow bursts of the exploding warheads gave her some degree of satisfaction.

The heat in her cockpit rose further, and her cooling vest strained to keep her alive. Roderick held his fire for a several long moments, and she knew he was venting heat as well. He started to close distance with her and then unleashed all four of his pulse lasers.

The air glowed green around her. Three of the bursts hit her square in the torso, just under the cockpit. The other shot punctured her already-damaged right side, burrowing deep into the ’Mech’s torso. The Summon er reeled, and the warning klaxon alerted her of critical damage. As her OmniMech staggered backward, she saw that her gyro and fusion reactor had been hit.

The Summoner pitched forward—the gyro was knocked out of alignment, and she was suddenly fighting not only gravity, but the ungainly ’Mech itself and the advancing Lyran general. Despite wrenching the throttle back, she could not get her ’Mech to respond in reverse fast enough.

The Summoner toppled, falling on its right side, crunching more armor in the process. She smelled burning myomer, and knew it was from her ’Mech. The Summoner’s right arm was pinned, and an amber warning light for her PPC illuminated; no doubt it had been damaged in the fall.

Chistu rocked the Summoner, but its response was unlike that of her sleeker Jade Hawk. It seemed to resist her every motion. She started to rise, getting one leg bent under her, but the gyro damage shifted her ’Mech’s center of gravity. The Summoner fell again, this time doing more damage to her right side and arm. The PPC, which had been flashing yellow, turned red. A muffled blast of the particle capacitor blew her elbow actuator as well.

The roasting air in her cockpit was stifling from the loss of several heat sinks. The fusion reactor insulation had been damaged, and the reactor’s heat was baking her OmniMech from within. None of that could be dealt with now. She checked her targeting system and saw that Roderick Steiner had stopped moving altogether. I can only hope he is struggling with heat as well.

She rocked the Summoner hard to her left and strained to stand. Her muscles protested as she worked the foot pedals and joysticks to get the ’Mech kneeling, then standing. As she rose she realized she was not facing the Rifleman, and turned to face her foe.

What greeted her was a trio of blasts from General Steiner’s ’Mech. Emerald laser bursts scorched her legs and left arm. Despite the risks of heat, she brought her targeting reticle on the now dangerously close Rifleman and fired her autocannon. The shells tore into his legs, rocking him hard, but he managed to stay upright.

Stephanie moved her long-range missiles to a separate firing trigger as the temperature spiked from the autocannon fusillade she had unleashed. Roderick remained standing, unmoving, as if daring her to fire. She didn’t move either, mostly because she didn’t want to risk losing what little balance she had. Her ’Mech was badly damaged, and it fought every motion she made.

I cannot wait to fire. She triggered another wave of long-range missiles at the looming Rifleman, and her cockpit felt like a furnace. Almost all of the warheads found their mark, and the ungainly ’Mech reeled back as General Steiner fought the explosions trying to tumble him to the ground. For a moment, however brief, she thought he was going to fall…she was sure of it. At the last moment, he got one foot behind him, enough to keep standing upright.

As the Rifleman rose to its full height, she saw the damage she had inflicted. Almost every bit of its armor was pitted and furrowed. Smoke billowed from one hole in his left torso. Her tactical feeds told her that his armor was savaged, but he was still in the fight. She desperately wanted to employ her jump jets, try another death from above. The thought of killing two Steiner generals with that attack would be worthy of a line in The Remembrance. But the fighting at the bridgehead had damaged her jets, removing that option.

Stephanie’s heart sank as Roderick fired two of his large lasers and his small extended-range laser at her. The salvo was devastating. The small laser bored into the holes under her cockpit, right at the engine. The heat level soared. She didn’t see where the other hits were; they did not matter.

The Summoner sagged on its left side, and she leaned hard against it, pulling with every bit of her might, but to no avail. Once more the Summoner dropped to the ground, metallic grinding and warnings sounding all around her.

For a moment, she blacked out. When she opened her eyes, she saw darkness. She had fallen face forward, somehow twisting at the last moment. Dirt and sod were crushed against her now-shattered cockpit glass. She licked her lips and tasted a crusty, salty film on them. The ride side of her chest throbbed, and looking down she saw blood under her coolant vest.

A voice came over the commlink. “You have fought bravely, Galaxy Commander, but your ’Mech is badly damaged. I strongly advise to you yield, but if you force me to kill you, I will.”

There was no gloating in Roderick Steiner’s words, no arrogance that she would have expected from a fellow Jade Falcon. If anything, he too sounded weary and exhausted.

Malvina Hazen would try to stand, make him kill her. I am not Malvina Hazen.

“General Steiner,” she said, her throat wracked and dry, “I yield this Trial of Possession to you. You have won Coventry fairly and with honor.”

It had taken the techs a good twenty minutes to painfully extract her from what was left of the Summoner. The medtechs laid her on the ground and treated her reopened wounds with field bandages.

As they worked, she saw a man in a green jumpsuit, not too dissimilar to hers, watching them. He held a neurohelmet under his arm, and his body was wet with sweat. On his forehead was what looked like a bruise, a dark gray mark. His sweat-soaked blond hair and blue eyes told her it was Roderick Steiner.

Next to him stood another general, who Stephanie assumed was General Ross. She too had a gray smear above her brow. Both wore crude black armbands on their upper arms.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.

The medtech looked to Stephanie and nodded. “She will. The Galaxy Commander is tougher than her size belies.”

“I believe you,” General Steiner said.

As well you should, Stephanie thought. “You are Roderick Steiner, quiaff?”

“I am,” he replied. “And this is General Francine Ross.”

Stephanie looked at the woman and nodded. “I tried to trap and crush you for days, General Ross, and you always managed to stay one step ahead of me. I so looked forward to defeating you on the field of battle.”

“I’m not sure how to take that,” Ross replied.

“As a sign of respect, I assure you,” Stephanie said, handing her neurohelmet to a nearby tech. “Jade Falcons are not good at compliments. The competitive nature of our people does not yield itself to extending accolades to our enemies.”

“Very well,” Ross said, her furrowed brow relaxing a bit.

Chistu turned to Roderick, who seemed to tower over her. “What of my warriors captured in Guite? Are they to be held as prisoners of war or released?”

Roderick Steiner’s face reddened. “Only three survived. I am afraid my troops had their blood up, and your Trinary fought right to the end. I would be willing to arrange for a full exchange of prisoners, though.”

“Well bargained,” she replied. I understand their hatred of us after Whitting and the Dales. “Losing Coventry to you is not easy for me. Better to have done it this way than by senseless slaughter.”

“After what your forces did to Whitting, I’m surprised you did not opt for the slaughter,” Roderick replied coarsely.

I deserve that. “Much of what transpired here was not my design, but the orders of our Khan, Malvina Hazen. I gave orders for Whitting to be evacuated of civilians, and your troops would be offered a chance to surrender. Only then would the city be destroyed, per the orders of our Khan. Those orders were not followed.”

Roderick Steiner’s head went back slightly, and a sign of puzzlement rose to his face. “I have never heard of Clan warriors refusing to follow orders.”

“We live in times of change. Some resist that change. It seems both of us struggled with keeping our forces on task. Know that what occurred at Whitting was not the actions of an honorable Jade Falcon, but of a miscreant who cast aside his personal integrity and the laws of our people to take actions I refused to sanction. In this case, I humbled this dishonorable warrior in a Circle of Equals. He has paid a dear price for his callous actions.”

“That is all well and good,” Roderick said. “It does not bring back the dead.”

“Neg, it does not. I thought you should know.”

Roderick crossed his arms in defiance. “Yet he willfully committed a war crime very different from overzealous troops in the heat of battle. And as a leader, you are responsible for the actions of those under your command.”

“Aff,” she replied. If he seeks recompense, there is little I can offer him. “I do not molt that responsibility, General. His taint is mine. Yet in the end, you have won Coventry from me. That is another disgrace I must bear.”

An awkward silence reigned for a few moments. When Roderick finally spoke again, he drove straight to the point. “So where does that leave us, Galaxy Commander?”

He should know the whole truth, not just about me, but about the Jade Falcons and what Malvina represents. “Generals, I know you have little reason to trust me. My hands have been tied with orders I was given before I arrived here. I have had to walk a fine line between honor and my orders. I believe I have done that well, but I know you do not agree. If you will accompany me, I want to show you the full extent of what Malvina Hazen had planned for Coventry. Perhaps it will help convince you.”

Steiner nodded, and Stephanie rose unsteadily to her feet, but waved off any hint of assistance. The two generals followed her to a nearby hover transport. Stephanie took a seat in the rear, granting Roderick the honor of the front seat, and she ordered the driver to take them to Port St. William.

They passed the Lyran DropShips, and in their shadows of the setting afternoon sun, the transport parked under one of her massive Overlord-C DropShips. The air reeked of fuel, lubricant, and baked ferrocrete tarmac.

As they got out, General Ross paused for a moment, looking up at the big DropShip from within its massive shadow.

“Is there a problem, General Ross?”

“No,” she said, turning her gaze back down to the other woman. “I’ve just never been this close before.”

On the ground, under the belly of the ship, were theater-range missile launchers, fully loaded, with more missiles stacked beside them. Galaxy Commander Chistu walked over to the launchers and pointed to them. “This is what I wanted you to see, General Steiner.”

“Tactical missiles?”

“Aff. The warheads are nuclear,” she said, pausing to let the admission settle in with her guests. “Khan Hazen sent fifteen of these with me with orders to use them on either your forces or the cities she identified.”

Generals Ross and Steiner locked gazes with each other, then turned to her.

“You were going to use nukes on our troops?” Roderick asked.

She met both of their stares a cool one of her own. “Neg. I was given the authorization. I could have done so in the Battle of the Dales, or at Guite. Malvina Hazen would have loved that. I could have burned you all away and taken Coventry.”

“But…you didn’t?” Roderick said.

“Neg. It is not my way—not the true way of the Jade Falcon. Malvina has lost that way, as have her followers. She believes the only way to achieve true victory is to destroy the Inner Sphere and remake it in her own image.”

“You could have destroyed us at any time,” Francine Ross said in an astonished tone.

“I was authorized to. To your point, I did not. I would not just burn your troops, I would burn my soul. I did not wish to be a Jade Falcon remembered for senseless and honorless slaughter. I follow the true Way of the Clans, one where honor and tradition still have meaning. I thought you should know what I was ordered to do—and why I did not follow those orders.”

“I have defeated you in a Circle of Equals—” Roderick began when she cut him off.

“Our Circle of Equals.”

“I stand corrected. Our Circle of Equals,” Roderick said. “So, what now? I have won Coventry, but you are still here. I’m not entirely sure of the protocol.”

“I will ask you for hegira, a withdrawal from this place. It is yours—fairly won in honorable battle.”

Roderick rubbed his chiseled chin in thought. “I am not so sure, Galaxy Commander. I do not want to release you simply so you can go attack another Commonwealth world. All that would change is where we would face each other next.”

He is smart, this general. “I understand. It would be a breach of security for me to tell you where I am headed. I will tell you, however, that I have been ordered to fight another foe. The exiled Clan Wolf has attacked a planet we hold. I have been ordered to deal with them.”

“That doesn’t mean we won’t face you again,” General Ross said.

“Affirmative, General. If your worry is that I am going to leave here and further raid your Commonwealth, that is not the orders I have been given.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t quite that easy, Galaxy Commander. What happened in Whitting…the Archon, my cousin Trillian, will want justice. She will want someone held accountable, as will the Lyran people. Letting you simply depart will not be enough. Someone has to pay for the innocent civilians that died there. I am sure you see my predicament.”

She pondered his words for a moment, then nodded. “If you grant me a few minutes, I believe I can honor your request.” She signaled for the driver and gave him some orders. He sped off into the city of Port St. William, returning a few minutes later with a stretcher bearing a man in a hospital gown.

On the stretcher was Star Colonel Yaroslav.

Stephanie walked over to him, and the two Lyran generals followed. “This is Star Colonel Yaroslav of the Hazen Bloodline. He defied my orders and razed Whitting, killing innocent civilians and combatants alike. In fighting me in a Circle of Equals, he broke his honor by attempting to poison me. His life is forfeit, his fate mine to choose. I choose to give him to you. You want justice? Let it be meted out to the man that deserves it. He stained the Jade Falcons and your people both. If you take him, I will list him as a casualty of battle.” Your taking him will actually assist me in dealing with Malvina.

Roderick looked down at Yaroslav while he strained helplessly at his restraints, still unable to speak. Then the General of the Armies nodded reluctantly. “That will do. I am sure that our intelligence people will want to spend time with him, and in the end, he will feel the full wrath of Lyran justice, I assure you.”

“Then we have an agreement, quiaff?”

“In showing us these missiles and giving us this Star Colonel, you have demonstrated to me that you have honor. In the tradition of Caradoc Trevena, I offer you hegira.”

“I accept,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Roderick surprised her by offering his hand for a shake. She did not take it. Instead, she snapped to attention and saluted. Honor would be granted with honor.

Steiner and Ross both saluted her back.

“Very well. We will be underway in the next six hours,” she finally said. I have an appointment to keep on Pobeda, and I would not wish to be late.

“Galaxy Commander, don’t take it the wrong way, but I hope to never see you across a battlefield again,” Roderick said with a hint of relief in his voice.

“Time will tell, General. I do have a question for you. Both of you have a gray smudge across your forehead. What does that signify?”

“These are the ashes of the man you killed, Hauptmann-General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner. It was the desire of our troops that he go into battle one final time—that he lead us to victory.”

“I see,” she replied with a thoughtful nod. It is a symbol to them. That is why I lost. One cannot defeat a symbol. By killing him, I gave them something to rally behind. An important lesson for the future.

“One more question,” Roderick said. “What will happen to you when you tell your Khan that you didn’t burn us in nuclear fire?”

“I am sure she will not be pleased, not at all.” The Galaxy Commander allowed herself a wry smile.

Epilogue

JADE FALCON COMMAND POST

STAFFORD, POBEDA

JADE FALCON OCCUPATION ZONE

21 JULY 3148

Khan Malvina Hazen had not announced her arrival on-planet. Her flair for the dramatic was always part of the image she wanted her fellow Jade Falcon warriors to see. When Stephanie Chistu got word that her Khan was waiting in her office, she was polishing the knife she had been working on in her spare time since the departure of the Exiled Wolves.

The blade was not a combat knife, nor a hunting weapon—it was simple. Its dark ebony handle had a handcarved emerald falcon mounted in it. The blade was as long as a bowie knife but not as wide. There was an eloquence to it, a grace. I made it for smaller hands than my own.

Each blade she made spoke to her as she made it, telling her who it would belong to. For all of the knives she made, only a few remained in her possession. The others were gifts to fellow warriors. This blade was no different. The Damascus-steel pattern had fought her with every hammer blow. It was stubborn, tough, and when complete—deadly. Carved into the blade was a quote from one of the Jade Falcon founders, Khan Lisa Buhallin: “Honor is not bestowed, but is taken.” She wanted to name this knife, but that was something best left to its new owner.

Before she headed to her office to meet with the Khan, Stephanie wrapped the blade in a simple cloth banner she had carried with her since Coventry: a banner from the Coventry Military Academy, one her troops had taken from the rubble of Whitting. Burned along one edge, it bore the academy’s orange and blue colors and the Lyran gauntlet insignia. Stephanie could still smell the charred edges as she handled it. She wrapped the knife carefully in the cloth and put the card with it. She put the gift in a box from her quarters, then went to meet with Khan Hazen.

Stephanie knocked on her own office door and was ordered to enter. She stood at attention, facing Hazen across her own desk. Malvina wore a short-sleeved shirt, exposing her polished, black bionic arm. Her almost white ponytail, draped over her shoulder, was longer than Stephanie remembered from their last meeting. The door closed behind her.

“Your work in dealing the Exiled Wolves a blow here on Pobeda does you merit,” Hazen said, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Stephanie took the seat and faced her Khan squarely. She has not come to speak about Pobeda, but about Coventry. “Thank you, my Khan,” was all she offered in response.

“Which leaves me puzzled as to why you failed so abysmally on Coventry.”

“You are correct that I did not successfully conquer that world,” Stephanie offered, ensuring her contempt did not reach her voice. “I did, however, honor your orders.”

“If you had,” Malvina said, “Roderick Steiner would be ashes now, and our flag would fly over that planet.”

“Your orders, Khan Hazen, were quite specific. I was to raze Whitting, destroy the Coventry Military Academy, and seize or destroy the Coventry Metal Works. Those deeds were done.” Despite how I felt about them.

“Yes, but you lost the planet—despite having nuclear weapons at your disposal and the means to achieve victory,” Malvina spat back.

“Your orders were specific at the end. If I remember correctly, ‘You are to maintain an effective fighting force at the completion of the operations on Coventry. This is—and these are your words—‘your paramount objective.’” Did I get that right, quiaff?”

“Affirmative. That still is no excuse for your actions.”

“To have used tactical nuclear weapons in the Dales or at Guite would have also killed Jade Falcon warriors, greatly reducing my combat effectiveness. Your criteria for finishing operations with an effective force required that.”

“The loss of a few warriors would have been acceptable and expected.” Hazen leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms.

“Not in my judgment as the field commander.”

“If you wish to hide behind your written orders, then what of this? You were ordered to ‘deal House Steiner a blow it cannot recover from.’ Aff, you mauled several of their precious RCTs, but you did not cripple them the way I desired.”

This was something Stephanie had prepared for. “You are incorrect, Khan Hazen. I personally killed Hauptmann-General Jasek Kelswa-Steiner, former commander of the Stormhammers—a hero to the Lyran people. He died at my hand on the field of battle.”

“One warrior is not a loss they cannot recover from,” Malvina countered.

Chistu was also prepared for her verbal parry. “Neg. He is dead. His death ruined the morale of many Lyran troops. The Commonwealth is stretched thin, you know that. A general of his caliber cannot be quickly or easily replaced. His death is that blow. An icon of the Republic era is gone—his flame extinguished.”

Her words bore in on Hazen like a salvo of Arrow IV missiles. The Jade Falcon Khan changed her approach entirely, opening a new avenue in their sparring. “Regardless, your high and honorable path is what cost us Coventry. You lost your Trial of Possession against General Steiner. The failure on Coventry is on your hands.”

Coventry was not a failure. She does not see that, though, because of her hatred for what I stand for. In that moment, Stephanie Chistu realized that this was not about her, but her ideals. I am a symbol for everything that is not Malvina Hazen, and she despises that. Very well then, my Khan, let us continue this debate. “Except for the timing, Khan Hazen.”

“What?” A hint of fury rose in Malvina’s voice.

“Prior to that Trial of Possession, I received orders from you to depart immediately for this planet to stave off the Exiled Wolves.”

“Those were my orders.”

“I received them prior to my Trial of Possession. As such, I was bound by those orders. Not having finished combat operations on Coventry, I was ordered to leave. My trial was an attempt on my part to find some honor and perhaps secure a moral victory for our people—but win or lose, I was ordered to depart.”

“There was a presumption that you had already conquered the planet,” Malvina fired back. The usually white skin of her cheeks glowed pink with anger.

“You told me to follow your orders explicitly. I did. None of your orders specifically told me to use nuclear weapons—only that they were at my disposal. When I received your direct orders to leave Coventry, I was honor bound to follow them.”

Hazen slowly rose from her seat, and Stephanie did the same. They stared into each other’s eyes intently. “The game you are playing with me is a dangerous one, Galaxy Commander.”

Stephanie maintained her emotions and control. She felt the box with the knife in her hand and, for a millisecond, craved the blade she had forged. Neg, that knife has another destiny, another time and wielder. “I do not play games where my personal honor or the honor of the Clan is at stake, my Khan.”

Malvina glared at her for a long, silent minute. “Dismissed,” she finally snapped.

Still clenching the white box in her hand, Stephanie saluted, then pivoted perfectly, leaving the office, closing the door behind her.

Seated in the foyer was Cynthy, the abused young girl Malvina had been brutalizing for years. Her sunken eyes, almost devoid of emotion, glanced fearfully at Chistu as she approached. Cynthy’s body recoiled. Abuse has left this one scarred worse than any battlefield wound.

Stephanie extended the box to the younger woman. “I made this for you. It is a gift.”

Cynthy opened the box and unwrapped the cloth. When she saw the blade, her eyes darted back up to the Galaxy Commander.

“Honor is not bestowed, but is taken,” Stephanie said, repeating the words on the blade.

Cynthy took the cloth and the blade and immediately hid it in the cushions, as if it were something very precious to her—that she did not want her adoptive mother and tormentor to see.

That is right, child. Not all Jade Falcons are like your mistress. If you are to survive here, you must become your own form of Jade Falcon. Stephanie left without another word. She walked back to the artisan’s sector and removed her uniform in favor of a leather smock. She lit her forge and waited for it to roar to life. A new project was just what she needed to clear her mind over the war of words she had endured with her Khan.

Malvina may believe herself to be the hammer, remaking an Inner Sphere in her image, but if that is the scenario, I am her anvil.

And in the struggle to shape the future of the Jade Falcons, the anvil always prevails.

PORT ST. WILLIAM, COVENTRY

COVENTRY PROVINCE, LYRAN COMMONWEALTH

23 JULY 3148

“Package came in for you on the courier JumpShip, sir,” Captain Belcher said, handing the box to Roderick Steiner. It was white and unmarked, other than a familiar handwriting with his name on it. Trillian. His cousin the Archon. What would she be sending him?

He opened the box and inside there was a note and something else, something metallic. He read the note.

Dear Cousin,

Despite my urgings that you not go to the front, I see from your report that you have disregarded my counsel. We are all saddened by the death of Jasek. Several of your troops filmed your speech on Coventry, and it is playing throughout the Commonwealth. You have inspired not just those under your command, but all of our people.

“I have ordered this medal be cast for everyone that fought on Coventry. I have personally signed each commendation myself. This is the Order of Jasek Kelswa-Steiner. I trust you will see that these are properly awarded to the new members of our House.

Roderick pulled out the medal. A Steiner fist clenching a hammer, with a blue ribbon. Perfect as always, Trillian.

He read the rest of her note.

As for the gift you sent me, LIC has informed me that he is a treasure trove of information, once he was properly persuaded to speak. We have learned a lot about the Jade Falcons as a result.

Take care, Roderick. You won a singular battle, but the fighting is far from over. Please heed my caution and stay out of the fighting we both know is to come.

Roderick put the box and letter down and looked at the medal for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, Trillian. The Commonwealth needs me now more than ever.”

About the Author

Blaine Pardoe is a New York Times Bestselling and award-winning author of numerous books in the true crime, science fiction, military nonfiction, paranormal, and business management genres. He has appeared on a number of national television and radio shows to speak about his books.

He has been writing BattleTech since the first technical readout in 1986, writing or contributing to eighteen BattleTech sourcebooks, two computer game books, and twelve novels.

Mr. Pardoe has been a featured speaker at the US National Archives, the United States Navy Museum, and the New York Military Affairs Symposium. He was awarded the State History Award in 2011 by the Historical Society of Michigan and is a silver medal winner from the Military Writers Society of America in 2010. In 2013 Mr. Pardoe won the Harriet Quimby Award from the Michigan Aviation Hall of Fame for his contributions to aviation history. Mr. Pardoe has been a speaker at CrimeCon 2018 speaking about the Colonial Parkway Murders.

AVAILABLE NOW

The Federated Suns stand at the edge of a precipice…

Violent expansion of the Capellan Confederation and the Draconis Combine has cost recently crowned First Prince Julian Davion more than just countless strategic worlds. The war’s toll claimed a mentor and close friend, and righteous vengeance burns bright.

To rally his people and preserve the future of the Federated Suns, Julian funnels the fires of justice into an ambitious yet risky campaign to retake a vital system: New Syrtis, the lost capital of the Capellan March. Success would dislodge an ancient enemy from their strategic foothold in Suns space, but failure may cost Julian the nation he inherited.

However, the Capellan people have fought dearly for their prize and will do anything in their power to hold onto it. Will Julian’s gamble save the very soul of the Federated Suns, or is the invasion of New Syrtis doomed before it even begins?

PART ONE

REMAGEN CRUCIS MARCH MILITIA HQ

REMAGEN

CHIRIKOF OPERATIONAL AREA, CRUCIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS

3 SEPTEMBER 3147

While the summit’s attendees gathered, First Prince Julian Davion watched a recorded scene on the small screen in front of him: the keen edge of a dao sword glinted in the air, high above the neck of a kneeling elderly woman he knew all too well.

Julian hadn’t set foot on New Syrtis, the Capellan March capital, in quite some time, but even the minor cosmetic changes in this footage imbued the scene with a surreal air. Though the date stamp on the footage was more than two years ago, he could ill conceive that this was the same Saso Square he had visited many, many times before.

Instead of Federated Suns BattleMechs flanking the path leading from the FedCom Civil War Monument to the Saso Statehouse, he saw Capellan Confederation ’Mechs stand sentinel while others patrolled nearby streets in search of insurrectionists. Instead of the round sword-and-sunburst iconography of House Davion gracing the Statehouse’s facade in the backdrop of the footage, an all-too-familiar triangular emblem of House Liao replaced the original. Inside the stark-green Confederation insignia, an upraised arm held a curved scimitar, the blade’s tip breaking out from the triangular border with hostile intent.

Below the Capellan emblem, the masked soldier held his dao aloft in perfect mimicry of the House Liao sigil. Below the blade, Duchess Amanda Hasek knelt in her finest courtly attire, her hands bound to either side of a block of wood. Despite the Damocles sword of a hated foe more than a meter above her neck, she struck Julian as surprisingly calm, a sinner who knows she is ultimately responsible for her own crimes.

Few members of House Davion agreed with her politics, with her rabid, outspoken loathing of the Capellan Confederation. Her decision more than forty years ago to instigate the disastrous Victoria War without then First Prince Harrison Davion’s approval had sealed her fate, and the Confederation’s long-awaited reprisal against the Hasek family’s homeworld was her well-deserved recompense. But this was too far.

Julian had never initially been destined to lead the Federated Suns, but the duchess had seen great potential in him and groomed him to be a contender for the throne. He owed this woman—his surrogate mother, his mentor—a good many things, including his current position as leader of the Federated Suns.

A man royal in bearing and military in garb—Daoshen Liao, Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation—rose to the platform and addressed both the accused and the crowd assembled before the square. Though Julian kept the sound muted for courtesy while waiting for the rest of the attendees to arrive, he could have quoted the Capellan’s speech verbatim.

“For war crimes perpetrated against the celestial sovereignty of the Capellan Confederation,” Daoshen mouthed with a smug smirk, “I find you guilty as charged on all counts.

“The sentence is death.”

With a slow nod, the Chancellor signaled to the executioner. The dao descended as a curtain of silvery light reflecting off the blade. Blink, and Julian would miss it.

Something twisted inside Julian’s chest, as though some part of him died along with her every time he watched the gory, decapitated form of his mother figure slump gracelessly to the platform.

He paused the playback on the Chancellor’s satisfied grin, the look of a fox strutting out of a henhouse with feathers stuck between his teeth.

This was the reason for what he was about to do. For what needed to be done. Revenge was such a pedestrian word. This feeling in the First Prince’s breast went far beyond mere vengeance. This was a matter of putting things right, resetting the equilibrium between the Suns and the Confederation.

But he could not make this decision lightly. Only last September had he and Daoshen’s envoy—the Chancellor’s younger sister, Sang-shao Danai Liao-Centrella—brokered an armistice between their two nations. The truce had justified itself at the time: the Confederation was cowering under the phantom threat posed by the Republic of the Sphere, while the Draconis Combine continued conquering world after Federated Suns world, including the Draconis March capital of Robinson. Soldiers of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns retreating from New Avalon meant the Draconis Combine had captured House Davion’s capital and two march capitals. The nation had spiraled into deep recession, and according to this summit of his top political and military advisors, the best economic stimulus was to retake one of the capital worlds. Like deer ticks, the Dracs were hooked too deep into New Avalon and Robinson, which left New Syrtis the easiest nut to crack. All he needed do was approve the proposed campaign. Loath as he was to break his ceasefire with the Capellan Confederation, Julian saw a certain amount of wisdom in the action. However, every time he considered the long-term implications of breaking a pact signed by his own hand, the thought sat heavy in his guts, as though he’d swallowed a Gauss-rifle slug whole.

Julian looked out across the assembly hall. All the necessary personnel were now present. The Prince’s Champion, Erik Sandoval. The Prince’s Intelligence Advisor, Jennifer Dawes. MIIO Director Gary Harding. Field Marshal Anastasia Zibler. Colonels Sortek and Rhys. Everyone of consequence from the Suns’ government-in-exile, the AFFS, and the intelligence arms. Satisfied, he deactivated the handheld screen and called the summit to order.

“Friends and family, colleagues and brothers and sisters-in-arms,” he began, “I have decided the time has come to start rebuilding our great nation. Since my coronation as First Prince of the Federated Suns, many of you have compelled me to see virtue in an attempt to retake one of our lost capitals, to rekindle the faith and spirit of our people into a blazing pulsar for the whole galaxy to see. As a man of conscience, I have wrestled long with the matter of breaking truce with our Capellan neighbors. However, circumstances being what they are, if we are to do right by our people, now is the time to seize the initiative and restore freedom to those worlds that the Capellan Confederation snatched away from us in their bid for dominance.

“The time has come to execute a campaign for New Syrtis.”

He paused to gauge reactions across the assembly. Expressions ran the gamut between unabashed patriotism to quiet condemnation. Among them, he imagined Amanda Hasek standing in cool approval of his proclamation.

This is what I would have done, he could hear her apparition say, had I control of the Federated Suns.

“As First Prince,” he continued, “the armistice with the Capellan Confederation is mine to break. Because of this, I have decided to lead this assault personally. No one else should bear culpability for my actions.”

Julian activated a podium control, and a breakdown of his invasion plan projected onto the wall screen behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present Operation CERBERUS. This campaign calls for three task forces, code named Chimera, Orthus, and Hydra. The objective of Phase One is the envelopment and isolation of New Syrtis from the rest of the Confederation. Phase Two entails the assault on the march capital itself.

“Now, let’s poke some holes in this, and see where we can patch them.”

Julian acknowledged Harding’s upraised hand, and the MIIO director rose to speak. “Your Grace, is this invasion the best allocation of our military resources? We have a standing truce with Daoshen Liao, and MI6 agents on Sian report that he spends more time jumping at Republic shadows than trying to wage further war against us. Would it not be more prudent to focus our military efforts on the Draconis Combine instead? Snatching back Robinson or New Avalon from the Dragon’s clutches would strike a deeper moral victory for our people.”

Julian shared a knowing glance with his champion, Erik Sandoval, before answering. “Director, we are already at war with the Combine. Coordinator Yori Kurita knows this. The Combine’s warriors know this. Even now, they sit in entrenched and fortified positions, expecting—no, daring us to fight them. They are more than ready for us. The Confederation is not, and we can no longer squander the advantage of surprise. If we can ever hope to stand against the Combine in the future, liberating New Syrtis now is the key.”

CERBERUS RALLY STATION

NEW DAMASCUS

CHIRIKOF OPERATIONAL AREA, CRUCIS MARCH, FEDERATED SUNS

19 SEPTEMBER 3147

From across the bargaining table inside the canvas tent, Captain Malerie Faulkner was unimpressed with this new Federated Suns liaison. It took a lot to impress soldiers of distant Clan pedigrees. This scrawny lackey, sent straight from First Prince Julian Davion himself, had to be a pencil pusher, a desk rider, not an actual warrior worthy of the title. Mal knew soldiers, and this sorry excuse for a uniform probably had a law degree, not a diploma from some MechWarrior academy or other.

She disliked lawyers. Such a dishonest, two-faced profession. She would much rather have solved negotiations the way her Clan ancestors did: put up your dukes, and the winner dictates the terms. Don’t like the terms? Win the rematch. So much simpler than listening to sales pitch after sales pitch.

Thankfully her boss, Major Tallula Zheng, seemed to pay more attention. As executive officer of Tally’s Talons, Mal could voice concerns about a contract, but the decision to accept terms was ultimately in Tally’s court. Tally, the battalion’s golden-haired matron, gave the Davion lackey a glare that would’ve withered a lesser man. Mal frown-smiled to herself, slightly impressed at his resilience. But only slightly.

“No, no, no,” Tally said, knifing her hands in an x in protest. “Our contract expired on the seventeenth. Under the terms we negotiated with your office, the Talons are now free agents, able to pursue whatever course of action we desire.”

Lackey tapped his sheaf of papers atop the table to align them and straightened the sleeves of his olive-drab uniform jacket. “We understand that, Major. However, your presence here on New Damascus puts us in a precarious position. Your participation to this point required you to possess partial operational knowledge of our movements—”

“—and,” Tally cut in, “our contract doesn’t include a non-compete clause.” She waved a hardcopy of the contract at him. “I never sign one that does. Non-competes put a serious damper on future mercenary employment.”

“Be that as it may, we are offering to extend your current contract plus an additional ten percent.” With a hopeful curl to the corner of his mouth, Lackey slid a paper across the desk.

Tally shared a knowing glance with Mal. They’d acted out this charade often enough that they could do it in the middle of the night after being roused by a proximity alarm. “Faulkner, what do you think of this?” She gestured her jaw toward the new draft. “Does it look good, or should we hit up the Chancellor, see if he’ll give us a better deal?”

Mal echoed her CO’s nonchalant posture and made a good show of pretending to read the new contract. All the legalese was bound to be the same as the last contract: a self-righteous prick like Julian Davion lacked the necessary guile to pull off any kind of deception. People like him were known for keeping their word, even to a fault.

Mal crossed her arms and shook her head. “Twenty. We want twenty percent, or we walk.”

Tally hooked a thumb Mal’s way. “What she said. If you want me to take our business to the Capellans, then say so. No pay, no play.”

An exasperated huff escaped Lackey’s throat. He gathered up his papers and stood. “Uh, if you’ll excuse me for a moment…” Without waiting for an answer, he slid a perscomm from his uniform pocket and stepped out through the tent flap.

Mal leaned closer to the tent flap as though that might help her eavesdrop on the call Lackey was obviously making out of their earshot. She caught the indecipherable muffle of Lackey’s end of the conversation, but much to her irritation, that was all.

Only the Feddie’s upper half reappeared through the tent flap. “My humblest of apologies, but I have something to attend to. I will return shortly.”

Tally frowned once Lackey departed. “Ah, he won’t be back. Shall I see if the Cappies are actually hiring these days? Or would you rather strike out to the Free Worlds League, hit up a province or two? The Clan Protectorate would probably hire us.”

Moments later, the tent flap parted, and in strode three uniformed soldiers, the foremost a man Mal had only ever seen in photos and vids. Throughout her mercenary career, she had dealt with the occasional dignitary, noble, and celebrity. Every time she came across someone even remotely famous, the same thought struck her: these people the galaxy placed up on pedestals were mundane, ordinary folk just like her. Sans makeup or image retouching. Rough around the edges. Fame and celebrity—the mortal equivalent of godhood—were nothing but manufactured concepts.

But this man—

Mal’s stomach seized upon seeing his countenance in person. Her brain knew he was mere flesh-and-blood, but this man, with short golden hair, arresting blue eyes, an honest, clean-shaven face, and an aura of regality—he filled the tent with a kind of palpable majesty she had never before witnessed, as though his otherwise average build dwarfed the roomy space. Something about him suggested—no, demanded—respect, but quietly rather than by bluster.

Now this was a true warrior.

“Captain Sharma tells me you are considering not re-upping,” First Prince Julian Davion said. Even the timbre of his voice was real and honest, unmodulated by the reverb and resonance typically saturating stately speeches given by monarchs and other interstellar politicians. “I would respectfully wish to know why.”

The accusing tremble in his eyes sent a wave of guilt through Mal. “Our…our contract has expired, Your Highness. We are…merely exploring our options.”

The First Prince approached the table and rapped knuckles in thought atop its fiberplast surface. “Thus far, your battalion has performed admirably as part of Task Force Hydra. My House troops are familiar with you, and you have worked well with them during combat exercises. You form a solid, cohesive force, one I will need for the days ahead.”

Boots on the tabletop, Tally tipped her chair back on two legs, far enough Mal worried she’d fall backward. “Frankly, Your Highness, it’s not a matter of what you need. It’s a matter of payment. Are you prepared to pay us what we’re worth?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate,” said the First Prince, “I don’t have time to scour the Inner Sphere for competent mercenary battalions on such short notice. Name your price.”

Mal broke her gaze from Julian Davion long enough to wordlessly confer with her CO, then turned her attention back to the First Prince. “Twenty-five percent above our original contract,” she said. “Plus combat bonus.”

His throat contracted almost imperceptibly. Twenty-five meant a substantial amount of money, and even Mal knew the Federated Suns’ coffers were running on fumes.

“Done,” he said with a definitive nod. He extended a hand—bare skin, ungloved—and Tally shook it, firm and businesslike.

Mal narrowed her eyes just enough to not reveal her jealousy.

CYLLENE FOREST

TAYGETA

SIAN COMMONALITY, CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION

25 NOVEMBER 3147

The planet was lost. This much Sang-shao Eliza Zhao knew without a doubt, long before she’d had occasion to fire a single one of her Tian-Zong’s weapons.

Both hands clenched around her ’Mech’s controls, she squinted against the actinic blue flare of an incoming PPC bolt her optics couldn’t quite compensate against. The approaching black-and-gold Prefect wasn’t aiming at her ’Mech, but the resolute steps of its defiant advance alarmed her.

Not two days before, the Enemy had come screaming down from the sky like yaoguai demons, combat-dropping on prepared positions in strategic places across the planet. Government buildings, spaceports, maglev transport hubs, supply depots—anything at all that could put her command off its game.

In retrospect, multiple factors had doomed their defense from the start. After the successful drive toward New Syrtis two years ago during Operation CELESTIAL REWARD, Chancellor Daoshen Liao had ordered Zhao’s Dynasty Guard regiment to Taygeta for a period of refit. Rumors of an incoming Federated Suns invasion force within the Confederation’s borders goaded Zhao to put her troops on high alert, but the refit wasn’t entirely complete yet. To worsen matters, the Dynasty Guard represented the best offensive regiment among the entire Capellan Hussars brigade. Her command could fight defensive battles when absolutely necessary, but to truly shine, they needed to go on the attack.

The advancing Republic of the Sphere troops never even gave the Guard a chance to rally and spearhead an assault into the invaders’ lines. Their sheer mass forced her to make the hard choice between letting her command get pulverized between the hammer of these so-called Dawn Guards and the regiment-plus anvil of unmarked, primer-gray mercenary BattleMechs.

What in the Chancellor’s name did the Republic care about a relatively unimportant former Feddie world so far away from the Republic’s impenetrable Fortress-wall border?

She snap-fired her own light PPCs at the target of opportunity and continued backpedaling into a stand of trees along with the rest of her augmented lance. More Dawn ’Mechs crested the rise ahead, their torsos tracking in her direction. Two flights of Schracks in Republic colors shotgunned across the angry sunset in search of easy fodder along the Dynasty Guard’s line of withdrawal. Two platoons of Behemoth II tanks rumbled up into view, turrets traversing for targets. Three squads of Republic-painted Taranis battlesuits emerged from beside the Behemoths.

The array of Republic troops before her only confirmed her suspicions about this invasion’s outcome. Now it was merely a matter of how to conduct this defeat. It would come from no real fault of her own, but the Celestial Wisdom would not see it that way if she ordered her soldiers to pull out and head for another planet. Her duty was to ensure she and her regiment gave as good an account of themselves as possible, leaving full, off-planet retreat as the very last contingency.

In the old days of the Succession Wars, the desperation of the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces often saw units embrace “hopeless battle syndrome” and fight to the death, even in the face of insurmountable odds and guaranteed destruction. Daoshen Liao and his predecessor were far less frivolous with Capellan lives, but retreating now, when so many of her regiment and the enemy still remained operational, would be viewed as a dereliction of duty.

Though the Chancellor harbored a near-pathological fear of the Republic—an understandable sentiment, given the disaster of the Capellan Crusades nearly four decades ago—Zhao did not. Republic troops were no different than any other. With all due respect to the Celestial Wisdom, no military was truly invincible. No army lacked a weakness. As commander of a prestigious Capellan Hussars regiment, she was not about to kowtow to these invaders, not yet.

She would tear them apart, limb from limb, before ever deserting her station. For all she knew, the Strategios, CCAF High Command, could already have reinforcements en route, and abandoning her post now would doom her relief. In a fleeting moment of whimsy, Zhao imagined the familiar silhouette of Yen-Lo-Wang descending from orbit and landing in a cloud right before the terrified Republic troops. But Danai Liao-Centrella, Zhao’s longtime friend and owner of the legendary Centurion BattleMech, was currently on Sian, trying to make some sense of the tactical disaster on Marlette that had claimed the lives of countless CCAF troops.

Amusing as it would be to witness incoming Republic forces cower at the sight of a single BattleMech, Zhao knew she had to damage her enemy’s war-making capacity as much as possible before she could justify retreat. The Celestial Wisdom would expect no less from her.

She adjusted her aim on the nearest target downrange, a battered Scapha hovertank, and the Tian-Zong’s frame shook from the tremor of a Gauss rifle discharge. Faster than a snap of the fingers, an obscenely sized hole plowed through the Scapha’s glacis armor. The tank stilled.

She was about to order a strategic fighting withdrawal when a voice from her regimental command channel piped up into her neurohelmet’s earpiece.

“Sheng One, this is Two,” Zhong-shao Bogdanovich, Zhao’s executive officer, transmitted from his sixty-five-ton Vandal nearby, just out of her sight line. “We have received a priority-one message.”

One of the dead tank’s companions replied with a rotary autocannon blast. Zhao’s cockpit bucked from explosive shells impacting across her ’Mech’s torso. “A little busy here, Two.”

“It’s from Sian, sir.”

Zhao’s fingers loosened on her controls. The Confederation capital meant two things: orders either from CCAF High Command—or from the Celestial Wisdom himself.

Neither possibility appealed to her.

Another flight of Schracks tore across the rapidly darkening sky.

“Give me the short version.”

Bogdanovich transmitted the official verigraphed communiqué, which displayed on Zhao’s command readout. The orders came straight from the Chancellor himself:

Sang-shao, you are hereby ordered to disengage and report to New Syrtis ASAP.

Zhao clenched her jaw and fired off another salvo of Gauss-rifle fire along the encroaching tank platoon. One nickel-ferrous slug cratered the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt clods. The other instantaneously transformed a large, majestic tree into a sawed-off stump.

The planet was already lost, but the relief a retreat order should have elicited did not come. A profound sense of hollowness inside made her feel as though obeying the Chancellor’s order would still be betraying his trust in her command ability.

“All right,” she replied, her voice hesitant. “Give the orders for a full fighting withdrawal from the planet.”

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BATTLETECH: THE ANVIL

Cover art by Florian Mellies

Design by Matt Heerdt & David Kerber

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